Sunday 18 October 2015

Return of the Native - Part 10 - The Finale

Things I've found particularly memorable or peculiar - in no particular order - Part 2

I'm not precious about airline food, and anyway, I lived in college for four years.  It always reminds me of an Expression of Interest though, not quite the full Curriculum Vitae.  It also makes me think of the lolly chemist shop my childhood neighbour, Sue Taylor, got for Christmas one year.  I'm amazed we didn't end up prescription drug abusers or perhaps she did!  Anyway, North America aside, airline food really isn't that bad and the Canadians do at least try but I suspect they're constrained by some kind of 'make-no-effort' free-trade agreement they have with the US.

Tattoos are rampant among men of all ages and classes in the UK.  I would have said bad tattoos but that's tautological.  The ever practical British don't get a sharp, well defined tattoo though, they go straight for the mohair look; a blurry, aged tatt, the kind you'd expect to see on a 60 year old who's smoked too much, drank too much and had too much sun for his entire life and also in utero.

Then there are bad haircuts which don't have to become a permanent affliction but sometimes are.  Shaved sides and spiky bits are popular, particularly in conjunction with fuzzy tattoos.  I like to call this the 'unemployable look'.  When we were at the amazing outdoor museum in Beamish I spotted a family where the young father and all five boys under the age of seven sported the same savage hairstyle with speech patterns and vocabulary to match.

Parenting tip from a teacher of 35 years experience:  If your son has ADHD he's already different enough.  Giving him a punk haircut and allowing him to dress as a superhero isn't going to help him fit in. 

Haircuts and tatts aside, people in England are delightful and generally quite polite and helpful.  I stopped to talk with fruit barrow men, station attendants, shop keepers, bar staff, taxi drivers, whoever was up for a chat and it was all good.  Sadly, they were sometimes grateful for a little time and  acknowledgement - tourists can be rather rude and we saw plenty of that too.

Accents intrigue me.  There was an absolutely charming young woman at the canal side pub in Yorkshire, the very part of England from where my father's family originated.  She was pleasant to a fault but I didn't understand a single words she said and I was an ESL teacher for 20 years!  I just smiled, nodded and said positive things which seemed to work.  Interestingly enough though, everyone understood us, for which I credit soapies like Neighbours and Home and Away.

By contrast, we had lunch at a rather excellent Turkish restaurant in Islington where I understood the staff perfectly just as I did all the Muslim-from-wherever station staff on the London Underground.  Of course this could be a product of living in the Municipality of Auburn for 15 years.

The second language of London is Italian.  The first is Russian.  English probably comes in fourth after Spanish.

The London Tube is freaky small and crowded - built for Hobbits who crave intimacy.  When she was Minister for Transport, luminary NSW Deputy Premier, Gladys Berejiklian, approved a tube-style metro to run from the urban fringe at Rouse Hill to Chatswood without ever actually understanding what a metro is.  They run no further than 15km from a city centre because they're designed to carry more passengers standing than sitting.  Sydney will eventually have a world first with a 45km long line that won't even actually reach the city for another 20 years.  Nice one Glad!

British money is a bit mysterious because, apart from the coins, there is actually no such thing.  Notes are issued by the Bank of England but these are primarily for use in England and Wales.  Three other banks issue notes in Scotland and four in Northern Ireland.  Then the Isle of Man, Jersey, Guernsey and a number of Crown Colonies have a go at it as well.   The only things they have in common is that they all have the same value and they're ugly; made of paper; people write on them; and the same denomination note does not necessarily correspond in size between banks.

The coins don't have numerals on them.  The value is written in text, very small, difficult to read text.  And don't expect to tell them apart by design; when the die was cast it wasn't cast very firmly.  There's something there but it's difficult to tell what even with glasses on and I know that because I had to wear them to sort change.  I was pleased to come home to colourful, clean plastic notes that actually fit my wallet; and coins with numbers on them - cumbersome and unnecessarily large though they are.  It's time to downsize the shrapnel as New Zealand did some years ago.

A good English cream tea is extraordinary - well worth every kilojoule and each yummy gram of fat!  It will make the best Australian Devonshire tea you've ever had look like it came from McDonald's!  Being a devotee of all things from King Island Dairy, I thought I knew cream, but not English clotted cream with a skin of butterfat on top.  English cream teas are quite literally to die for except at Harrods where they're nothing terribly special but are shockingly overpriced as everything is in that wankers' paradise.

And speaking of wankers, let's consider the House of Lords for a moment.  When we visited the Palace of Westminster we took the standard guided tour plus the House of Lords Cross-dressing Auto-erotic Asphyxiation Option which was well worth the additional £20.  The number of hereditary lords now eligible to sit in Parliament has been reduced from several million down to just 92 but at the end of the day the whole house is just unelected swill who can do nothing but delay legislation which eventually passes despite them.  So what's the point?  Are you beginning to see why Monty Python's Flying Circus isn't so much funny as simply ironic?  Any American folk who might happen to be reading this do look up that last word.  It's not generally well understood in your part of the world and almost always falls terribly flat when applied as it quite possibly has here.

