Dear Blogsessed followers,
This blog will be undergoing an upgrade over the next month or so in order to prepare it for the nomination (or denomination) of most neglected blogspot of the year.
KR (Kind Regards)
Claire
Sunday 7 November 2010
Friday 5 November 2010
And I'm back in the game...
Right peepola's...I am back on track and while I realise that I may have let a number of loyal readers down, I have to say that you can't live your lives vicariously through me. You all need to move to London to experience it for yourselves. Moral of this story: Move to London so I can count my friends on more than one hand.
Considering the fact that the last time I visited this little blooming bloglet was close to 5 months ago, I have a fair amount to fill you in on. I will do it in order of most exhilarating experiences to most mundane daily matters. Ready...
Most exhilarating experience....
Running out of money before the end of the month hence not having a cent to travel to and from work with. This is a number one problem, let me tell you why. Travelling in London is not the same as travelling in a car; you can't free wheel down hills when you're out of petrol, or syphon fuel out of innocent cars in parking lots, this is hard-core tube riding. I have many a time considered bumming the person in front of me (this involves placing my pelvic area on the person in front of Me's buttocks) and then sneaking through the gates. I might describe these as the gates of hell in fact. Yesterday, I tapped my Oyster card(Insane lingo for the card that is neither slimy nor eaten with lemon and Tabasco,which eats up my monthly money) at the gates of hell and realised that my travel card had run out and that I did not have enough money on my card to make it to work without paying a hefty fine at the end of my journey. So I thought on my feet, my tippy toes and came up with the only plan I could think of. I tapped back out so that I could buy a ticket to work.....THEN...AND THEN the gates of hell charge me the maximum amount of £6 and I hadn't even travelled anywhere yet. Blimey, really? So I decided not to let this issue slide by because that was my week's food money right there. So I said to the man who works at the gates of hell (he may as well have been the devil) "Excuse me sir, but this machine just ate my £6 and I didn't even get to travel anywhere". Satan's response "Yes, it punishes you if you tap in and out within a minute, it is punishing you for pussy footing around". Well I have never. I shouted at the little evil being....don't think they were full sentences or even English words, but I told him he was naughty and that I hoped he had a bad day.
As if that isn't bad enough, since I have been here there have been 2 very harrowing tube strikes. Now for those of you who have never been here before, let me explain something to you. The underground network here is like your arteries taking blood to and from your heart(of the city), cars are just little capillaries as are mopeds and feet. Now if you cut those arteries, people panic and then you will die or need very serious medical attention. This is exactly what happens on days like these. This is how it happens:
The week before they occur, newspapers start journalist speak of strikes and too little pay along with other jingles. A day before, the papers publish the time that the strike is due to start and the stations that will be affected. Something like 80 stations closed, 2 lines running minimal services and the buses look like cattle truck in Pakistan, ridiculous. On Wednesday night it took me 2 hours to get home from a course that I had. Normally it would take me 40 minutes from Oxford Circus to Wimbledon but not this time. Every station I went to was closed and after walking for half an hour, I found a station that was running a limited service. I got on the train and ended up in Notting Hill gate-Lovely if you're looking for a blue door-not so much if you're just blue. I had to catch a random bus from there (had no clue where I was going or even in which direction) and ended up at Shepherd's Bush station, where thank goodness, the overland runs from. I finally made it home after 2 more train changes. Traumatic. The next time you're in traffic in Cape town and have a beautiful view to admire whilst you wait, please refrain from thinking that that is the worst scenario in the world....mine trumps yours....at least you have a radio and a view.
Next story also involves the glory of public transport. This time I was on my way home from work, catching my normal bus home when this massively huge man gets on the bus. He was a perfect replica of Mr T from the A team. Next thing he starts screaming at the bus driver to close the bus doors and I was thinking to myself "you know Mr, its a bit unnecessary to be so melodramatic and more so to be shouting at a bus driver like you think you are the A team". Next thing, I look down the road and these 5 gangsters are running towards our bus, weapons drawn. "Thank you God for a lovely life.Goodbye world"......The bus driver quickly jumps to action & closes the bus doors (which are little less quick to jump to action) and he pulls off. At this point I feel slightly relieved until the little kid behind me who is looking out of the back window is shouting "Mummy, Mummy look look those boys are following us...teee heee PAUSE, Mummy, why are they following us?". At which I wanted to respond, "well little poegenpoel, they're are going to whip out their guns when they catch us and we're probably going to die....no ice-cream for you today". I held my mouth and true as Bob, we pull up to the next bus stop and the o-gang-atangs come bursting onto this bus just like the three little pigs except one has a knife, one has a bottle and the other has his belt off. They head straight for the stairs where Mr T has gone to take position in his viewing point. I took the opportunity to gap it off the bus, except seconds later the gangsters have located Mr T, who also now has a bottle in hand and they have conveniently decided to take the bottle wars outside. Now Mr Bus driver is shouting at me to get back on the bus- he reckons it'll be safer. Now I am shedding tears and trying to get my shaking legs to maneuver me back onto the bus and as I get back on I see that Mr T has made it to safety behind the glass doors, which are being stabbed at from the outside with all sorts of trinkets (knives and the like) and I find myself back in the line of fire. Thankfully Mr bus Driver sounded the alarm and called the infamous 999 (10111 - fastest armed response in the world?). We were eventually escorted to the next few stops by a policeman on a bat mobile. I am alive.
I am reasonably traumatised from reliving the said trauma's, so I will leave it at that for the moment. Tomorrow we can discuss this day-light saving nonsense.....
Sunday 18 July 2010
I walked a granny home and then stepped on a snail...
If ever there was a more inconsistent, elusive blogger in the bloggerspere than myself.....you're lying to yourself. This is the thing though, I'm not lazy and not really inconsistent, its just that bloggerdom is sooooooo common- its basically Benoni; that I have to set myself apart. I do this by using the element of surprise....its like when most of you get home and the only thing that has been on your mind all day is reading my blog, then when you check it there's nothing new. Disappointment. Check again. Nothing. A week later you've got the shakes from withdrawals, when all of a sudden, Boom. I'm back. You're surprised and delighted. You've got to understand something though, I am well aware that I am your personal brand of heroine (Mom, blog addiction is unhealthy-you should see someone about it), but I have a life, and no iPhone therefor no Internet in my back pocket. Bare with the breaks between posts.
Speaking of this life that I have, I guess it wouldn't hurt to divulge some dets. Yesterday I walked a granny home, she was great, we chatted and chuckled and while I thought of adopting her, I had to let her go....be free granny, fly away home. Ah bless, she was so cute, I wanted to keep her like a pet because I have had enough of cats and dogs, and goldfish and iguana's do nothing for a cuddle. Good deed done, I am a good Samaritan....I could literally feel the halo glowing over my do.....then I stood on a snail. Now I'm not sure if that means I'm going to hell, but basically the halo froze over. Although on second thoughts, snails don't make good pets either.
In case some of you missed my fb statuses, 2 weeks ago I was asked if I was free on a Wednesday by (insert name of your choice). I was, so I said yes, why....what does this involve, is it legal? The response was cryptic, but yes it sounded legal (not ready to test out the chookie here yet, public transport is bad enough). So I probed as one does. I asked where I was going? Somewhere was the answer. So I asked what I should wear? Shorts, T-shirt and sunglasses. Where do I meet you? I'll let you know 10mins before you have to be there. Basically, this sounds like a massive deal going down. At 5:30 on this said Wednesday eve I get a call saying meet at Marble arch in 5 minutes. So I obey.....and low and behold, there are thousands of people there.....tens of thousands. So I thought a little something something was going on. My thoughts were confirmed when I met (insert name of your choice) and out of a little white envelop came 2 tickets to Kings of Leon!!!!! Kings of flipping Leon peeps, kan jy glo? It was amazing, they're as good live as they are on the radio, or in a club, or in your i-podified ears.Better in fact. It was in Hyde park, under a perfect sky......how's a little sex on fire as the sun sets over Hyde Park?(Don't worry Mom and Dad, sex on fire is the name of a song....not the actual deed). I spent the eve bopping away with a group of radicool people...at one stage I had a Guy on my shoulder...a dude....on my shoulders!Ridonk. Then I spent the rest of the eve on someone else's shoulders, insane. We were rocking out with our frocks out, when a bottle slams into my back, some clever, very cool person threw a bottle at me! (Granted everyone was doing it, and it probably wasn't aimed at me, but still.....really now. Concentrate on the Kings people). So there I am, standing with a drenched back, only to find out the next day that it is not in fact beer that is in those very full bottles...but the contents of an awful boy's bladder. Vomitory. I have since washed the shirt 3 times. I will attempt to wear it again in the near future.
Summary of Kings: Ha ha you didn't get to go!
I spent an afternoon in Hampstead Heath 2 weekends ago, it was beauteous. I have never seen so much park in my life, it was just a whole lot of Park. They have massive mixed pools (green ponds) for boys and girls to frolic in and then single sex pools for boys to play with boys and girls to play with girls(take it how you will). I felt like I was in a movie, I think at one stage I may have even started to act as though I was being filmed but snapped out of it very quickly. Bit awks when you're trying to meet new people all the while you're peering over their shoulders looking for the film crew. I did indeed meet some new people. The people meeting and greeting is going well, for those of you at home who spend your nights wondering and worrying whether this social retard could make friends. Granted they might not call me back, or answer my calls....no, now who is going to dispute my claims of friendship if they've been lucky enough to make the cut. I carry friendship bangles around with me these days so that anytime, anywhere I meet a person that seems like they could move comfortably in my social realm I reward them. Better yet, I tag or brand them. So if you're in London and see people wearing a WWCD (What would Claire do) bracelet, you'll know that they're hot to trot. IE they're a'ight man.in'nit? (Might've been a Jamaican slash chav accent there-slip up).
Now for the news, the news to choose to use or lose.
I suppose the most important part of my life at the moment is my work. I say this not because I'm an alcoholic...I mean workaholic, but because I spend 12 hours a day 5 days a week at work(or on my way too or from work), so its a major portion of my life at the moment. Also being my first proper job in a big company- its likely to play an important part in shaping my future. I can honestly say that I look forward to going to work everyday, it something few people get to say and mean.....I've got it. My team is the tri-nations.....who actually perform. There are no head butts in the first 4 minutes (Although boss does have an evil streak for the first 45minutes of the day), people only get booked via the quote book rather than a yellow card. On this subject I have a lot to say, I would like to formally state that everything(mostly) has been misquoted. There is a quote that reads "Ah Carson, so you meeting the Ray-dog today?(referring to me meeting a client) Response: "Ya, first I'm going to suss him out then I am going to blow him off"! Honestly now, have you ever? I said I'd blow him away!There are others that are completely out of context: Claire to Boss "Boss, you're moving into my box".....office response: Everyone doubled over in stitches. Then I'm left to explain that I was not in fact talking about anything other than the fact that he was literally packing his desk contents into my box.....making matters only worse. Other book entries are solely based on the language barrier. When asked if I wanted a brew I was close to asking if alcohol was allowed during work but held my tongue. So I said no thanks, but Ill have coffee please. Doc replies "Do you want that white?" Claire's blunder no.10 "Does that mean with milk?". As a group we get on really well, so we go for lunches together, and drinks after work etc, so one day I'm off to lunch and The Hawk says "I think I'll go for a liquid lunch today," Claire responds "Cool, what soup are you having?". For those of you as speedy as me- a liquid lunch apparently refers to booze. I am tempted to put a Saffa dictionary up on my desk to avoid any future misunderstandings. Here are some new words for you to practice and then commercialise, let me know if they kick off:
Pony=crap (lame, I'd rather use the word donkey)
Village= crap (who says that is village?)
Brew=Tea (any hot drink, but not the same as a brewski)
White=with milk people,with milk
mate=any person you talk to ever, anytime, anywhere
Oh to clarify that (sorry I lost track), Boss is a Koala and Dan is a Kangaroo(Kiwi and aussie, hence the Tri-nations....so far I have lost 2 bets. Not stoked Bokke.
Before I get carpel tunnel syndrome, I'm gonna give this a rest until your next surprise post....
Stay classy.
