tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91340881946509347232024-03-21T12:56:13.404-07:00Life in the land of Tea Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-73519918860597059852014-05-07T16:36:00.002-07:002014-05-07T16:36:25.589-07:00Mind the closing doors please. . .<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">"Please mind the closing doors..." (The doors close... The doors reopen.) "Passengers are reminded that the big red slidey things on the side of the train are called the doors. Let's try it again, Please stand clear of the doors." (The doors close...) "Thank you."</i><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> - The announcement on a recent tube journey in London. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If I have learnt anything while traversing London using the Tube, it's that humour really is the only option if you intend to get home with a smile on your face and some semblance of a healthy blood pressure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To illustrate my point, I'd like to take you on a journey of a fairly typical day out sight-seeing in London culminating in the tube ride home. Now, close your eyes and read this: haha, just kidding. Keep your eyes open, read on and try your best to imagine it as you go: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, it's getting on in the afternoon, the sun is a happily burning ball in the sky above you, and you've just spent a fabulous day in London walking around like the seasoned tourist-turned-local that you are. You've discovered new streets, eclectic stores, that amazing bakery in the dodgy side alley; you are either slightly sun burnt or possibly just flushed from all the walking; your jacket that you didn't need but wore just in case is now a lead weight over your left arm, while your handbag which is apparently full of bricks is creating a permanent dent in your right. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You lost feeling in your feet somewhere around lunch time; your back is warning you that if you so much as <i>think </i>about walking up those stairs you're a dead woman; your bladder is nagging you like a child starved of attention, and </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">what started off as polite hints from your head at afternoon tea time (which you ignored) have since become sincere threats</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> that what you now need as a matter of urgency is some pain killers and</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> a pint of cider. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You catch sight of yourself in a shop window and wonder at what point during the day you turned into a bulldog, and it briefly occurs to you perhaps it was while you were on Oxford Street attempting to plough your way through the thronging crowd. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You decide with questionable wisdom that it's time to make like a drummer and beat it, and it crosses your mind that it is going to be hell on the tube; but your head and feet join forces and warn, "you think the tube is going to be hell, give us half an hour and we'll double it," so you concede the point and head for the Underground. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is now about 6.15pm and you walk through the station entrance to join the teeming crowd and jostle your way through the gates, to be caught up by the masses and deposited on the escalator. As you descend to the depths of the tube station, a blast of slightly stale warm air greets you, signalling your arrival and that it's time to move fast or be moved. You clutch your bag and jacket in front of you like a shield, adopt a facial expression that says you know exactly where you're going and no you won't walk around them, and march on. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrm9duOzNZIIvwM557hyphenhyphenBHcPbLULhpoPX8CNByyT_iygvlg7yXubT_vsnz99sK1zCzOJ7zax9v5IGgdkEuJhCHokzE8MJAlIniPS0ODxrD_gXAfwUna2miYq6psbkGzAUwxFFfJetEyyd/s1600/rushhour+escalator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrm9duOzNZIIvwM557hyphenhyphenBHcPbLULhpoPX8CNByyT_iygvlg7yXubT_vsnz99sK1zCzOJ7zax9v5IGgdkEuJhCHokzE8MJAlIniPS0ODxrD_gXAfwUna2miYq6psbkGzAUwxFFfJetEyyd/s1600/rushhour+escalator.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Escalators at rush hour - courtesy of Google images</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Having successfully found the platform you want, you stand confidently with the other commuters while running through your very simple plan: get off at Bank, take the Waterloo & City line to Waterloo. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The train arrives, preceded by the tell-tale whoosh of hot air, and you start to politely make your way to the door, letting those next to you and with children on first. You then notice with no small amount of alarm that you are in fact further away from the door than when you started, so you throw courtesy out the proverbial window and force yourself on that baby. You spend the next few stops contemplating the interesting weave of the jacket on the elbow in front of your nose, and also wonder who is wearing that strange Kenzo perfume you tested today, while being vaguely aware that someone else's head is more or less resting on your shoulder and there might be a child hanging on to your pony tail. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRadPiUuEeDJca_BjQFZeFwHBUOi6s3X2iNvj7C-ynYRs4AIOOguu5QrR5U1ouwq_8sEHaHWTx_uwC1M5GCTA9bxNp6MWcQkOu9e7YL1OUF63d_OxS8HYoj9CdzRe0wpdts8plYwbiMH6/s1600/rushour+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRadPiUuEeDJca_BjQFZeFwHBUOi6s3X2iNvj7C-ynYRs4AIOOguu5QrR5U1ouwq_8sEHaHWTx_uwC1M5GCTA9bxNp6MWcQkOu9e7YL1OUF63d_OxS8HYoj9CdzRe0wpdts8plYwbiMH6/s1600/rushour+3.jpg" height="194" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can totally fit... - courtesy of Google images</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The train arrives at Bank, the doors slide open, you manoeuvre yourself this way and that and don't so much calmly exit as are abruptly ejected from the sardine can. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You head away from the tunnel to check which direction you need to go in for the Waterloo & City line and with a groan see signs announcing that this line is closed for maintenance. It occurs to you that this was quite possibly what the voice on the last train was announcing that you couldn't make out because the person with their head more-or-less on your shoulder was taking your hearing implements on a journey of heavy-metal discovery. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You take a deep breath, instantly regret it, resolve to take shallow breaths from now on, and recalculate your route. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Standing on the platform waiting to cram yourself back on a Central line to Oxford Circus so you can get the Bakerloo line, you say a quiet prayer for patience as the mother of two who is even more tired than you are parks her stroller of screaming toddlers beside you. Fleetingly, you wonder if employing the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" analogy would be any use, but your head says the pressure up there is already dangerously high, so you ditch the idea. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAntp4gLs98d8smU_MURDkD-Dc7bkhONvF5-F-zvUFmV8byXo7FBX7jc4y3Krj9jybaQiTTGztL88PE83QPgHLxO_X42eri7WYNNh3DBLk_UDVF5QBp8W7AmkTafxduFPi4JNlly3nqMNb/s1600/rushhour+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAntp4gLs98d8smU_MURDkD-Dc7bkhONvF5-F-zvUFmV8byXo7FBX7jc4y3Krj9jybaQiTTGztL88PE83QPgHLxO_X42eri7WYNNh3DBLk_UDVF5QBp8W7AmkTafxduFPi4JNlly3nqMNb/s1600/rushhour+1.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Another picture just for fun - courtesy of Google images</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rousing you from your brief reverie the familiar gust of hot air signals the arrival of your train, and this time, boy are you ready. Everyone's on, the announcement to stand clear of the closing doors comes over the tannoy a few times, the warning beeps sound, the doors close... aaand then the sound of doors encountering an obstacle, followed by a grunt, is heard. An impressive display of eye-rolls ensues, coupled with muttering and shaking heads.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Just when everyone looks like they're about to take out their entire day's frustrations on the fool inserting himself between the closing doors, the guards voice comes back over the tube tannoy: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"To the gentleman wearing the long grey coat trying to get on the second carriage, what part of 'stand clear of the doors' don't you understand?"</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Followed by <i>"Thank you,"</i> as several pairs of arms extend to tug the man in question onto the train. Since the guard has voiced everyone's frustration and suitably embarrassed the perpetrator, everyone has a chuckle at Grey-Coat's expense and the tension in the second carriage is abated. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You hear the announcement "the next station is Waterloo" and you gratefully fall off the train and make your way out of the Underground to begin the next phase of your journey home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, tell me - wasn't that fun?!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Man I love London. </span></div>
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Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-61144887079366498372014-02-15T13:00:00.001-08:002014-02-15T13:01:48.683-08:00A Valentine's Day to remember<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So yesterday (Friday) was February 14th - Valentine's Day. On Thursday I decided that if everyone else got to go out for dinner, I wanted to as well; so I took matters into my own hands and called for an Awesome Foursome gathering. One of us still lives in America, and another had plans already, but the third, myself and a ring-in that we keep on standby (we love him really) made plans to meet in London for dinner.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We successfully caught our respective trains, surrounded by girls carrying over-sized (and some under-sized) bouquets of flowers that either way were quite frankly dangerous to be around if you are fond of your eyes - tulips are red, violets are blue, roses are lovely but hazardous too!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We pumped up and down escalators to get to the platforms and navigate our various ways to Leicester Square, where we had been instructed by our ever-reliable ring-in to take the exit near the ATM, turn right, walk 40 metres and enter a pub called the Bear & Staff.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I walked in the door and found myself in what I would class as a classic English Pub. Packed full of people, happy bar staff, pot plants and general mayhem; I spotted my two friends at the bar just about to order drinks - it's like they knew I'd walk in as soon as they ordered! Excellent planning on my part I must say.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We got our drinks and looked around for a table, without success. I then spotted a narrow staircase leading up, and we held a brief vote on whether or not we should venture up based on the likelihood that it led to the toilets and we would find ourselves in the awkward position of standing outside a door holding a drink, greeting people as they came out of the loo.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We decided to chance it, and as luck would have it there was a restaurant up there and a free table with three chairs just waiting for us. We wisely decided to eat there, and it was a good choice! The waitress looked relieved that our trio wasn't another love-struck couple demanding a table at no notice, and she spent a good deal of the evening laughing with us and trying to convince us to order more dessert. We liked her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At around 10:22 I looked at the time and declared that we should get moving soon because trains would be up the creek (quite possibly literally) and the sooner we got on one going in the right direction, the better.