And last, but certainly not least, we have the Almost People's Republic of Scotland.  Full marks to that Trout woman and her SNP for very nearly destroying the economies of two countries whilst driving a few more rusty nails into Europe's coffin.  Then there's the global flow-on to consider but SNP voters were too busy thinking about how they can have cheap healthcare and free tertiary education.  Oh, hang on, they already have both of those, unlike the English.  But it's not over yet, in their desperate bid to turn Scotland into a cold-climate version of Portugal, the SNP has given 7 year-olds the vote.  That's why I couldn't help but stand on the England-Scotland border facing north and yell "Fuck you, Jimmy!"

Now, is there anyone I haven't offended?  Equity is important to me so I do hope these ten blogs have provided something just a little distasteful for everyone.  If not please let me know and I'll do my best to expand the repertoire next holiday but for now I must bid you all a very jolly "Cheerio!"

Thursday 8 October 2015

Return of the Native - Part 9




Kew Gardens

I was expecting something more intensive from this world famous botanic garden and was initially a little disappointed by its park-like presentation.  It's a fusion between Sydney's Royal Botanic Garden and Centennial Park but once you adjust your thinking to the size of the place it's all there.  


Glenn & Peter on the beautiful Sackler Crossing at Kew Gardens
We were disappointed to discover that there are no longer any orange trees in the Orangerie and probably haven't been for at least a century.  It's now a cafe and function centre.  The Princess of Wales Conservatory does, however, have a good selection of the very same Australian natives we planted in our front yard - all under glass as I suppose they must be in a cooler climate.

It's almost worth going out to Kew just for the quaint village around the station.  That's Kew Gardens, OK - not Far Kew!

The British Museum

This place is absolutely rotten with plunder, all classy stuff that's very tastefully presented.  Until I saw them, I thought the Elgin Marbles should be returned but hey, fuck Greece!  They'd be rubble by now had they remained in Athens, the British saved them, they belong in London.


One of the Elgin Marbles
The Rosetta Stone was my actual must-see but unfortunately it's everyone else's as well.  My tip is save yourself the stress of the crush and go look at the Rosetta Stone memorabilia in the nearby gift shop.  You can get mouse mats, USBs, mugs, magnets, foam stress blocks, scarves, ties, pencils, pens, cuff links, broaches, paperweights, wall plaques, device rechargers, wooden postcards, regular postcards, notepads, key rings, tea towels and so much more.  It's like Jesus stuff at the Vatican or Mickey Mouse at Disneyland - same-same.


Glenn with the actual Rosetta Stone
We went to the classy museum shop though and bought a very smart piece of work by a master British glass blower, something that was worth standing in line at Heathrow to claim back the GST we paid.

The National Portrait Gallery

If you're short on daylight hours, the National Portrait Gallery closes late on a Thursday and Friday - and they have a bar in the foyer with a bare-cheated drag DJ who very much groves to his own beat.  We walked about casually sipping white wine and looking at "Art sweetie, art!" to quote the extraordinarily quotable Edina Monsoon.  And I must say, I gave the drag DJ a run for his money in my Hawaiian shirt and pink shorts amidst all the après-office London suits.


Che Guevara and Debussy to a disco beat
Trafalgar Square and there about

We somehow managed to leave this for the last day.  The tourist and shopping precincts of London are just so disturbingly busy that I don't think this was an accident.  Trafalgar Square is essentially a statue of a man on a very high pole and lots and lots of buses that go round and round, most of them red and double decker.  It was also being set up for a live broadcast of the following day's England v/s Australia rugby league game that I was apparently supposed to care a out.  Too funny!  


Trafalgar Square
 St Martin-in-the-Fields is nearby and they do lovely lunchtime concerts for just a donation if you choose.  You can also enjoy lunch in the crypt with lots of dead people - much like a weekday in any RSL club or bowlo right around New South Wales. 

With Yoda I am
I was on a quest to find the statue of Isambard Kingdom Brunel (a particular hero of mine) which is somewhere in the Temple District.  We found the Brunel Catering Company and a lot of smart but largely lightless residences with lovely private gardens but no Issy.  Never mind, Peter was in 7th Heaven when he discovered the Twinings Tea Company where you can try and buy every blend they produce at double the supermarket price - and he did! 

Peter outside the Twinings Tea Shop
The Wibbly-Wobbly Bridge

We were heading for the Tower Bridge then on to Wapping - simply because the name of the latter amuses us both in an Alf Garnett kind of way - but time was running short so we hit the Wibbly-Wobbly Bridge.  These days, this tends be known more and more by its correct name, the Millennium Bridge, now that its bugs have been ironed out and stabilised.  It's a great location from which to view much of London: St Paul's; the Tower Bridge; the Shard; the Walkie-Talkie; scads of Thames-born detritus; the stunningly ugly Tate Modern; and the reborn Globe Theatre.  There's also a plethora of tiny figures pressed into the walkway and you can get your own back on the ping-pong volley of completely directionless Londoners and tourists by stopping to photograph them all - it's huge fun! 