(I'll post Kings of Leons Pics soon soon)
Speaking of this life that I have, I guess it wouldn't hurt to divulge some dets. Yesterday I walked a granny home, she was great, we chatted and chuckled and while I thought of adopting her, I had to let her go....be free granny, fly away home. Ah bless, she was so cute, I wanted to keep her like a pet because I have had enough of cats and dogs, and goldfish and iguana's do nothing for a cuddle. Good deed done, I am a good Samaritan....I could literally feel the halo glowing over my do.....then I stood on a snail. Now I'm not sure if that means I'm going to hell, but basically the halo froze over. Although on second thoughts, snails don't make good pets either.
In case some of you missed my fb statuses, 2 weeks ago I was asked if I was free on a Wednesday by (insert name of your choice). I was, so I said yes, why....what does this involve, is it legal? The response was cryptic, but yes it sounded legal (not ready to test out the chookie here yet, public transport is bad enough). So I probed as one does. I asked where I was going? Somewhere was the answer. So I asked what I should wear? Shorts, T-shirt and sunglasses. Where do I meet you? I'll let you know 10mins before you have to be there. Basically, this sounds like a massive deal going down. At 5:30 on this said Wednesday eve I get a call saying meet at Marble arch in 5 minutes. So I obey.....and low and behold, there are thousands of people there.....tens of thousands. So I thought a little something something was going on. My thoughts were confirmed when I met (insert name of your choice) and out of a little white envelop came 2 tickets to Kings of Leon!!!!! Kings of flipping Leon peeps, kan jy glo? It was amazing, they're as good live as they are on the radio, or in a club, or in your i-podified ears.Better in fact. It was in Hyde park, under a perfect sky......how's a little sex on fire as the sun sets over Hyde Park?(Don't worry Mom and Dad, sex on fire is the name of a song....not the actual deed). I spent the eve bopping away with a group of radicool people...at one stage I had a Guy on my shoulder...a dude....on my shoulders!Ridonk. Then I spent the rest of the eve on someone else's shoulders, insane. We were rocking out with our frocks out, when a bottle slams into my back, some clever, very cool person threw a bottle at me! (Granted everyone was doing it, and it probably wasn't aimed at me, but still.....really now. Concentrate on the Kings people). So there I am, standing with a drenched back, only to find out the next day that it is not in fact beer that is in those very full bottles...but the contents of an awful boy's bladder. Vomitory. I have since washed the shirt 3 times. I will attempt to wear it again in the near future.
Summary of Kings: Ha ha you didn't get to go!
I spent an afternoon in Hampstead Heath 2 weekends ago, it was beauteous. I have never seen so much park in my life, it was just a whole lot of Park. They have massive mixed pools (green ponds) for boys and girls to frolic in and then single sex pools for boys to play with boys and girls to play with girls(take it how you will). I felt like I was in a movie, I think at one stage I may have even started to act as though I was being filmed but snapped out of it very quickly. Bit awks when you're trying to meet new people all the while you're peering over their shoulders looking for the film crew. I did indeed meet some new people. The people meeting and greeting is going well, for those of you at home who spend your nights wondering and worrying whether this social retard could make friends. Granted they might not call me back, or answer my calls....no, now who is going to dispute my claims of friendship if they've been lucky enough to make the cut. I carry friendship bangles around with me these days so that anytime, anywhere I meet a person that seems like they could move comfortably in my social realm I reward them. Better yet, I tag or brand them. So if you're in London and see people wearing a WWCD (What would Claire do) bracelet, you'll know that they're hot to trot. IE they're a'ight man.in'nit? (Might've been a Jamaican slash chav accent there-slip up).
Now for the news, the news to choose to use or lose.
I suppose the most important part of my life at the moment is my work. I say this not because I'm an alcoholic...I mean workaholic, but because I spend 12 hours a day 5 days a week at work(or on my way too or from work), so its a major portion of my life at the moment. Also being my first proper job in a big company- its likely to play an important part in shaping my future. I can honestly say that I look forward to going to work everyday, it something few people get to say and mean.....I've got it. My team is the tri-nations.....who actually perform. There are no head butts in the first 4 minutes (Although boss does have an evil streak for the first 45minutes of the day), people only get booked via the quote book rather than a yellow card. On this subject I have a lot to say, I would like to formally state that everything(mostly) has been misquoted. There is a quote that reads "Ah Carson, so you meeting the Ray-dog today?(referring to me meeting a client) Response: "Ya, first I'm going to suss him out then I am going to blow him off"! Honestly now, have you ever? I said I'd blow him away!There are others that are completely out of context: Claire to Boss "Boss, you're moving into my box".....office response: Everyone doubled over in stitches. Then I'm left to explain that I was not in fact talking about anything other than the fact that he was literally packing his desk contents into my box.....making matters only worse. Other book entries are solely based on the language barrier. When asked if I wanted a brew I was close to asking if alcohol was allowed during work but held my tongue. So I said no thanks, but Ill have coffee please. Doc replies "Do you want that white?" Claire's blunder no.10 "Does that mean with milk?". As a group we get on really well, so we go for lunches together, and drinks after work etc, so one day I'm off to lunch and The Hawk says "I think I'll go for a liquid lunch today," Claire responds "Cool, what soup are you having?". For those of you as speedy as me- a liquid lunch apparently refers to booze. I am tempted to put a Saffa dictionary up on my desk to avoid any future misunderstandings. Here are some new words for you to practice and then commercialise, let me know if they kick off:
Pony=crap (lame, I'd rather use the word donkey)
Village= crap (who says that is village?)
Brew=Tea (any hot drink, but not the same as a brewski)
White=with milk people,with milk
mate=any person you talk to ever, anytime, anywhere
Oh to clarify that (sorry I lost track), Boss is a Koala and Dan is a Kangaroo(Kiwi and aussie, hence the Tri-nations....so far I have lost 2 bets. Not stoked Bokke.
Before I get carpel tunnel syndrome, I'm gonna give this a rest until your next surprise post....
Stay classy.
(I'll post Kings of Leons Pics soon soon)
Sunday 27 June 2010
Jimmy Eat World - It Just Takes Some Time Lyrics
Jimmy Eat World - It Just Takes Some Time Lyrics:
"Hey, don't write yourself off yet
It's only in your head you feel left out or
looked down on.
Just try your best, try everything you can.
And don't you worry what they tell themselves when you're away.
It just takes some time,
little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright).
Hey, you know they're all the same.
You know you're doing better on your own, so don't buy in.
Live right now.
Yeah, just be yourself.
It doesn't matter if it's good enough for someone else.
It just takes some time,
little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright).
It just takes some time,
little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright).
Hey, don't write yourself off yet.
It's only in your head you feel left out or
looked down on.
Just do your best, do everything you can.
And don't you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say.
It just takes some time,
little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright).
It just takes some time,
ittle girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright)."
"Hey, don't write yourself off yet
It's only in your head you feel left out or
looked down on.
Just try your best, try everything you can.
And don't you worry what they tell themselves when you're away.
It just takes some time,
little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright).
Hey, you know they're all the same.
You know you're doing better on your own, so don't buy in.
Live right now.
Yeah, just be yourself.
It doesn't matter if it's good enough for someone else.
It just takes some time,
little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright).
It just takes some time,
little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright).
Hey, don't write yourself off yet.
It's only in your head you feel left out or
looked down on.
Just do your best, do everything you can.
And don't you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say.
It just takes some time,
little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright).
It just takes some time,
ittle girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright)."
The soundtrack to London living
There are some days that are harder than others, to be away from the people and places that own my heart, and at some point I realise that I have to make room for a little something else in this heart of mine. Unfortunately, everything here that gets compared to Cape Town falls short in some way or another-with specific reference to mountains that cannot be seen or the seas that have no sand here. I'm starting to acknowledge that it may not be that place that matters so much as the people that make the place. You'll be delighted to know that I can now count my friends on more than one hand....the numbers are rising slowly.....very slowly. But one has to be cautious-you can't just be making friends with everyone you meet.....background checks are necessary, particularly i a place where so many people from all over the world have congregated. I'll tell you what though, there are some undercover odd-bods here, not the type of people I'll be bringing home to meet the high-cape tea club anytime soon.
Now before I indulge you with brilliant literature I must add that I have added sound tracks to some of my clippets in case Guy Ritchie or Britney Spears decide to make my blog into a movie, thought I would help them out a little.
I'll give you some examples:
Exhibit A:
I'm on the bus.....wait let me tell you a story about that bus first.
I tfl'd (transport for London) my trip to shepherds bush last weekend-tfl is supposed to give you the shortest route to your destination via train/tube/bus etc-So I get my pen and paper and write down my route which tells me to take the 37 bus to Earlsfield or wherever.
Super, wait at the bus stop....see a 37, hop on......10mins.....20mins......30mins.....no sign of Earlsfield anywhere. Then stuff starts getting awkward as I look around to notice that all the pale faces have ducked off the bus at least 5 stops ago and I am the only pale face left amongst 30 something Caribbean/Jamaican/Nigerians.....awkward.
Then did I only click that I got on the 37 going in the wrong direction, I should have caught the bus from the other side of the road. I was on route to Peckham.....where all the Somali pirates in exile live. I got off that bus so quickly....without thinking about that fact that instead of being harboured safely on a bus I would be roaming the Brixton streets with every other pimp and hustler. I was already 40mins late for my braai (bbq-lame) and now I was basically in the Hillbrow of London. Now because I lack a compass in the form of an iPhone....or for that matter, I lack google maps because my phone was the first Nokia ever made, I couldn't google my quickest route home from there. So I had to backtrack(Took half an hour to locate a bus stop that looked like it was going in the right direction), when I got back to my original destination I decided to phone a friend as I'd already exhausted my ask the audience option, said friend broke my heart by telling me that in fact there was no need to have been on that bus at all. I could have in fact got a train straight from Clapham to Shepherds Bush(10min trip) as opposed to my hour and a half round trip. Needed to get that off my chest-life is too short to take the wrong bus! Soundtrack for this blunder: Diamonds from Sierra Leone. Kanye West.
So back to the weirdo's:
On my return trip from said mission to braai which was in fact a burger bbq:Fail, I sat in the front of the bus....ctrl alt del. I wish. I feel like a bad person talking about this, but seeing as this blog is an honest reflection of my experience I have to share it with you. This rather sizable Indian fellow was standing in front of where I was sitting. He had a large Taliban beard but a very kind face, well it was kind until I noticed all the drool stuck to his beard and the string of it attached to his chest. The entire trip he was counting something, I couldn't figure what though, it may have been lamp posts, or bus stops, just mumbling and counting. It broke my heart a little I have to say. I wanted to help him count or something, he looked mentally unwell and I don't suppose he should have been alone, but he was and it made me sad. Soundtrack: Jack Johnson. The News.
Exhibit B:
The African(Afro-American) gangster in the back of the bus wearing boys of London-yes they still exist. This chap was wearing reflective sunglasses and 40 million kgs worth of gold around his neck that could have probably bought Zimbabwe's economy back to normal. I had to sit facing him because the bus was full (thank goodness for that otherwise I was basically a raw fillet steak in front of a tiger). This dude starts tuning me that I am avoiding him, so I'm like uh, OK.....I'm going to look out the other window now and pretend you are not there. Then he starts telling me how I can't see him through his reflective foakleys(fake oakleys) but he can see me, and he'll be watching me. No jokes, I had a hot flush, my face went on fire and my heart starting racing at the speed of a red bull on red bull. Why must he pick on me the little 6ft(almost) nerd with glasses, I wanted to report him to the bus driver-apparently bullying is illegal. Eventually this guy starts whipping out classic one liners about how he knows people who know people......at which point I chose to ignore the lines that followed, got up and got off the bus 2 stops before my actual stop just to avoid being harrowed. The incredible thing is that everyone one the bus can see and hear this chap, but no one says a word......its like people are just sucked into their own little ipod driven existence. Sound track: Keep it Playa. Pharrell Williams feat. Slim Thug.
Exhibit 3:
Part of my job is to take clients on site tours at various airports to check out their advertising sites etc. So on this particular day I was going to London Heathrow to get a feel for the pace and learn my way around. I drove their with a senior member of our team in a motor vehicle(yes they have those here, and to my surprise they drive on the same side of the road here). We were entering the main exterior entrance to Heathrow when I noticed on a few patches of grass alongside the road were people sitting on camper chairs with binoculars and camera's and the like. Just sitting on the side of the road....not in a park, not on the beach, but on the side of the road. Here is a fun fact for you......they are plane spotters. They sit daily on the side of the road and watch planes coming in to land, they write down times and plane numbers etc. A number of thought crossed my mind: 1. Losers 2. Get a life 3. You cant spend your life waiting for a plane to crash just so you can claim to be the person who saw it go down, fame does not come to those who watch planes. This hobby has become so popular that when Heathrow was revamped they built a bunker at the one end of the runway so that when it rains the spotters don't get wet!Soundtrack: I'm a loser. The Beatles.
