I am on the last leg of my trip so London to Moscow. The gate for our flight is 5c which is one of those many satellite gates Heathrow has. Along a corridor down the slope ignore International Transfers and hang left, up the escalators along then down the escalators, down the steps and through the doors. The reason I comment of the route is I am waiting at the gate and a woman has just arrived with a stroller with a kid in it and 5 bags hanging off it. So way to go you. That was some feat to navigate that obstacle course. The lady takes the kid out of the stroller however every time its feet touch the floor it takes off like the energizer bunny. It does had reins attached so not sure why she is not using them. Anyway after a while she gives up trying to untangle all the bags and puts the child back in the buggy. Now you should know there is a fault with the display boards at the gate and they are at times showing “Go to Gate”, “Boarding”, “Closing” or “Closed”. Now what this causes is mild waves of panic in the assembling crowd of passengers. Each new intake to the gate area falls for this until the not so friendly desk girl explains v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y which is a particular English thing when speaking to foreigners. This includes Canadians and Americans after all they do speak a different language. Anyway as the board cycles through options little waves of panic until we start to board at which point of course everyone panicked. Russians can queue but it is disorderly not really queuing more bunching or grouping. Even though the call was for people with children everyone moves forward. My lady with the stroller moves forward clipping peoples legs with the bags however it is effective at clearing a path which is immediately filled by a trail of people spotting the gap. Next call is for rows 20 -44 which does not have the desired effect of thinning out the queue in fact the assembled throng (its now clearly larger than a group) continues to try and slip onboard however the gate girl stands firm and anyone with a row less than 20 is stopped at checkpoint Charlie (if you don’t know about checkpoint Charlie, Google it) The reason I see all of this carnage is that I am in row 11, I managed to get the BMI automated kiosk to move me towards the front of the plane an aisle seat with nobody in the middle chair. The 10 -20 call comes and the bun fight ends as I slip quietly past whilst some guy with a heave Irish accent tried to explain to the desk girl exactly where she went wrong. Down the stairs and out and bump into the end of the queue to the plane. Probably about 40 people waiting to board so this idea of getting the back rows on first did not seem to have the desired effect. It’s ok remember I am at the front with elbow room, well maybe not, I am at the front but the lady with the toddler and the bags is sitting in the middle seat (what joy) I have a Babushka at the window the bag lady plus kid on her lap in the middle then me. Ok stay calm you can do this its only 4 hours. Surprisingly there is ample leg room certainly although the row in front is still close enough for the kid next to me to easily kick the back of the chair in front. Mum turns him sideways so he could kick me instead. Not funny. Mom is trying to read a nursery rhyme to him however I think he is more interested in plotting an escape route. Whilst all this is going on a man in the row opposite decides this would be an ideal time to have a nose bleed. He is in the window seat and his companions vacate their chairs extremely quickly to let him through. The man with the Irish accent stops him a few rows back and explains exactly what he needs to do to stop it however I don’t think the Russian guy fully got it. Whilst all this is going on Mum has been rummaging through the three bags she has stuffed under the chair in front of her for something. What ever it is it is not there so up she gets and who gets to hold the Ok lets all settle down. Nose bleed man has come back although his shirt is quite a mess. Irish accent is asking if we are still planning to take off today. The stewardess who is quite young seems to have a perfect smile stuck on her face. One of those “I am very pleased with myself” smiles or “this is my first flight and I am having so much fun” what ever it is is keeping her very happy. So are we ready for the off, not really the Babushka at the window now decides to goad the mum with the kid into asking the stewardess if she could move up a row. We are in 11 and 10 is behind business class so there is probably 6 inches more room. Mum presses the attendant button and smiler comes over. Several versions of explanations later some middle aged woman agrees to swap places which I personally think is a great idea however the muttering going on under the middle aged woman’s breath indicate she is not so pleased. I stand whilst the cabin shuffle takes place mum kid three bags, middle aged lady a bag as big as a sack plus the tapestry she is sewing all dancing back and forth. An Irish accent is heard to say “they won’t bleedin take orf wit all those people standing up” I don’t even validate this with a backward glance. My mantra is its only 4 hours only 4 hours only 4 hours. So are we set to go,,,,,,,,,, well nearly the pilot says due to the extended boarding time we are waiting for a new slot and should be a few minutes. Middle ages lady now next to me is furiously searching the tapestry for something. I note the pattern is of a panther on a mountain, given half the thing is panther and the panther is black I don’t think this will be too much of a challenge to her. Anyway she is obviously looking for something. It is her needle which she can not find. A though rus through my head that if she left is on her other seat the mum will no doubt find it soon sticking out of the kid somewhere. Middle aged lady wants to get up and go and look for it and stands. I notice it was on her lap as it falls to the ground. I lean forward to pick it up and she tries to vault over me in my doubled up position. Somehow I stop her crashing over me into the isle and present her with her needle. She says I am a very nice man and kisses me on the cheek. The stewardesses while away the time by going through the safety demo, the kid steals the life jacket and won’t let go but smiler continues as mum prizes it from his grasp. She is now out of synch with the announcements but never brakes the smile, what a trooper. A voice from behind asks “are we ever going to bleedin take orf” Smiler goes to investigate and I can clearly hear an Irish accent explaining how an airline company can be run more efficiently. The question is will we ever take off, you will have to wait for the next installment.
