Oxford April 17

Up till now London has been chilly and occasionally wet...we emerged from the warmth of our cosy abode into the London streets with wheelie suitcases and small back packs, mine only carrying a doona and a pillow, and another pillow case (the case wouldn't fit two pillows, so I would have to suffice with rolled up towels as a pillow)...with it POURING!...so we made our way to the station with the rain bucketing down.

After getting out at Lambeth North station we walked to our destination ( Wicked camper vans) where we were to pick up our new home for the next 7 days. Before us we could see a very black van with lots of unsavoury stickers on the bumper bar. I told the young person, Leesy from Brisbane who greeted us, that I wasn't prepared to travel with the stickers. She assured me that it wasn't our car. We breathed a sigh of relief as it seemed a rather gloomy looking car, and the stickers added to its undesirability.

The Van

After some discussions with Leesy about what roads to take and how she was enjoying London, we eventually were led to our pastel-coloured car, shown its idiosyncrasies...and then were ready to go. Leaving London was harder than one would have imagined, and we did a u turn, and then another, ending up in the same direction, before we made it onto the correct route.

After a few hiccoughs we were off to Oxford. The green fields rolled by, and we were delighted to be leaving the city behind for a while. Soon we arrived at our overnight destination, and with maps in hand headed off on foot to find the Thames and Oxford.

The Thames, Oxfordshire

Ambling along the banks were many sights to take in. The banks were dotted by 'house boats', very small vessels with names like Jean Marguerite, Pia, Lily Rose, Chavorin...some adorned with potted plants on the roof...

There were also lots of ducks, some very tame, in fact so tame that we could have enjoyed duck soup for dinner.

Friendly duck



We found ourselves in Oxford, and 'The Head of the River' hotel seemed like the ideal place for lunch.

House literally on the Thames

Lunch at The Head of the River

 We ordered fish and chips (cod), which came on a small bed of slightly mashed peas, on a piece of slate! It was delicious!










Our appetites satisfied we set out exploring Oxford. The buildings were amazing...it felt as though we were moving through an historic film set...the solid buildings, beautifully made, reflected how learning had been revered.

Christchurch Oxford

Eventually we found ourselves at Blackwell's a huge book shop, and then at Cafe Nero where we were surrounded by people either intently reading, or discussing what they'd been reading. 

Library, Oxford

Out in the street there was a group of young people with a stick and a hoop, entertaining onlookers with excerpts from a play they were to perform.

We tried to find the bus back,but it was nowhere to be found, so we traced our steps back along the Thames. It was no longer the sleepy river with the odd houseboat but was now alive with crews in rowing boats,being spurred on by the cox, and by bicycle riding coaches on the bank. There were also lots of other cyclists enjoying their rides.
We braced ourselves against the cold and settled into our new bed, slightly hard, but warm.

Cotswolds and Devizes April 18

After cocopops (to put us in holiday mode) and cups of tea we headed back on the road, passing through villages in the Cotswolds. Apparently the Cotswolds is known for its chilly winds and bleak weather, and that it was. With rain pelting we headed to Woodstock, found a parking spot to walk around the village but it was too wet so we headed into the local library for shelter, then back to the car for a drive around the streets. The houses were amazing- stone with steep pitched rooves, generally opening right onto the street.

The countryside was green and gently undulating, with the odd mansion at the top of a hill, surrounded by woods enclosed by walls. Our next stop was Witney where I made an essential purchase...an umbrella, and we strolled the streets chancing upon a 99p shop, where we stocked up on all our essentials...batteries, dishcloths, tea bags, chocolate and biscuits. Again the houses were very historic, close together, steep pitched rooves and stone.

We arrived at Burford, which has a very steep main street, and a number of quaint shops.

                                         Man walking five dogs!