Exhibit 4:
I was on a train at King's cross, a very steamy train, filled with people at rush hour. Luckily I had a seat. I am always that person that stares at people, I don't have an iPod as mentioned in every other post, so I have nothing to do but stare. I was having a squizz at the train population in that carriage and summing everyone up, when this skinny dude with long scraggly hair stands up. He had dirty hands and blood on the front of his shirt ( it may have been the left overs from his Burger king happy meal-but for dramatic effect lets keep it as blood). He stands up, and in very well spoken English starts saying "Right, good evening ladies and gentleman, I'm sorry to do this, but I'm in a very bad place in my life and really struggling and I'm sure most of you are in a better place than me" Pause. OMG this guy is about to whip out a weapon and either kill us all, hold us hostage or steal our stuff. I subtly tool my passport out of my bag along with my cellphone and wallet and slipped them into my coat pocket in case the latter occurred. Unpause. "I would like to ask if any of you have any left over lunch in your bags from lunch or a few coins, that would really help me out". I felt relieved that he didn't try kill me but still reasonably uncomfortable, considering I was dressed really well and when he came around to collect the money and nibbles I said I had nothing. In all honestly, at that point in time I basically probably had the same amount of money as him and literally could not afford to give away my left over lunch, because it was my supper too. It was like he was Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to give to the poor. At the next stop he hopped out of our carriage and into the next one where he preceded to give the same speech once he had his captive audience, and once again filled up his piggy bank for another happy meal of a double Heroine burger and splifs.
Sound track: Puff the magic dragon. Little Jackie Paper.
I don't suppose you'd want me bringing the above specimens home......no?not so much.
As you can see, it is very difficult to weed out the riff raff from my sample of people I could possibly make friends with. My POA when I arrived was to make a new friend on public transport every day....seems I should look elsewhere.
I got paid last night...you should all know this because I am no longer looking in dustbins for my meals nor eating in restaurants and then ducking out through the bathroom windows(I've never done this, but for the movie's sake it should be in the script). I can now say that I have Quan (Many thanks to Aidan Johnson), not everyone can have quan. Quan is money + Style + class....one day you will all know how it feels.
I should also mention that times have been tough, but the weather has been great, I have been poor, but now I am middle class, I have been lonesome, but sharing a bed, room and house with one Dina Karnis(Ntina Kharni-Greek) makes it all better, good friends are few and far between buses and trains here, I am lucky to have the quality one's. Finally my sound track which pretty much gives you a good idea of where I am at: It just takes some time. Jimmy eat world.
Here are the lyrics in case you'd like to sing along:(see above post).
Now before I indulge you with brilliant literature I must add that I have added sound tracks to some of my clippets in case Guy Ritchie or Britney Spears decide to make my blog into a movie, thought I would help them out a little.
I'll give you some examples:
Exhibit A:
I'm on the bus.....wait let me tell you a story about that bus first.
I tfl'd (transport for London) my trip to shepherds bush last weekend-tfl is supposed to give you the shortest route to your destination via train/tube/bus etc-So I get my pen and paper and write down my route which tells me to take the 37 bus to Earlsfield or wherever.
Super, wait at the bus stop....see a 37, hop on......10mins.....20mins......30mins.....no sign of Earlsfield anywhere. Then stuff starts getting awkward as I look around to notice that all the pale faces have ducked off the bus at least 5 stops ago and I am the only pale face left amongst 30 something Caribbean/Jamaican/Nigerians.....awkward.
Then did I only click that I got on the 37 going in the wrong direction, I should have caught the bus from the other side of the road. I was on route to Peckham.....where all the Somali pirates in exile live. I got off that bus so quickly....without thinking about that fact that instead of being harboured safely on a bus I would be roaming the Brixton streets with every other pimp and hustler. I was already 40mins late for my braai (bbq-lame) and now I was basically in the Hillbrow of London. Now because I lack a compass in the form of an iPhone....or for that matter, I lack google maps because my phone was the first Nokia ever made, I couldn't google my quickest route home from there. So I had to backtrack(Took half an hour to locate a bus stop that looked like it was going in the right direction), when I got back to my original destination I decided to phone a friend as I'd already exhausted my ask the audience option, said friend broke my heart by telling me that in fact there was no need to have been on that bus at all. I could have in fact got a train straight from Clapham to Shepherds Bush(10min trip) as opposed to my hour and a half round trip. Needed to get that off my chest-life is too short to take the wrong bus! Soundtrack for this blunder: Diamonds from Sierra Leone. Kanye West.
So back to the weirdo's:
On my return trip from said mission to braai which was in fact a burger bbq:Fail, I sat in the front of the bus....ctrl alt del. I wish. I feel like a bad person talking about this, but seeing as this blog is an honest reflection of my experience I have to share it with you. This rather sizable Indian fellow was standing in front of where I was sitting. He had a large Taliban beard but a very kind face, well it was kind until I noticed all the drool stuck to his beard and the string of it attached to his chest. The entire trip he was counting something, I couldn't figure what though, it may have been lamp posts, or bus stops, just mumbling and counting. It broke my heart a little I have to say. I wanted to help him count or something, he looked mentally unwell and I don't suppose he should have been alone, but he was and it made me sad. Soundtrack: Jack Johnson. The News.
Exhibit B:
The African(Afro-American) gangster in the back of the bus wearing boys of London-yes they still exist. This chap was wearing reflective sunglasses and 40 million kgs worth of gold around his neck that could have probably bought Zimbabwe's economy back to normal. I had to sit facing him because the bus was full (thank goodness for that otherwise I was basically a raw fillet steak in front of a tiger). This dude starts tuning me that I am avoiding him, so I'm like uh, OK.....I'm going to look out the other window now and pretend you are not there. Then he starts telling me how I can't see him through his reflective foakleys(fake oakleys) but he can see me, and he'll be watching me. No jokes, I had a hot flush, my face went on fire and my heart starting racing at the speed of a red bull on red bull. Why must he pick on me the little 6ft(almost) nerd with glasses, I wanted to report him to the bus driver-apparently bullying is illegal. Eventually this guy starts whipping out classic one liners about how he knows people who know people......at which point I chose to ignore the lines that followed, got up and got off the bus 2 stops before my actual stop just to avoid being harrowed. The incredible thing is that everyone one the bus can see and hear this chap, but no one says a word......its like people are just sucked into their own little ipod driven existence. Sound track: Keep it Playa. Pharrell Williams feat. Slim Thug.
Exhibit 3:
Part of my job is to take clients on site tours at various airports to check out their advertising sites etc. So on this particular day I was going to London Heathrow to get a feel for the pace and learn my way around. I drove their with a senior member of our team in a motor vehicle(yes they have those here, and to my surprise they drive on the same side of the road here). We were entering the main exterior entrance to Heathrow when I noticed on a few patches of grass alongside the road were people sitting on camper chairs with binoculars and camera's and the like. Just sitting on the side of the road....not in a park, not on the beach, but on the side of the road. Here is a fun fact for you......they are plane spotters. They sit daily on the side of the road and watch planes coming in to land, they write down times and plane numbers etc. A number of thought crossed my mind: 1. Losers 2. Get a life 3. You cant spend your life waiting for a plane to crash just so you can claim to be the person who saw it go down, fame does not come to those who watch planes. This hobby has become so popular that when Heathrow was revamped they built a bunker at the one end of the runway so that when it rains the spotters don't get wet!Soundtrack: I'm a loser. The Beatles.
Exhibit 4:
I was on a train at King's cross, a very steamy train, filled with people at rush hour. Luckily I had a seat. I am always that person that stares at people, I don't have an iPod as mentioned in every other post, so I have nothing to do but stare. I was having a squizz at the train population in that carriage and summing everyone up, when this skinny dude with long scraggly hair stands up. He had dirty hands and blood on the front of his shirt ( it may have been the left overs from his Burger king happy meal-but for dramatic effect lets keep it as blood). He stands up, and in very well spoken English starts saying "Right, good evening ladies and gentleman, I'm sorry to do this, but I'm in a very bad place in my life and really struggling and I'm sure most of you are in a better place than me" Pause. OMG this guy is about to whip out a weapon and either kill us all, hold us hostage or steal our stuff. I subtly tool my passport out of my bag along with my cellphone and wallet and slipped them into my coat pocket in case the latter occurred. Unpause. "I would like to ask if any of you have any left over lunch in your bags from lunch or a few coins, that would really help me out". I felt relieved that he didn't try kill me but still reasonably uncomfortable, considering I was dressed really well and when he came around to collect the money and nibbles I said I had nothing. In all honestly, at that point in time I basically probably had the same amount of money as him and literally could not afford to give away my left over lunch, because it was my supper too. It was like he was Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to give to the poor. At the next stop he hopped out of our carriage and into the next one where he preceded to give the same speech once he had his captive audience, and once again filled up his piggy bank for another happy meal of a double Heroine burger and splifs.
Sound track: Puff the magic dragon. Little Jackie Paper.
I don't suppose you'd want me bringing the above specimens home......no?not so much.
As you can see, it is very difficult to weed out the riff raff from my sample of people I could possibly make friends with. My POA when I arrived was to make a new friend on public transport every day....seems I should look elsewhere.
I got paid last night...you should all know this because I am no longer looking in dustbins for my meals nor eating in restaurants and then ducking out through the bathroom windows(I've never done this, but for the movie's sake it should be in the script). I can now say that I have Quan (Many thanks to Aidan Johnson), not everyone can have quan. Quan is money + Style + class....one day you will all know how it feels.
I should also mention that times have been tough, but the weather has been great, I have been poor, but now I am middle class, I have been lonesome, but sharing a bed, room and house with one Dina Karnis(Ntina Kharni-Greek) makes it all better, good friends are few and far between buses and trains here, I am lucky to have the quality one's. Finally my sound track which pretty much gives you a good idea of where I am at: It just takes some time. Jimmy eat world.
Here are the lyrics in case you'd like to sing along:(see above post).
Tuesday 22 June 2010
Thoughts on things that have been thunk:
On the weather:
There are not 4 seasons in this city....the weather man lets you think this so that he keeps his research hours to a minimum, the TV channels let you think this so they keep what is usually an not so attractive weather man on air for as short as possible(bar Derick Van Dam-I would) and the papers keep their weather section short so there is more room to sell advertising space....its a cut throat world out there and one can't just be taking things at face value, there is usually not much value in face value anyhow. Let me enlighten you, although I too would like to leave space to sell advertising; There are in fact 4 seasons and an additional x amount ( x= the number of tube and train lines in the London borough). I walk out of the house in the morning and begin my 6min38sec waddle to the bus stop freezing-usually adorned in a jersey and a coat as well as stockings. Yes, people tell me everyday that I will die in winter, how kind....it is falling on deaf ears, I do not want to acknowledge an early death due to freezing. Once at the bus stop I hop on a bus for a 7-10minute trip to the station where I am cuddles up to the nastiest ginger in sight.....never a belter, although I always try stand behind one in the queue in the hopes that we might have to cuddle as they try to fit 200 people onto a 60 seater bus. Things begin to heat up....and no its not what you think-if you're looking for PG stuff you've come to the wrong place my gran reads this), it merely gets a little warmer due to the sheer amount of morning breath gathering in a small, enclosed area sans ventilation.Time for the train from Clapham Junction station to Waterloo- at which point I usually try and strip off one layer ( I try to start with the coat-taking off stockings on a train is awkward). All this while I am preparing for the steamiest sauna on earth, think Dubai in summer....enter Bakerloo line from waterloo station, my longest trip. Apparently the Bakerloo line averages 33 degrees daily. Kiff. I may as well never have showered, or washed and straightened my hair or put any clothes on at all. If I was dramatic I can safely say that I would suffer from heat exhaustion and chronic fainting syndrome on a daily basis. Then back into the chilly air of my final destination ( which is Paddington by the way). It doesn't stop there though, I walk into my office where blizzard visuals may as well be showing in 3-D on the TV screens in the office. My point here is that throughout an hour long journey to work, I experience multiple weather conditions of which I have not been forewarned, had the weather man played any sport in school and made it out of the whatever lab does weather he might've been more active in doing more thorough research. I general though, on an average day, there is usually some sun with blue skies, a gust of wind, black clouds and then rain, don't bother trying to dress according to the weather, just don't even bother.