The following events are recorded as I remember them and trust me there is little or no embellishment.
brat child (got it in one) I do consider a short pinch but decide a crying baby at this point would not help. Some strength in these kids today. Mum finds a small bottle and he makes a leap for it using my general groin area as a launching pad. I need a moment before I can stand and let her in again.
There was an African and Englishman and two girls from Croatia
There was an African and Englishman and two girls from Croatia No it is not the start of an interesting joke or the cast list for a Porn flick it is the precise number of people waiting for passengers at Terminal 5 on a Friday evening. Judi is on the last plane to land. I have my sign ready to hold up but to be honest if she can not recognize me in this small but dedicated group then as the say in the films “Huston we have a problem”. Well of course she finds me and off we trot to the car park. Try the first pay station and put in my ticket the screen responds by saying “welcome to the hardware wizard” which is not a good start. Move on to the next one and it says 10 pounds 26 ( I am 3 minutes over the 2 hours ). Ok got cash and look for the place to stick it in but pasted over the paper money slot is a “not in use” label. Ok now lets fumble around for my credit cards. Judi suggests we use hers and given my recent record with cards I am quite grateful. I remember a huge banner in the entrance to T5 from British Airways saying “welcome to our home” well to be honest sunshine your home needs a bit of work. Next thing is to navigate around the perimeter of Heathrow which I used to do every other week so it is an easy task. Then M4, M25, M40 Off at the Uxbridge turn off and towards Gerrards Cross and the next thing you know its Saturday morning. Only a slight panic waking up and wondering where I am. Not helped by the fact that Judi is not there. Judi “Never” gets up before me especially at weekends. Of course I had forgotten about the 3 hour time change I think it is 8 am Judi thinks it is 11 am. Ok where’s the coffee. Off back into town and we manage to get stuck in a traffic jam on the Motorway (freeway). I think it is a particularly English thing that we would build a highway road system which is in fact now slower that the ordinary road it was built to avoid. Anyway the fastest way to travel these days seems the be by avoiding the motorways altogether. Park the hire car at Hammersmith and get the Tube (that train that goes underground) into Leicester square and walk backwards to Covent garden. Now the experts amongst you will be thinking Hammersmith ?? You could get off at Covent Garden why go to Leicester Square. Good question and the answer is Covent Garden has a lift which you get squashed into and not an escalator it makes Judi nervous and given my sole purpose in life it to make her happy what’s a 10 minute walk. We meet up with friends from way back and there two charming girls. A coffee and a pint later we are off to the next appointment. First a quick trip into Marks & Spencer Food court for Pork pies and sandwiches. Pork pies are a very English thing and not a delicacy you tend to find once you leave this isle. There are not many things I miss about the land of my birth but Pork pies probably top the list. (then Baxter’s beetroot). Back on the tube ( train thing) we pass the food back and forth much to the annoyance of everyone else in the carriage. I half expected someone to tut at us. I know alcohol is banned aud not sure if food is as well but I am hungry so I am willing to take the risk. Off at Hammersmith and walk to our friends. They live in a quiet side street which we have visited more times than we care to remember. This is a special trip a first baby for them and a new traveling companion for us. We arrive just as the new Paternal grandparents are leaving to go shopping so we probably have a couple of hours before they return. Bev and Richard are beaming and full of hospital and baby story’s. The best being when the surgeon had finished explaining all about the intricacies and inherent risks of the cesarean he was about to perform and asked Richard if he had any questions the response was “Am I ok to use the flash on my camera in there” a line which I am sure will live with him for a long while. Judi was against her will required to hold Harry Edward Hawk as he will be known, an experience she does not particularly enjoy but has little option to go along with. All she could say is its (he) is so heavy (around 9lbs so yes a bit) and look at those fingernails. The only other significant comment was Judi asking where are we going on vacation next summer. So seems like Harry has been accepted and whilst I am sure there will be some limitations to our holiday adventures I am sure we can find somewhere acceptable to everyone. Maybe a house in the South of France with a nice garden and a dog now where have I heard that one recently.