April 10, National Gallery

Walking shoes on I set off for the National Gallery and as usual Trafalgar Square was alive with activity. People were enjoying sitting on the seats watching the buskers: two were statues, one silver the other gold. The silver one was happy to stop and be photographed with bystanders, striking poses with his sword, generally the sword across a hapless victim's neck.
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Singer Dolores Divine, dressed up in black stilettos and flamboyant red polka dot dress, entertained the crowd. She finished her routine and was approached by some little girls who had been enjoying the performance. They were delighted to be chatting with her, and in turn, Dolores enjoyed their attention.

In the gallery there was much to see, favourites being by Rubens, Van Gogh and Monet. Again there were people everywhere, speaking many language, couples, families, all enjoying the work. Guides speaking different language ushered through huge groups, pointing out pertinent information about particular paintings...Not only is there an impressive array of paintings the gallery itself is splendid, with grand ceilings ornately finished in gold.

April 12, The Tate Modern

Following a rest day it was time for my training regime again, this time the usual walk into town, with a rest at Temple Garden, overlooking the Thames, which, from that angle, is quite reminiscent of the Yarra! Crossing the road onto the path running next to the Thames I was confronted by a veritable stream of athletes, jogging furiously along. It started to drizzle but this did not deter them, as they soldiered on regardless. The walk bridge took us over the Thames to the Tate, not before stopping to admire the vista, including the Tower Bridge.

In the courtyard was an immense sculpture by Damien Hirsh, an anatomical sculpture with a mechanical eyepiece. This proved to be a favourite spot for photos, particularly of young children.

Inside there was lots to see, though I confess that the most modern art didn't appeal: the painted blob on the wall, the red chiffon ceiling with staircase, the mirror, the long white cloth draped around a glass vase, the white circles of pebbles carefully placed...interesting but lax in execution, short on skill, passion and creativity...or so it seemed to me...The more permanent exhibition space was more to my liking: the vivid work of Kandinsky, and Monet's gentle Water lilies.

I was also taken by a neon installation which had bands of neon, all projecting the same sentence which fell like a waterfall. I sat there for ages, expecting there to be a loop, eventually coming back to the same sentence, but it seemed

to have an endless stream of sentences.

On exiting the Tate the weather too had changed, the sun streaming. I took myself over to St Paul's Cathedral,

then navigated back, finding secret manicured gardens in the most unusual places...and finally finding myself at the vast Smithfield Market, now deserted. My legs wearily dragged themselves back to my good friend, the number 29 bus, a happy sight.

The evening was spent trawling the Internet, wondering where to go in England and how best to get there. A hire car seemed a good option, and somehow I chanced upon a site that had a campervan on offer from London to Amsterdam for 7 days. The deal: they would provide the car so long as we'd get it to the destination by the due date and time and, in the meantime, we could enjoy the English countryside and see some parts of France, as well as Amsterdam, which we'd already been intending to do.

April 13, Planning and Bookings

In the morning I emailed the company about the van. They replied promptly- it was still a possibility and a number of emails later we were committed to the new adventure. We would pay £1 plus insurance, petrol, ferry expenses and our flights back...So all this was organised.

April 14, Oxford St

No matter how much I tried I could not convince myself to look at another painting, nor museum exhibit, so I headed into town, to see the shops, hoping to see the more well known shops like Marks and Spencer's, Fortnum and Mason and Harrods.

I wandered around the streets along with the throng. Top Shop was an interesting experience, loud music and full of excited young people, enjoying all it had to offer. Quickly I tired of this pursuit, and eagerly sought the number 19, taking a quick detour to Carnaby St, which didn't hold much interest, a street like most others, now living on its past reputation.

April 15, The Thames Ferry and Greenwich

Contrary to my usual routine (walking into town) I took the Tube into town with George, who readily negotiated all the lines, finally ending up at Embankment station. It's so far underground that my ears blocked, so it was good to get back to street level. We emerged into the sunlight and found ourselves in a very pretty park, Victoria Embankment.

Opposite the road is Cleopatra's needle, a massive obelisk donated by the Viceroy of Egypt to Britain, made of red granite and inscribed with hieroglyphs, watched over by two sphinx-like statues.

From here we caught the ferry down the Thames, a delightful trip, with a feast to look at all around.