On runny noses:
I always have one.
On doing grocery shopping:
Probably the biggest hack of my entire life. Love catching a bus with 50kg's worth of groceries and then having to walk like 2k's home with them.
On wearing trainers to get to work:
Don't do this. It's uncool, wrong and an insult to all the people who make nice shoes....and clothes for that matter, an sassy little dress looks like tennis kit when paired with trainers.
On airtime:
Don't bother smsing me, I won't reply. No-one is worth my dinner, and that is basically what it costs me to use mobile telephones these days.
On my job:
First week was awesome, I'm working in a great team-all of whom have a fantastic sense of humour/ I am learning the ropes and how to tug at the right ones very quickly. I have my own telephone with my own voicemail, and 3 pens of my own as well as a company diary. This excites me.
On new friends:
Under construction.
On London kids:
If I hear another one saying the F word or see another one pulling a zap at me, I am going to start a petition for population control in this country.(I'm talking 3 years old type kids).Sis.
On Tea:
It is like England in a cup. and they call it a brew here.
On updating my blog:
I will be better at it in future, unfortunately daylight savings does not in fact make your day 25 hours long contrary to reports.
I have recently received some fan mail which I will post upon my next blog update. I have fans.
There are not 4 seasons in this city....the weather man lets you think this so that he keeps his research hours to a minimum, the TV channels let you think this so they keep what is usually an not so attractive weather man on air for as short as possible(bar Derick Van Dam-I would) and the papers keep their weather section short so there is more room to sell advertising space....its a cut throat world out there and one can't just be taking things at face value, there is usually not much value in face value anyhow. Let me enlighten you, although I too would like to leave space to sell advertising; There are in fact 4 seasons and an additional x amount ( x= the number of tube and train lines in the London borough). I walk out of the house in the morning and begin my 6min38sec waddle to the bus stop freezing-usually adorned in a jersey and a coat as well as stockings. Yes, people tell me everyday that I will die in winter, how kind....it is falling on deaf ears, I do not want to acknowledge an early death due to freezing. Once at the bus stop I hop on a bus for a 7-10minute trip to the station where I am cuddles up to the nastiest ginger in sight.....never a belter, although I always try stand behind one in the queue in the hopes that we might have to cuddle as they try to fit 200 people onto a 60 seater bus. Things begin to heat up....and no its not what you think-if you're looking for PG stuff you've come to the wrong place my gran reads this), it merely gets a little warmer due to the sheer amount of morning breath gathering in a small, enclosed area sans ventilation.Time for the train from Clapham Junction station to Waterloo- at which point I usually try and strip off one layer ( I try to start with the coat-taking off stockings on a train is awkward). All this while I am preparing for the steamiest sauna on earth, think Dubai in summer....enter Bakerloo line from waterloo station, my longest trip. Apparently the Bakerloo line averages 33 degrees daily. Kiff. I may as well never have showered, or washed and straightened my hair or put any clothes on at all. If I was dramatic I can safely say that I would suffer from heat exhaustion and chronic fainting syndrome on a daily basis. Then back into the chilly air of my final destination ( which is Paddington by the way). It doesn't stop there though, I walk into my office where blizzard visuals may as well be showing in 3-D on the TV screens in the office. My point here is that throughout an hour long journey to work, I experience multiple weather conditions of which I have not been forewarned, had the weather man played any sport in school and made it out of the whatever lab does weather he might've been more active in doing more thorough research. I general though, on an average day, there is usually some sun with blue skies, a gust of wind, black clouds and then rain, don't bother trying to dress according to the weather, just don't even bother.
On runny noses:
I always have one.
On doing grocery shopping:
Probably the biggest hack of my entire life. Love catching a bus with 50kg's worth of groceries and then having to walk like 2k's home with them.
On wearing trainers to get to work:
Don't do this. It's uncool, wrong and an insult to all the people who make nice shoes....and clothes for that matter, an sassy little dress looks like tennis kit when paired with trainers.
On airtime:
Don't bother smsing me, I won't reply. No-one is worth my dinner, and that is basically what it costs me to use mobile telephones these days.
On my job:
First week was awesome, I'm working in a great team-all of whom have a fantastic sense of humour/ I am learning the ropes and how to tug at the right ones very quickly. I have my own telephone with my own voicemail, and 3 pens of my own as well as a company diary. This excites me.
On new friends:
Under construction.
On London kids:
If I hear another one saying the F word or see another one pulling a zap at me, I am going to start a petition for population control in this country.(I'm talking 3 years old type kids).Sis.
On Tea:
It is like England in a cup. and they call it a brew here.
On updating my blog:
I will be better at it in future, unfortunately daylight savings does not in fact make your day 25 hours long contrary to reports.
I have recently received some fan mail which I will post upon my next blog update. I have fans.
Wednesday 9 June 2010
Let's get down to business...
Its all good and well me sharing the oddities of London with you, but I feel I have neglected to fill you in on what's really going on....What's really going on is that I am engaged to be married to a sheik from Dubai....he paid me a lot of money and has promised to buy me jewels to fill a cellar and a blackberry. I did it for the blackberry really, I might also ask him to throw in a canon EOS 550 camera. So That's about it, I never have to work again so my job search in London is over. Why look for a job when you can get a sheik to buy you stuff?
Now that I've just broken my parent's heart, I have to apologise.....I fibbed, told an untruth. I am not in fact engaged to be married, but the truth in that lie is that my job search is over.
Yes folks, I just nuzzled my way into a really great company in London. They are Number 1 worldwide in airport advertising and number 2 worldwide for Out Of Home media, I am the national sales coordinator.....boom. I start on Monday, and can hardly wait to charm my way to the top-watch this space peopolas, "Feel it, it is here!" (My job is here I mean), as for the World cup-well, that's not here.
I keep seeing all these pictures on your guys' face pages of cars decked out in SA gear, and I have to admit that initially I thought nothing of it, but I am feeling reasonably left out of the madness. Looks like people back home are maxing it out though, doing us proud......except for one thing. I was sitting on the tube the other day (no that's not a round shaped bench-its a train) and got give the Metro, which is a free newspaper. What's on page 2? Headline, "SA government not concerned over World cup safety", the picture under the headline shows a huge stampede involving spectators and police, where apparently a riot broke out before (BEFORE) a friendly match in Soweto last week. Really? a week before the world cup, and Jolly Africans are still digging the riot/stampede/lets all act like we're from the jungle vibe?And the worst part was that I thought people would skip over it because it was on page 2....not so much, I looked around and everyone in my carriage was reading page 2!Then a guy opposite me makes a comment to which I reply, and he looks up in surprise and asks if I'm South African....No I'm Australian. No I'd never say that, but it did cross my mind.
New amendment to my working situation(this story does have something to do with the above one I promise), I no longer only have one job, but 2. I started working at a pub this morning, which Ill work at nights and weekends to catch up on some much needed cash. So, I'm behind the bar and this Pom introduces himself to me, hears that I'm South African and starts questioning me about the world cup. So, I'm trying to wipe away his fears with soothing words by telling stories of lions that roam the street and tame monkeys as pets, and he just has one thing to say to me. He reckons everyone going to South Africa from all over the world aren't going there for the soccer..no, he reckons that they're coming to get some action from all the African Prostitutes that have been shipped in. He did the hand gestures and everything....he has a good heart though, he hopes from the bottom of his heart that they don't get robbed while they're doing the dirty in an alley way.Kiff.
I can't but help smile when I'm walking around the streets here....even on the most miserable of days. It started out, that everyday when I walked around I would put my music player(that is not an ipod) in my ears and choose a soundtrack for the day. Try it, best thing ever...basically thought I was in a movie, even walked with a catwalk sway in case I was. But since the death of my MP3 battery and the fact that I didn't bring the charger other things have been keeping me amused. For instance I'm walking down the road today, and my black jeans are full of flour (I had to make pancakes at the pub this morning cos the chef didn't know how to make them.Enter Claire. Saved the day), and I walk past this van full of, I don't know, paramedics or something and I avert my eyes to avoid awkward comments but one pipes up "you o'wight there luf?", and the other joins in with "oh my word, you are beau'iful, stunneen....I've ne'er seen anyfing laaik i'"....the cherry on the top of my smile was the last one who got down on one knee and asked for my hand. This is officially the 4th time I have been proposed to on the streets of London- so maybe my first story isn't so far off. How can you not smile?
Now that I've just broken my parent's heart, I have to apologise.....I fibbed, told an untruth. I am not in fact engaged to be married, but the truth in that lie is that my job search is over.
Yes folks, I just nuzzled my way into a really great company in London. They are Number 1 worldwide in airport advertising and number 2 worldwide for Out Of Home media, I am the national sales coordinator.....boom. I start on Monday, and can hardly wait to charm my way to the top-watch this space peopolas, "Feel it, it is here!" (My job is here I mean), as for the World cup-well, that's not here.
I keep seeing all these pictures on your guys' face pages of cars decked out in SA gear, and I have to admit that initially I thought nothing of it, but I am feeling reasonably left out of the madness. Looks like people back home are maxing it out though, doing us proud......except for one thing. I was sitting on the tube the other day (no that's not a round shaped bench-its a train) and got give the Metro, which is a free newspaper. What's on page 2? Headline, "SA government not concerned over World cup safety", the picture under the headline shows a huge stampede involving spectators and police, where apparently a riot broke out before (BEFORE) a friendly match in Soweto last week. Really? a week before the world cup, and Jolly Africans are still digging the riot/stampede/lets all act like we're from the jungle vibe?And the worst part was that I thought people would skip over it because it was on page 2....not so much, I looked around and everyone in my carriage was reading page 2!Then a guy opposite me makes a comment to which I reply, and he looks up in surprise and asks if I'm South African....No I'm Australian. No I'd never say that, but it did cross my mind.
New amendment to my working situation(this story does have something to do with the above one I promise), I no longer only have one job, but 2. I started working at a pub this morning, which Ill work at nights and weekends to catch up on some much needed cash. So, I'm behind the bar and this Pom introduces himself to me, hears that I'm South African and starts questioning me about the world cup. So, I'm trying to wipe away his fears with soothing words by telling stories of lions that roam the street and tame monkeys as pets, and he just has one thing to say to me. He reckons everyone going to South Africa from all over the world aren't going there for the soccer..no, he reckons that they're coming to get some action from all the African Prostitutes that have been shipped in. He did the hand gestures and everything....he has a good heart though, he hopes from the bottom of his heart that they don't get robbed while they're doing the dirty in an alley way.Kiff.
I can't but help smile when I'm walking around the streets here....even on the most miserable of days. It started out, that everyday when I walked around I would put my music player(that is not an ipod) in my ears and choose a soundtrack for the day. Try it, best thing ever...basically thought I was in a movie, even walked with a catwalk sway in case I was. But since the death of my MP3 battery and the fact that I didn't bring the charger other things have been keeping me amused. For instance I'm walking down the road today, and my black jeans are full of flour (I had to make pancakes at the pub this morning cos the chef didn't know how to make them.Enter Claire. Saved the day), and I walk past this van full of, I don't know, paramedics or something and I avert my eyes to avoid awkward comments but one pipes up "you o'wight there luf?", and the other joins in with "oh my word, you are beau'iful, stunneen....I've ne'er seen anyfing laaik i'"....the cherry on the top of my smile was the last one who got down on one knee and asked for my hand. This is officially the 4th time I have been proposed to on the streets of London- so maybe my first story isn't so far off. How can you not smile?
Monday 7 June 2010
Haiku- a selection of highly commendable haiku's that describe London By Claire Danielle
Dirty hands
Public displays of affection
London tubes.
Hustle and bustle
Sweaty armpits and bad breath
Rush hour.
Silence and stillness
Quiet whispers sweep the streets
Non-existent.
Sun bows down to kiss a cheek
Hesitation as it fights cloud
Rain.
200 languages
One city
Londonese.
Strolling the night streets
Counsel Housing Adolescent Vigilantes(CHAVS)
Run.
Bright night city lights
Dinner and Wine
Hangover.
Public displays of affection
London tubes.
Hustle and bustle
Sweaty armpits and bad breath
Rush hour.
Silence and stillness
Quiet whispers sweep the streets
Non-existent.