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We all went back to Leicester square station, where I left the other two and legged it down to the Northern line to get back to Waterloo, in hopes I'd be able to catch an Alton train. I arrived at Waterloo, looked at the time, and started checking the notice board. Alas, there had been an Alton train at around 10:40 or so - I had just missed it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But wait! An announcement was telling me the delayed service to Alton was now boarding on platform 14! Woo!! I hot-footed it to the platform and got on what would turn out to be the last train leaving Waterloo for Alton that night.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I had been entertaining myself and the bloke next to me (watching out of the corner of his eye) for the last half hour or so by watching Dynamo on BBC iPlayer, when we pulled in to Walton on Thames. This struck me as odd, because I didn't recognise the name and didn't think we usually stopped here. I figured I'd probably just forgotten or they'd added a stop, so went back to watching Dynamo.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">About 10 minutes later the guard announced something but it sounded like he was calling from the bottom of an ocean on Neptune using a phone wrapped in cotton wool, so most of us just kept doing what we were doing, while others who were possibly on holiday and already lost ran around asking other passengers what was happening.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At 11:45 the guard (whose voice had mercifully increased in volume) came over the system again to tell us that the reason we were randomly sitting at Walton on Thames still was that they had been instructed to pull in here, as there were some problems further down the line due to Mother Nature losing a gasket on the countryside. He hadn't been told much, but promised to keep us in the loop.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At 12:07 he let us know that we would possibly be here for a while. At this point I had finished two episodes of Dynamo and moved on to the last one I had, and decided it was time for a facebook update. I decided that I would do an update every half hour or so, hoping there would only be one update... For a laugh, here is the list of updates from that train journey, bearing in mind we had been stopped since about 11:30pm:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">>Well, it's now 00:07 here and we've been stuck at Walton on Thames for about half an hour due to thousand-mile-an-hour winds and heaven only knows what else. Thank goodness for videos and portable chargers.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">>00:40 update - still stationary. Winds are picking up, trees are falling down, the train is rocking slightly in the wind. Very disconcerting if you ask me; I expect Thor will fall out of the sky any moment now. That would be ok...</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">>00:55 update - the train was getting seriously stuffy so I poked my head out for some fresh air. Ghost Town:</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">>01:08 update - still stationary. Various passengers on the train have begun the transformation from 'human' to 'vampire' and are out for blood. I find myself considering wandering into first class and taking a nap.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">>01:38 update - latest news from the guard is that an inebriated passenger is on a train trying to leave Woking (the train that is, not the drunkard - I doubt he even remembers where he's trying to go), and police have been called. Since the entire police force is a bit busy dealing with the problem of London being underwater, it could be quite a while. That train (more specifically, the aforementioned drunkard) is the only thing standing between us and forward motion. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">I wonder what it would take to reintroduce the death penalty... You know, just as a once-off? </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">For the greater good?</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">>01:40 - </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">the train was getting seriously stuffy so I poked my head out for some fresh air. Ghost Town:</span><br />
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</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIv3VjaseZu37g2_T_ib1RQ9q5g3aEzDyx8i5gdvdI8SoXPDpz0XZ0h83uzMvEbdMOiY9JFAsLmLeQfm_Y6D9jzZIBN4Lt7Re6hv3SymGvHXJQ0DQRVpwGJ5bFU5gAWGZtxtgLlN-ACjd/s1600/ghost+town.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIv3VjaseZu37g2_T_ib1RQ9q5g3aEzDyx8i5gdvdI8SoXPDpz0XZ0h83uzMvEbdMOiY9JFAsLmLeQfm_Y6D9jzZIBN4Lt7Re6hv3SymGvHXJQ0DQRVpwGJ5bFU5gAWGZtxtgLlN-ACjd/s1600/ghost+town.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="color: #37404e;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">>01:45-</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #37404e;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Hmm, I spy bed potential...</span></span><br />
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<img alt="Photo: Hmm... I spy bed potential..." src="https://scontent-b-lhr.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/t1/p526x296/1012273_10151887094012217_1830845116_n.jpg" /></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">>02:00 update - WE HAVE MOVEMENT!! Apparently someone took matters into their own hands and just shot the guy. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Just kidding. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">So far as I know...</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">>02:36 update - made it to Woking, then a tree fell on the line. Stopped again. The bicycle storage area chairs are a win for an impromptu bed, and thank goodness - it's looking to be a very long night.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">>02: 55 - </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Proof that when you're really tired, you see beds everywhere.</span><br />
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<img alt="Photo: Proof that when you're really tired, you see beds everywhere." src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn1/t1/p403x403/12182_10151887157802217_1882095504_n.jpg" /></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">>03:26 update - "this is, Ash Vale. The next station is, Aldershot". </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Thank. You. God.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #37404e;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">03:40 update - "we are now arriving at, Aldershot. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform edge."</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #37404e;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">>04:50 update -</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;"> <i>home at last! </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-13684409447184111852013-12-26T08:47:00.002-08:002013-12-26T08:47:43.616-08:00Pull out your wadersThe town I work in, Guildford, found itself in a bit of high water this week. When I crossed the little bridge over the river into town in the morning yesterday, I noticed that the river was higher than it had been the previous night (when it was already a fair bit higher than usual). The water was now lapping over the footpath a few feet away from the edge of the river bank, and looked like it would be staying there for a while.<br />
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An hour or so later I looked out the window at work, and the river has risen again, to fully cover the footpath but about 20cm. At this point, I figured it was time to start taking a picture every now and then!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMN1CF9SkMgR-2xX-vTkshx907oXwEbW9Rkj0FUH8jkLz4f4h4oCoA0N4HuqJltW4wJB3qooIQFOeFiI8VnEBvwDXSYPFa16_qQtrsL-TPkzoo3DaSFteP46Ul_FiOAXESuSgaQJyxRsHz/s1600/20131224_104938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMN1CF9SkMgR-2xX-vTkshx907oXwEbW9Rkj0FUH8jkLz4f4h4oCoA0N4HuqJltW4wJB3qooIQFOeFiI8VnEBvwDXSYPFa16_qQtrsL-TPkzoo3DaSFteP46Ul_FiOAXESuSgaQJyxRsHz/s320/20131224_104938.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First photo, at about 0945<br /></td></tr>
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The water just kept rising, and pretty soon we were setting targets and picking markers along the wall. We chose the bottom of the first letter in the graffiti you can vaguely see to the right in that photo above.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtE5-aHZRPGb_voIV1rg9HELfEjUNG6YDevD94QDzzux3dpdBEGg3GtfH2dRDqXLuu-Sy-_4lJlkftWHMQ8sfVkt12KTxqsiHop-fO6j_OsVJsrDihZhJSQ-YM7dXV4Pifju2zZh1HrpBC/s1600/20131224_120457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtE5-aHZRPGb_voIV1rg9HELfEjUNG6YDevD94QDzzux3dpdBEGg3GtfH2dRDqXLuu-Sy-_4lJlkftWHMQ8sfVkt12KTxqsiHop-fO6j_OsVJsrDihZhJSQ-YM7dXV4Pifju2zZh1HrpBC/s320/20131224_120457.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At around 1030 it started raining and again the river rose, by around 10cm. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHEGk8g8usw7drw6-fbbPqzc88I0kI0pFHuqRduAY4dYrafXBO5urWAr8TrlX5Dz4UFeysG8jK07nZDV_157ZxDxx9WsewTfbBcG-xO5IiRCq7CZKZR6RyQi3AhZ6nuTjH2-LnNPXey9_/s1600/20131224_124033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHEGk8g8usw7drw6-fbbPqzc88I0kI0pFHuqRduAY4dYrafXBO5urWAr8TrlX5Dz4UFeysG8jK07nZDV_157ZxDxx9WsewTfbBcG-xO5IiRCq7CZKZR6RyQi3AhZ6nuTjH2-LnNPXey9_/s320/20131224_124033.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1130 and it had risen by about another 5cm this time.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdcyH51BzBp0Y-_PlXxE9qLOaZ96a_5b5-UlWHWtTvimBkdFladv-q59McAlO71M3XA7xXrqzgW2oTsAFRh9FaKVDNaFexYuXD2C7KFnbxY0-ptdBiaDG8klNJimn2BLtBZr9XUrkeOAMO/s1600/20131224_124945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdcyH51BzBp0Y-_PlXxE9qLOaZ96a_5b5-UlWHWtTvimBkdFladv-q59McAlO71M3XA7xXrqzgW2oTsAFRh9FaKVDNaFexYuXD2C7KFnbxY0-ptdBiaDG8klNJimn2BLtBZr9XUrkeOAMO/s320/20131224_124945.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View across the street. The YMCA to the right was close to flooding.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkjPrTkMLDdEPuHpB9aD6CGt6I7ea1vU0rlDxodYkCsauim9Q75sGS56iZEU_Tkm5jaRXIAlyRRwEC3wBQHVbfiRGCVxJrPzvf9jPQJVN-k3CTypELkBI-Bx62WiaKmIcvKE261wlXOnX1/s1600/20131224_142232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkjPrTkMLDdEPuHpB9aD6CGt6I7ea1vU0rlDxodYkCsauim9Q75sGS56iZEU_Tkm5jaRXIAlyRRwEC3wBQHVbfiRGCVxJrPzvf9jPQJVN-k3CTypELkBI-Bx62WiaKmIcvKE261wlXOnX1/s320/20131224_142232.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun out and still the river rose.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8uFuMCyO1Pyyt8MKT5xyXyMba-p4-auTpetKDmQad_M8Ly_v-9STMRabj8ZDKdXxULJNJPetfh_PTAcLW6UISrJ4ZWYoL5ibI7HH7ppZK3WhnLSNzjPLzK4MxYjjt7dcbxFeeDGn4JZ82/s1600/20131224_144114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8uFuMCyO1Pyyt8MKT5xyXyMba-p4-auTpetKDmQad_M8Ly_v-9STMRabj8ZDKdXxULJNJPetfh_PTAcLW6UISrJ4ZWYoL5ibI7HH7ppZK3WhnLSNzjPLzK4MxYjjt7dcbxFeeDGn4JZ82/s320/20131224_144114.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The same wall in the other photos, view down the river. To the left is apparently a warehouse where some sets for theatre productions are kept, and the water was only about 5cm away from the big barn type doors.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPyeqQ7uACo4KwqwFOwk9VjKfQLaHzFTBIRbX0XcP1VrrmBB4MIpiVSKy5dzpO73r8oMptaxnI5oivNmLJCBeXgwlkE2yjFVgeU4vA-B3g7-vs3jd3YNOrqqGIUBO5C_PA1LRI5g5l_2jh/s1600/20131224_144924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPyeqQ7uACo4KwqwFOwk9VjKfQLaHzFTBIRbX0XcP1VrrmBB4MIpiVSKy5dzpO73r8oMptaxnI5oivNmLJCBeXgwlkE2yjFVgeU4vA-B3g7-vs3jd3YNOrqqGIUBO5C_PA1LRI5g5l_2jh/s320/20131224_144924.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The underpasses were out...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURo_TsELeTOEEW-JVzQuhx22duuVUkC2Rscali_JCM19GUV-XxA-6hdhEk-EzKkfMb2UC697wksWZTEhqkEvtlNqnnf02h_X53Egn5q81CMtTZCFyiQC1kgy7W688seebVOnn1-F-A3CS/s1600/20131224_144930.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURo_TsELeTOEEW-JVzQuhx22duuVUkC2Rscali_JCM19GUV-XxA-6hdhEk-EzKkfMb2UC697wksWZTEhqkEvtlNqnnf02h_X53Egn5q81CMtTZCFyiQC1kgy7W688seebVOnn1-F-A3CS/s320/20131224_144930.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The water was about calf height here, but at the deepest point right in the underpass would have been about waist height by the end of the day. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVEJRjz_8NhETHvKUyAD_9ddo8EVm1o_iEcNwk_RGO9i_RqGB4RRN9c4ADTP17jXdJ2at_RmjqVrsNp5tEDgN22293zAyuctqNcMzi-S5SzeyOSTpgS-0ISbL5Fn3hq-eT9FTScAGgDYMs/s1600/20131224_144955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVEJRjz_8NhETHvKUyAD_9ddo8EVm1o_iEcNwk_RGO9i_RqGB4RRN9c4ADTP17jXdJ2at_RmjqVrsNp5tEDgN22293zAyuctqNcMzi-S5SzeyOSTpgS-0ISbL5Fn3hq-eT9FTScAGgDYMs/s320/20131224_144955.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The underpass roped off/</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrsi0mcGNy79M73uI4InSX2U3ziCH2UhWBgvqP-EXQEP8-DRkyg6FCitgtvlwsjahdyE2_NR4GMlhR3iHBHs0DkKd4TPZsiDLQ3nk1Qeyq1muov_g0B6QXkTc0kvkVRYUc0PPjld5d8dJ_/s1600/20131224_145054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrsi0mcGNy79M73uI4InSX2U3ziCH2UhWBgvqP-EXQEP8-DRkyg6FCitgtvlwsjahdyE2_NR4GMlhR3iHBHs0DkKd4TPZsiDLQ3nk1Qeyq1muov_g0B6QXkTc0kvkVRYUc0PPjld5d8dJ_/s320/20131224_145054.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1DLXjM5QOT1CgyvrXjdoiCW_gbtZa8hjEcSfKo1dye93vXEH2CGSr58PEIFofyHyMGhvjoCsao6I716sGUKYS1O6v6mvQf6QvSeYgHIofbEsgoFHVDHRpsz1jwcyYTxoi_0co16WJuO6/s1600/20131224_145448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1DLXjM5QOT1CgyvrXjdoiCW_gbtZa8hjEcSfKo1dye93vXEH2CGSr58PEIFofyHyMGhvjoCsao6I716sGUKYS1O6v6mvQf6QvSeYgHIofbEsgoFHVDHRpsz1jwcyYTxoi_0co16WJuO6/s320/20131224_145448.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9M4cu1XN_hpUT92j_FijunzGsYJmy3uQyPX9B6R2uUdJqKQNi7NB_Ylhe_40N0YHSg-9hRSMAVUWVywRZX_q4kUGWESp419h0CEzEGbpoTAhaNMBEworqXXHjAxefhiD6WbEWETWz_d5S/s1600/20131224_145455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9M4cu1XN_hpUT92j_FijunzGsYJmy3uQyPX9B6R2uUdJqKQNi7NB_Ylhe_40N0YHSg-9hRSMAVUWVywRZX_q4kUGWESp419h0CEzEGbpoTAhaNMBEworqXXHjAxefhiD6WbEWETWz_d5S/s320/20131224_145455.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Car parks were empty, for once...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6z_nesrhEhtvZy6jYf4wZwfCktwXy1GWa3WTaDlgMiTTyEgQ2iw9SXTJ9x784QLtWJVdJQIiXuqdV33ZkIdqKdgNvdRD29xRH1sSROCoXu4ywdofmk6SROtmuVuaFFLI8IqIG2APsE6bY/s1600/20131224_145849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6z_nesrhEhtvZy6jYf4wZwfCktwXy1GWa3WTaDlgMiTTyEgQ2iw9SXTJ9x784QLtWJVdJQIiXuqdV33ZkIdqKdgNvdRD29xRH1sSROCoXu4ywdofmk6SROtmuVuaFFLI8IqIG2APsE6bY/s320/20131224_145849.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bridge work that had been going on for the past week was left alone. The scaffolding was <br />still up when we went home, hopefully it'll survive! By the end of the day, the water was rising about 10cm every hour.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaNAlFZXuuIKZeLvCxz2rOmIcGLBEcB0AzTY9peSccezqvunv4t7-W0CCArc9BYjRTJzG0dtJXjRSK70DWXo2RtQmeLOwj6yDmwe4kyIGM2sAI9lup31wTb2Cqqd9tWHsz3IOZYvEF33Ki/s1600/20131224_145855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaNAlFZXuuIKZeLvCxz2rOmIcGLBEcB0AzTY9peSccezqvunv4t7-W0CCArc9BYjRTJzG0dtJXjRSK70DWXo2RtQmeLOwj6yDmwe4kyIGM2sAI9lup31wTb2Cqqd9tWHsz3IOZYvEF33Ki/s320/20131224_145855.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No more pedestrian access for this path...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ysIkl18foXqXy86fy3X3Kj5sHAuscJkpwpdg066RVt5gnz7JyOKQvx7YcFS4EmdoUFl2Kf3DBNi1QwYd0GpPj9rkdWGGtA1jBREYW2stRt9k6T_-hF7r7UmqYTdqV2Zh9BW6xIlyr-Kj/s1600/20131224_145938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ysIkl18foXqXy86fy3X3Kj5sHAuscJkpwpdg066RVt5gnz7JyOKQvx7YcFS4EmdoUFl2Kf3DBNi1QwYd0GpPj9rkdWGGtA1jBREYW2stRt9k6T_-hF7r7UmqYTdqV2Zh9BW6xIlyr-Kj/s320/20131224_145938.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the left is the river, on the right is the work car park. Water was gushing in and the <br />drain in the middle was blocked, so it became a private lake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJ9hVVMOKzMOG3tWJLeLNaE1o5RIaVEhUc_mx-DC4og49qzaJtDqq1UlEJATxu1Vt5J-uI-JChSlCgFTz_lIplU2nASg6TaPINGaGq39p_ETq-MLB3UQPPJCG0ZTNLCkb2vTe24qyHwn3/s1600/20131224_150037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJ9hVVMOKzMOG3tWJLeLNaE1o5RIaVEhUc_mx-DC4og49qzaJtDqq1UlEJATxu1Vt5J-uI-JChSlCgFTz_lIplU2nASg6TaPINGaGq39p_ETq-MLB3UQPPJCG0ZTNLCkb2vTe24qyHwn3/s320/20131224_150037.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This will probably be the last time the owner of this car decides to leave the car overnight.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-17067977504655815712013-12-26T08:08:00.000-08:002013-12-26T08:08:26.942-08:00Still dreaming of a white Christmas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkq7X9cwKyP4u4s03a7yTixQf7chLQDciGQV8Pvlsi1YhZwfrFz76M-N5DIEeTIQowtfR8nCKBxqOTYzC4TmFJbKxcaARYGskdAMIu8ZMFV0eZTBmARtS65pAncYS3-9yNFMVm_ouQbAL/s1600/IMG_9659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkq7X9cwKyP4u4s03a7yTixQf7chLQDciGQV8Pvlsi1YhZwfrFz76M-N5DIEeTIQowtfR8nCKBxqOTYzC4TmFJbKxcaARYGskdAMIu8ZMFV0eZTBmARtS65pAncYS3-9yNFMVm_ouQbAL/s320/IMG_9659.JPG" width="213" /></a>'Merry Christmas'! 'Mulled wine'? 'Mince pie'? 'Sausage roll'? 'Pudding'? 'Fizz'? 'Anyone for a top up'? 'Pass the Bread Sauce please,' 'Could I have the gravy'? 'Have some more Brandy Butter,' 'Are there any more pigs in blankets'? 'This turkey is delicious'!<br />
And my personal favourite:<br />
'Where's the Brandy'? followed by 'Who's got the matches'?<br />
<br />
My first Christmas away from home <i>and</i> in a different country. It didn't snow; but the weather outside has certainly been frightful, the winking christmas tree lights look so delightful, and there was no place we had to go!<br />
<br />
The English Christmas was fantastic. There's something very festive about the warm glow of lights through frosty windows, rugging up and stepping out the front door and instantly feeling your nose sting with cold as your breath hangs in the air like your own personal fog.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDJEw_n2HfN_TOHjJeLRdQjSRW0iun2Fzfo-vdZjTLIThi5WrT2Zb5oaTOdTHTvYQNaUpW0cvO96rr5HY_J0RiOUCYucLtG0r_kUyBtYDsQ3bSXqcGp-GyMvAUl-_BTdtQ2mR6_sWs_rV/s1600/20131225_133212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDJEw_n2HfN_TOHjJeLRdQjSRW0iun2Fzfo-vdZjTLIThi5WrT2Zb5oaTOdTHTvYQNaUpW0cvO96rr5HY_J0RiOUCYucLtG0r_kUyBtYDsQ3bSXqcGp-GyMvAUl-_BTdtQ2mR6_sWs_rV/s320/20131225_133212.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Dismal weather becomes a non-issue, as everyone dons hat, scarf, gloves and coat; and flocks to the streets to join the throng of dedicated christmas-shoppers. Up and down the High Street they trudge, bags in tow bursting at the seams. Even small children seem to understand that now is not the time to make a fuss, as they trail along dutifully behind mummy's growing collection of shopping bags, keeping lingering in front of shiny stores to a minimum.<br />
<br />
<br />
The Mr and Mrs of the family were definitely host and hostess with the mostest, and lunch was a sight to behold; with an entire baked turkey, a huge serano ham, roast potatoes and parsnips, carrots and sprouts, pigs in blankets (small sausages wrapped in bacon), home made sausage rolls, cranberry sauce, gravy and bread sauce. All of this followed by home made mince pies, home made meringues (amazing), custard, brandy butter, and a traditional christmas pudding - which was ceremoniously doused in brandy and set alight! Woo! I can add some new traditions to my list of things to take back with me...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBa9_DS8vXOxeQ3jVXkl8_pzN8xVY0zQEjz0mJFNv-alEYgqYHwWhWjEApQ3bFri6mXIZ2RDprPNrEmOBsIdeUNUcvEUlOMVrAwD6z8llr6z1RYphdoetPcbacTZk9CIte4wRErf52bVDR/s1600/20131225_144243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBa9_DS8vXOxeQ3jVXkl8_pzN8xVY0zQEjz0mJFNv-alEYgqYHwWhWjEApQ3bFri6mXIZ2RDprPNrEmOBsIdeUNUcvEUlOMVrAwD6z8llr6z1RYphdoetPcbacTZk9CIte4wRErf52bVDR/s320/20131225_144243.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One flaming pudding!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNxSsynq_N9gN9TPrwxS12irPaUtoD9rikA4Qyhy900YtCOPgV4HhCWcauUXT_nSc8fTgEoPwG34Q5I3K_09Fojvydx_e0ZSNGRgnZpXaQWb-upJGuCszCh2b-mT1Zl_jOfNpcPCQyc-ms/s1600/20131225_131800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNxSsynq_N9gN9TPrwxS12irPaUtoD9rikA4Qyhy900YtCOPgV4HhCWcauUXT_nSc8fTgEoPwG34Q5I3K_09Fojvydx_e0ZSNGRgnZpXaQWb-upJGuCszCh2b-mT1Zl_jOfNpcPCQyc-ms/s400/20131225_131800.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One large baked turkey</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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A far cry from barbecues and the beach, but nonetheless a fabulous Christmas, I hope yours was, too!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQV6LT-fBUFRaNdrjmS1_ftiBiIWNgADAd61Jwgw9NdQvHlbnzlXYnQ_Mm4Fm7fLRvKDAqh452VTDKQmPCwtMuC7MLhHozIgdU5WXiVjrJbqiJ6aQ8lfWlFt1x68rCCBDMmWX5IKq8kMqv/s1600/IMG_9652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQV6LT-fBUFRaNdrjmS1_ftiBiIWNgADAd61Jwgw9NdQvHlbnzlXYnQ_Mm4Fm7fLRvKDAqh452VTDKQmPCwtMuC7MLhHozIgdU5WXiVjrJbqiJ6aQ8lfWlFt1x68rCCBDMmWX5IKq8kMqv/s320/IMG_9652.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And a real live christmas tree!</td></tr>
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<br />Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-29671360939757096932013-11-01T10:13:00.000-07:002013-11-01T10:13:13.123-07:00Flash! Ah-ahh!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">By far the strangest experience I've had so far was at the Glasgow</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Botanic Gardens. Not because they were particularly weird</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> at all -
in fact they were amazing. Kibble Palace was a hot-house more so than a green-house in my opinion, but had some gorgeous plants from all over the world, including an amazing collection of fly-traps. They also had reflectors above every section, which probably had something to do with heat, but made for an interesting view above the plants - like tiny mirrors. There was an excellent cafe, and I had lunch there before going on to look at some of the other green houses out in the 'garden proper'. Again, nothing odd about that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">No, what was strange was that I was flashed inside one of the
rainforest greenhouses, completely out of the blue! Not that flashers tend to
warn you, "excuse me, hi there, just so you know, I'm about to flash
you" but honestly, the Botanic Gardens? Of all places! You know those
moments when you walk away and <i>then</i> all the witty retorts come flooding in and
you almost wish you could go back for a take two? Something along the lines of "of what?" perhaps, or "what am I looking for?". </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I had my camera out and was obsessing over a fern, and had noticed that a young-ish guy was hanging around when everyone else moved on. But, he was doing laps and looking quite intently at the plants and, actually, I was
doing the same thing - so thought nothing of it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I turned a corner and heard him say something about taking a picture, and since there was
no-one else there I thought, to be polite, I'd just poke my head back around to check whether he
was on the phone or in fact talking to me. As I walked back around I said
"sorry, did you say something?" and he says "take a
picture" and tah-dah! He was giggling like a school girl. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">He didn't go the whole hog either, this was no overcoat-with-nothing-under-it scenario, he just, well lets put it this way: the clothes were still on but the 'essentials' were on display. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Wow. The fact that it took me a few seconds of intense confusion to figure out what I was looking at probably helped - I imagine I looked completely blank, possibly even dead bored. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Unfortunately, my response was an unimaginative "Uh, no
thankyou" in my best 'how dull' voice. As you can imagine, I didn't hang around for the reaction, no I hot-footed
it back around the corner into</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> a delightful dead-end. So, should he decide to provide me with a take-two of
the show, there would be nothing I could do about it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I decided to plow on, figuring my best bet was to act
bored and un-bothered and therefore not worth the effort etc etc. I finally got up