The curious case of the dog on the lawn
The curious case of the dog on the lawn Now if Judi were reading this she would correct me and tell you its “the curious incident of the dog in the night-time” a book by Mark Haddon. Judi has this inbuilt translator for me she knows what I mean even though I don’t say it. Such as I can come home and confidently say ”I bumped into Tony Brown today” and Judi will say “you mean Tom Green don’t you” and of course I do. It is slightly unnerving but we get by. Anyway the reason for the title is linked of course to the book. I don’t read many novels (more of a factual reader and mostly history but I read this book quite a while back and it is about an autistic boy who is trying to solve a canine murder. During the book he has to take a tube (remember like a train but it goes underground) and he sits on the platform counting and timing the trains before getting the courage to actually get on one. Well that was where I was, I was at the Embankment station on route to Heathrow to pick up yet another hire car. Avis this time as Hertz had run out which was interesting given only yesterday they sent me an email telling me “we miss you” and they were looking forward to seeing me again soon (I have hired two cars from them in the last two weeks, go figure). So navigate the ticket machine after I had helped the Croatian load up his Oyster card. Through the special needs barrier as I have a rucksack with two Pc’s and a case to cover everything I need for my three week trip. Found the correct line “District” correct platform “West bound” carried the case down the stairs and was now on the platform standing as close to the wall as possible. There are trains and people coming thick and fast but not all going where I was so it was a case of being able to step forward at the right moment to try and squeeze myself onto the correct train. Standing there it seemed like I was in one of those music videos where the singer is stationary and everyone else is moving at high speed. It was easier to just stand there, maybe in five minutes it will be quieter, maybe the next one will have more space, Maybe if I stand here for a while the Enterprise will lock onto me and just beam me aboard. I fear if I step out at the wrong moment with my case I could do some serious damage to the flow of humanity sweeping past me. I develop a plan at the next human gap I will step forward to the edge of the platform and then wait for the right train. I only have to let four trains pass before I manage to get aboard. Tip always push your case in first people naturally shy away in the face of a big suitcase. If you get on with your suitcase after you then you are the one in the way. Now we are on our way. Change at Hammersmith to the “Piccadilly” line and off at Heathrow. Some confusion with the signage and terminal 1 ceases to exist halfway along. Somehow I end up at terminal 2 ok no bother there will be shuttle busses from there. A ten minute wait was ok and onto the bus. Round trip to terminal 3 where someone tries to get on with 3 suit cases and 8 people. Too much for our half full carriage so we decline him and radio for a bus just for him (and the other 7). No issue with the car hire no inquisition about why the license is English, credit card is American and Address is Russian. I was quite disappointed really. I speed off into the night well as far as terminal 5 which is where Judi is coming. 10:30 pm arrival and with the time drop her body clock will register 1:30 am. I have my “this is you Husband” sign for her so she will recognize me so lets see how it goes. The book by the way was worth reading so if you remember next time you are in the book store give it a try.
I still have not managed to get that Clive James one. I must try again I have a 12 hour flight coming up and Suduko may not be enough
She wants a sign
Judi and I were talking earlier about her trip to London this weekend (remember we are going to see Bev and Richard and the new baby) anyway for some reason I have become the logistics coordinator. Not only did I have to book the flight for her I had to pay for it although my airmiles took the edge of the cost. I also have to hire a car and pick her up. Ok so none of this sounds too much however she asked for a sign so she can find me. Now I was thinking later “so she can find me” forgive me I have only been away a week. We have known each other for 19 years connected for 15 and we have been married for approaching 11 years so you would think she would remember what I look like. Anyway I will of course make a sign for my darling babe. It will read “Judi This One Is Your Husband” I got some of my equipment today, a “Blackberry” something which I have managed to avoid so far. I always thought that having a hand held device with email was somewhat of an invasion of privacy. I used to run 12 hour days as a norm and longer when I was travelling so never really off line for long. I did consider putting it onto my iPod but decided it would be the last nail in the coffin. We tend to open up email in the mornings and from that moment on everyone else rules your life. We play “whack a mole” responding and forwarding email like it’s a bad case of swine flu. (Apologies to Berni and Michelle who came down with a bad case of it immediately after I had left them on Sunday, it was not me honest it must have been someone at the car boot sale). So when exactly did we stop doing work and just do email. Ask yourself when was the last time you shut down email for a couple of hours and got on with a bit of work. Have we developed the ability to multi task (women exclude they always could) can we actually have email open and not respond to that ping or little screen note. Perhaps we need a national no email day or week? Anyway I am now in instant and immediate, continuous contact with the world via Email, voicemail and the web, I can record my voice, take pictures and video, type myself memo’s and open spreadsheets. Not that my technical capabilities match this wondrous machines so I will probably use it as a phone. Ce la vie So what else. Well the hotel lifts are working fine tonight which is good. There is torrential rain right now which managed to invade the lower level of the restaurant I was quietly having dinner in. So much so they had to evacuate it. A long line of diners walking past carrying the remnants of their dinners with them. Not sure exactly where they ended up I was engrossed in my Steak and Guinness pie. My Blackberry started to vibrate its way across the table, think that probably means something but not sure what and given nobody knows the number yet think I will leave it until the morning. Not sure I am at the point yet where I am ok to read email during dinner (the voice said it might be important Stephen but I ignore it and order another pint of warm beer).
