...and so another exotic holiday comes to an end. We are spending one last night at Aki's mum's flat in Inage before we head back to Blighty tomorrow via Narita Airport.
Aki has treated me to a memorable stay encompassing introductions to her family and friends, a trip into the mountains within stone-throwing distance of the awesome Mt Fuji, bathing and breakfasting in a traditional ryokan, 6 nights in a Tokyo hotel, rockin' the night away at the Gigabar, an evening of blues at Blues Alley, a boat trip along the Sumida river, and copious amounts of tasty food!
Hope to return in the not too distant future...maybe when the cherry blossom graces the branches of the trees...
Sunday, 13 January 2013
Saturday, 24 September 2011
Tent London
Visited Tent London this afternoon, in Brick Lane. Part of London Design Week. All a bit hit and miss...though some good stuff if you persevered. Particularly liked this storage unit by a young fellow based on Church Street, Stoke Newington (though wasn't sure about the two timber battens glued to the bottom). Quite fancy half a dozen in my bedroom, but at £750 a pop, may have to wait!!!
Thursday, 16 June 2011
Big Breakfast Mutual Inspiration Club
Set the alarm for 0625 this morning, as I had to get to Spitalfields for the inaugural meeting of the Mutual Inspiration Breakfast Club, an idea spawned by the mercurial Mr Bob Karper. I had contemplated sending an apologetic text, and having a lie-in, but really glad I made the effort. Met five very inspiring individuals at the Breakfast Club in Artillery Lane, and set goals for the coming month. I intend to use this blog as a developmental record as things progress.
I posited three main goals this month, namely to lose some kilos, write a song, and perform it at an open mic.
The first got off to a bad start as I tucked into a large breakfast, and downed two lattes, but I received much encouragement from my co-conspirators, and will begin in earnest henceforth. The main immediate aim is to show restraint in the face of puddings and confectionery!!!
I have an idea for the song, inspired by my commute into work on the Victoria line of a morning; London Underground's repeated exhortations to refrain from trapping my items in the closing doors. Now I've just got to write it....and pencil in an open mic appearance...
Longer term, I aim to get fit, get qualified at MRICS level with the Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors, and organise a Rock 'n Roll Circus. In pursuance of the latter, I have pencilled in a meeting with Adrian Berry, who runs Jackson's Lane Theatre. Will keep you posted on that one...
Time for a cup of tea....and a banana.
Monday, 9 April 2007
Bathtime Bliss
I wake at 10am, bleary-eyed after a much-needed night's sleep. Yesterday's journey had exhausted me.I'd had trouble staying awake at the opera last night. I went for several reasons, firstly to get a look at the fabulous interior of the National Opera House, all plaster and gilt, and secondly as there was little else to do in the city this evening. I wasn't in a fit state to go shaking my booty at the city nightclubs!
I took my 12Lat seat in the stalls amongst the great and the good of the city, who seemed to have come out in force. The place was packed to the rafters. I then sat through four acts of Pucini's La Boheme, which I can precis as follows:
Act I - an artist's garret in Rome. Four impecunious students struggle to pay the rent. Rudolfo, the writer amongst them, falls in love with Mimi, the girl downstairs, who strays into his lair looking for a light for her candle. She has a bit of a cough.
Act II - a cafe in the Latin Quarter. Rudolfo treats Mimi to a night on the town. Mimi still hasn't taken anything for that cough!
Act III - a square at night. Snow is falling. It transpires Mimi has left Rudolfo because he is always jealous of the way she looks at other fellas. Mimi comes back. Her cough has got worse.
Act IV - back in the garret. Mimi's cough finally takes its toll and she expires in her lover's arms.
No wonder the suicide rate is up!
This morning, I breakfast at a wee cafe.....one of a chain which seem to have sprung up like a rash across the city. But the coffee is good, and the sausage and scrambled eggs are cheap. The waitress places two large salt-cellers on the table, and what I initially assume to be the salt looks more like pepper. I swap them over, but the second one also looks like pepper. I conclude it must be paprika. It's only as I take my first mouthful that I realise I've peppered my eggs with cocoa and cinnamon meant for my cappucino!
For the next two nights I am sharing a room with a chum from Shrewsbury, who is coming over with my sister and her fella this evening. I drag my wheeled suitcase across the cobbled streets of the Old City, intending to put my baggage in storage, but the staff inform me that my room is ready.
The hotel is palatial compared to last night's accommodation, and I am delighted to find an ensuite bathroom, in custard-powder yellow! I haven't got a bath at home....indeed I haven't had a bath since Christmas, so I spend the next hour or so soaking in blissful contentment.
Suicide City
It says in my Berlitz Pocket Guide to Riga, that the Latvians come fifth in the European Suicide League Table. That's a surprisingly high position given how small the country is, and the guide book cites the eternal grey skies as a major contributory factor.As I descend the steps of my Boeing 737, the gloom greets me, together with a chill wind from the east.