the nerve to cast a casual, bored glance back over my shoulder and, happily, he
was nowhere to be seen. Phew!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I warily made my way back through the (ridiculously long) greenhouse, through its multiple sections and doors, to the
exit. I didn't see any sign of him, so I left my crazy-lady-being-hunted appearance at the door and walked confidently on. Excellent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I must have dropped my wits as well when I left the crazy-lady look at the door, because I decided that since I was now safe, I could continue walking around and exploring.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The river path looked nice. About halfway down the path to the
river I thought I heard something behind me. I turned around and saw no-one, but
heard rustling back up the path. A fairly sizable bush was having its branches exercised but I decided it was a squirrel or something and kept going. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As I kept walking I could then hear footsteps behind me, and turned to see who
it was - since I was in a public garden, it was fairly likely other people
would be walking there too, right? No reason to be weirded out, but lets just confirm. As I turned
around though, all I saw was a guy duck behind a tree.Terrific. I'm being
stalked by a flasher. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Funny though I find it in hindsight, at the time I was becoming slightly concerned;</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">does he just happen to need to go the same way as me, and is hiding behind a tree embarrassed</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">? One would think he'd have chosen a different route or hightailed it out of the gardens altogether if it was likely he'd develop a sense of remorse after flashing someone - choose a different hobby, no? </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alternatively, is he a bona fide nutter and planning a second attempt, or something more sinister? Am I about to murdered clumsily by an indiscreet flasher? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Next question, do I keep going and hope I come across some more people to tag along
with down at the river; or do I risk going back past the tree (that I can't
avoid), not knowing what the hell he's planning on doing? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well. I wasn't game to go past the tree, so I kept going down towards the
river. I could hear him crunching along behind me, and it was partially
comforting to know that he obviously wasn't very good at being quiet, which
meant it was unlikely he had had a lot of practice, and therefore it was unlikely
he was a serial killer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was just starting to
wonder if I should call someone so that if I disappeared they'd have a lead,
when my phone rang. It was a friend in Australia, who had been replying to a
text and had accidentally hit the call button. Given that it was about 2am Down
Under, I've decided it was due to Higher Intervention that he happened to wake up and check the phone at such an hour, and then decided to attempt replying. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">I heard the footsteps falter when I
answered the phone, and when I started chatting the footsteps turned to a jog
and went back up the path. Talk about saved-by-the-bell! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I waited a while and then headed back up the path to do something I really should have done the instant it happened; find some form of staff member and tell them. Not surprisingly, it had been about 15 minutes by the time I found someone, and the dodgy flasher was long gone. Still, I'll know for next time...? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hopefully not going to be necessary. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bye for now!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdnwltA_JCjLsj5IhMMwDz8H7NO05UgT37ir7B3l5xJwUC38U0kY5LxWfmTQEKgonlSW6hxE4y8cobz_tkrTIQYL4AE4ZKABQVYBh47hCZUww6F4LSruwsPIdwtLDLKLR9EUh_bDBfDlR/s1600/IMG_5640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdnwltA_JCjLsj5IhMMwDz8H7NO05UgT37ir7B3l5xJwUC38U0kY5LxWfmTQEKgonlSW6hxE4y8cobz_tkrTIQYL4AE4ZKABQVYBh47hCZUww6F4LSruwsPIdwtLDLKLR9EUh_bDBfDlR/s320/IMG_5640.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the entrance to Kibble Palace.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpmfQoo31VP8U2K13ooThVDBUdtjCYHARmq-I7mqglr3ZC4hqp5DaIWQFqIQ-d_GZcL99f7ZdMes1_HpRVErJHLoNQWiK76Ae2yr9t2j9p2yWPQRC0RgJWFxKQSDdFMwzEIAQ5ZAyE_sZ/s1600/IMG_5636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpmfQoo31VP8U2K13ooThVDBUdtjCYHARmq-I7mqglr3ZC4hqp5DaIWQFqIQ-d_GZcL99f7ZdMes1_HpRVErJHLoNQWiK76Ae2yr9t2j9p2yWPQRC0RgJWFxKQSDdFMwzEIAQ5ZAyE_sZ/s320/IMG_5636.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Kibble Palace.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Sb_X47ylFRBQiprzzyMZX4E23mdLg6ZQsYlGk2zTflDcYQEhbk34jwOoypH7W7ZvDeEQeyf2NnfDVzOYSETDcMw5EN1g4-5sm-HTpeoYmNiRDfYFjMAW4W4CPxWmW3RlD5T2QlDyxVvP/s1600/IMG_5906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Sb_X47ylFRBQiprzzyMZX4E23mdLg6ZQsYlGk2zTflDcYQEhbk34jwOoypH7W7ZvDeEQeyf2NnfDVzOYSETDcMw5EN1g4-5sm-HTpeoYmNiRDfYFjMAW4W4CPxWmW3RlD5T2QlDyxVvP/s320/IMG_5906.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water splashing off a palm leaf.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFdjwn9GzsaUTRL2eT6f2C5c5Y0FkVEC45sxvLFZJjM7T8iIfUEP_wFRy1KDH6iE8qtU28XtDwpNGn8yPEOv9V-QR-SbHfeidcNXNXB0dDQkrBOdQfeZH4Rjm32wkCgr1VCfiguNz6NjJ/s1600/IMG_5959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFdjwn9GzsaUTRL2eT6f2C5c5Y0FkVEC45sxvLFZJjM7T8iIfUEP_wFRy1KDH6iE8qtU28XtDwpNGn8yPEOv9V-QR-SbHfeidcNXNXB0dDQkrBOdQfeZH4Rjm32wkCgr1VCfiguNz6NjJ/s320/IMG_5959.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dew suspended over a bush by a spider-web.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bridge over the river I was walking to.</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-46052096660719724042013-11-01T09:11:00.003-07:002013-11-01T09:11:29.123-07:00Foos yer doos?<div class="MsoNormal">
As part of my Scotland Experience, I stayed in Glasgow for two weeks (a very generous friend agreed to have me stay with her) and I loved it. It's a constant buzz, and the people are incredibly friendly - on the way back to my friend's house we were having a chat about how organised I'd had to be and how I may or may not have been succeeding, and a local chimed in "well you <i>look </i>organised" gesturing at the colossal rucksack I was carting. Hilarious! I almost suggested he carry it for me, but sense prevailed and I decided not to push my luck. </div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">The city itself is amazing to look at. As well as the colourful balustrades on the ground, I was constantly reminded to 'look up' and was again blown away by the architecture and the art & sculpture on the buildings. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The Princes' Square is a great example - it had a peacock sculpted </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">floors up which was incredible, and a great landmark.</span></div>
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The other thing I loved was the impressive options for nightlife and dining out. No, I didn't go clubbing and re-live my student life, but we did go to an awesome bar-come-restaurant called The Hillhead Bookclub and it blew me away! As you walk along peering down side streets, you see this tiny little outdoor setting of three or so tables with chairs around, under a little canopy of fairy lights. My thought was "oh how quaint" as I continued walking, but my friend turns down the side street saying "this is it". I'm open to anything and it did look cute, so I happily followed along. Now, given the outside setting, I was expecting that inside I would find a lovely cozy little restaurant, probably Italian, about 6x6m in floor space and seating maybe 40 people. Ha! </div>
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As we walked up to the entrance I was already starting to doubt my theory. The main door is humongous, made of glass, and takes a serious push to open, but while your face is pressed against the glass door you glimpse a small room slightly on the dim side of lighting...only to realise the small room is in fact a booth, of which there are row upon row, followed by more rows, with the token deer and even a moose are poking their heads out of the walls above you. A bit weird, but by this point my curiosity was piqued and you couldn't have turned me around for anything - I wanted to see this place! </div>
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We made it through the door and the room opens up and reveals itself to be this vast hall; two levels, a bar the length of the room, and on this particular evening - a ping pong tournament just casually being conducted in the middle. Yep, they cleared away all the tables and benches that normally occupy the floor space in front of the bar, and replaced them with mini ping pong tables. And it wasn't just for a bit of a laugh either - these guys were serious. They had their own paddles, with cases and spare...balls? Ping pongs? Which was lucky, given how many were lost under booths, feet and in drinks and chips with gravy. I have never seen so many flying neon orbs - they were everywhere. The other side of our booth was 'in use' as the chosen jacket and bag seat, and we frequently found ourselves conducting our conversation under the table searching for the latest rogue ball. It was fantastic. Apparently it used to be a library, which explains it's colossal size.</div>
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The menu was a riot - look them up online: <a href="http://www.hillheadbookclub.com/fooddinner">http://www.hillheadbookclub.com/fooddinner</a></div>
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One evening after dinner we decided Ice-cream was on the agenda, and walked to an ice-cream parlour up the round and round the bend. It was some of the best I've ever had but for the life of me I can't remember the name...</div>
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For my birthday we went to a gorgeous restaurant called The Left Bank, which had simply amazing food and cocktails, definitely suitable for my first 'birthday meal' in a foreign country.</div>
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While in Glasgow I sussed out: </div>
<ul><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdssNBxEq5h6wE7LvcKM8ha0sOIdK60FgFy3kJHUA6aWHTWkKrehWWWX2ujxVKH3gw7KFsb2nPsemLkBXO5wuj-f4qCfRkrOBlNTcRqTjyf_UR6-xkFw9uCTmUiKHJhzm7xXvxCgVFOSAm/s1600/IMG_4602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdssNBxEq5h6wE7LvcKM8ha0sOIdK60FgFy3kJHUA6aWHTWkKrehWWWX2ujxVKH3gw7KFsb2nPsemLkBXO5wuj-f4qCfRkrOBlNTcRqTjyf_UR6-xkFw9uCTmUiKHJhzm7xXvxCgVFOSAm/s1600/IMG_4602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdssNBxEq5h6wE7LvcKM8ha0sOIdK60FgFy3kJHUA6aWHTWkKrehWWWX2ujxVKH3gw7KFsb2nPsemLkBXO5wuj-f4qCfRkrOBlNTcRqTjyf_UR6-xkFw9uCTmUiKHJhzm7xXvxCgVFOSAm/s320/IMG_4602.JPG" width="320" /></a>
<li>Buchanan street (the shopping, oh, the</li>
<li>shopping - retail heaven)</li>
<li>Kelvingrove Gallery and Kelvingrove park</li>
<li>Huntarian Museum - Zoology Department (the main museum famously known was closed on the day I went, and I didn't have time to go again)</li>
<li>Glasgow Cathedral & St Mungo’s Chapel</li>
<li>Necropolis (a huge graveyard behind the Glasgow Cathedral)</li>
<li>Botanic Gardens and Kibble Palace (Kibble Palace is a green house with plants from all over the world)</li>
<li>George Square</li>
<li>The Burrell Collection</li>
<li>Pollock House</li>
<li>Stirling, Stirling Castle</li>
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I also did several day tours, which I'll do separate blogs on.</div>
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All of these places were amazing. </div>