It was also freezing, felt like there was an Arctic wind.

 

We alighted at Greenwich, walked past the Cutty Sark and wandered around a market then followed this with a huge bowl of Vietnamese duck and noodle soup. Delicious!

Once thawed out, we headed around Greenwich where there are many museums and historic buildings, and a vast park with a very steep hill, rewarding us with a panoramic view.

 Thoroughly frozen we found the Russell Square bus which seemed to take a lifetime to get us to the museum and our 19 bus.

It was a joy to walk into the warmth of the apartment, to shelter from the blizzard.

London
Wednesday April 4
I was thinking about all my English friends who now live in Australia
as I walked the streets of London to the British Museum. We are
staying in Islington, very close to the Islington Highbury station.
We arrived here on Monday evening, and plan to use London as a base
for 12 weeks.

As I haven't been here before it's all very new and different. Walking
along the streets there's a sense of history, everywhere. The streets
of Carlton seem like babes in comparison.

Initially I thought I'd catch a bus to Trafalgar Square (have to see all the
Monopoly sites)...and already have walked past a few...But then
decided to walk to get my bearings and, because for the past months
have spent most of my days at a desk, walking seems the perfect
antidote, and affords the opportunity of wandering into shops, or
gazing into shop windows.

The British Museum was packed, a very multicultural experience...felt at
home. There's an Islamic exhibition on so there were many Muslims of
all ages, from all countries. I managed to see most of the ground
floor, but figure that there are many days to explore. Tennyson's
quote is so fitting '...and let thy feet millenniums hence be set in
midst of knowledge...'

By the time I was on my way back a local asked me if I could direct her
to Essex St and I could! So I must look the part as well.

Albert Hall, Good Friday April 6
Had another look at the British museum...would take many a visit to see
it properly. The scale of some of the exhibits is extraordinary, the
statues, huge vases...and the incredible collection of all kinds of
interesting objects: the cape made of gold, jewellery through the
ages, the Egyptian exhibits...even some Baltic jewellery influenced
by the Vikings. But the museum was absolutely packed. Other parts
would wait for yet another day...

                                                                        

Then it was to Piccadilly Circus- absolutely teeming...people

everywhere...Funnily enough most of central London seems to be made
up of map wielding tourists like me....So now I don't feel self
conscious opening out my map. I'm just like nearly every other person
around! Past Park Lane I walked- the outside coffee area lined with
flower boxes of daffodils and then to Hyde Park with its daffodils,
bluebells and blossom trees, gathering speed at this stage.

                                                          Blossom trees- Hyde Park

I needed to find Albert Hall quickly as time was running out: Handel's
Messiah, with the Royal Choral Society was soon to begin. People were
milling everywhere. I was directed to where tickets were being sold,
and the queue snaked round and around. A man, around 70 approached.
He had two tickets- would anyone like to buy them? He had no takers,
then came back ready to sell them to two singles. I know not why, I
agreed, so he beckoned me and the other person out. It would be £20,
with the face value showing £22. The other man said...was it £20
for two...but it wasn't. The customer declined...said he'd be buying
one for £10 to which the seller said he wouldn't get one for that
price. So now I had a ticket- now to find the right door.

Feeling somewhat apprehensive about my ticket I made my way to the usher, but
all was fine. After finding my seat I sat down, and looked at the
reverse side of the ticket. The first condition of entry read 'Those
holding tickets purchased from touts are liable to be refused
permission'. That I could've done without! I sat gingerly on my seat,
relieved that I was in the middle of the row, more relieved when a
family sat down to my left and absolutely relieved when the person
sat down on my right (I believe the seller's wife, about 70, who kept
nodding off every now and then). Finally the concert started and was
beautiful- 4 soloists, an orchestra and at least 200 in the choir.
The Hallelujah Chorus, the main reason for wanting to see the concert
as I'd sung it with massed choir as a young girl at Melbourne Town
Hall, was perfect. The whole hall stood for it, which made it even
more memorable.