Sun bows down to kiss a cheek
Hesitation as it fights cloud
Rain.
200 languages
One city
Londonese.
Strolling the night streets
Counsel Housing Adolescent Vigilantes(CHAVS)
Run.
Bright night city lights
Dinner and Wine
Hangover.
Sunday 6 June 2010
Diseased and displeased: Warning this blog contains no humour.
For those of you who take everything I say with a pinch of chilli, and thought me to be over exaggerating at the concept of catching deadly diseases on the tubes....I have caught the dreaded influenza and hope that you are now satisfied with the fact that I am living(slowly dying) proof of this fact. It is a fact that cannot be exaggerated enough and I believe that in such a time as this where new viruses are discovered everyday-it should be compulsory for people to wear masks in public. As my unemployed status still lingers, I thought that I might serve a public duty and stand outside the station handing out masks tomorrow morning-masks and coffee. I might also hint at the fact that H1N1 has now mutated to H3N4, to ensure that masks are in fat made use of, all in the hope that I will cure tubes of their disease ridden status. My next service to the tube nation will be standing at the entrance spraying hygiene hand disinfectant on peoples hands as they walk into the station, to rid the population dirty nail syndrome, and hand in mouth disease. The point of this paragraph is merely to point out to you that I have caught the flu, and I caught it from the granny coughing on the train, and I am now displeased.End of story (please refrain from sending flowers to me in this hard time as they merely remind me of how quickly things die, food packages and cheques would be of far more use).
There is one other situation that may have led to my falling ill, it began I believe, on Thursday. It was a beautiful day in London (thank you sun for the Y-back vest tan), I had just left an interview which I felt went reasonably well and was meeting a friend in Wimbledon for a coolie. I waited for her outside the station in the blazing sun and after she arrived needed to strip down to my vest-jerseys are unnecessary in this heat. Wait I take that back.Too late. ....
On our walk up to Wimbledon Village I slung my jersey over my handbag, all the while thinking, Claire Danielle, every time you do this your jersey falls off; at this point my thoughts must have been interrupted because I thought nothing more of it until alas when I went to open my bag to grab some quidage(my new gangster terminology for cash) my jersey was gone. So we had to retrace our steps, I might add that there were alot of steps, all the way back to the station. No jersey....my first experience of Crime in London. Yes South Africans, you are not so hard done by, I was robbed too.
So a drink with Gilly went down smoothly (the jersey became the least of my worries at this stage), I then headed onto Bond street to meet Nicola for an after work drink at All Bar One in this neat little courtyard behind a little dark alley (obviously after HER work drinks, because I don't work) and when I got out of the station on the other side....Gee wilikins, a little breeze that blew in from Alaska had settled-cold it was!All I could think about was my jersey for the duration of our drinks, when Nicola suggested I pop onto Oxford street and buy a cardi quickly (Did someone just suggest that I go shopping?How could I refuse?). So I trotted over to Oxford only to realise that it was 5 past 9, and Thursday night late shopping closes at 9...great timing. Luckily for my, the little I love London wagons were still open and haggling with tourists left right and centre. So I got in there, "Excuse me, hello, Yes I am from South Africa and I love Justin Bieber,so do you have a tracksuit top that says I love Justin Bieber?", Reply "aah I love London?", uuuhhhhh really, do they sound the same or is it just my accent?. Anyway I settled for the subtle, "I didn't go to Oxford University so I bought an Oxford University Tracksuit top so that you would think that I went to Oxford University" tracksuit top. It kept me warm, but the damage had already been done, I reckon the influenza must've gotten me on the way to the London wagon. Uncool.
Friday went by with a few thousand sneezes, but I assumed that it had something to do with the fact that I was basically a rabbit in a burrow however many meters underground in a warren of tube stations covered in miles of dust, is that so unreasonable?Bunnies sneeze an awful lot too.
Put the sneezes on the shelf for a sec, and analyse with me the second possible influenza contact.
I arrived at Bond street station and as I walk past another wagon (God forbid), this Israeli/Egyptian ( as offensive as it may sound, I cannot tell the difference) man, with long black curly locks stops me and says "I know you, you look like my wife to be".....Claire's Brain: "Think quick: does he look like a drug dealer?Yes. Could he be in the sex trade, selling girls off to dodgy places never to be seen again: yes. OK what should my response be?Head down and walk away".....Actual response "Haha, you're so funny, that's the fourth time someones told me that this week!". Fail. So this man, tells me I must throw all my boyfriends away and marry him, and that I have the most incredible accent he's ever come across. I was like, dude-that's just bad English, you're getting them confused. It turned out he was a sales man trying to sell me this hand salt and nail buffer, I washed my hands with this salt and to my amazement my hands felt like a baby's bottom. He made me hug him twice throughout the sales pitch....this is either the point at which I got the influenza or when I got Greasy hair.
Friday night finally arrives and Karene and I head out for Nicola's pre-birthday, birthday drinks. We go to The Explorer,that place was rocking....hip hop all night, they even played our request- Skee lo - I wish "I wish I was a little bit taller, wish I was a baller, wish I had a girl with a kid I would call her....". I was at the bar at one point and had a guy come up to me and say "My Friends fink you're really fi' (fit) and they re a li'l shy bu' (but) they're over there a' (at) the table"(a table of gangsters with flat caps, thick chains and knee jeans-the ones you wear around your knees).....at which point I laughed at him (poor guy-I literally laughed AT him) and said that's ridiculous, you'd only know I was fit if you'd seen me run. Needless to say he walked away. Notice in his spoken sentence, Londoners drop there T's wherever they see fi'(fit), which makes me wonder how they ask for directions to Topshop when they're asking you for 'opshop?
I did some poppin and lockin, and some booty droppin....met another Afrikaans bouncer, they're everywhere. In fact the world just becomes too small at times, we're sitting outside at a table and I hear these two girls speaking die mooiste taal ooit, and ask them if they're from Suid Afrika (dumb question-that accent is unmistakable)? They say Ya but we are, we arrrrrrrre actually from Bloemfonteeeeeeeeyn (Ill let you add the accents)Meet Maria and Karissa. So Nicola pipes up, ah I love Bloem, the men there are soooo hot. Especially this one guy I used to swim with-George Durant...mmmm, you've never seen anything like it, she starts gesturing as to the size of his bum in his speedo just as Karrissa points out that George is in fact Maria's brother.
After 2 great nights out, one always has to push for a third-or if you're in 1st year, 42 in a row. Karene and I headed to Borough Market on Saturday morning, absolutely love that place, but while ambling along symptom number 2 kicks in (number one was the sneezing), scratchy throat. That's when you know its gonna get'cha. So following Borough market, and an amazing roast pork baguette with stuffing and apple sauce, we headed to Nicola's for her birthday drinks, Nics was still up from the night before and wanted some partners in crime, so of course we volunteered our services. An afternoon in the sun, with pyramids of Gaymers (peach cider) did nothing but fast forward the multiplication of the influenza virus in my body. At round about 9pm, my body clocked out and said thanks for coming but I'm going to sleep. Terrible feeling having a healthy mind but an incapacitated body. So I hopped on the tube and prepared for the hour long trip home, harrowing trying to stay awake so as not to miss the next stop, even more harrowing however, is the thought of catching an STD from the couple next to me who were basically horizontal...PDA here is a pandemic that has gotten out od control.
Alas, I arrived home safely and awoke this morning on my death bed, which is why I have spent this post moaning about my fate. I cannot afford to be ill, literally, I cannot afford medication or a doctor.....so be off with you H2N2/tube virus.
There is one other situation that may have led to my falling ill, it began I believe, on Thursday. It was a beautiful day in London (thank you sun for the Y-back vest tan), I had just left an interview which I felt went reasonably well and was meeting a friend in Wimbledon for a coolie. I waited for her outside the station in the blazing sun and after she arrived needed to strip down to my vest-jerseys are unnecessary in this heat. Wait I take that back.Too late. ....
On our walk up to Wimbledon Village I slung my jersey over my handbag, all the while thinking, Claire Danielle, every time you do this your jersey falls off; at this point my thoughts must have been interrupted because I thought nothing more of it until alas when I went to open my bag to grab some quidage(my new gangster terminology for cash) my jersey was gone. So we had to retrace our steps, I might add that there were alot of steps, all the way back to the station. No jersey....my first experience of Crime in London. Yes South Africans, you are not so hard done by, I was robbed too.
So a drink with Gilly went down smoothly (the jersey became the least of my worries at this stage), I then headed onto Bond street to meet Nicola for an after work drink at All Bar One in this neat little courtyard behind a little dark alley (obviously after HER work drinks, because I don't work) and when I got out of the station on the other side....Gee wilikins, a little breeze that blew in from Alaska had settled-cold it was!All I could think about was my jersey for the duration of our drinks, when Nicola suggested I pop onto Oxford street and buy a cardi quickly (Did someone just suggest that I go shopping?How could I refuse?). So I trotted over to Oxford only to realise that it was 5 past 9, and Thursday night late shopping closes at 9...great timing. Luckily for my, the little I love London wagons were still open and haggling with tourists left right and centre. So I got in there, "Excuse me, hello, Yes I am from South Africa and I love Justin Bieber,so do you have a tracksuit top that says I love Justin Bieber?", Reply "aah I love London?", uuuhhhhh really, do they sound the same or is it just my accent?. Anyway I settled for the subtle, "I didn't go to Oxford University so I bought an Oxford University Tracksuit top so that you would think that I went to Oxford University" tracksuit top. It kept me warm, but the damage had already been done, I reckon the influenza must've gotten me on the way to the London wagon. Uncool.
Friday went by with a few thousand sneezes, but I assumed that it had something to do with the fact that I was basically a rabbit in a burrow however many meters underground in a warren of tube stations covered in miles of dust, is that so unreasonable?Bunnies sneeze an awful lot too.
Put the sneezes on the shelf for a sec, and analyse with me the second possible influenza contact.
I arrived at Bond street station and as I walk past another wagon (God forbid), this Israeli/Egyptian ( as offensive as it may sound, I cannot tell the difference) man, with long black curly locks stops me and says "I know you, you look like my wife to be".....Claire's Brain: "Think quick: does he look like a drug dealer?Yes. Could he be in the sex trade, selling girls off to dodgy places never to be seen again: yes. OK what should my response be?Head down and walk away".....Actual response "Haha, you're so funny, that's the fourth time someones told me that this week!". Fail. So this man, tells me I must throw all my boyfriends away and marry him, and that I have the most incredible accent he's ever come across. I was like, dude-that's just bad English, you're getting them confused. It turned out he was a sales man trying to sell me this hand salt and nail buffer, I washed my hands with this salt and to my amazement my hands felt like a baby's bottom. He made me hug him twice throughout the sales pitch....this is either the point at which I got the influenza or when I got Greasy hair.
Friday night finally arrives and Karene and I head out for Nicola's pre-birthday, birthday drinks. We go to The Explorer,that place was rocking....hip hop all night, they even played our request- Skee lo - I wish "I wish I was a little bit taller, wish I was a baller, wish I had a girl with a kid I would call her....". I was at the bar at one point and had a guy come up to me and say "My Friends fink you're really fi' (fit) and they re a li'l shy bu' (but) they're over there a' (at) the table"(a table of gangsters with flat caps, thick chains and knee jeans-the ones you wear around your knees).....at which point I laughed at him (poor guy-I literally laughed AT him) and said that's ridiculous, you'd only know I was fit if you'd seen me run. Needless to say he walked away. Notice in his spoken sentence, Londoners drop there T's wherever they see fi'(fit), which makes me wonder how they ask for directions to Topshop when they're asking you for 'opshop?
I did some poppin and lockin, and some booty droppin....met another Afrikaans bouncer, they're everywhere. In fact the world just becomes too small at times, we're sitting outside at a table and I hear these two girls speaking die mooiste taal ooit, and ask them if they're from Suid Afrika (dumb question-that accent is unmistakable)? They say Ya but we are, we arrrrrrrre actually from Bloemfonteeeeeeeeyn (Ill let you add the accents)Meet Maria and Karissa. So Nicola pipes up, ah I love Bloem, the men there are soooo hot. Especially this one guy I used to swim with-George Durant...mmmm, you've never seen anything like it, she starts gesturing as to the size of his bum in his speedo just as Karrissa points out that George is in fact Maria's brother.