Art on the Wibbly-Wobbly Bridge
Back to Canada Water for the pack up

We left the classic parts of London till last and ran out of time so will have to come back, that's all there is to it.  We did everything on the list though:  Karl Marx; the Rosetta Stone; the Thames Barrier; the site of the convict hulks; all of the London transport options; The Book of Mormon; and much much more.  Then there was the North: Lindisfarne; masses of castles both ruined and functioning; beautiful gardens; the North Yorkshire Moors Railway with my absolute favourite engine, Sir Nigel Gresley; Hadrian's Wall; that terribly special railway viaduct around the castle in Newcastle; the canal boat adventure; and of course, Lin and wee Piper.  We have had a wonderful time! 

Farewell Canada Water - Farewell London - for now!


So it’s more of the same next time plus Iceland.  Look out for us!


Friday 2 October 2015

Return of the Native - Part 8



The Emirates Air Line

This isn't actually an airline but rather an air line - an aerial gondola across the Thames just east of the flood barrier - an enormously high gondola with views forever.  London's Lord Mayor apparently thinks it's public transport but the hike from a station at either end doesn't cut it for me.  Millennium Dome aside, it's also off the tourist track so I don't have a clue as to the reason for its existence, apart from advertising, but it's a damned good ride!

The Emirates Air Line
The Docklands Light Railway et al

As London's redevelopment pushes east so does the LDR - a driverless light rail network.  It is efficient and quick and is one of four kinds of rail in London.  The others are the Tube which we all know about - an essentially underground toy train set that was built for hobbits; the Overground which approaches adult-size and, contrary to its name, runs both overground and underground; and National Rail which is like the Sydney suburban and interurban network only all single deck.  

The Docklands Light Railway
There are numerous points where two or more systems interconnect but then you need to transfer which is not nearly as simple a process as it looks on the maps, especially if you're a tad claustrophobic as I am!  The connecting tunnels, escalators, elevators, moving footways and stairs can go for up to a kilometre and will give you an insight into the miserable life of a colliery pit pony.

Add to this the aforementioned confusion as to which side to walk on when surrounded by three or four times more people than the system was designed to handle and you will see why I heave a sigh of relief every time we finally break ground.

National Rail
The Devil Shops at Harrods

It's true!  If you must go there take a UV light, Satan's semen stains are everywhere, especially on and around the Egyptian Escalators which were apparently modelled on those in King Tutt's tomb!  This place is obscene, absolutely obscene - it is completely unnecessary!

We only went there because my sister, whom I dearly love, wanted one of those damned Harrods bags.  So off we went and I hated it from the very moment we walked through the door into the first of who-knows-how-many interconnecting 'rooms' that make up this retailing labyrinth.

While we were there I failed to spot a single thing that any living being actually needs - including the Pink Lady apples at  £8.50 a kilo which is almost ten times the price of the last ones I bought at Coles and that can't all be freight!  But on we struggled against the tide of cashed-up Arabs and curious tourists, asking and searching, asking and searching, until we finally stumbled upon the room that sells Harrods bags, the busiest room the entire store!

Of course on the way we managed to pass the Tea Room which got a certain somebody's juices flowing and despite my entirely better judgement I gave in.  We paid £32.95 for tea and scones - around $70 - which left me disgusted with myself!  I immediately vowed to find a local charity and donate an equivalent amount as penance, an act of cleansing if you will, and the opportunity came later that same evening at the end of the best theatre performance of my life when the cast and crew collected money for Save the Children in these dark, dark days of refugees in crisis.

The Book of Mormon

You've just gotta love the boys who wrote South Park - they have showcased the absolute best of their skills in The Book of Mormon.  It's a witty and amusing piss-take on Mormonism, an incredibly entertaining and melodious parody.  It begins with a very funny potted history and the annoying God-bothering Mormon tactics we're all-too-well aware of.  But then comes the twist when Elders Price and Cunningham are sent on mission to Africa.  Everything goes amusingly belly-up, as you would expect, and the klutzy Elder Cunningham ends up completely reinventing the Church Latter Day Saints in Uganda with the help of some frogs and The Book of Arnold - and best I don't go into the part the frogs play.


Andrew Lloyd killed musicals for me.  Every tune he has ever written is little more than a rework of 'I Don't Know How to Love Him' from Jesus Christ Superstar.  That was OK in the day but how many times can you bear the same bloody jingle unless you're a goldfish in a bowl, in which case it's all just variations on a theme - a musical version of McDonald's without the contrast of the pickle.  Never mind though, Trey Parker and Matt Stone have given me hope!

Hasa diga eebowai!