Apsley House, Sunday April 8

The day before had been a rest day, so I was ready for a new adventure.
Off I headed into the crisp day, feeling confident, more and more
aware of all the landmarks en route to the City of London. There's a
myriad of cafes and eating places, many with much character about
them, seats made from the spoke of a wheel, mosaic topped tables,
tables with fresh flowers.

 Then there are the quirky signs which invariably amuse, on a clothing shop
 front ' Yes! We do mainly black, but we do black very well.'

All along the way are bars and pubs with names like 'The Cock', 'The
Bull' and 'Steam Passage Tavern' and the classic hairdresser's name
'The Rough Cut'! The roads are all painted with signs on the bitumen
'look right' 'look left'... Close to the turn is a classic old
butcher's shop, which has never been open, with window decoration:
30 eggs on a tray, with about 8 more piled on top of the 30, and
small plastic animals, the three pigs, with one of them headless, a
couple of hens and a cow.

                                                            

I reached where I cockily thought was the right place to turn, but

alas, found myself nowhere near Piccadilly Circus, in fact, I found
myself completely lost, not a feeling I like. Eventually I realised
I'd been going in quite the opposite direction, heading for the
Thames. It wouldn't have been so bad, but I'd arranged to meet
George at Hyde Park Corner, and time was running out. So I galloped
through Trafalgar Square, through St James Park, past Buckingham
Palace, and finally to my meeting place, where I could relax, have a
drink and some fruit, and wonder where George could be. Turned out
that he'd had a different statue in mind...but eventually we met up,
and made our way to Apsley House, house somewhat an understatement.
It was the Duke of Wellington's House, now given over to the public.
It was full of artwork of famous artists like Velazquez, Degas, Goya,
right back to the 1500s, and the largest nude statue of Napoleon that
you'll ever see. The Waterloo Gallery was huge, sumptuous in
decoration, paintings and furniture, but through the window was a
very simple swing and see saw, a somewhat incongruous juxtaposition.
After the crowds of the British Museum it was good to stroll around,
with very few other onlookers.

My legs ached and the 19 bus was a welcome sight, as was the comfort of
the cosy apartment: bliss to come home to.

Flight of fancy 2 London

Flight of fancy ...mark 2...London bound

April 2 2012

The low hum of the engine is comforting as we hurtle through space...but it almost wasn't to be. Were the few words on the ticket (date change not allowed- no refund) a subtle warning?

April Fools' Day 2012

A step back to the wee hours of Sunday morning at Cambridge St, about 2am, and an email alerted me to the date...April 1 .... And in an instant the realisation dawned. I'd miscalculated. Mary was right when she'd said that we were leaving on Sunday night. We were! No point in calling George. He'd be sound asleep, or so I thought. So I soldiered on aiming for more than a semblance of order (leaving behind a very tidy space, and the inanimate objects echoing my state of mind and body ( one photocopier jammed, and not a hint of where the wretched paper could be...the other threatening non compliance exhibiting the 'order drum now' message, which initially is just a warning, then threat...soon it too would down tools! Then the last uncooperative one, the shredder, said 'enough' though I tried to appease it by emptying the contents. No. Its mouth remained firmly locked, refusing to grind any more paper.

So 4am I locked away my key in a safe place and headed off into the night, leaving behind reasonable order, well, at least order in that in between little room near the landing, and a fair bit of empty desk space to boot. How is it that whatever one vacates all is in a better state than ever before, when moving house, the tops of the cupboards dustless, when they have never been...

George was up and so I delivered the news. To bed, and then at 10am a strong coffee to kickstart the day. The chores that were supposed to be Monday's needed rethinking. The pounds would need to be purchased elsewhere. Fortunately most of the other tasks had phone service 24/7 so could do these. The others would have to wait.

To one of my favourite shops in the Southern Hemisphere- the Greenery, beautifully landscaped. Tranquil. Two cyclamens and 4 cakes of soap later (what does one bring OS when the expected Monday doesn't eventuate?)...and off to mum's for schnitzels and lingonberry sauce...then home to more confusion.