After 2 great nights out, one always has to push for a third-or if you're in 1st year, 42 in a row. Karene and I headed to Borough Market on Saturday morning, absolutely love that place, but while ambling along symptom number 2 kicks in (number one was the sneezing), scratchy throat. That's when you know its gonna get'cha. So following Borough market, and an amazing roast pork baguette with stuffing and apple sauce, we headed to Nicola's for her birthday drinks, Nics was still up from the night before and wanted some partners in crime, so of course we volunteered our services. An afternoon in the sun, with pyramids of Gaymers (peach cider) did nothing but fast forward the multiplication of the influenza virus in my body. At round about 9pm, my body clocked out and said thanks for coming but I'm going to sleep. Terrible feeling having a healthy mind but an incapacitated body. So I hopped on the tube and prepared for the hour long trip home, harrowing trying to stay awake so as not to miss the next stop, even more harrowing however, is the thought of catching an STD from the couple next to me who were basically horizontal...PDA here is a pandemic that has gotten out od control.
Alas, I arrived home safely and awoke this morning on my death bed, which is why I have spent this post moaning about my fate. I cannot afford to be ill, literally, I cannot afford medication or a doctor.....so be off with you H2N2/tube virus.
Friday 4 June 2010
Part i: I'm a party starter
Its been a week now since my last update, slack to say the least, but one must take into the account that I am now a Nomad, an unemployed nomad...and internet connections don't come easily to such individuals.
Let me take you back to last Friday....and walk you through my soul-destroying near death experience(I nearly died of coldness and desperation).
Friday May 28 (Yes, now that I am a Londoner I write dates that way)
Happy Birthday Lisa!
Karene and I....who are currently co-habitating (definition: living under the same roof) decide that Friday evening would be a great evening to have a glass of wine in front of the tele and watch a classic Rom-Com or just a com-com. One beverage down and my foot starts tapping to the beat of the background music thats playing, and before I can stop it, my leg joins in. Through no fault of my own I felt complelled to have a little razzle. The idea of walking around Camden at night was hugely appealing, considering what the day life is like there, I can only imagine what crawls out at night. So off we go for wardrobe change numero uno-from sweat pants to boyf jeans...ready for Camden. Karene recieves a msg from a friend of hers telling her that she absolutely MUST come to Clapham South for a party. Wardbrobe change numero....two?..little skirts and boots. Done, off to Clapham we head, tube bar in Evian bottles: check. Mr vain & No Limits on the headphones: check ( I say headphones because it is a touchy subject for me to have to disclose the fact that my music maker is an MP3 player that I got for free as opposed to the Classic i-pod), House keys: pffff who needs to check that?
So we razz and dazz all night long, even get whisked off in a cab to an after party somewhere- Look I know people who know people, and I could probably get you into one of these places too. We razz dazz a little more there... I met a few South Africans, ah in fact for those of you who know him, I bumped into Marc Spitzer on the side of the road-world gets smaller everyday, and they say that climate change is the problem.pfff. Back to the story, I met an Italian-looked and sounded Italian, and everyone else I met was unenglish, there is no other way to describe it, because I have no idea where they originated from, I just heard un-english being spoken. 4am-ish arrives and members of our possi are getting asked to leave the club, they do that here....if you stumble they usher you out like a herdsman. No bouncers here, just shepherds, looking after their sheep. If you have no concept of where in London I am at this point, dont worry, neither did I....but to help you orientate yourself go to http://www.goooglemaps.co.uk/ google magic my friends- and type in Indigo Bar, Clapham South or maybe it was in Wandsworth.
Basically we were down South I think, and had to catch a cab up North to Maida Vale-not a cheap cab, but it had to be done. By the time we arrived at the front door I have never been so ready to love a bed in all my life. I just wanted my PJ's and comfy bed....and munchies.
Arrive.Front door. Get Keys. What, did you say keys? I dont have the keys, you do!No, I don't have any keys. Operation empty pockets, bags, check shoes. Thats a negative on the Keys Kilo Alpha Romeo Echo November Echo.Bummer. So no keys, then?No comfy bed and Pj's?No munchies?
Enter near death experience....I was freezing and dying for bed, sitting on the step outside the house while the sun was rising, really believing that if we emptied the same bag 40 more times, the keys might fall out.Lost cause, plan B came into action. There was no plan B though, so we meandered down the road and caught another cab, all the way back down to Collierswood, now I dont know where that is, but it is extremely far away-40 quid far away.Stayed at some persons house, awoke to pouring rain, and negative one hundred degrees(keep in mind I am wearing a skirt), now had to begin the mission back home to sit on the steps I presume, and empty out the bag again incase we were blinded the previous night.
Long story short, it was the longest most harrowning tube ride home, and a painful walk of shame as I was wearing last nights outfit, with last nights make up which was completely inappropriate for that day's weather. We spent the afternoon at a friends house who lives nearby...again still in inappropriate attire, and still hungry from the night before. These kind soles filled our belly's and gave us a couch to rest our aching heads, bless them. Then operation get someone to climb up to the third floor of the building and squeeze through the window to let us in commenced, and alas it was a success. Ben is a hero, following this rescue, he was photographed for the paper the next day (not actually, but that would've been cool). We were in the house but now couldnt leave as we had no keys to get back in, which at this stage didn't matter, I was just so happy to be able to shower, get into PJ's and sleep.
Again, my fingers are cramping......so take a break while I get going with Saturday Night's American Frat party in the most aweome warehouse apartment I've ever seen, and where I learnt to play flip cup and drank beer. I DRANK BEER!
(Sorry okes, my spell check isn't working, overlook any errors and don't judge).
Let me take you back to last Friday....and walk you through my soul-destroying near death experience(I nearly died of coldness and desperation).
Friday May 28 (Yes, now that I am a Londoner I write dates that way)
Happy Birthday Lisa!
Karene and I....who are currently co-habitating (definition: living under the same roof) decide that Friday evening would be a great evening to have a glass of wine in front of the tele and watch a classic Rom-Com or just a com-com. One beverage down and my foot starts tapping to the beat of the background music thats playing, and before I can stop it, my leg joins in. Through no fault of my own I felt complelled to have a little razzle. The idea of walking around Camden at night was hugely appealing, considering what the day life is like there, I can only imagine what crawls out at night. So off we go for wardrobe change numero uno-from sweat pants to boyf jeans...ready for Camden. Karene recieves a msg from a friend of hers telling her that she absolutely MUST come to Clapham South for a party. Wardbrobe change numero....two?..little skirts and boots. Done, off to Clapham we head, tube bar in Evian bottles: check. Mr vain & No Limits on the headphones: check ( I say headphones because it is a touchy subject for me to have to disclose the fact that my music maker is an MP3 player that I got for free as opposed to the Classic i-pod), House keys: pffff who needs to check that?
So we razz and dazz all night long, even get whisked off in a cab to an after party somewhere- Look I know people who know people, and I could probably get you into one of these places too. We razz dazz a little more there... I met a few South Africans, ah in fact for those of you who know him, I bumped into Marc Spitzer on the side of the road-world gets smaller everyday, and they say that climate change is the problem.pfff. Back to the story, I met an Italian-looked and sounded Italian, and everyone else I met was unenglish, there is no other way to describe it, because I have no idea where they originated from, I just heard un-english being spoken. 4am-ish arrives and members of our possi are getting asked to leave the club, they do that here....if you stumble they usher you out like a herdsman. No bouncers here, just shepherds, looking after their sheep. If you have no concept of where in London I am at this point, dont worry, neither did I....but to help you orientate yourself go to http://www.goooglemaps.co.uk/ google magic my friends- and type in Indigo Bar, Clapham South or maybe it was in Wandsworth.
Basically we were down South I think, and had to catch a cab up North to Maida Vale-not a cheap cab, but it had to be done. By the time we arrived at the front door I have never been so ready to love a bed in all my life. I just wanted my PJ's and comfy bed....and munchies.
Arrive.Front door. Get Keys. What, did you say keys? I dont have the keys, you do!No, I don't have any keys. Operation empty pockets, bags, check shoes. Thats a negative on the Keys Kilo Alpha Romeo Echo November Echo.Bummer. So no keys, then?No comfy bed and Pj's?No munchies?
Enter near death experience....I was freezing and dying for bed, sitting on the step outside the house while the sun was rising, really believing that if we emptied the same bag 40 more times, the keys might fall out.Lost cause, plan B came into action. There was no plan B though, so we meandered down the road and caught another cab, all the way back down to Collierswood, now I dont know where that is, but it is extremely far away-40 quid far away.Stayed at some persons house, awoke to pouring rain, and negative one hundred degrees(keep in mind I am wearing a skirt), now had to begin the mission back home to sit on the steps I presume, and empty out the bag again incase we were blinded the previous night.
Long story short, it was the longest most harrowning tube ride home, and a painful walk of shame as I was wearing last nights outfit, with last nights make up which was completely inappropriate for that day's weather. We spent the afternoon at a friends house who lives nearby...again still in inappropriate attire, and still hungry from the night before. These kind soles filled our belly's and gave us a couch to rest our aching heads, bless them. Then operation get someone to climb up to the third floor of the building and squeeze through the window to let us in commenced, and alas it was a success. Ben is a hero, following this rescue, he was photographed for the paper the next day (not actually, but that would've been cool). We were in the house but now couldnt leave as we had no keys to get back in, which at this stage didn't matter, I was just so happy to be able to shower, get into PJ's and sleep.
Again, my fingers are cramping......so take a break while I get going with Saturday Night's American Frat party in the most aweome warehouse apartment I've ever seen, and where I learnt to play flip cup and drank beer. I DRANK BEER!
(Sorry okes, my spell check isn't working, overlook any errors and don't judge).
Thursday 27 May 2010
Tube nation...TB station.
PART 2
Monday blues were as blue can be....blue skies once again-sorry did someone say London had bad weather?Perfect day....hot n sweaty. Apparently this is a rarity, either that or Londoners all suffer from a disease that makes one intolerable to any temperatures above 21 degrees....but I'll get back to my diagnosis and how it came about shortly.
So I've heard time and time again about this Primark phenomenon and thought I must give it a jolly good go, but no one warned me that it would very closely resemble Victoria Street Market(DBN) on pay day....thanks peeps, you left me unprepared both mentally and physically for what I was about to encounter. Walking into that triple story mountain of clothes was everything but a shoppers dream. Yes, there are many items to choose from. Great. Yes, they are cheap. Great. No, I do not want my personal space to be invaded, and yes I would like more than half a square meter to move around in, thank you for asking. Fail. Aren't there laws that prevent more than 10 000 people from being in a building with only 2 exits (yes I checked out my fire escape routes on entering)?
There were literally people stripping in front of any mirror or reflective glass they could find.Literally. The line to the change rooms was half way around oxford street, its like a shoplifters paradise. After grabbing a few items....and joining the masses in the reflective glass make-shift change rooms-Yes, I did that- I just wanted to get the heck out of there. Grabbing+rushing to get the heck out of there = Definitely walking out with the wrong something.Which I did. I am still trying to muster up the courage to go back and change it, what if there really is a fire this time?
Following my shopping ordeal I made my way to Oxford Circus Station where I thought I could sit on the train ride home and talk myself through my post-traumatic stress, oh did I mention that by this time it was rush hour in tube nation? Giant Fail. Now I was faced with what I would consider to be a life changing decision at this point, I came to a cross road in my life and decided that a decision needed to be made and that me, being very decisive under pressure(Hello future employee reading my blog, look forward to hearing from you), could make it-To go all the way to Brixton station and change trains there (and risk being hustled by a pimp and his pimp hussies-is that the right lingo?) or stop at Victoria(Before Brixton) and change to a nice train. So I make the life changing decision and FAIL FAIL FAIL!