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<i>Best experience</i>:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBs2gxxPnI6tzEbaSJh2Rz0Epb0SHlgUaAlc9ecHbX14z4c5AbyI5Mg-aY8wBJRbTY1CaH3hNiRNqUqR9Zr3yJMH_LBVYFvSBm2rIM2dSUp_hYgscB-qhyphenhyphenyi9M2CcN_Ii0u2qOjrlkll49/s1600/IMG_4641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBs2gxxPnI6tzEbaSJh2Rz0Epb0SHlgUaAlc9ecHbX14z4c5AbyI5Mg-aY8wBJRbTY1CaH3hNiRNqUqR9Zr3yJMH_LBVYFvSBm2rIM2dSUp_hYgscB-qhyphenhyphenyi9M2CcN_Ii0u2qOjrlkll49/s320/IMG_4641.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A plane in the Kelvingrove Park playground.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLH0dIU5S6NkHTVgab7imO0DVicyyH4AHRknuFBfEaUAYoHpS0QBEb4cO_93HDkd6HrurIlQE1XETAFDYopnq0ffMdl1W8xv_z-kBXQX9gdfpiGqWGML3kR7KGhj5jkzZWG53O1QyJdWW/s1600/IMG_4650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLH0dIU5S6NkHTVgab7imO0DVicyyH4AHRknuFBfEaUAYoHpS0QBEb4cO_93HDkd6HrurIlQE1XETAFDYopnq0ffMdl1W8xv_z-kBXQX9gdfpiGqWGML3kR7KGhj5jkzZWG53O1QyJdWW/s320/IMG_4650.JPG" width="213" /></a>My favourite places were the Kelvingrove Gallery and the Zoology dept at the Huntarian. The art and sculpture in the Kelvingrove was just mind blowing; the organ was mind rattling in a beautiful, melodic way; and the staff were incredibly helpful. </div>
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The Zoology Dept at the Huntarian was quite honestly awe-inspiring for me, purely because they had just a few things I had never ever heard of much less seen.</div>
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They had the tusk from a Narwhale, which had me totally stumped for a good half hour because it wasn't labelled, and just looked like a gigantic, straight spear made of bone. Which would be fine, but what creature on earth has a dead-straight tusk over 3 metres long and about 8cm at the widest point down to less than 1cm at the narrowest?</div>
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Well obviously, it's official; Unicorns are real. But I wasn't hugely satisfied with that solution.</div>
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After doing laps around the table it was mounted on trying to find the misplaced tag for it, I saw a picture of a group of whales, all with an 'extended tooth' ie - 'giant dead-straight tusk'. Amazing. </div>
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They also had a hanging display of Baleen Plates. Now, I saw the sign long before I saw the plates, and had to triple check to make sure I wasn't about to get all excited over nothing. See, the plates they had were over 3 metres long. Which is dandy until you realise that they belong in the mouth of a whale, and look tiny in that mouth. . . Talk about a reality check. Baleen plates can be anywhere from .5 to 3.5 metres long, and can weigh up to 90kg each. Yup, the whale these belonged to was on the seriously-large end of the spectrum. </div>
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All in all, I highly recommend Scotland, and loved the whole experience, with the exception of about about 30 minutes in the Botanic Gardens, but that's another story. </div>
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Bye for now! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More of the playground, upping the standards.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Sculpture out the front of the Kelvingrove.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the installations inside the Kelvingrove - I loved this one.<br />The artist pulled a ton of faces, photographed himself,<br /> and then made hundreds of floating heads with the expressions!</td></tr>
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Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-11258704078136272902013-10-14T14:08:00.002-07:002013-10-14T14:13:33.814-07:00Obar Dheathain <span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After a week in Glasgow (posts still to come), I went to my friend's hometown of Aberdeen for a day. The mouthful you see as the post title is the Gaelic version of 'Aberdeen'. As a point of interest - because I was getting this wrong the entirety of my time in Scotland - the Scottish Gaelic is pronounced 'gallik' not 'gaylick'. Apparently the pronunciation 'Gallik' is the Celtic language native to Scotland, whereas the language referred to by the pronunciation 'Gaylick' originates in Ireland. Who knew? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Built almost entirely of granite from the most </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgotfroIVeZxa2YJqanhdIeRfLSdu3kVhf2uQAsJup3478KNSMEvTtg3XIkL_itlp_p6XnPZk4wrv2hlwRzarwfY-kSLupvgP-sgLT8OwTpKYnSWPHalTLb62CZT_1JahJIkveurqqlYSEM/s1600/IMG_6895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgotfroIVeZxa2YJqanhdIeRfLSdu3kVhf2uQAsJup3478KNSMEvTtg3XIkL_itlp_p6XnPZk4wrv2hlwRzarwfY-kSLupvgP-sgLT8OwTpKYnSWPHalTLb62CZT_1JahJIkveurqqlYSEM/s320/IMG_6895.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">impressive monuments to the smallest tenements, Aberdeen is understandably a very grey city. This being said, it has a mind boggling number of flower beds and hanging baskets overflowing with bright blooms, stationed all over the city. It is Scotland's third most populated city, and has earned the nick names 'granite city', 'grey city' and 'silver city with the golden sands', the last one being because, as a seaport (the largest in the north-east of Scotland), it comes equipped with a lovely beach.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RVOngC7hCcmib_OYE8Tvy1tXIUJc474cLTqpiG5Fi_DgprzegaJyM2DG7DDU-p11ai50tzHMIAMHrFx-w9qV50Q6SdIOATHQ65XMsDI_XXwn7zwhn0Y-O2KlWSPCa95Rrjcxgtptcrmz/s1600/IMG_6915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RVOngC7hCcmib_OYE8Tvy1tXIUJc474cLTqpiG5Fi_DgprzegaJyM2DG7DDU-p11ai50tzHMIAMHrFx-w9qV50Q6SdIOATHQ65XMsDI_XXwn7zwhn0Y-O2KlWSPCa95Rrjcxgtptcrmz/s320/IMG_6915.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Aberdeen thrives primarily because of the oil industry, and also happens to have one of the busiest heliports in the world. Oil in the North sea was discovered in the 1970s, and since then Aberdeen has acquired the nicknames 'Oil Capital of Europe' and 'Energy Capital of Europe'. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">During the mid-18th
to mid-20th centuries, Aberdeen's buildings incorporated locally quarried grey
granite, which, because of such a high mica content, sparkles like flecks of
silver in the sun. Granite was readily available, as it is the geological base
for the North-east of Scotland; and also extremely durable. Once people had
figured out how durable and practical it was, granite high demand, and was
exported to London in particular for road surfaces. By the end of the 19th
century Aberdeen was the world centre for the granite industry, and I seem to
recall my friend saying that for a while, it was mandatory to build in granite,
homes and offices alike. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7j9s18LiK8hM9cxmlmaCpZj7hdS77FRT7ernp5cRuRF4twBa7sVcaRQgWPUCEc2RMDYP3kKuBvcLcZenQ39F24TWDzJvUTfVjDrYdm3Pe4r4oDfsG2lga1P0HMHjWgb6OfpvFPgi2Aag/s1600/IMG_6899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7j9s18LiK8hM9cxmlmaCpZj7hdS77FRT7ernp5cRuRF4twBa7sVcaRQgWPUCEc2RMDYP3kKuBvcLcZenQ39F24TWDzJvUTfVjDrYdm3Pe4r4oDfsG2lga1P0HMHjWgb6OfpvFPgi2Aag/s320/IMG_6899.JPG" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The manga-style statue, wish <br />I'd found an explanation.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On my one day visit, I experienced a street market sampling of Black Pudding, White Pudding, and Haggis. I actually quite liked the Black and White puddings, but wasn't overly sold on the haggis. All I could really distinguish flavour-wise was the pepper, but my tongue informed me that it was offended and I should cease this taste test immediately. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Claire made sure that I saw inside the Art Gallery, which had an interesting and alternative display of arts, including a stick which someone had gone to the trouble of inserting human hair into - 'the Hairy Stick' - which, according to it's design justification, represented the fragility and pain of human relationships. I remain unconvinced and far from impressed...</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">There was also a manga style sculpture which I did really like, and a painting of a modern-day representation of Jesus on the cross depicting a cows skull wearing a barb-wire crown in front of a cross, with someone holding two butchers knives poised to strike on either side. Yes, I know, it sounds positively barbaric, and I wont deny it was quite a disturbing image. But it was a thought-provoking one, and the more I looked at it the more I liked the originality of the idea, and the daring portrayal of such a sacred and admittedly barbaric event. It certainly made you stop and ask "whoa, what's that all about?" </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Inside the Art Gallery is Cowdray Hall - with a memorial to soldiers. It is a peaceful place with some stunning and intriguing sculptures. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SeSEG7lGt0IhvqgEV2h61eM7rzbtPGC64YsziePtss4-kPw_hzCzvUh7SQ4h_iTmtHKjtJ5tjJ4dHRCc-iyoNJGESXIivrN1msKKhM3iPdz8VNrvqHCH6cPdcNRsVfeevNjhy6dXS4hyphenhyphen/s1600/IMG_6902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SeSEG7lGt0IhvqgEV2h61eM7rzbtPGC64YsziePtss4-kPw_hzCzvUh7SQ4h_iTmtHKjtJ5tjJ4dHRCc-iyoNJGESXIivrN1msKKhM3iPdz8VNrvqHCH6cPdcNRsVfeevNjhy6dXS4hyphenhyphen/s320/IMG_6902.JPG" width="213" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSd1Yu4i8B8cO0FqVOV07q509KfAx74pCXrks393F4t0t2heVWyvJELMzgLdsU8oe0KS7KMIYW_BPebJ4qqmUmtCS0zrkCVZ3ZlyHTupt18S0M0QBmO6_8C227okXw4KV9QF0nICIfXIE/s1600/IMG_6958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSd1Yu4i8B8cO0FqVOV07q509KfAx74pCXrks393F4t0t2heVWyvJELMzgLdsU8oe0KS7KMIYW_BPebJ4qqmUmtCS0zrkCVZ3ZlyHTupt18S0M0QBmO6_8C227okXw4KV9QF0nICIfXIE/s320/IMG_6958.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">Next on the list was Claire's favourite place to take tourists - Dunnottar Castle. A gorgeous ruin in Aberdeenshire; perched on a cliff overlooking the North sea 50 metres below, and surrounded by rolling green hills that are occupied only by beautiful Friesian cows. In keeping with the Scottish theme, I'll include that the Gaelic name for Dunnottar is </span><span lang="gd" style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;" xml:lang="gd">Dùn Fhoithear, which means </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">'Fort on the shelving slope'. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD6bCuMqN5nNLESrJ-MLz7C4RJc9nOYJtsFmCDe5_KDs_U6dg1-lH4bhFuaYx-P5BuQLEDgQ39AZfpa-zlqEXh_J7KdgJQ309XA0HrwkGQQT0AKxoRrH339gi8Jks4EXTwcipm4ccrUXmB/s1600/IMG_7066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD6bCuMqN5nNLESrJ-MLz7C4RJc9nOYJtsFmCDe5_KDs_U6dg1-lH4bhFuaYx-P5BuQLEDgQ39AZfpa-zlqEXh_J7KdgJQ309XA0HrwkGQQT0AKxoRrH339gi8Jks4EXTwcipm4ccrUXmB/s320/IMG_7066.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shows how isolated the castle is - <br />