So where was I ?
Well in a hotel facing Trafalgar square which is about as central London as you can get. The place is teeming with tourists with maps stopping every 100 yards and pointing in different directions. Laughingly some have even asked me for assistance. Maybe I just look like I know where I am. Lots of locals rushing around being busy. There are far to many bicycles for my liking possibly something to do with the congestion charges people have to pay to drive a car around here. Watch out world it will happen where you live soon mark my words, cars are an easy target for money, tax, insurance, petrol(gas), parking , parking fines, clamping, speeding fines, tolls, emission all these are the price we pay for trying to get around. There are also lots of people actually running around and none of them looking like they are enjoying it much. They look more like they are in pain. I give them a wide berth I am not good at first aid. I am also paying close attention to crossing the road as I struggle to remember which way to look so staying on the side of caution. It is the first time I have ever worked in the center of London normally it is just a quick dash in and out but this time I get the chance to hang around after work and saunter around the sites playing at being a tourist. Big Ben, Houses of Parliament, Cleopatra’s needle (saw the other in Luxor) London Eye, Covent Garden and lots lots more although the museums and gallery’s are closed by the time I fininsh. I have noticed here is lots of security around not because it is actually dangerous more to deter it. When I was out for a smoke break I could see 7 CCTV cameras keeping an eye on me and there were probably more. I read somewhere that England has more cameras per person than any other country. Not sure if this actually stops crime or just records it in High Definition. I wonder if the technology is capable of facial recognition ? They can identify a car plate even if it is traveling at over 70 miles an hour so you would think they could identify a pickpocket or the participants of the brawl outside the pub. You should see me crisp dark blue suit shirt and tie I really think I look the part. Lets hope they never see through the disguise. Not got my Pc and account yet they say its an 8 week process so I told them I could order one custom built and get it hand delivered from China faster than they could get one up 2 floors of the same building. Lets see if that stirs them into some action. Despite this I am managing to keep myself busy doing stuff. Having fun dissecting the IMPACT report. (This is an in joke for some readers apologies to the rest of you) Just booked a flight to get Judi over at the weekend one of her best friends has just had her first baby so a quick visit is in order. Bev and Richard have been our constant vacation partners for a very long time. From Dubai to Las Vegas, India to Peru and many many places in between we have had plenty of adventures and now we get an extra team member and built in babysitters for them. I think there is still lots of fun to be had. Not my week for technology a I am still struggling to get my mini Pc working to specification although I think I may have touch a raw nerve as they did contact we with some things I could try instead of constantly telling me to ship it back to the USA because they is where I purchased it. That might just qualify as perverse logic as they sell them everywhere and repair them everywhere but I need to send mine back to the point of origin. They did not seem amused when I casually suggested it should go to China then. I believe the differentiator between firms is their attitude to their customers after they have your money not before. Anyone can be nice when they are selling you something a really great company makes sure they keep you. My hotel seems to have a confused lift I tried to get from reception to the eighth floor to my room this evening but once inside it refused to accept my command in fact it would not accept any command it mattered not which button was pressed. All it would do was open and close the doors. (Do you really want to go to your room now Stephen would’nt you like a nice glass of beer instead the voice very much like the one from the cooker at home said inside mt head) After a couple more people got in and got the same response and then a couple more I decided like a good citizen to go and inform reception. Explaining what was happening I was met with these responses He “Are you sure” (think he has a relative working in a cinema somewhere) I calmly responded by asking if I was on the eighth floor He “ no sir you are in reception”, Me “well I am pretty sure” I said. He “did you press the button sir” (Ok stay calm) Me “yes I believe I did, several in fact” He “and it did not go to the eighth floor” Me “is reception on the eighth floor” He “no sir it is on the ground floor” Me “well I am pretty sure” He “thank you for letting me know” Me “you are more than welcome” At this point I decide to go to the bar across the road for a drink rather than go to my room. (good choice Stephen the voice said) As I pass the lift the doors open and another 4 people try to get in, “have a nice day “I say as saunter past.