The girl at the Tourist Information Office in the central square speaks her English with a Canadian twang. She tells me she yearns for the streets of Montreal where she recalls people smiling as they passed. "Everyone is so glum here", she complains, glumly. And I have to say, she is right. As I wander the medieval cobbles, I am reminded of the grim features of the people of Huddersfield on a cold winters' afternoon.
Further evidence of the local's suicidal streak comes at every street corner, where people seem to suddenly lurch off the pavement into the oncoming traffic. The pedestrian traffic light system takes a bit of getting used to, but I soon find myself confidently following the locals lead, joining the shoals of lemmings diving in concert across the boulevards.
Worse, though, is the tram system. The No. 7 tram stop in Aspazijas Boulevard, for instance, is graced with a purpose-built shelter and platform serving the west-bound tram....those passengers wishing to board the east-bound service, however, have to congregate on the opposite pavement, rushing into the busy thoroughfare as the tram comes to a stop in the centre of the carriageway. Alighting passengers take their lives in their hands as they leap off the bottom step and into the traffic stream, which screeches dutifully to a halt as they do so.
I fear suicide is easy on the streets of Riga!
My hostel accommodation for the night might be described as basic, but this would be putting a positive gloss on things! It is housed on the first floor of a decrepit and crumbling 19th century building opposite the grey brick post office HQ. Ulrika signs me in and takes my money off me....I foolishly pay for the two nights in advance.....I am due back on Sunday night; in the interim staying at a hotel with some chums, who aren't due to arrive until tomorrow.
Ulrika guides me down the corridor, which smells of dirty mop, and ushers me into my room. I assume it was once a vestibule when the building was in its heyday.....now it is painted a grubby salmon pink, has two single wooden cots, a fraying navy blue office carpet, and no curtains.....oh, and a small stool, which I commandeer as my bedside table.
As I hunker down for the night, I realise I have discovered another contributory factor to the suicide rate....
More photos at http://www.flickr.com/photos/fourthflaw/sets/72157600070311161/
Sunday, 18 March 2007
Sunday In The Park
After a week staring out of the office window as Enfield seemed to be bathed in spring sunshine, and the temperatures outside began to emulate those of May rather than March, the bright sunshine lured me out for my first Sunday morning constitutional of the year.I left the house in Upper Clapton Road and headed up the 'Murder Mile' to Springfield Park, glad I'd had the foresight to don my coat before setting off. A cold and blustering wind had me dodging swirling whirlpools of litter as I walked past the shops.
The park was busy, with lads playing football on the grass, and small knots of people zig-zagging against the wind, pushing buggies or walking dogs. The scudding clouds high above me meant only fleeting glimpses of sunshine.
I dived in to the Park Cafe, found myself a table and ordered the Big Breakfast. Spreading my newspaper on the table before me, I supped my latte, warm and snug as the wind rattled the glass in the ageing window frames.
The cafe was full; mums talking to eachother over the heads of their small children, courting couples making plans, friends fending off their hangovers with plates of fried eggs and beans.....
After brunch, I ambled round the park taking photos. The strength of the wind took my breath away, and the cold cut through my clothing and made my eyes water. I walked down towards the River Lee, taking in a little tennis on the way. The Park Rangers seem to have been busy cutting down some of the large trees that once stood alongside the river. I don't know whether they were felled by the storms in January, but quite afew of them have been cut down, large sections of tree trunk lying scattered on the grass. This has had the beneficial effect of opening up the view of the River Lee from all parts of the park. You can see the boats on the river, the towpath, and the marshlands that spread east towards Walthamstow.
As I had to take my hands out of my pockets to manipulate the camera, they were soon blue with the cold. They ached so much I decided to cut my losses and head for home, especially when the clouds above turned black and a thin sleet began to fall on me. Winter hasn't quite given way to Spring just yet!
Sunday, 4 February 2007
Colombo Agogo
Arrived in Colombo in one piece at 3am on Sunday after a ten hour flight......hadn't managed to get much in the way of sleep (got hooked on the computerised game of Solitaire on the back of the seat in front.....hadn't managed to clear a deck of cards by the time we landed, so I was all for turning the plane round and heading back for Blighty). A chap was awaiting me at the Airport exit with my name on a piece of paper, and I was whisked off to the Galle Face Hotel.....a forty-five minute taxi ride to the south. It being dark, I couldn't get much of a feel for the place beyond the half-built edifices and shacks that lined the route, but I could already sense the poverty.....pot-holed roads, puddles of stagnant water, copious wandering dogs and the occassional knot of locals idling away the nightime.
I managed to get four hours kip before breakfast.......my room was in the north wing of what must have been a very grand colonial estblishment in years gone by. It was sizeable, but pretty basic, with ensuite bathroom. They had recently refurbished the south wing, which was regal in comparison!
My sleep was disturbed by the very loud air-conditioning unit.....it didn't appear to have any controls, so I couldn't turn it off. Added to which, it made the room very cold, and being armed only with my M&S pyjama set and a thin white sheet, I felt the chill!
Breakfast was on the Verandha overlooking the Arabian Sea, and I tucked into the creamy potato curry, with Mung beans on the side, and a fried egg served in a bowl made out of a thin, slightly sweet pancake mix......yummy!!! I had seconds....
