Trip to a small island

The last part of June heralded the arrival of my Aunt Carolyn and Unca Ian to our humble abode. They had been traveling through Italy and Greece and france and were having a rest with us prior to heading “Up North”.

I copied Ian’s pictures to my laptop to give him a backup of his CDs. Then, as all travelers do, there was the obligatory review of all the photos. I must say, Ian does a good job with the camera. My PC screen still has Ian’s finger marks all over it where he would point out “What I was trying to capture here was the effect of the yellow honey bee spiffing the flowers . . “ and “What I was trying to capture here was the two dogs arguing over the maggoty bone . . “ etc.

It was truly great to see them and they brought Aussie flags with them for the World Cup which we duly hung out the window to snub at the thousands of English flags adorning cars, trucks, windows and almost some people’s orifices.

My enduring memory of Carolyn is when we walked her to the Skim for a meal. “Where are you taking us?” You’ve got us lost. Ian – he’s got us lost!” and “I will tell your mother!”

That night we took in the Ecuador v England game so that we could experience the smoky English world cup soccer scene. I must say, I have to stop cheering for the underdogs!

On the 22nd June, the Aussies made the quarter finals of World Cup soccer. And so 3 rather drunk Aussies woke up to hangovers on the 23rd. We decided to celebrate by taking in a Charles Dickens London walk.

Our host was Jean, a sprightly little lady from up Oxford way. She met the walkers dressed in her Dickensian costume and led ua off through the Inns of Court and Lincoln’s Fields.

I find it fascinating to walk the same streets as old Londoners did pre the days of motor cars. Of course, much of London was destroyed during the Blitz and replaced with concrete monstrosities. Still, the history flows all around you with these informative guides.

Our tour took us past the Olde Curiosity Shoppe, through Holborne Square, and finished at a bust statue of good old Charlie.

We toddled off to Leicester Square and to Covent Garden for a look around and enjoyed some fantastic street performances. It is so easy to find yourself entertained here. I loved the way the street performer parked his unicycle.

Back from Granada and into the swing of London again. On the 17th of June, we headed into London for a London Walk. This time the London Kensington Pub Walk.

Amongst the gems of knowledge imparted to us included the origin of the term ‘daylight robbery’. At one stage in England’s past, the government of the day had a window tax. It soon became the strategy of householders to brick up windows to save on tax – hence the term that the government is now robbing us of daylight. As with many of these origins, the bricked up window became an architectural feature of future houses.

The walk wound its way through the back streets of Kensington, past mock Tudor houses, old stables or Mews turned into trendy houses, Ava Gardner’s house, an MI5 discovered Russian Dead letter drop and the original Harrods store that is now apartments.

A favourite pub was the ‘Bunch of Grapes’.

Incredible décor. In fact, I took a picture inside the pub and a few minutes later was accosted by a woman claiming to be George Bush’s wife.

She wanted the camera and for me to delete the photo as it is not permissible for anyone to take the picture of George Bush’s future wife. When I got home, I enlarged the picture and sure as eggs, there she was, sitting in a corner of the photo where I hadn’t spotted her, having a beer and a smoke. She was a sight and if George knocks her back, I hope that her future is not spoilt.

We finished off near one of the trendy clubs frequented by Princes Willie and Harry but they weren’t in that night. Incidentally, we weren’t invited in. So we adjourned to a nearby pub and had a chin wag with some newly arrived aussies.

Talk about doing it tough. They were staying in a one bedroom place nearby shelling out ₤900 a month rent. Wow!

He was working as a carpenter for an English builder. He hadn’t been paid for nearly a month. His boss had gone to Spain for the weekend forgetting to pay him. In fact, while we were in the pub, his boss rang and promoted him to site foreman. But where was the money?

The next night we went to a dance at the Rivoli Ballroom. Unfortunately I failed to take my camera that night and thus, missed out on pictures of this incredible ballroom that has not changed one iota from the late 1940s or early 1950s. i swear you could feel the ghosts of servicemen and women, dancing to the tunes of Benny Goodman, Glen Miller and the big Swing orchestras of the day.

Next time take the camera!

28 May – Sunday

We decide that we have been sitting around long enough so we plan s cross country walk. I have seen on local maps the South Downs Way marked. It is a famous long distance walk. It is even marked on our bus maps to show where you can do the walks and intersect with a bus route to bring you home. And so, we provisioned with sandwiches, water, and just to prove I am a bushman, I took my Letterman (thanks Tony) sand my compass.

And off we went to the Priory and quickly picked up the White Marker that indicated the trail. We thought we would head to Dorking, 5 miles as the crow flies. The bus map only showed the roads that buses travel down so all the in between roads were missing. But any bushman armed with a compass can handle those minor difficulties.

And so, we set off along the ridge for about a kilometer before the road shot off into the forest and started looping around. The footpaths (read mudpaths) were extremely sloppy in response to recent drizzle and after much negotiating we popped out of the forest at the Priory Pond, around 500 meters from our starting point.