Me “one of the lifts is not working I pressed several buttons without response and someone else tried as well its not moving”
Perverse logic
I have a phrase for anything which defies normal convention. When the rule you have to follow does not make any sense at all. So not the best of journeys but I enjoyed my hire car. It is a stick shift and I have been driving automatics for around 5 years and the first thing you notice is that you can rev the engine. With an automatic you put you foot down and “eventually” the speed increase. With a stick shift you get that immediate kick and it is fun. Still have to be careful as I am on the ”correct” side of the road and some of the rules are different. Worth commenting that the girl at the car hire noticed I had an English driving license and American credit card and a Russian address. I asked if she wanted me to explain but she knew it would only slow is down so to her credit she said it should be fine. On to Colchester which was a big Roman city back in the day and needed rebuilding after the Boudicca rebellion (you can Google her). I also has some fine Norman churches which have probably not been updated since they were built. So off to see my brother and find a cute little house in a little knot of houses which is less than a village (no pond I think) a very nice garden on the side with some of my favorite flowers a little grass and a sweet if energetic dog. Anyone who knows my personal dream will remember a house in the country with a garden and a dog. Now this particular brother is much younger than me and he seems to have been living my dream for a couple of years now which is just not cricket as we would say. Not seen Berni and Michelle for probably 3 or 3.5 years but it only feels like yesterday and the conversation is easy as we catch up on family events. We organize a Sunday morning trip to a boot sale which is just a market for people ot sell their personal belongings and very random they will be. I arrive the following morning at 8:30 ready to tramp around a field for 2 or 3 hours. Boot sales in England are an interesting insight into our culture and now firmly entrenched in our Sunday morning rituals. For the American readers think of all of the garage sales in a 20 mile radius being in the same place. You have to pay to sell things and you have to pay to get in to buy things. The process is you go and buy other peoples crap (sorry) until you have collected enough crap (sorry) to set up and sell your crap (sorry) to everyone else. That is not the perverse logic. Boot sales are normally in a field somewhere fairly remote and given you will be buying things you normally go by car. At this particular site it costs 50 pence for every car but a full pound if you come on foot. Now forgive me but cars normally take 4 people so it is slightly bizarre to charge people double for walking in especially as their carbon footprint will be negligible. Maybe I missed something but a pound to walk in as half a pound to drive 4 people in seems wrong. All I buy is a few DVD of an English sit com “Gavin and Stacy” which Judi will be pleased about. (I am not spoiling the surprise by commenting as she isn’t reading the blog yet). Anyway a fine time is had by all. Given my experience of getting to Stones Green I give myself 4 hours to get back and decide to go clockwise this time over the Dartford bridge. I manage to get back to the car rental in just over 2. I enjoyed the drive which was quite fast most of the way. Not sure if I will get a few follow up letters regarding speeding fines but it was fun whilst it lasted. Back to Heathrow to pick up my Tube (it’s like a train but it goes underground remember) Piccadilly line to Hammersmith (sorry Bev and Richard I was on a schedule) switch to the district line and off at the embankment. A very short walk to the hotel and there is Trafalgar square with Nelson on top of his column. Another weekend gone and a new adventure about to begin so must iron a shirt they have been crushed into my case for too long.
A good example of this occurred over the weekend which I spent with Berni and Michelle in the back of beyond. The actual name is Stones Green and it is lost somewhere between Colchester and Clacton-on-Sea in Essex. I arrived in Colchester after a 3 hour drive where I had managed to cover probably 120 miles on London’s premier motorway the infamous M25. Part of the problem was due to widening works which started the day after it was opened in 1985 and someone realized they should have built it with more than 3 lanes so first they added a 4th lane in places put on variable speed limits to slow you down and currently they are extending it to 6 lanes.
From the Bolshoi to the ironing it’s been quite a weekend
So if you saw my Facebook you will know I was slightly delayed getting home from England. My 12:25 flight eventually took off at 21:40. No I rarely get delayed so it was probably my turn although I may not have thought that when they told us it would be 6:40, 7:45 or 8:10 you probably don’t want to know what I was thinking then. So I arrive back in Russia at 4:30 and pick up the taxi Judi (bless her) has ordered for me. The train does not start running until 6:00 so this is a godsend.
Sleep until 11:30 so not bad got my quota in. A few admin things during the day but nothing too strenuous as tonight we are off to the “Bolshoi” (pronounced Balshoi) ballet as a treat for Judi’s birthday. I am not specifically a fan of ballet but this is one of those must do items whilst we are here. The place is only one metro stop down so only a 5 minute journey but 20 minutes trying to find the door. The reason is that the actual Bolshoi is being renovated so we are in the “Little Bolshoi” which is interesting as Bolshoi actually means Big. The place is a bit of a throwback and very richly decorated.
A coffee and a glass of wine cost an arm and a leg ($24) so it is not a surprise to see two babushkas drinking water and pulling snacks out of their purses and quite a picnic they are making of it as well. The place is a mix of locals and tourists and whilst the dress code is supposed to be restricted I do see someone in shorts which is a little out of place for a night out at the ballet. Lots of linen suits and flowery dresses so given we have dressed up a little we blend in well.