George had said that we'd been invited for drinks between 2 and 5 by Michael, to toast Melissa's 40th, as she didn't want a party. So realising that time was running out I went over to Michael and Pamela's to say I'd be just dropping in briefly - after much confusion transpired that they weren't putting on drinks, that it was at James and Melissa's. Eventually (1.50 by my account) I went next door. Sounded devoid of any activity. Finally Melissa emerged, in track suit pants, looking like I 'd woken her up. At that stage I thought either I'd got it wrong and drinks were somewhere locally, or Melissa didn't know. So my lips were dutifully sealed and I just said 'we 're off to London tonight...and happy birthday'.... and left somewhat puzzled. Generally April Fool's day passes, and it's just like any day. However all had been confusing time wise. My watch didn't tally with the one at home so I changed it, thinking that it had accidentally stopped when the winder was knocked (as it does)...so I had more time to prepare, and arrived close to 2. Sitting there chatting, the clock on the wall showed another time...and finally it dawned- daylight saving! And boy did I need that extra hour on that day...but this April Fool's Day sure lived up to its reputation!

Drinks, a good chance to catch up with all the neighbours, home again, for the final pack (which I'd started at about 1pm), and obligatory phone calls that were supposed to be Monday's job.

Alexander drove us to the airport. This time I wouldn't lose my passport. Check in all fine, and, following Pamela's sound advice George commented that it would be good to have a seat with a bit of legroom. All fixed, through the acres of duty free shops to the International Departure lounge where I was, yet again, duly scanned for traces of explosives, by a woman with a Slavic accent and a sense of humour. As I thought she said

...no trace of explosives as she scanned the screen...in fact you have been the least explosive all day..with your lovely smile I knew that would be the case. They're the ones we do...not the aggressive looking ones.

A quiet sit down Greek salad followed by water in the bar, then off to the departure lounge. But where are my two boarding passes....back to my quiet sit down spot ( at not such a leisurely pace) and there they are, quietly resting, waiting to be claimed by their rightful owner.

April 2 2012

Finally we're onto the plane, and, to our utter delight emergency seats ( window seat for me) a comparative MCG of legroom space, relative to the rest of the passengers. Melbourne's lights looked fairylike as we flew quite low over the city.

But can you see what's on the wall to our left. You guessed it, a young babe, not impressed with his surroundings whose lungs literally exploded for the first hour or so. He was lovingly bounced and indulged by his father, and eventually settled into a quiet slumber.

During the night we were pampered by indulgent cabin crew crew...peanuts, like you've never tasted before and the hostess said have another. Then when George complimented them again but said he'd already had 2 packets, she appeared with another two....then drinks and more drinks, and a hot chicken and vegetable pastry roll...to sleep...not long till morning, and more food to wake us up.

Breakfast wasn't to disappoint, massaman shrimp curry and the other choice, scrambled eggs.

All of this was accompanied by a croissant, fruit salad, yoghurt, coffee, orange juice, a muesli bar...wow! I had the massaman shrimps. Delicious! And...the cutlery was real, not plastic.

All was abustle. The crying babe was now content.. his dad continuing to cater for his every need.

m

At KL we had about 3 hours to fill in (George did a mercy run back to the plane and thankfully retrieved my much loved velvet jacket, the only item of clothing for warmth for the trip) which had been left in the above board compartment. We had a look at the jungle, a feature of the airport, and just lounged around waiting for the next leg.

Our seats weren't quite the same standard as the previous flight, but reasonable leg room so we settled in for the next 10 hours, the journey broken up by food, and more food, and drinks...And some interesting conversation with Ann from Ireland, returning from Perth (which she called (Pert), all the 'th' endings becoming 't' with that beautiful Irish accent. Her first port of call on return was to be the pub, to drink Budweisers and buy some Irish cigarettes. She found the warnings on the Australian packets effective, would turn the pack over or place a napkin on it to avoid reading the warnings. We were encouraged to visit Ireland, particularly the Kerry, and Dublin and coastal areas. Hiring a car and staying in local pubs would be the go.

M'