I decided to get of at Victoria and swap trains there, joining the rest of London in one cabin. The incoming train was delayed due to signal problems at Herne Hill(where I was going), so that should have hit the warning bells, not these ones, no no no, I carried on waiting. The train arrives 15 minutes late and I hop on, expecting to be home in 15 minutes.....lovely, its been a long day and I'm hungry, thirsty and tired. All is going as planned on my routine journey home until after we've stopped at Brixton and are half way between 2 stations(one of them being my destination) the train comes to a halt. "Apologies ladies and gentlemen, there are still signalling problems at Herne Hill and there are trains waiting to come through from all directions so I'm not sure how long we'll be in the queue"....Really? Now keep in mind that it is rush hour-you are standing rubbing up against all kinds of people ( I mean, I'm usually reasonably selective, but in rush hour you have no choice), there are no doors and only tiny little silly excuses for windows by the roof and it is the hottest day in British history ( well, since I've been there). Enter diagnosis 'Britons have heat disability disorder'. Every train I'd been on that day had issued warnings about the heat, asking passengers to please ensure they had water with them at all times which I thought to be a bit melodramatic considering humans can live without water for something like 3 days. So anyway, the train is stopped, people are dripping sweat all over me, I am thirsty because humans can live without water so I ignored the warnings AND I am at high risk for catching TB considering I was basically breathing in someone Else's lung material-that's the closeness I'm talking. OK so TB encounter No.1. Then after 40mins of being at a dead stop in an airless, conversation-less (I had to save my energy in case we were there for days-hence not starting random conversations or group songs) cabin that jolly conductor comes over the intercom and starts singing "The wheels on the bus...", no that's a lie, he didn't. He came on to tell us that some tool in another cabin who obviously had heat disability disorder pulled the emergency lever on the doors and opened them, which meant that the power supply to the rails had to be shut down in case the retard slipped on sweat and fell out onto the rails. This resulted in the train being stopped for a further 45minutes!
Summary: I sat on a train for an hour and a half in the heat, with no air, at rush hour and nearly died.
Skip to Wednesday, my interview was set for 8:45, so I thought I'd pre-empt any further train drama's and arrive an hour early. I can now safely tell you that there is not much to do in the early hours of the morning on Great Portland Street. More importantly, on that early morning train ride I was sitting in close proximity to an oldish woman; she was facing me and clutching a handful of tissues. So, I thought shame, she must be very sad or very sick. Wrong on both accounts. This woman broke out into about 40 coughing fits and after each one checked the tissue. Now I am on high alert. TB alarms going off everywhere. I covered my mouth with my scarf and tried not to breathe the rest of the way. Mom, if you're reading this, could you check with Doc how likely it is that I could get TB on the train?
Following my interview, I had my corporate kit on, glasses, dress, stockings the works...oh did I mention the heels?let me illustrate.
Exhibit A.
So I met Karene on Oxford Street to De-stress with a cuppa at a little side walk cafe, which just so happened to be opposite Liberty. Have you ever, cos I've never? I was blown away. 5 floors of sheer class and perfection in the form of designer scarves, hats, shoes, clothes, vintage dress-up, bridal couture, haberdashery, furniture and personal care products. I may have squealed upon entry....do yourself a favor, browse this little number http://www.liberty.co.uk/ . Crying.
So 5 floors browsed in heels, I'm fine, thank you for asking.....next stop; The opposite end of Oxford Street-Selfridges. at this point my high heel etiquette starts getting stroppy, back starts curving, bum sticks out....start doing the stork walk, you girls(and one or two boys) know how it is. Selfridges is a wonder room(5 floors again) of designer everything....I mean every brand you could ever think to imagine in the history of lavish brands is housed in that vault. It is basically a museum of the best designer wear ever. By the time we walked out of there I wanted to take my shoes off and walk on my stockings....don't talk to me about pain until you've walked Oxford Street in my shoes people.
Now that I am partly disabled, a brand whore and probably have TB, think its time for a small weekend on the town.....Who's ready?
I'm gonna ge' me an accen'
PART 1
Before I suck you into my little London bubble, I must apologise for the delay in updates...Unfortunately due to the fact a) I am currently unemployed and therefor have to spend my free time(that is the time when I am not actively seeking employment) picking up litter, as one kind street sweeper was kind enough to delegate his work load to help out a sister; and b) I am trying to make friends, which involves hours of online companion seeking and tube surfing(Not the hectic kind, just the kind where I sit on trains all day going back and forth looking for likely friends), I have had limited time. It is because of the above mentioned circumstances that I have been unable to blog every hour. Apology accepted? Super, moving swiftly along.
Where to start.....
Ah, last Friday I hit it lucky when an interview with a recruitment agency for a job that I did not see myself as being the ideal candidate for turned into a new job interview for a different position at an awesome company yesterday. That said....I cannot discuss the logistics of yesterday's interview in case my future employees find amusement in checking out candidates' blogs (Hi There, great interview...look forward to hearing from you). I have not yet heard the outcome of yesterday's interview yet and am still holding thumbs. What I can say though, is that it was for a global company with a superior reputation in out of Home media with incredible career growth opportunities and an awesome chance to learn the In's and outs of media while being closely involved with some pretty major brands- this is one I really would love to get. I am still, however on the job hunt as one can never be too sure and street sweeping, although pays bills, doesn't look good on one's CV unless under the community service section.
Job hunt aside, lets move onto the next bottle of wine...
Saturday a good friend of mine from Dirtbin touched down London Town and was looking for a little welcoming procession, I willingly obliged..Had some pre-drinks at her brother's place in Maide Vale and then headed down/up/east/west someway to Paradise Bar http://theparadise.co.uk/ in a sweet line of black cabs....yes that's how I roll now because quote, unquote "Life's too short to take the night bus". Michael Simpson. Crazy awesome night....almost hit a hiccup when a little gremlin of a boy called me a giant, look I was wearing High heels, but hows about he did us all a favour and left his short man syndrome at home,yeah?I could've made him cry-I'm sure of it, but I blew him a kiss instead, thought it was a step in the right direction, maybe he just needed some love after all. Met some crazy cool people, shared a little wiggle, step-ball-change, wiggle with them (little dance move I've mastered) and then was escorted home again, I believe, in another Black Cab (Back home, these'd pass as Rolls Royce's).
Sunday was an epic day, I say this not as a hyperbole, but rather because I believe it to be true. Blue Skies, not a cloud to be seen and about 30 degrees in the shade (it is entirely possible that this fact has been slightly exaggerated for dramatic effect)....Michael Las Tour Guide, took Karene out for a leisurely breakfast...little eggs Benedict and a latte there, followed by a walk round Regent's park to check out The London Business School(Checking out the grounds I'll be strolling upon when I enrol for my MBA), had a squiz at a very average looking home worth a sloppy 100 million...POUNDS! The gentle(rich) man who owns it also owns ArcelorMittal (Steel)..fun fact for the day-go tell people! We then meandered down/up/left/right (still working on getting a lay of the land) to Edinboro Castle pub http://www.edinborocastlepub.co.uk/ for a "li'l jug o Pimms wif strawbewwies init'"...Delish Nutrish, nothing like fruity Pimms on a warm Sunday afternoon. I could've sat there all day watching people...WOW is all I can say-I mean did you really walk out of the house wearing that knowing you were going into public?'Av you looked in the mirror?..Again, not judging, merely observing!...But alas, I didn't stay there, I moved on to more interesting people watching terrain, where you have to be very quiet, and move very slowly as any loud or fast movements could awaken the animals......of CAMDEN TOWN.
The three of us pub hopped the rest of the afternoon....what a day. Oh wait, my day wouldn't have been complete without my Cyberdog experience...this store in Camden Town is 3 stories of neon lights and rave. I have never seen clothes like this in my entire existence, I thought rave was a type of music not an underwear collection/adult shop/Clothing designed by martians-it takes the matrix stores to a whole nother(is that a word?) level...check out the stuff http://shop.cyberdog.net/ pretty crazy that people actually buy it, AND THEN WEAR IT.
After my weekend of Mayhem I was pretty bushed, but that didn't put an end to my missioning....PART 2 coming soon (in a few minutes-I just need to rest my typing hand).
Before I suck you into my little London bubble, I must apologise for the delay in updates...Unfortunately due to the fact a) I am currently unemployed and therefor have to spend my free time(that is the time when I am not actively seeking employment) picking up litter, as one kind street sweeper was kind enough to delegate his work load to help out a sister; and b) I am trying to make friends, which involves hours of online companion seeking and tube surfing(Not the hectic kind, just the kind where I sit on trains all day going back and forth looking for likely friends), I have had limited time. It is because of the above mentioned circumstances that I have been unable to blog every hour. Apology accepted? Super, moving swiftly along.
Where to start.....
Ah, last Friday I hit it lucky when an interview with a recruitment agency for a job that I did not see myself as being the ideal candidate for turned into a new job interview for a different position at an awesome company yesterday. That said....I cannot discuss the logistics of yesterday's interview in case my future employees find amusement in checking out candidates' blogs (Hi There, great interview...look forward to hearing from you). I have not yet heard the outcome of yesterday's interview yet and am still holding thumbs. What I can say though, is that it was for a global company with a superior reputation in out of Home media with incredible career growth opportunities and an awesome chance to learn the In's and outs of media while being closely involved with some pretty major brands- this is one I really would love to get. I am still, however on the job hunt as one can never be too sure and street sweeping, although pays bills, doesn't look good on one's CV unless under the community service section.
Job hunt aside, lets move onto the next bottle of wine...
Saturday a good friend of mine from Dirtbin touched down London Town and was looking for a little welcoming procession, I willingly obliged..Had some pre-drinks at her brother's place in Maide Vale and then headed down/up/east/west someway to Paradise Bar http://theparadise.co.uk/ in a sweet line of black cabs....yes that's how I roll now because quote, unquote "Life's too short to take the night bus". Michael Simpson. Crazy awesome night....almost hit a hiccup when a little gremlin of a boy called me a giant, look I was wearing High heels, but hows about he did us all a favour and left his short man syndrome at home,yeah?I could've made him cry-I'm sure of it, but I blew him a kiss instead, thought it was a step in the right direction, maybe he just needed some love after all. Met some crazy cool people, shared a little wiggle, step-ball-change, wiggle with them (little dance move I've mastered) and then was escorted home again, I believe, in another Black Cab (Back home, these'd pass as Rolls Royce's).
Sunday was an epic day, I say this not as a hyperbole, but rather because I believe it to be true. Blue Skies, not a cloud to be seen and about 30 degrees in the shade (it is entirely possible that this fact has been slightly exaggerated for dramatic effect)....Michael Las Tour Guide, took Karene out for a leisurely breakfast...little eggs Benedict and a latte there, followed by a walk round Regent's park to check out The London Business School(Checking out the grounds I'll be strolling upon when I enrol for my MBA), had a squiz at a very average looking home worth a sloppy 100 million...POUNDS! The gentle(rich) man who owns it also owns ArcelorMittal (Steel)..fun fact for the day-go tell people! We then meandered down/up/left/right (still working on getting a lay of the land) to Edinboro Castle pub http://www.edinborocastlepub.co.uk/ for a "li'l jug o Pimms wif strawbewwies init'"...Delish Nutrish, nothing like fruity Pimms on a warm Sunday afternoon. I could've sat there all day watching people...WOW is all I can say-I mean did you really walk out of the house wearing that knowing you were going into public?'Av you looked in the mirror?..Again, not judging, merely observing!...But alas, I didn't stay there, I moved on to more interesting people watching terrain, where you have to be very quiet, and move very slowly as any loud or fast movements could awaken the animals......of CAMDEN TOWN.
The three of us pub hopped the rest of the afternoon....what a day. Oh wait, my day wouldn't have been complete without my Cyberdog experience...this store in Camden Town is 3 stories of neon lights and rave. I have never seen clothes like this in my entire existence, I thought rave was a type of music not an underwear collection/adult shop/Clothing designed by martians-it takes the matrix stores to a whole nother(is that a word?) level...check out the stuff http://shop.cyberdog.net/ pretty crazy that people actually buy it, AND THEN WEAR IT.
After my weekend of Mayhem I was pretty bushed, but that didn't put an end to my missioning....PART 2 coming soon (in a few minutes-I just need to rest my typing hand).
Thursday 20 May 2010
Beauty is in the (London) eye of the beer holder...
So just a quick moan about my Monday before we get onto Tuesday's festivities....If you are planning a trip to London any time in the near or far future, bring an SA - UK adaptor. When I initially realised my laptop plug didn't fit into the silly little rectangular holes they use here (no matter which way I tried),I thought "No Claire, don't you worry now child, there will surely be ONE SA to UK adaptor in the whole of London,". WRONG! Not one; I walked up and down the streets of The South African Village(otherwise known as Wimbledon) for a solid 5 hours interrogating every store owner about their knowledge of South African plugs and found nothing. They have every other adaptor except South African! Cut a long moan short, I had to skillfully cut the plug off my lappie and get my handy man on and put a new silly rectangular looking one one....doesn't look nearly as classy, but life must go on.