As for the ballet it was “Spartacus” so not a classic but lots of people energetically jumping around and at 3 hours they must be fit. Making a Roman legion out of 12 dancers was interesting but hey the stage is not that big. There must be someone famous dancing as every time he takes to the stage there is huge whoops and clapping. Anyway two intervals which give us time to wander around drinking some peculiar Russian champagne and looking at the chandeliers. The whole place must have been refurbished as it is pristine and looks charming.
All over we start to make our way home, only one guitarist entertaining the beer drinkers at the local metro but we decide to find some food and end up in a Thai where we are fast becoming regulars. The waitress does not understand English but has the sense to find the same items we order on her Russian version so we actually get what we order. Full we stroll home through the warm evening air. It is still hot and Judi says it will stay this way until mid September.
Sunday is a bit of a lazy day only one foray out to get cash from Citi Bank which is ours. Judi has noticed we get stung by using other banks so we stock up on rubles so we should be good for a few days. We are checking out an Uzbekistani restaurant when two people passing by stop to tell us how good it is. So settled this is where we will eat tonight. Back home so Judi can pack she is off to Kazakhstan in the morning for a few days and she is back one day before I travel to Ireland. All of which sounds exciting which it is but I still have to do the ironing and buy some milk and clean the cat’s tray. So the ironing gets done whilst I am watching the Formula 1 race in Hungary with Lewis Hamilton winning after someone else lost a wheel. I imagine he was please by the way he was jumping up and down after the race.
One encounter I had in England needs reporting. I was trying to get into London to see some people who want me to do some work for them and the plan was to get the train in from Gerrards Cross then use the underground for the rest of the trip. I manage to park my hire car at the station although the ticket machine was so far away I actually took the car to get a ticket and drove back. At the ticket office I asked for a return to Marylebone and the girl asked if I wanted the “tube” as well (it must be a combination ticket) so I of course not understanding the pricing and zones asked “what’s that” the response was.
“The tube it’s like a train but it travels under the ground sir” and this came without a hint of sarcasm or any smiling the girl was genuine in attempting to explain. Given I was in the heart of England and speaking the Queen ’s English not sure what rock she thought I had been living under maybe I am now a stranger in my own land.Formula 1 and a curry what a great day out
Formula 1 and Indian Curry what a treat.
We read in the Moscow times that there are a few F1 cars going to race around the Kremlin this Sunday. Well they are individually going to race half way around and then back again. This is too much of an opportunity to miss so we are planning to go. It starts at 12:30 with practice and 2:30 – 5 pm for whatever they are calling the “main” event. Fine not a problem we can walk to where all this is happening. First I have to explain to Judi how the washing machine works given I am away next week. Now regular readers will know there is a 57 page manual which goes with this contraption however I have managed to condense it into “whites on this one and colours on that one Ok?” which Judi commits to memory whist muttering something about “I thought you said it was complex, looks easy enough to me” she is such a sweet girl at times. I bet she phones me to ask how to open the door “ha”.
So out we go cut through and over the bridge of locks and the fountains. Left past the 24 hour American diner and onto the bridge and not until we are half way across do we spot the large police presence restricting our path. Ok not really surprised we are shepherded into the “allowable” direction and soon end up at the town hall which is affectionately know as the “white house”. This is where the course of history was changed. This is where Boris Yeltsin climbed on top of a tank and talked his way out of being deposed. If you search the web you can probably get the full details but the building had been fired on and it was probably his last throw of the dice. Well today he would be proud of his Muscovites as there are thousands of them sitting on the grass in front of this very building. The girls in their D&G rip-offs the boys all with their shirts off (it’s a local thing they take their shirts off for almost any showing of the sun).
There are lots of high powered cameras and 3 out of every 4 people are on their mobile phones. We find a spot which works for us and settle down. There are a couple of policemen on the pavement below us with a couple of portable metal detectors. They are checking people’s bag’s which is fine however whenever the queue builds up people just step onto the grass and go around which sort of seems to defeat the objective but I doubt there will be trouble. People are here to see the cars which duly arrive. An RBS, Vodaphone and the Red bull teams pass by as does the “Luxury car club” which includes the Mercedes McLaren I saw parked on the street last week. The Moscow “drift” club create a lot of excitement and smoke doing spins on the road outside the Kremlin. Something which would probably get them put away for 6 months if they try it on Monday. There is a Lotus group and a few more which keep us entertained before the F1 cars com back on what is a sort of time trial. I have to say it is very well organized and is designed to raise awareness of F1 which is already high here as Moscow has been trying to get its own race for a while. Given they try and drive like this most days I am a little surprised there are no Russians leading the championship. It will come trust me.