good luck invading that in a hurry!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The ruins themselves date around the 15th and 16th centuries, but the original castle dates back to the middle ages. Its strategic position made it similar to Edinburgh castle in terms of defenses, and in the 17th century the Scottish Crown Jewels were hidden from Oliver Cromwell's army there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Dunnottar Castle was the property of the Keiths from the 14th century, but went into decline when the last Earl decided to take part in the Jacobite rebellion in 1715, thereby forfeiting his titles. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After this we went to Aberdeen University, specifically because I wanted a photo of the library. Now, this library design was given a certificate of excellence, and its seven storeys are collectively nothing short of jaw-on-the-floor impressive to behold, so on that front I'd give it ten out of ten for aesthetic appeal. As a functioning library though, out of ten I'd give it a minus three. You may be thinking this is a bit harsh - surely a library with seven storeys can only be a good thing?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well, I agree, but for one flaw in the form of a giant hole. Oh yes. Smack bang in the middle of this engineering marvel is a sort of atrium, which by the way, 20% of the libraries books had to be removed to accommodate. So the students frantically studying as far up as the seventh floor have the privilege of being able to hear the conversations being held in the cafe on the ground floor. How delightful. Nothing like the endless buzz of conversation and laughing to remind you of the fun you don't have time for, and of course help you concentrate. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdj81LlGzvnsEEMAKYz02zvE_Fv0508CUDEyRMdd_seAXp0xIZsYl-AwVhAnBfoDQ38C1tyOUII8E14zMoADmo0kPGxcqsq550qNilMyHFqjvIUl0us2u4BIaL6C-WRUTsuBs-eeriQQ2/s1600/IMG_7075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdj81LlGzvnsEEMAKYz02zvE_Fv0508CUDEyRMdd_seAXp0xIZsYl-AwVhAnBfoDQ38C1tyOUII8E14zMoADmo0kPGxcqsq550qNilMyHFqjvIUl0us2u4BIaL6C-WRUTsuBs-eeriQQ2/s320/IMG_7075.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the library, looking up from the ground floor.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I can only conclude that whoever designed the library was either a creative genius who has never needed to spend time in one and is therefore ignorant of the 'silent' concept, <i>or</i> has spent so much time in one resenting the silent rule that when given the opportunity, he decided to ensure silence was unachievable. Since every student who ever needs to study there will curse the designer, I sure hope it was worth it...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I quite liked Aberdeen. We walked through a tiny area called Footdee, pronounced 'fittie' by the locals, which was gorgeous and quaint with tiny cottages and beach style houses with brightly coloured rope-knot door mats and flower beds; and beautiful vases, ornaments and flower boxes in the windows. In a children's playground on the other side, I was surprised to find a sea mine, complete with hertz horns. Dormant of course, but I do find its location in a children's playground slightly curious - can you be certain its dormant? Apparently you can. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What did the conversation for that decision sound like I wonder?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Now gentlemen, where shall we display this sea mine?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Well Doug, how dangerous is it?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Glad you asked Bob, a sea mine is designed to blow up ships and submarines - very impressive stuff"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Right. And uh, what triggers it?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Oh, see those horns sticking out? It lies dormant until something hits one hard enough."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Gosh. Is it safe?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Of course it is. Some of the ones from the 1940s can stay active for decades, but we don't think it's that old."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Oh good. In that case, how about putting it in that playground round the corner?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Excellent idea Bob! All in favour..." </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhy0dw_cNZVNqPL3dzZaSB5SAhD8plQuXx73EN8KefuDPaSMeqv7vH8k8uoZpFc3VLv2sUcyZCkWnvsKAsgdC3qLJuSzctorUhmKCcqzVsSxz_NSIhWjvuCsSN6ww6icfkGn3fUXrHXen/s1600/IMG_6935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhy0dw_cNZVNqPL3dzZaSB5SAhD8plQuXx73EN8KefuDPaSMeqv7vH8k8uoZpFc3VLv2sUcyZCkWnvsKAsgdC3qLJuSzctorUhmKCcqzVsSxz_NSIhWjvuCsSN6ww6icfkGn3fUXrHXen/s320/IMG_6935.JPG" width="213" /></span></a></div>
<br />Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-23703099340439431582013-10-03T15:57:00.000-07:002013-10-03T15:57:34.259-07:00Déjà Burgh...<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After a fab week in Glasgow, I thought I'd better go back to Edinburgh to refresh my memory and make sure I wasn't imagining things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, at some point mid-morning, Claire and I hoofed it down to the bus station and hopped on a coach back to Edinburgh. We arrived around lunch time and were informed by our bellies that food was a priority, so I made a beeline for a hill containing an awfully steep and agonisingly long set of stairs, but housing a lovely cafe at the top. I knew I had been there quite a few times by this point but when the staff recognised me and greeted me by name, Claire was no doubt starting to wonder just how much time I had spent sitting in a cafe the previous weekend...</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJ1L4G3J0n_8l0tQakjZdwNFEV1VQJnWd3ReRpQBFAxz0psatVjNNeH5c_32AL9byVPPaLTNEnCaAMjP07JM2_tSKAayosBM9Lmd1PwDBdNlghgQ3WdlVtWYB0gDVWa4prhAQfDsVYShV/s1600/scott+monument.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJ1L4G3J0n_8l0tQakjZdwNFEV1VQJnWd3ReRpQBFAxz0psatVjNNeH5c_32AL9byVPPaLTNEnCaAMjP07JM2_tSKAayosBM9Lmd1PwDBdNlghgQ3WdlVtWYB0gDVWa4prhAQfDsVYShV/s320/scott+monument.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Scott Monument</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Having silenced our growling stomachs we decided to climb up the Scott Monument. It only cost £4 to go up, and has an amazing view of the city. Good thing, too. Once you've puffed and
fought your way up the increasingly narrow spiral
staircases, emerging triumphant at the very top to force yourself onto the sardine can that is the landing, which is holding at least
three times as many people on it as can actually fit - there's no going back
down. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpSDDjne9M9F3WYvsXs4GMXkVqJqXNb65q15ca6gJsiezEgrGD6l4HlVuOFPcckWsbJBLfaPuXFNYCVIQE7Tz7tCw0WgMY8XjvFRBmH8IgQZxujmGXLcQlzIrMdE37ZadDm-MbgyBu3E3W/s1600/IMG_4991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpSDDjne9M9F3WYvsXs4GMXkVqJqXNb65q15ca6gJsiezEgrGD6l4HlVuOFPcckWsbJBLfaPuXFNYCVIQE7Tz7tCw0WgMY8XjvFRBmH8IgQZxujmGXLcQlzIrMdE37ZadDm-MbgyBu3E3W/s320/IMG_4991.JPG" width="320" /></a> </td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Views from the top of the Scott Monument</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Picture, if you will, the circular landing around that very top spire, packed so full of people that bits of them are poking out between the bars. They have just climbed 287 steps to get up here, bare in mind. Now imagine the combined hilarity and panic when someone says "excuse me please, I'd like to go down" from the side of the landing furthest from the only door.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Much snarling and gnashing of teeth ensues as the entire mass starts to rotate around the spire, until eventually the person </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">needing to exit makes it back around to the door. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Not somewhere to go if you've got personal space issues or a fear of
heights.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLMBPVKNFvJ_Nf3of4iBpF0IMbw1wHLWsTGlOiE31McMdjL2DjhW1nMNDTfV621SKN0WGXDOtgw3hlurLtSnQssio_2-L_Xgn23yLz1t46nVHkgPJgiGOPr7e6GGrAlztIBigT3Di-E1L0/s1600/IMG_4993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLMBPVKNFvJ_Nf3of4iBpF0IMbw1wHLWsTGlOiE31McMdjL2DjhW1nMNDTfV621SKN0WGXDOtgw3hlurLtSnQssio_2-L_Xgn23yLz1t46nVHkgPJgiGOPr7e6GGrAlztIBigT3Di-E1L0/s320/IMG_4993.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the top, all 200 feet of it...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, having just walked up 287 steps, Claire graciously let me convince her
that walking up Arthur's Seat with her lack of jacket and my lack of two
functioning feet (my right foot ceased to function several weeks ago) was an
excellent idea. Up we went. It was quite a long walk since I was, for all
intents and purposes, semi-lame; but we got there and wow, what a view. And
what a wind! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">While we were up there I noticed a fair few iron loops hammered into the
rock, all of which had padlocks clipped on them. Since there was no chance of
King Arthur coming along, the loops looked incredibly happy to be there,
anchored in stone, and I can only guess they were for attaching something to
the hill (perhaps yourself, given the wind), and that people were trying to
start another padlock trend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0sT6k8jp54CVM-eEe5cM-QHnjpyCx-jVMqzotvguhZE6fkkMsHQ8gVLm3dlBXn7Dke_pX23Vz-WJX2HsxBr6WbDj23Avd3zgUOfMxqaOMcOpApJdB8fsIJK3UmloJVKkENvuXzBE8mLf/s1600/IMG_5055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0sT6k8jp54CVM-eEe5cM-QHnjpyCx-jVMqzotvguhZE6fkkMsHQ8gVLm3dlBXn7Dke_pX23Vz-WJX2HsxBr6WbDj23Avd3zgUOfMxqaOMcOpApJdB8fsIJK3UmloJVKkENvuXzBE8mLf/s320/IMG_5055.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mysterious padlock trend...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_X4cKiKShUcM3yEJ0thKJ5KMH5ZgokLjycXv0FmQCpgTKKOjJfGjrWHqKd_cYYvgRoDzOrYh6mc2e57cor7TDuHJ2xcFmPv6LQTaPYSiI03msYJ9c0DOuSRUtyw1znwZRztogJR_f1sgK/s1600/IMG_5066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_X4cKiKShUcM3yEJ0thKJ5KMH5ZgokLjycXv0FmQCpgTKKOjJfGjrWHqKd_cYYvgRoDzOrYh6mc2e57cor7TDuHJ2xcFmPv6LQTaPYSiI03msYJ9c0DOuSRUtyw1znwZRztogJR_f1sgK/s320/IMG_5066.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously windy! But a great view of the city.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXc5PO3xAZxnzvzcE2Jw2mpLSDCgKT4Wwl_2PCXVWoOUrIkheIuaP8ZxaTcWxR_XHvBBjAp15pl4RlSAHN4AWtoWMn75Yudu4e1D5jahIQItHigWFdZu408n8wkJEnVbbg94wYm7sGpf04/s1600/IMG_5064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="display: inline !important; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXc5PO3xAZxnzvzcE2Jw2mpLSDCgKT4Wwl_2PCXVWoOUrIkheIuaP8ZxaTcWxR_XHvBBjAp15pl4RlSAHN4AWtoWMn75Yudu4e1D5jahIQItHigWFdZu408n8wkJEnVbbg94wYm7sGpf04/s320/IMG_5064.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More views from Arthur's Seat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJGlLnXCAmc-EVadCP6ow2h2Xp_ehP973oOazP0ctka63N9_2ioqnUn9a-dQQx1T9Kr8uPMeIwcEdwHzURDfaDbovBEFN_8Pk7jKqYHYSStSdT6pBHJfLL0pAvyKF9hOFM56xq7DemLy0/s1600/IMG_5049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJGlLnXCAmc-EVadCP6ow2h2Xp_ehP973oOazP0ctka63N9_2ioqnUn9a-dQQx1T9Kr8uPMeIwcEdwHzURDfaDbovBEFN_8Pk7jKqYHYSStSdT6pBHJfLL0pAvyKF9hOFM56xq7DemLy0/s320/IMG_5049.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another iron loop. Not exactly a sword, <br />but certainly not going anywhere.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">On Sunday we would head back to Glasgow via Stirling Castle. We stopped
off at a cafe for breakfast, which turned out to be the most entertaining
breakfast I myself have ever experienced. I ordered the 'yoghurt and granola'
and also a croissant, since usually the granola-yoghurt combo is served in a
small glass or ramekin, and I was starved.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As you can imagine, I was very confused when I was presented with an
entire cereal bowl full - to the brim - of granola, and a tiny milk jug full of
yoghurt. Now imagine my confusion when I was given a large soup spoon to eat it
with. To be fair, I was going to need a shovel to get through all the granola,
so I could sort of understand the giant spoon; but for my first meal of the
day, when my mouth has only just figured out what to do with itself, the last thing I need is a wider one. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, I
asked for a dessert spoon. The waitress explained, very apologetically, that
they did not have dessert spoons, only soup spoons or teaspoons. Since if I
switched to a teaspoon we were likely to be there for the next decade, I opted
to stick with the soup spoon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now let's ponder this for a minute. In the event that you are running a cafe and are forced to choose between soup
spoons and dessert spoons, and 'soup of the day' does not feature on
your menu, whereas cake and granola do, why in heaven's name you would choose the soup spoons? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwaj0GsJrXRxpj9Z8H-g0GA4F4lsO9Mn8raVhm4fquIodW1QA6SqnegIZS22ZTwNuzSJSvqZkl5jG-cD96Savk6yMqH8iur2hW3mHyrYurxzvJrotRmJouF2ERerVrSCDx9NiK4z8SxlMT/s1600/granola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwaj0GsJrXRxpj9Z8H-g0GA4F4lsO9Mn8raVhm4fquIodW1QA6SqnegIZS22ZTwNuzSJSvqZkl5jG-cD96Savk6yMqH8iur2hW3mHyrYurxzvJrotRmJouF2ERerVrSCDx9NiK4z8SxlMT/s320/granola.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Granola/yoghurt/honey combo...<br />as combined as it would ever be! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway, not to be daunted, I dug around in the bowl for a brief
moment wondering if perhaps there was more yoghurt underneath and the little jug
I had been given was in fact extra. But no. A recurring question between us for the next week was, "would you like some yoghurt with that granola?" Well yes actually, I would. Not to worry though, they gave me an equal portion of honey (in a nice accessible ramekin dish, curiously).
