Spur of the moment memories of gold

I had an awesome time last night and I didn't even have to travel further than 200m from my house. First up, I spent a good day at Play Group at the school I have just finished teaching at. I left with a very negative outlook but a nice day with 10 kids of varying ages has given me a little positive influence. Then I came home and walked to Sainsbury's with Andy, somehow convincing him to cook me dinner on the way, which was an absolute bonus because I was just going to Sainsbury's for a bottle of wine. Then had a laugh on the way back reciting old 12th Man cricket jokes. After dinner, Vanessa, Andy I took our glasses of wine and the Boules set Vic gave me for my 27th birthday to the Common at the end of the street and we played a few games of Boules. Vanessa, being Vanessa, decided to make the game a little bit more interesting and added a new rule that the bowler needed sing a couple of lines of a cheesy 90s pop song as they threw their ball and the other 2 had to guess what song it was from. May sound dodgy to you, but I have to say that it was a fantastic and relaxing, but most of all, enjoyable evening. Certainly something I am going to remember with a huge smile on my face for the rest of my life as a "London moment". :)

On my way to St Ives...

I'm currently sporting the latest in steel grey hospital issue crutch fashion as I have managed to do some damage to the ligaments in my right foot. It is now twice the size it should be and I am house bound because I am slower on crutches than a tortoise on slow motion replay. As a result I thought I would procrastinate no longer about blogging my trip to Cornwall and the Isles of Scilly during the May school holidays.

I found myself in the unusual position of actually having some money to spend at the same time as the school holidays decended and so spent an agonising four days trying to choose a destination. I finally settled on Los Angeles as I could get a great deal to fly there and back (under 400 quid) and I really wanted to see my friend Rachael who is living there at the moment. Unfortunately Rach was not going to be there as she was heading away for the memorial day long weekend.

Instead of boarding a US bound flight I changed my mind completely found myself standing at London Paddington Train Station on Monday morning buying a one way ticket to Torquay in Cornwall. The South West of England was the one area I had not yet discovered and since I had a week and some coin to splurge on I boarded the first train I could. Turns out it was meant to be as I made a call to Davina who was camping in Devon. Her camping adventure had been a wash out so she headed to Torquay too and we planned to rendezvous at 1300hrs.

Torquay is a very hip and happening place with lots to do...if you are over 65. There is a beach and a pier but even though it was school holidays the whole place was like a ghost town. Even the carnival that had set up its tents in the park was deserted. We wandered around the town and stopped in at some old pubs that really highlight how much "pubbing" is a grand British institution. We ate our weight in food at the oldest pub in Torquay, The Jolly Roger, and Davina still raves about the steak!

Every year when I was a kid my Mum, brother, Grandma and I would go for a winter holiday to the Blue Mountains. My grandmother would always insist that we have a Devonshire Tea (scones, cream, jam + cup of tea) at one of the small cafes that line the main street in Katoomba. Since I was in Devon I thought it would be a great travesty if I didn't at least sit down once and eat a Cream Tea, as they are called here, in her honour. Davina had already sussed out a great little place called "The Tea Kettle" and so before heading to the train station to continue to our next destination we sat down to eat the most enormous scones I have seen in ages slathered with jam and cream and followed by some tried and true English Breakfast tea. Sure, they weren't flowerpot scones but these were so much better. They were true Devonshire scones in a Cream Tea in Devon itself.

Davina and I met in Shepherds Bush, London through our mutual friend Simon. She grew up in Turramurra and I grew up in Terrey Hills but it wasn't until we were thousands of miles from home did we become friends. When consulting the map to decide on our next stop, we found that if we caught the train for a few hours and then changed for a coastal train we would be able to visit St Ives - the real one. I went to high school in St. Ives in Sydney and Turramurra is the next suburb along from it. It had to be our next stop. And we were rewarded greatly for our choice too. St.Ives gave us our first glimpses of sunlight, white sandy beaches and the smell of salt in the air.

I really love the English St. Ives. It is a small coastal port that is nestled into the edge of England. It's the kind of place that, in my fantasies, I could settle down and teach at the local primary school, raise kids and enjoy the English "life". It is never going to happen but for the moments when I close my eyes and dream, it feels like a possibility.

The tide retreats during the middle of the day leaving many small boats stranded for the afternoon whilst children scream with delight as they use them for hide and seek places. Tourists slurp at dripping ice creams as locals weave their way through the obstacles of baby buggies and discarded buckets and spades to get to their intended destinations. People can be heard laughing and chatting in the beer gardens of the seaside pubs and the fish and chip joints make a roaring profit from gullible visitors.

St. Ives is an ambling town - a place where you spend your time wandering up and down the tiny cobbled streets poking your head in and out of tiny shops that have stood there for centuries. You buy postcards from an old fashioned newsagency that can only accommodate 4 people at a time. Ice creams are sold from a small cart that is wheeled along the promenade by a man who looks as old as the weary wooden boards that have weathered many storms. Davina found a warm and sunny spot on the beach to read her book and was not there 10 minutes before she was approached by two little boys wanting her to play frisbee. So we spent the next hour of so throwing the frisbee to and fro.

It's almost as if time stands still in St. Ives. In times gone by children were confident in approaching strangers to play games on the beach or to help them build sandcastles. Unfortunately now days you can't trust anyone. It would be a nightmare to look up and see your child walking down the beach with a random person they picked up on the sand. But it seemed normal and safe in St Ives throwing that frisbee back and forth with these kids and you can't help but smiling and appreciating that innocence and trust is not completely banished to yesteryear.