It is getting hot now so we move on our plan is to walk through the Kremlin garden out across Red square and down the side of GUM. Then straight up the road to an Indian curry house. Judi says it is unlikely to be busy at 4:15 on a Sunday afternoon and of course she is correct. Only one other couple in there and we order from memory. It is a while since we have had what we might call a decent curry. The ones in the US (no offence intended) seem to have some of the bite taken out of them. I think this is to make it more acceptable. Out come the poppadom’s with “lime pickle” which has been a distant memory for so long. It almost brings tears to the eyes but I have survived the Liver & Kidney sausage so this will not defeat me. A good meal of favorites ends with a take home bag which is a nice touch. We got so used to only eating half a meal in the US and most of my lunches for the last year or so have been the leftovers from some gargantuan dinner we could not finish. Some weeks I could get 3 lunches out of what we carried home. There is less of that now and in the main we can finish a meal and leave without and little bags, except for today and it is due more to the fact that we ordered too much in our excitement than the size of the portions.
So out we go back into the bright sunshine find the nearest metro and home in 30 minutes. No late night as I am off to England in the morning and need to be on a train at 6:30.
Pictures of the Formula 1 cars from Sunday http://picasaweb.google.com/nolanste/MoscowF1July19th2009#
(It is Friday today so I had better get my act together or lose my audience)
A real English pub, I doubt that my friend.
A real English pub, I doubt that my friend.
Well it’s Friday evening and we are off to the pub, not the local that was last night and I am a little fearful that the singer will still be hanging around. So tonight we are off to an English pub. The “William Bass” which used to be the name of a brewer in England but not sure if it still exists. We spotted it last week on our way to see the ugly statue of Peter the Great. On the way we need to get some money. I used my last cash in the dry cleaners when I took Judi’s trousers in. I felt quite pleased that I managed to explain to the lady in the very small shop down in the underground level of the local mall that the marks on the trousers were toothpaste and could we possibly have them back on Sunday. I say I felt good but when you walk into any dry cleaners with 2 pairs of trousers almost any mime will get you the result so maybe I should not feel so smug. It may also have been the fumes and she was beyond caring. A very detailed note made out regarding the state of the clothing items before you can get them cleaned which ended with the lady explaining my part in the proceedings “familiar, familiar” which I assume means name then the universal hold your fist to your ear and shout “telephono” were my instructions on how to complete my section of the form. And so went the last of my ready cash and remember you always need cash.
I am not too concerned as I know where there is a cash machine on the way to the pub so I break my own cardinal rule, #6 get cash from ATM’s attached to banks which are open. This way if you have a problem you can just pop in and explain to the nice people that “the infernal machine outside is acting the goat and eaten my card” with a crisp English accent. It will almost certainly get you to someone senior. so I break my own rule and use the random cash machine on one of the side streets. Now it is only after my card gets accepted that I realize that the level of the sunlight in the evening means I cannot actually see what it says on the screen. Now not all ATM’s are alike (ref the IKEA theory) so I have to bend down and peer very carefully at it, English or Russian ok got that one, now pin but which key is the enter the pad or the screen?, damn this one is a bit tricky and the last thing I need is for it to eat my card. I try crouching standing at the side to block the sun but the security filter then blocks my view of what it actually says which sort of defeats the objective. I try putting my Ray Bans over my glasses which I know will not work so maybe if I hold my Ray Ban’s the other way around then as a sort of Polaroid filter. It seems like a good idea in my head. The reality is of course different and whilst I am holding them to my glasses it seems ok I then lean forward and hit the screen with the sides of the sunglasses and nearly push my spectacles into my eyeballs. This hurts my pride as well as physically and not sure it did my glasses any good. Conscious that these things work on a timer I really need to focus. It asks me if I need a receipt so I have to assume I have asked it to do something and bingo out pop’s 3,000 rubles. Not as much as I had hoped for but it will do. By the time I catch up to Judi all she is interested in is “why were you dancing around back there, doing a bit of a jig weren’t you” and what’s wrong with you glasses. I said it was playing music not wishing to discuss the matter further right now.
So a real English pub is it. Why not Irish? This is the Universal standard. You don’t actually see many English pubs outside of England. Well this may have been authentic a while back probably in the 70’s as it is dark and musty and full of smoke. Heavy round backed chairs and huge solid pot ashtrays which take up far too much room on the small square tables. Pubs in England are not like this, since the introduction of the smoking ban and the advent of eating in pubs they are more sanitized and family friendly. Now this is not a complaint just a comment. I don’t live there so it matters not to me but think the “real English pub” is long gone may it rest in peace. I am old enough to remember when pubs had a male only section called a “vault”. Nothing like this would be acceptable these days.
I order a Kilkenny and Judi something dry and white. I note my drink will cost 295rb on its own and the whole of last night cost 350rb somehow the singer has become more appealing. Anyway we order a steak sandwich for me and a pork thing for Judi both of which are served by a girl who seems to have had her skirt shrink wrapped onto her. She can hardly move one leg in front of the other and of course the skirt is quite short. So we watch as our dinner goes cold as it inches towards us.