It was at this point that I discovered the soup spoon was too big to fit
in the tiny jug to get the yoghurt out, so I was reduced to inverting the
jug and attempting to launch the contents onto my granola by way of force. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Having unceremoniously dumped as much of it onto my cereal as I was ever going to and added the honey, it became apparent that I would now be requiring a cement -mixer. Claire had long ago finished her breakfast and could no longer look at my plight without dissolving into fits of giggles, and I was just about crying with laughter myself. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Who would have imagined such a deliciously simple breakfast could be made so complex? What a hoot. </span></div>
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Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-56308819372209419392013-10-03T13:35:00.000-07:002013-10-03T13:52:18.125-07:00You'll huv hud yer tea? According to everyone in Scotland, if you turn up at someone's house in Edinburgh they'll invite you in, sit you down, and state the rhetorical question "you'll have had your tea" - meaning, they won't offer you any.<br />
By contrast, if you rock up on the doorstep of a Glaswegian they'll invite you in, sit you down, and ask what you would like to drink.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX02r2T54Ex4QiIGitJvroqlAtDiB6PFoQwmaCSpTOZ-SuzKGaX41kylQ9H-BV5ubCuqYN-8bmjni50pAcmTb4LtFd0tE3gVC0O8hOOeYkr2XVI9mYqueGUplovX8vGekRYrnptcW4GD7a/s1600/IMG_4050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX02r2T54Ex4QiIGitJvroqlAtDiB6PFoQwmaCSpTOZ-SuzKGaX41kylQ9H-BV5ubCuqYN-8bmjni50pAcmTb4LtFd0tE3gVC0O8hOOeYkr2XVI9mYqueGUplovX8vGekRYrnptcW4GD7a/s320/IMG_4050.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View up at Edinburgh castle from street level. <br />
We got perfect weather on this particular day, <br />
and clouds with icy wind thereafter...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
While I didn't put this theory to the test, I did notice that compared to the general public in England, the people on the streets of Edinburgh were very friendly, so I have no idea what they're all so miffed about. A skeptic pointed out to me that this could have been because all the people on the streets of Edinburgh are tourists, and upon reflection he was probably dead on. But, friendly locals or not, the whole place had a pleasant low-key sort of frenzied feel to it, as though everyone was in a rush and on their way somewhere, but not overly stressed about actually getting there on a deadline.<br />
I really enjoyed it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The reason I went was to have a mini-reunion with some girls I had met while in New Zealand, and it was fantastic. It was great to see some familiar faces and pretend we were back on tour and didn't have jobs (or job-hunting, for me) hanging over us. We were free to behave like complete idiots for three nights, and we did.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0OPSbgvQj4qJNB8P6WxNj4Sa4JtP3UlbvBrPnplISvgmG80PAGDVbLNKWK6K-wgxpRdzwoqGAI58UTNhMEV_3N_zDxy0D1q1F7QVouIuW26lAJK8mfdJBvGNc16AYQZvkikLYrBbPbYYo/s1600/IMG_4272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0OPSbgvQj4qJNB8P6WxNj4Sa4JtP3UlbvBrPnplISvgmG80PAGDVbLNKWK6K-wgxpRdzwoqGAI58UTNhMEV_3N_zDxy0D1q1F7QVouIuW26lAJK8mfdJBvGNc16AYQZvkikLYrBbPbYYo/s320/IMG_4272.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Edinburgh Castle while walking up to it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Edinburgh is quite a beautiful, clean and exciting specimen of a capital city, with lots of side streets and alleys littered with little cafes offering a cooked lunch and home-made cakes, and bursting at the seams with freezing patrons holding steaming cups of tea. Once the sun has gone down, the pubs and restaurants fill to overflowing, and live music drifts up at you from stairways leading to bars where people with good knees and bad are dancing the night away, cider in hand.<br />
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<br />
<br />
The city is fairly easy to navigate around once you've realised that simply standing on the Royal Mile and siting where you want to end up, then walking in that direction, is not a reliable navigation solution. The Royal Mile is the highest street in the city so far as I could tell, which means you can see exactly where you want to be...while you're on it. As soon as you start walking down that side street the place you're pursuing becomes as elusive as your earplugs at 3am in a youth hostel. The streets slope downwards, and there's no obvious point when it happens either - you just suddenly become aware, as you're taking in the shops and sights, that you no longer know what direction you're going in, you're not sure at what point your destination slipped out of view behind the hundreds of other buildings, and to find out you can either continue down the hill in the hopes of finding a map - or walk back up it to find a view. Drat, not again!<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgxBBO1biNWQY9FKy1C7-aLJcVlKiOd8rIIxtqJiZZ2XBVMd0ecAPUVD7rvbA2Rh0tS3kPaJ4r2CgoU6U5Csth0vH7r38j00bBnTjZreFCCJfKW5rsDx9uD3GqZdGgJVnVvTopOW3xaMF/s1600/IMG_4131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgxBBO1biNWQY9FKy1C7-aLJcVlKiOd8rIIxtqJiZZ2XBVMd0ecAPUVD7rvbA2Rh0tS3kPaJ4r2CgoU6U5Csth0vH7r38j00bBnTjZreFCCJfKW5rsDx9uD3GqZdGgJVnVvTopOW3xaMF/s320/IMG_4131.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our little gang in front of Holyrood Palace;<br />
from left: Nicola, Sarah, Rachel and myself.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
During our brief stay we traipsed up and down the Royal Mile, first going to Holyroodhouse Palace and garden, which was beautiful. Holyrood Palace is the official residence of the Monarch of the United Kingdom in Scotland, and it chills (quite impressively) in the shadow of Arthur's Seat - a seriously decent sized hill with views across the whole of Edinburgh for miles and miles. The Palace has served as a residence for Scottish Kings and Queens since the 16th century and is also used for state occasions and official entertaining, and it's not hard to see why. It is absolutely gorgeous inside. When you walk in pretty soon you go up a staircase, and the plaster ceiling above it is breathtaking - it was sculpted on a wire mesh frame and features angels in the four corners, reaching down to you, as well as bunches of fruit and animals as well - it is impressively 3 dimensional for a plaster ceiling, it's such a shame you're not allowed to take any photos in the Palace. The Abbey next to it - Holyrood Abbey - was founded in 1128 by David I, King of Scots. It is now ruins, but still very beautiful.<br />
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<br />
We took in the interesting architecture of the Scottish Parliament, where some very curious design choices<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSHxmzMtr4JufzgCYJ2mNFSSALIIJFdZw-j23HCw0jRv7rFl3iwMe20DAuGvmL_xmjB0Zug5Vaqx2oNKHH7Eoq0e592_89QH-fWSr0_0V7KHWFanpzG92PyT5UtUZJC7jRDGL0pzWXd6KF/s1600/IMG_4332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSHxmzMtr4JufzgCYJ2mNFSSALIIJFdZw-j23HCw0jRv7rFl3iwMe20DAuGvmL_xmjB0Zug5Vaqx2oNKHH7Eoq0e592_89QH-fWSr0_0V7KHWFanpzG92PyT5UtUZJC7jRDGL0pzWXd6KF/s320/IMG_4332.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The little chapel.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
have been made; then continued up the road back to the Royal Mile to do a tour of Edinburgh Castle. Wow, what a place! The tour was fascinating, and </div>
<div>
the castle itself is really cool, made so mainly by the history surrounding it. Edinburgh castle is the only one never to have been breached by force, and given that it sits at the stop of a cliff meaning serious business, it's not hard to see why. Up the top is a tiny little church, which our tour guide said was a bloke's idea of the perfect place for a wedding ceremony, as you can only cram about 28 people inside it, or 12 if the bride wants an isle to walk down...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_Z63rTDVVyX-Ul3zyNLeQLgiA9mtov25Vvgh0oJ04XCECJxSg5mZZDrtCFxoVt-3nydF8E31GCmU9GGSWXeQXNUq8XxPVLvcxMmL5iEDrQjZ4ycN8_rCRagvxgPP3w4fAygmAZPent4c/s1600/scottish+crown+jewels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_Z63rTDVVyX-Ul3zyNLeQLgiA9mtov25Vvgh0oJ04XCECJxSg5mZZDrtCFxoVt-3nydF8E31GCmU9GGSWXeQXNUq8XxPVLvcxMmL5iEDrQjZ4ycN8_rCRagvxgPP3w4fAygmAZPent4c/s320/scottish+crown+jewels.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Scottish Crown Jewels at Edinburgh Castle<br />
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At the castle, we also saw the Scottish crown jewels, and the Stone of Destiny. The jewels were stunning (much prettier than the stone), but the history behind the stone is fascinating and slightly amusing from an outsider's perspective so I'll share a little.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNFJRqnwgI1jej0zYG7ASl0QOoN6VjykTUXneJfYxYSDqJ_tIUU5c5yyFW6WnnUxKaxBrMqqrUIl56hYfusDVGC5Je4cUQ-Znma9uwWEQ-W9V5W7nc0KC4EQoEBGskEHZ2Q_3BupDOw6J/s1600/stone+of+scone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNFJRqnwgI1jej0zYG7ASl0QOoN6VjykTUXneJfYxYSDqJ_tIUU5c5yyFW6WnnUxKaxBrMqqrUIl56hYfusDVGC5Je4cUQ-Znma9uwWEQ-W9V5W7nc0KC4EQoEBGskEHZ2Q_3BupDOw6J/s320/stone+of+scone.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Stone of Destiny at Edinburgh Castle<br />
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The Stone of Destiny is also known as the Stone of Scone (pronounced 'scoon'), and also as the Coronation Stone. There is so much history attached to it I won't even try to cover it all, and there are so many versions of what happened, but my understanding of it was basically this; while it was at Scone Palace in Scotland, Monarchs would come and be sat on it for their coronation, having brought soil from their home land in their boots (it was too impractical for the King to go to everybody's homeland so they brought their land to him basically - there is now a mound where all the dirt and soil built up). The stone was borrowed (read stolen) at some point by the English and placed in a throne, then 'returned' (stolen back) about 500 years later. Can you imagine? Ha! The library would not be impressed. </div>
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Next on the agenda was a tour of the Edinburgh Dungeons, which I would recommend to anyone even thinking of going to Edinburgh; it was sensational. The way it is presented with facts and humour by actors playing a part is just fantastic, and it's a very creative way of getting the history across. Our little gang must have had "Volunteer" stenciled on our foreheads as we hadn't even made it past the first room (being the courtroom) when our little gang was put on trial for 'Crimes of fashion,' with the punishment being 'stripped nekkid, covered in super glue, then dragged through Marcs & Spencers.' </div>
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Further through the dungeons, once we'd finished crying with laughter, I apparently gave some poor young actor a heart attack when he yelled at us for effect during a tense moment; "Calm down! Everybody just CALM DOWN!" mere inches from my face. So, naturally, I shouted right back.</div>
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Several rooms later my neon 'volunteer' sign lit up again it seems, as I was accused of being a traitor and was dragged up on 'stage' to be drawn and quartered. I explained that I was Australian but the actor wanted revenge, demanded a scream, and specified blood-curdling. Come on, what would you have done? I deafened the guy. For which I was then beheaded. Happily though, he missed, and so I was be-eared instead, much to the horror of some poor child in the front row on whom the ear landed. </div>
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It was brilliant. I will say though, if you're not a fan of the Haunted House concept, or have little kiddies, I'd put it on the back burner. There was one woman in there who was actually shaking with genuine fear, to say nothing of the poor little tackers she'd brought with her - they may never sleep again. Whatever happened to doing your research? She probably took them to see Django for goodness sake...</div>
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But let's move on shall we? We also treated ourselves to the 'Scotch Whiskey Experience' which was very interesting and informative, quite strong - at a minimum of 40%, and a great help in my decision on whether or not to become a Cooper. Having watched a video on it, if I ever meet one I shall be very impressed, and if I ever become one I shall be very sore.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The National Monument at Calton Hill.</td></tr>