This was hardly the auspicious start to our 30 minutes of meanderings through the forest. So we picked up the trail again wandering between farmers trails on the way to Dorking now 4 ½ miles away. The trail was marked with white markers which would disappear for large stretches. We would often come to a cross road and only through guesswork, would estimate how far I thought we might have traveled given the lack of geographical features on the bus map.

At one stage we were walking up a particular road and after consulting the compass, worked out we were heading east instead of west. Some back tracking, a walk through a field of linseed or similar, we finally stumbled across the path. Again we set off, a little unsure of where the next road might be but confident that civilization was not that far away. (The jets bound for Heathrow kept flying in a line in front of us. I figured if we kept going in that direction, we would have to eventually stumble onto the M25 and certain rescue.)

The path was quite pretty, overgrown but passable. We saw other walkers but I resisted the temptation to check our position on the map. After all, imagine showing some real walkers a bus map and asking them to point out where we were.

“Hi ya. Can you show me where we are?” says Farrell sheepishly holding out a bus map.

“That’s a bus map” says Wilbur and Wanda Walker.

“No shit, Sherlock” replies Farrell. “I know that it appears rather strange to be attempting a 5 mile walk across farmland and public footpaths using a bus map, but the walks are shown here and where they meet the buses.”

“Really?” says Wilbur pulling out his 1:5,000 Ordinance Survey. “They don’t mark the buses on here” he says with incredulity.

Anyway – no such conversation took place because I had my trusty compass. Our walk took us along the banks of a fantastic little creek, past a number of World war 2 bunkers that were obviously to protect the southern approaches to London. Eventually, we popped over a hill and spotted the white chalk cliffs that mark the range of hills that lead to Reigate.

By a twist of fate, we picked up the white markers of the South Downs ways and traveled on finally coming into a neat town off a steep incline. There was no indication of whether the trail should be followed to the left or the right. So, with unerring accuracy, we went to the right. After 500 meters, the road looped off to the right and my directional alarm started blaring “Wrong direction, wrong direction.”

So across another paddock and hey presto, we come out at a cricket pitch with afternoon Sunday game just starting right next to the best little pub in Betchworth. Yess folks, after a good 3 hours of walking in the general direction of Dorking, we had managed to get to the halfway mark. And so, Kaz and I pulled up stumps at the fantastic Red Lion pub, and polished off several pints before heading to the local railway station as the buses don’t run on Sundays! We had to wait 2 hours for the train so a quick retreat to the red Lion for more beer, crisps and cricket was in order.

“Remind me to only go bushwalking in Australia with experienced people” said Karolina in what I thought to be a very harsh assessment of my bushcraft skills.

It took some getting over our walk to almost Dorking. Not from tiredness, more the frustration of not knowing exactly where we were and the complete lack of road signs when on the roads, and the inconsistency of the markers for the South Downs Way. My guess is that we would have walked a good 6 miles n the 3 hours we were trudging along as we were never dawdling and our only break was 30 minutes for lunch. My next walk will not be with a bus map. I think I might try bicycle maps!

St Paul’s Cathedral – its unique design based on apparently a 15 minute conversation Wren had with a contemporary of his in Paris on his only overseas trip. I didn't get to climb the dome - mostly cause the place was due to close 30 minutes after the end of our tour, plus on account of Kaz suffering claustrophobia.

London is nothing without London buses and taxis. This was a bright sunny day and we took the opportunity of going on one of the “London Walking Tours”. These are really excellent value! The guides are usually academics of trained by someone who has researched the names, locations, treasures and icons of the area. Our walk on this day was based on Sir Christopher Wren, architecture and the magnificent St Paul’s Cathedral.

New Arrival – 5 May 2006
Last Friday, our good friend Susannah moved in with us for a while. Suz has been here in the UK for four weeks. She works about 30 kilometers from here but the road system is quite slow. It can take her from 40 minutes to an hour and a half to get to work.

Kaz applied for a job when she first got here. No luck as yet but at least it allowed her to get her resume up to date. The local council library provides an Internet service that we joined. It is free and allows us to keep in contact with the world. We booked a flight to Glasgow for Thursday 11 May 2006. Praise to Ryan Air for their cheap flights. 28p (70 cents) is all it cost to fly there and back for the two of us. Airport taxes push up the price to the £30 level each, but still, it’s a relative bargain.

For those of you interested in price comparisons, petrol is £1 a litre ($2.50), a 2004 BMW M3 will set you back £30,000. An 05 Ford Fiesta a mere £7,000. A pint is around £2 for the warm stuff. The colder Belgian or Irish beers cost up to £4. (I’m thinking of finding a home brew kit – except the town water is pretty crappy. An office job here might get you £18 to £25,000 per annum before tax – and rentals go from £1200 per month closer in to London and around the £800 pm out where we are for 2 bedrooms and not too much else! And watching TV is not free – over £130 for a licence!

We managed to get signed up for gas, telephone, electricity and water. Getting the Internet on at home is a drama though. Almost no-one offers a month by month subscription except Virgin – and they will not accept an international based credit card! I even offered to pay 3 months or more up front. That was not acceptable. I tried to write to Richard Branson via the Virgin Home page but I am afraid his interest in customer problems appears to have waned with the achievement of big money. Or so it appears as he has not yet answered my email.