I had been warned about the touts that frequent the area by the staff at the hotel, but had to pop over the road to get some Sri Lankan rupees out of the cash machine....I brushed off a couple of approaches from dodgy-looking tri-shaw drivers, but hadn't got more than 50 yards when Roland introduced himself, saying he was the gardener at the hotel.....that's what clinched it! I presumed he would be as well-versed in avoiding these practices as his comrades at work, so instantly put my trust in him.
A Sri Lankan called Roland.....come off it!!!! Anyhow, he led me a merry dance, insisting I come visit his temple before finding me a cash-point....he flagged down a friendly tri-shaw driver, who was presumably in on the scam, and off we went. The temple was interesting, and Roland was obviously doing his best to make sure I was going to get my money's worth, bless him! I was shown the temple elephant, and met the tsunami kids who were being schooled there.....then it was off to his pal's gemstone shop, where they wanted $88 for a small piece of opal....I turned on my heel at that point, but the tri-shaw driver wanted $20 to take me back to the hotel. Not knowing where the hell I was, I had no choice. Roland then took his cut.....he was very insistent about it!!!! Welcome to the Third World!!!! I had to take my hat off to them.....they'd earned a month's wages in less than twenty minutes.....I'd lost the price of admission to The Madjeski Stadium....
Whilst in the hotel grounds I was approached by Mike, a youthful looking 63-year old who came over to commiserate.....he'd been conned outside, too! I spent the rest of the day mooching about, trying to get into the book I'd brought....Joseph Heller's Catch 22. Had a snooze in the afternoon, and met Mike for dinner on the verandah in the evening. He turned out to have been in the property business, and was now trying to set up a charitable development in Galle, where the tsunami had caused a lot of damage.
Got to bed around 10pm......had to be up at 2am to get the taxi to the airport. I was getting a bit worried by 2.30am, but he showed up, and we sped airport-wards. Had three hours to kill before the Goa flight boarded, so sat in the coffee bar. Had given my last rupees to the security guard at the airport, who asked me for them, very politely!!! Had to pay for my coffe in sterling, but got change in dollars! Still, should be able to use them on my way back home. Landed safely in Goa at 7.30am and entered another world!
I managed to get four hours kip before breakfast.......my room was in the north wing of what must have been a very grand colonial estblishment in years gone by. It was sizeable, but pretty basic, with ensuite bathroom. They had recently refurbished the south wing, which was regal in comparison!
My sleep was disturbed by the very loud air-conditioning unit.....it didn't appear to have any controls, so I couldn't turn it off. Added to which, it made the room very cold, and being armed only with my M&S pyjama set and a thin white sheet, I felt the chill!
Breakfast was on the Verandha overlooking the Arabian Sea, and I tucked into the creamy potato curry, with Mung beans on the side, and a fried egg served in a bowl made out of a thin, slightly sweet pancake mix......yummy!!! I had seconds....
I had been warned about the touts that frequent the area by the staff at the hotel, but had to pop over the road to get some Sri Lankan rupees out of the cash machine....I brushed off a couple of approaches from dodgy-looking tri-shaw drivers, but hadn't got more than 50 yards when Roland introduced himself, saying he was the gardener at the hotel.....that's what clinched it! I presumed he would be as well-versed in avoiding these practices as his comrades at work, so instantly put my trust in him.
A Sri Lankan called Roland.....come off it!!!! Anyhow, he led me a merry dance, insisting I come visit his temple before finding me a cash-point....he flagged down a friendly tri-shaw driver, who was presumably in on the scam, and off we went. The temple was interesting, and Roland was obviously doing his best to make sure I was going to get my money's worth, bless him! I was shown the temple elephant, and met the tsunami kids who were being schooled there.....then it was off to his pal's gemstone shop, where they wanted $88 for a small piece of opal....I turned on my heel at that point, but the tri-shaw driver wanted $20 to take me back to the hotel. Not knowing where the hell I was, I had no choice. Roland then took his cut.....he was very insistent about it!!!! Welcome to the Third World!!!! I had to take my hat off to them.....they'd earned a month's wages in less than twenty minutes.....I'd lost the price of admission to The Madjeski Stadium....
Whilst in the hotel grounds I was approached by Mike, a youthful looking 63-year old who came over to commiserate.....he'd been conned outside, too! I spent the rest of the day mooching about, trying to get into the book I'd brought....Joseph Heller's Catch 22. Had a snooze in the afternoon, and met Mike for dinner on the verandah in the evening. He turned out to have been in the property business, and was now trying to set up a charitable development in Galle, where the tsunami had caused a lot of damage.
Got to bed around 10pm......had to be up at 2am to get the taxi to the airport. I was getting a bit worried by 2.30am, but he showed up, and we sped airport-wards. Had three hours to kill before the Goa flight boarded, so sat in the coffee bar. Had given my last rupees to the security guard at the airport, who asked me for them, very politely!!! Had to pay for my coffe in sterling, but got change in dollars! Still, should be able to use them on my way back home. Landed safely in Goa at 7.30am and entered another world!
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