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One of the girls and I made it up Calton Hill, which had a view almost as terrific as the wind - you needed a lead weight just to stay on the ground - even my heavy camera bag blew around if I put it down! But it was worth it. Calton Hill is home to the National Monument, the Nelson Monument, the Dugald Stewart Monument, the Old Royal High School, the Robert Burns Monument, the Political Martyrs' Monument and the Observatory. How does it all fit? It's a big hill.<br />
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We spent our evenings in a vast array of pubs, restaurants and bars and managed to narrowly avoid finding out what dead-I-mean-deep-fried pizza would taste like for dinner. For those who are wondering, no I did not try a deep-fried mars bar, because of all the deep-fried options available, that wasn't one of them. Go figure.</div>
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Bye for now!</div>
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Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-28142842471351047132013-09-06T12:12:00.002-07:002013-09-06T12:12:56.599-07:00Everyone for more tea?<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Since I have claimed to be living in 'the land of tea', I decided it would be cool to create a little -wait no who am I kidding, little?- post on how tea is done here. They certainly feel quite strongly about it...</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Tea is the answer to most problems</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">First of all there are - allegedly - several nick names for tea: brew, cha, rosie lee and cuppa. According to the UK Tea Council (yep, they even have a website tea.co.uk) the British drink approximately 165,000,000 cups of tea a day, with the recommended dose per person being at least 4 cups a day. Just for the record, only 70 million cups of coffee are drunk per day by the British, which I think makes it pretty clear, tea is better. Because, well, it just is. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Continuing the random facts, Tea Breaks are a tradition they've had for the last 200 years or so; over 80% of office workers claim they find out more about what's going on in their workplace over a cup of tea than any other way; tea remains Britain's most popular beverage; tea contains half the caffeine that coffee does; 96% of cups made daily are brewed from tea bags; 98% of people take their tea with milk, and only 30% with sugar. The overall opinion here is that, as far as possible, tea should always be made in a pot rather than throwing a bag in a mug. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There is an ongoing debate (destined to rage on forever I imagine) on when to add the milk to your cup. Do you put it in at the start, risking as George Orwell claimed, putting too much in? Or at the end, risking a change to the molecules in the milk causing it to taste like UHT? Hmm...Which is worse? Personally, I used to put milk in last, however, since coming here I noticed the prevailing method is to add the milk first, and I must say, I'm a convert. I can't explain it, it just tastes better. Adding the water to the milk instead of the other way around will warm the milk more slowly, and as a serious plus you avoid that weird scummy layer that forms on top if you put the milk in last. I have also noticed that some people put their teabag in the milk in the mug <i>then </i>add the hot water to the milk-teabag combo. Haven't tried that yet myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> So, how do you make your tea - milk first or water first? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-63872327464355106792013-09-05T15:48:00.001-07:002013-09-06T12:34:15.976-07:00Prize for the longest Nave goes to. . . <span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Winchester Cathedral</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On Tuesday Sep 3rd I went to Winchester. By all accounts a gorgeous town and apparently one of the best places to live in the whole of Britain. Now that I've seen it with it's immaculate public gardens, impressive buildings, amazing statues and friendly locals; I can't argue. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Winchester itself has enough history to have occupied me for an entire week. The first settlements there date back to prehistoric times but at the beginning of the third century is when protective stone walls were placed and, in around 686 after some Kings had it out (King of Wessex won), it became known as the <i>de facto </i>capital city of Wessex for a time. By this point we're looking at the</span> Anglo-Saxon era, when Arthur the Great laid out a street plan which is still fairly evident today. There is a fab statue of him extending a sword point downwards by the hilt, towards the end of the 'main drag' of town, where you will have passed by the quite beautiful 'Buttercross' dating back to the 15th century.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Fascinating though the town is, I specifically went to see the Cathedral. A superb building to be sure, if you manage to find it. One would think a humongous cathedral would sort of 'stand out', but no; it stands back in fact, behind a lot of shops fronts, followed by a lot of trees, a long path and park grounds. Thankfully, the people at the information desk know exactly where it is and which shops to use as landmarks in order for us tourists to find it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Winchester Cathedral is quite something to behold, and boasts the 'longest nave and greatest overall length of any Gothic cathedral in Europe' according to Wikipedia. There are nooks and crannies everywhere and spiral staircases hidden behind tiny doors that go up and up and up. I was lucky enough to be able to see the Winchester Bible while there and it is absolutely beautiful, the artwork really is superb. I might do a separate blog on it as some stage. Also up there is a library, which I may have taken a slightly forbidden photo of (I say slightly because the lady guarding the door at the time coughed and looked the other way for me) </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">while hiding in the window alcove...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4V7pYaP8xwZnEZS8pydOAY6eOUEOD7915rWDSSiPPSoaTPZJ-goLuw2nJcoCt29yvQ64vZt4EA39HEzE9jXXKsPLm9WMxqYienfpwbcOWurF9gcUnJIcbtUMMvZDKkLhz8x9ZPgIF4pqK/s1600/IMG_1841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4V7pYaP8xwZnEZS8pydOAY6eOUEOD7915rWDSSiPPSoaTPZJ-goLuw2nJcoCt29yvQ64vZt4EA39HEzE9jXXKsPLm9WMxqYienfpwbcOWurF9gcUnJIcbtUMMvZDKkLhz8x9ZPgIF4pqK/s320/IMG_1841.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Sneak peek of the Library</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In 642 the cathedral was founded and became known as the Old Minster, becoming part of a monastic settlement in 971. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In 1079 a completely new cathedral was underway, and come 1093 this new cathedral was consecrated, and starting the very next day Old Minster was slowly demolished, though not before transporting its precious contents to the new one. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This new Cathedral was and is Winchester Cathedral, measuring </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">170.1 metres in length. As a point of interest, the floor plan/ birds eye view is in the shape of a cross, due to two chantrys being added on the north and south sides at some stage. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>View of the nave (and the incredible vaulted ceiling) towards the west door</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">While I was there I was lucky enough to witness choir practice, which certainly brought the place to life; accompanied beautifully by a huge organ. The acoustics were glorious, no matter where you were in the cathedral you could hear every note ring out perfectly.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Choir practice</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Not surprisingly quite a number of well known/ famous people have been there and or are buried there. The two facts I was most surprised at: Mary of Tudor was married there, and Jane Austin is buried there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To finish up I'll leave you with a fascinating bit of history info on this building. When I heard this I reckon my eyebrows hit the ceiling and my jaw hit the floor!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">From 1906 to 1912 a diver named William Walker spent 6 hours a day below the cathedral. What on earth was he doing down there you ask? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well, the south and east walls of the cathedral had seriously waterlogged foundations and the cathedral was doomed to collapse. This man reinforced the foundations by </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">diving below </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">the cathedral, where he packed more than 25,000 bags of concrete, 115,000 concrete blocks and 900,000 bricks directly onto and around the foundations. He worked in total darkness at depths up to 6 metres (20 feet) for 6 years, so it won't come as a surprise that for saving the cathedral from total collapse, he received an MVO. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Cool, right? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bye for now!</span>Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9134088194650934723.post-58323200424799628152013-09-04T10:29:00.000-07:002013-09-04T10:29:33.404-07:00Week one in the Land of Tea<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well, I survived my first week in England and at long last have sat down to create a blog.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So far the two most common phrases (I would hear these up to six times a day) are:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Hello there, you alright?" <i>translation </i>"hey, how's it goin?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"More tea?" <i>translation </i>"more tea?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Not surprisingly then, I have had 4 to 5 cups of tea a day, and have now officially been here for 10 days - you do the math. Yeah, good thing I like tea. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My first impressions of the country are mixed. Everyone here is incredibly polite, and I read a quote last week which suggested,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> <i>"If an Englishman were run down by a truck, he would apologise to the truck."</i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">...which I'm discovering is probably true. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There is so much history here it blows me away. I knew there would be, but seeing it everywhere is sending me down the path of information overload; my idea of 'old' is a few hundred years, while here 'old' is 10th century... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Dedicated tourist as I am, I've been out and about almost every day, and my list of 'seen' is growing - much to the displeasure of my wallet as public transport is very expensive here; and my feet. The list as it currently stands:</span></div>
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<i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Aldershot</i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> (yes, it counts even though I'm living there)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>London</i>, twice: walked around and saw Nelson's Column, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar square, Covent Garden, the Tower of London and London Bridge, then swanned around with the crowds on Oxford and Regent street. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Guildford</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Chawton</i> (Jane Austin's House)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Selbourne</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Winchester </i>(for Winchester Cathedral)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Camberley</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'll start blogging on specific photos or places after this, and as soon as I come to grips with how this blog works I'll start posting in a more organised fashion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bye for now! </span></div>
Skippyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16382254833233985285noreply@blogger.com0