Our new Home – 2 May 2006
We moved to my sister Mel’s place on the Tuesday. It’s out at Reigate. This will be the base from which to explore Britain and Europe. The flat was sparse and we had to track down Mel’s friend Mark from Dorking to deliver a Duvet (doona) and some pillows and towels. Mel’s place had been rented out to a fella for the last 18 months or so and even though the flat had been cleaned, you could tell that it had been a bachelor pad. Kaz spent time washing all the cutlery, crockery etc to get off the grime. I got out the vacuum cleaner to go over the stairs that don’t seem to have been vacuumed for 18 months.

The vacuum cleaner was so clogged I had to wash the wand out to unclog it. The bag was like cement and there wasn’t enough suction to lift the tiniest leaf. The cleaning improved things slightly so I patiently and almost individually picked up the visible dirt with the small amount of suction available. It was at about this point that my feet tangled in the cord and I managed a rather spectacular exit at Monty Pythonesque speed down the quite steep and narrow stairs to pile myself into a ball at the base of the stairs. That seemed to bruise my pride and to clear the vacuum of its blockages. Fantastic! Suction! Only problem is that I have broken the wand in my fall.

Our upstairs neighbour is Emma, a pleasant English lass. She commented on my “hoovering’ skills as vacuuming is called in Britain. However, Mel’s vacuum is an Irish model with a brand name of Goblin. Henceforth, I shall do no more Hoovering – I am a Gobliner!

Since arriving, I have changed the locks on the door as the existing ones were rather dodgy. I also replaced the shower rod as it fell down during my first shower. No amount of tinkering would keep it up as the spring loading that kept it in place had run its useful course in life. The flat is in good general condition but the hallway needs a good coat of paint. I keep looking round finding odd jobs to do and wandering into Homebase (the equivalent in Oz is Mitre 10) and checking out the costs of fixing things. I had 6 keys cut the other day (3 front door and 3 for the flat) and that cost £18 ($50)!!!!

We commenced our travels to a small island (Britain) on the 28th of April 2006. this will be our journal and record for friends who can take the time to review our adventures - dumb as well as glum. Adventures are mostly like accidents - often never planned and regularly requiring you to know the persons involved.

In this instance, the main characters are Mark and Karolina, with Karolina being the attractive one!). We are from Australia and Kaz is taking the opportunity to get her 2 year working holiday visa and see some of Europe. Me, I am tagging along with the intention of touring around the UK, Ireland, Spain, Italy with Kaz when she is able.

Arrival – 28 April 2006
We arrived on Friday to a moderate English day to a waiting mini cab to whisk us off to my friend Ian Harris and his lovely wife Elise’s house. That was only after I was on the receiving end of a grilling from Customs. I mean, how dare I decide to come here and spend my Long Service Leave money in the UK!

The mini cab relieved us of £36 ($90) and it seems that the money has flowed steadily and frequently out of the pocket ever since. We hardly got to see the Harris(es) before they flitted off to New York. So we were in a foreign country, unfamiliar flat, tired after our 22 hour flight, but still ready to look around. Ian lives in Putney so a quick tour down the High Street allowed us a quick familiarization with English society. First impressions – the poms have learnt to make coffee! A long Black is an Americano. A cappuccino actually tastes like real coffee! How did they do it? Actually, by importing Italians I think. Australia is no longer streets ahead in coffee culture.

We purchased two £20 SIM cards and £20 of mobile credit only to find that our phones have software locks applied to them. So that led to adventures all up and down Putney’s alleyways and later down Edgeware Road to find a dodgy Pakistani to unlock the phone. But alas, the Sagems are too new and the template to unlock them (at a cost of £20 apiece) is yet to be made. Ian came to the rescue on Tuesday with an old work phone – so we have a mobile and alternating SIMS! “My turn.” “No, my turn.”

The weekend we arrived was a long weekend. After arriving, we washed some clothes which we hang on clothes horses around the flat. Naturally, disaster struck when I hung my jeans on the curtain rack. The weight pulled the rod from the wall. Bugger! So, the Sunday (30 April) of the long weekend was spent hunting down a hardware shop, then a £2 shop for some tools and an attempt to fix the curtains. When we left on the Tuesday, I think my last note to Ian was “Don’t hang that curtain for another day or two.” The cool English weather does not promote the fast drying of Polyfilla.

On the Sunday night we went to watch the English Ceroc competition. Just to spectate is expensive (£15 each). Tickets cannot be bought at the venue, only over the net. Luckily Ian had a connection. The standard has improved over the last few years since we were last here. Still a lot of bopping - the Advanced dancers are good…but there is a large gap back to the Intermediates. They had a new format called Ceroc X – the dancers were only allowed to do Beginner moves (16) and could stylize them however they liked. Quite challenging really.

Ceroc for the uninformed is a form of partner dancing done to modern music. Check out www.ceroc.com.au for details. Kaz and I dance in Canberra, Australia. Here is a picture of us from our CAPITALS dance crew.