During this slow motion section I explain to Judi my “opportunities” booking a flight to the UK next week. I chose Transero a local airline which is linked with BMI. I try and book online but it keeps warning me it is not happy and mentions there are thieves on the internet. So it sort of hangs. Ok phone the helpdesk and they try and convince me everything is ok. So book through “Ivana” got the dates and times got my reference number (handy hint #7 always always always get a reference number) I say fine I will pay when I get to the desk. Nyet says Ivana you need to pay before 10 am tomorrow at our office. Ok where is that Pavaletskya (which I know) so a simple internet booking has turned into a day out. So I manage to find the office. There is a cute process here when you have like a random queue of people not in a formal line but just milling about “so how do you know your place?” I can hear you ask. When you arrive you ask “who is last” and someone puts their hand up so now you know you are after them. A simple but effective process.
The food finally arrives and is just ok however by now we have had a couple of drink and are tired so it’s off home. We go back via the Metro as I want to see who is playing tonight. There is a solo guitarist, actually not bad and plays a James Morrison song which I can sing along to even if nobody else can.
So ends another week. Quite exciting and a few new experiences to chalk up or cross off the list.
“Parrot-oki” you had to be there to fully appreciate this
So continuing our integration into the local community we choose to go to the local on Thursday night. We will not try and eat this time as we need to get rid of some of the stuff slowly going off in the refrigerator. Judi has cheese on toast and I have something which Judi thinks is a “bilini”. It is small and round and of unknown origin, not pastry but something more like a batter. Also I am not exactly sure if it is a sweet or savory anyway with a couple of slices of ham on it the “item” is polished off in short shrift. Note to self be more careful what you casually pick up in the supermarket. I don’t suffer from allergies so doubt there will be lasting issues. All this done off we go.
The African guy is still there and I have taken to shaking his hand every time I pass in an attempt at some bonding. This seems to be working better than my attempts with the burly security guard who will now nod (but only just) and the only time we have been engaged in any conversation was when he told me off for leaving the car park barrier up. Who knew it was “semi” automatic? (I did wonder why the car park was full that day but no matter) I am getting more response than Judi who has yet to even get any acknowledgement that she exists.
Now as we approach the bar there is loud music coming out. Not that unusual as they have a dance floor in the back. As we enter the music is even louder than ever. This is because it is in the bar itself. A guy who is about 5ft 6in but seems to have a voice which is 8ft at least is belting out something which at this volume is difficult to catch. We try and find the point furthest from the singer however he has strategically places the sound unit in the corner of the room so there is little chance of escape. We end up close to the bar and next to the Parrot. Order drink which is easy with the amount of practice we have had. The bar is about 30ft wide and 50ft long. The speaker may have been designed for a concert hall as it is almost rattling the windows and I swear when he hits the high notes my glass of beer starts to vibrate. It is at this point the Parrot who has had its head und a wing decides to join in. Not that is knows the words and it certainly cannot follow the beat so all we hear are loud squawks. So a little competition for our diminutive singer. His response is to try and drown the Parrot out but now it seems to have become somewhat combative the Parrot only makes a noise to counter and is quiet during the instrumental sections. I have captured it on my iPhone but as yet I am not technically gifted enough to get the wave file off it.
http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/Wg679Jip3UvXEN_gdSicWw?feat=directlink
I forgot to say there are only 10 people in the place Judi and I, the singer, 3 groupies and 2 other couples. So maybe this is a private concert. I is most definitely not “un-plugged” it is more over-plugged. There are 10 staff who are struggling to take orders given we can hardly hear ourselves think.
When he decides we have had enough the singer hands the microphone to one of the groupies who tries to belt out a couple of Madonna songs but does not have the lung capacity to make the room shake as much. The Parrot only dances to her and has the good manners not to interrupt.
Outside I can see 3 guys with beer leaning against a wall enjoying the entertainment, probably wandered down from the Metro station up the road. I am sure they can hear all of this down there as it is only 400meters away.
We decide to call it a day. There is a serial killer show on TV soon which Judi really wants to see (should I worry?). I try and get the attention of our waitress who is busy pouring concoctions at the bar. There is a beer a Cointreau with spray cream, a blue Bolls (in a half pint glass with a straw) and a couple of delicately created things in tall shot glasses. They have 3 distinct coloured layers but I have no idea of their construction. All these are loaded onto a tray and whisked off to the table behind us. Interestingly there are 5 drinks but only 2 people.
We get the bill 2 large beers and a couple of Vodka’s 350 rubles $11 not bad for an evening’s entertainment. I clap the singer on the way out encouraging him to sing with more gusto. I am sure once he breaks a window they will turn the volume down.
Enjoy