Moving onto Tuesday's festival of wines. 1 x early, chilled lunch in Wimbledon Village with a good school friend of mine (Nicola Stanley), turned into 3 x bottles of wine and a turkey burger. This sparked off an interesting domino effect, as one bottle of wine hit the system...so another followed, and another...and so on until they all fell down. No it was no so quick and painless unfortunately. Rather than what one sensible individual may have done- go home, wash one's face, brush one's teeth and tuck oneself into one's bed- I moved on from lunch/afternoon drinks to Waterloo station to meet some R&Y's-Claire and Dina.....enter the end of me.
Drinks at All Bar One beneath the London Eye started out with lots of catching up, and swapping job advice...a few recruiters details(well I did all the taking, no giving...so no swapping from my side), and gradually turned into something quite spectacular. In fact what we all got out of the evening was 1 x Business plan (wheels in motion-watch this space....and your backs), 500km's to walk home(felt like it anyway....zigzags are inefficient when walking home), 3 x harrowing changes on the transport system in rush hour the following morning and 2 x members experiencing low blood sugar resulting in fainting on the morning rush hour transport system. Super.Best night ever. Lets do it again.Or not.
Cut to Thursday (I have erased the memories of yesterday's porridge brain).
Began the ever daunting Job hunt, which ended in success, 1 interview with a recruiting agent tomorrow.Tick. Hopefully a few more to follow, keep your fingers and noses crossed. I've got a good feeling about this folks, somethings on the horizon and I'm about to grab hold of those reigns and kick it into motion...keep following the ride.
(If all else fails, Ive still got the option of that boerie proudly South African food stall in Camden-Huge window of opportunity there).
Moving onto Tuesday's festival of wines. 1 x early, chilled lunch in Wimbledon Village with a good school friend of mine (Nicola Stanley), turned into 3 x bottles of wine and a turkey burger. This sparked off an interesting domino effect, as one bottle of wine hit the system...so another followed, and another...and so on until they all fell down. No it was no so quick and painless unfortunately. Rather than what one sensible individual may have done- go home, wash one's face, brush one's teeth and tuck oneself into one's bed- I moved on from lunch/afternoon drinks to Waterloo station to meet some R&Y's-Claire and Dina.....enter the end of me.
Drinks at All Bar One beneath the London Eye started out with lots of catching up, and swapping job advice...a few recruiters details(well I did all the taking, no giving...so no swapping from my side), and gradually turned into something quite spectacular. In fact what we all got out of the evening was 1 x Business plan (wheels in motion-watch this space....and your backs), 500km's to walk home(felt like it anyway....zigzags are inefficient when walking home), 3 x harrowing changes on the transport system in rush hour the following morning and 2 x members experiencing low blood sugar resulting in fainting on the morning rush hour transport system. Super.Best night ever. Lets do it again.Or not.
Cut to Thursday (I have erased the memories of yesterday's porridge brain).
Began the ever daunting Job hunt, which ended in success, 1 interview with a recruiting agent tomorrow.Tick. Hopefully a few more to follow, keep your fingers and noses crossed. I've got a good feeling about this folks, somethings on the horizon and I'm about to grab hold of those reigns and kick it into motion...keep following the ride.
(If all else fails, Ive still got the option of that boerie proudly South African food stall in Camden-Huge window of opportunity there).
Monday 17 May 2010
Tie-dye's whack...Doc Martin's are back!
For those of you who thought you were in the know about what's hot and what should be shot...you ought to take a trip down to Camden Town, anything that didn't go before goes now...Trinny and Susanna(What not to wear) would both have had minor aneurysms. What an incredible experience though, if every bus/train service had gone on strike for the day I would have been more than happy to have been stuck there. It's the most incredible place to people watch; I wouldn't call what I did judging, I'd define it as observing!
Amongst the crazy hus and bus on the streets are rows and rows of stores....some pretty amazing, and the other 300-all side by side, have identical clothing-IDENTICAL!At one point you'd swear that it was an entire road taken up by one store with multiple entries-not just any store at that; The Matrix store. If you believed that the matrix was real, you might swear that every shop owner bought their merchandise from straight out of the world of zero's and one's. If leather jacket season excited you this winter....you'd be in your element-ankle length leather jackets, dress-style leather jackets, shiny cat-suit style leather jackets....I'd assume that the sole purpose for these items in the stores are for hire for matrix or Grandma's boy dress-up parties.
After every long row of shops, and just when you think you've seen it all (you saw it all in the first store) you turn a corner to see a market twice the size of the one you've just walked through, and there are another 2 just like it down the road. It's not the stores though that make this place deliciously nutritious for the eye-ball, its the people...I felt like I should have dressed up for the occasion. Not your typical Sunday best......some closer to their birthday suits than anything else. But enough about the people....all I'm saying is that Heat mag know's nothing about the look of the week. Here's a little something something for the heat though-the items I fell in love with and chose to buy instead of meals for the next week....
My beautious rosy skirt and tapestry curtain dress...
Moving along...the main street lacks in flavoursome food, but a little hunt for lunch lead us down an alley way filled with little kiosks/stalls all tightly packed together like cattle in a truck, or like kulula first class...well I've never. There was Indian followed by Thai, Mexican, Persian, Malaysian, Japanese, Chinese, Spanish, american....italian...and and and. It's like hangover munchies central. Where do you even start? One stall that was lacking was a proudly South African Boerie bar, so I'm keeping that in mind in case the job hunt starts off slow-look, lets not judge, here's a window of opportunity and I'm seriously considering taking it! If someone could kindly please point me toward a good boerie recipe, I'd cut you in on the profits. I called a friend, asked the audience and finally settled on a Thai mix and a Mexican Fajita....dam Africa you missed out.
I am enlightened after my little trip up north, and all the more wiser for it...I have now started wearing purple leggings under red shorts with doc Martins and a wonderbra as my shirt under my pleather jacket..unashamedly (as all things should be done).
Saturday 15 May 2010
Just touched down in London Town...this is how we like to get down.
D-day arrived before I even had time to get my London countdown advent calendar up on the wall. No tears, no mess, no fuss.....so here I am, although I'm so far from home but I'd be lying if I said I felt far away. My little visit to Joe Kool's last night certainly made me feel at home.....who would've thunk it, Joe Kool's in the middle of Putney?...I may as well have been at Joe's in Dbn,or Tiger in CT....not a Pom accent anywhere, just the rowdy recognisable South African slang, even the bouncers and barmen are South African, only difference is that the bar closed at 1!Yip you heard me...1!!!!!How ridic?No more 5am mornings on the D-floor for me, you could actually go out every night of the week here and still wake up fresh for work the next morning-that might've been useful to a few of us RandY's!
First night in London.Success.tick.
Nick had arranged a little surprise welcome gathering at a pub in Wimbledon, I nearly had a stroke slash small child when I unexpectedly saw Nicola Stanley, Melissa Moon and Sandi Touzel...couldn't have asked for more really! Thank you Nick...too spesh.Suburban's half price cocktail's were followed by the above mentioned razzle at Joe's.....and then some mid night madness at KFC and what felt like an hour long bus trip home. It's not all fun and games when an hour on the night bus at 1 am is followed by a half an hour walk from the bus stop back home ( I may be over exaggerating but my feet will swear its true). It's a small world this....while on my walk to the station after last night some guy(who I thought was some one completely different) called my name from the side of the street and runs up to me and gives me a huge hug and tells me how long its been and that its so great to see me ( at this stage I'm still grabbing at straws trying to get him to at least hint where I might know him from or at his name), I eventually manage to get him to mention that I met him in Sun City about 3 or 4 years ago...still didn't help, then his friend called him Jason. Nope. Got nothing. He looks familiar but I cannot for the life of me place him....anyway apparently I made an impression, How'd he recognise me let alone remember my name?....To do list: make a new friend on the streets of London at 1am in the morning.Tick.
I'm staying in Herne Hill, a really cute little village (almost) with Nick, its pretty close to everything (I think), I have no concept of time or direction here(whats new on the direction part?) buses and trains all have crazy numbers that you have to remember and you have to learn routes and changes etc...hoping it'll be like riding a bike when I get the hang of it(pity there aren't fairy wheels for that type of thing).
For those of you Old Biscuit Mill die-hards (Caity and Luc); it ain't got nothing on the market I went to this morning. Spent the most part of morning/lunch time at the Borough Market at London Bridge.....well,I've NEVER! This market is massive and there is literally broccoli and herbs growing out of the ground, it wouldn't be a surprise to find yourself tripping over a boulder sized wheel of cheese. There are the most incredible food stores there; wraps, roasts,prawns, sausages......liquorice all sorts! It took about an hour to get around the market the first time, followed by another loop to decide what was for lunch.....if I had the money I would have had one of everything and stayed there until tomorrow eating. I eventually settled on a yummy steak Bap and rolled out on my belly.
Checked out London Bridge, did some shopping....not what you think unfortunately, just some shampoo and conditioner. Oh, and some oats. Ended off the day with an incredible Brit meal-little yorkie pud,beef bristle and some veg soaked in gravy and topped with salsa Verde-Divs!(thanks Athene and Rors) ....in case you feel like having an around the world night try out the sneaky little recipes hiding down below.
Tomorrow's agenda.....thinking a trip down/up to Camden Market is in order and a visit to primark (its 4 degrees here,I seriously need warmer clothes- left the airport thinking blue skies and sunshine meant warmth, well the chill bit me where it hurts, but nothing that some thermals and a shopping spree can't fix).
Missing everyone at home, wish you were all here.
x
First night in London.Success.tick.
Nick had arranged a little surprise welcome gathering at a pub in Wimbledon, I nearly had a stroke slash small child when I unexpectedly saw Nicola Stanley, Melissa Moon and Sandi Touzel...couldn't have asked for more really! Thank you Nick...too spesh.Suburban's half price cocktail's were followed by the above mentioned razzle at Joe's.....and then some mid night madness at KFC and what felt like an hour long bus trip home. It's not all fun and games when an hour on the night bus at 1 am is followed by a half an hour walk from the bus stop back home ( I may be over exaggerating but my feet will swear its true). It's a small world this....while on my walk to the station after last night some guy(who I thought was some one completely different) called my name from the side of the street and runs up to me and gives me a huge hug and tells me how long its been and that its so great to see me ( at this stage I'm still grabbing at straws trying to get him to at least hint where I might know him from or at his name), I eventually manage to get him to mention that I met him in Sun City about 3 or 4 years ago...still didn't help, then his friend called him Jason. Nope. Got nothing. He looks familiar but I cannot for the life of me place him....anyway apparently I made an impression, How'd he recognise me let alone remember my name?....To do list: make a new friend on the streets of London at 1am in the morning.Tick.
I'm staying in Herne Hill, a really cute little village (almost) with Nick, its pretty close to everything (I think), I have no concept of time or direction here(whats new on the direction part?) buses and trains all have crazy numbers that you have to remember and you have to learn routes and changes etc...hoping it'll be like riding a bike when I get the hang of it(pity there aren't fairy wheels for that type of thing).
For those of you Old Biscuit Mill die-hards (Caity and Luc); it ain't got nothing on the market I went to this morning. Spent the most part of morning/lunch time at the Borough Market at London Bridge.....well,I've NEVER! This market is massive and there is literally broccoli and herbs growing out of the ground, it wouldn't be a surprise to find yourself tripping over a boulder sized wheel of cheese. There are the most incredible food stores there; wraps, roasts,prawns, sausages......liquorice all sorts! It took about an hour to get around the market the first time, followed by another loop to decide what was for lunch.....if I had the money I would have had one of everything and stayed there until tomorrow eating. I eventually settled on a yummy steak Bap and rolled out on my belly.
Checked out London Bridge, did some shopping....not what you think unfortunately, just some shampoo and conditioner. Oh, and some oats. Ended off the day with an incredible Brit meal-little yorkie pud,beef bristle and some veg soaked in gravy and topped with salsa Verde-Divs!(thanks Athene and Rors) ....in case you feel like having an around the world night try out the sneaky little recipes hiding down below.
Tomorrow's agenda.....thinking a trip down/up to Camden Market is in order and a visit to primark (its 4 degrees here,I seriously need warmer clothes- left the airport thinking blue skies and sunshine meant warmth, well the chill bit me where it hurts, but nothing that some thermals and a shopping spree can't fix).
Missing everyone at home, wish you were all here.
x
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