For dinner Davina and I stumbled upon this awesome restaurant that is situated on top of the first row of shops back from the harbour. I think it was called Coast but I can't quite remember. It was super cheap and the food was amazing. The owner is this delightful pregnant lady who thinks nothing of stopping by your table to discuss your travel plans and anything else you wish to chat about. At the end of the meal they bring you the bill and a comment card for you to let the staff know what you think of the dining experience you had. We ticked all the excellent boxes and wrote about how pleased we were to have sampled not only good food but wonderful customer service and that they should advertise in more visual places so that more people could experience what we had. Just as we were leaving we heard the wait staff talking about the comment not knowing it came from us and they seemed so proud, not of themselves but of the fact that their little restaurant had made an impact on someone. Call me sentimental, but when was the last time that happened in "Here's your hat, there's the door" London?

St. Ives did have an impact on us. So much so that we stayed an extra night. But, as much as I wanted to stay forever, we were drawn to search for pirates and wenches in Penzance and so found ourselves bound for the train station the next morning...

Good things happen to those who get screwed over.

This week was totally screwed up but it is a boring story and I have no desire to retell it plus I really should have known better than to go to Wimbledon on "British Day". :)

But good things happen after all and when I answered my phone even though I didn't recognise the number (they are usually Carphone Warehouse telemarketers) I was rewarded big time. Rachael was calling from work to ask me if I wanted Matt's extra ticket to go and see Bon Jovi for their second to last concert on their European "All roads lead to London" tour. Awesome! (Photo - Me, Rach, Matt and Alex)

I can't claim that I am a Bon Jovi supporter from way back. I like a handful of their songs but couldn't name you more than 3 at most. However, I was totally impressed by the fact that they remained on stage for more than 2 hours straight! And I am now converter to being a fan (I even bought the t-shirt to prove it!)

One other thing I did come away with was an added appreciation of being tall. I know I whinge about the fact that British bus seats are too close together and that I have to pay extra for airline tickets to get more leg room because I don't fit in the normal ones, but being tall really came into its own on Friday night as I could see everything even from the back of the "pit". I had to feel for Rach, who's no taller than my shoulder at the best of times! ;)

Royal Ascot

My posts are a bit out of order here as I still have to blog about my trip through Cornwall and onto the Isles of Scilly but I went to Royal Ascot yesterday and since that is at the front of my mind I'm going to start there and work backwards and sideways later. (Photo right - Ascot Train Station)

There is something synonymous with England and the horse races. Maybe it is because their Crown Princess looks like one or simply the fact that aristocracy has traditionally treated their horses better than their household staff, I'm not sure. But I am not one to argue with an age old tradition (*cough, cough*) and when I found myself staring at the word "Ascot" on my "Things I need to do before I go home" list I knew I needed to don the hat and frock and head south.

Finding said frock and hat was a mission unto itself. I have all these beautiful outifts at home in Sydney but didn't think to pack one when moving here as it would have meant forsaking my third pair of themals, my second jumper and my nineteenth scarf! :) Luciky for me, my friend Fran is a seasoned frock shopper and she had me up at Debenhams, Monsoon and Oasis on Oxford Street trying on dress after dress after dress, at the risk of great financial disaster. Who knew that a piece of fluff masquerading as a hat could set you back more than the national debt of a third world country? They won't this week though, since I can smell a hat sale in the air. In the end we were successful in the great dress hunt and I walked away with a blue dress that didn't set me back too many £££. I wasn't so successful in the hat department and had to make a mercy dash over to Clapham Junction, down to Wandsworth Town and back up to Clapham Junction at 8pm on Friday night. (Photo above - Serena, Pippa and Mel)

My flatmate Vanessa and I got dressed and flocked with the other frocked up people to Clapham Junction to catch the train out to Ascot early on Saturday morning. By sheer luck Davina, Rachael, Michelle, Kylie and Angela got held back from the first train and we found them on the platform. We also found Mel, Serena and Pippa standing in the croissant shop on the platform too. The next train was ours for the taking and although Pippa fainted due to the sardine like conditions, we made it to Ascot 45 minutes later. (Photo right - Vanessa with her winnings and Barry in his "helpful to spot him" orange jumper behind her.)

I could have honestly sat at the train station and watched the ladies walk passed in their outfits all day. It was really interesting to see what people were wearing and whether I recognised the hats or dresses from my own hunting and gathering. Although I did see the g-string of a rather large girl in an extremely short white dress from the underneath and it put me off the whole frock watching from that point on. It was an "Ah my eyes, my eyes!" moment. (Photo left - Me and Karen)

Getting into the Silver Ring, where we had tickets for, was a hike and a half, but when the whole crowd is getting into the swing of things, you can't help but be pulled along into the jovial mood of the start of the day. The men, in their top hats and tails, were very striking and kept us amused with their thoughts on what the top hat could come in handy for later as the day progressed and we managed to dodge the cheese that had fallen out of someone's picnic basket on the way up to the "Top of the Hill".

Kylie was a forward thinker and brought along some picnic rugs and although it threatened to rain the most it actually dropped was a few spits here and there. I had a bet on 3 out of the 5 races but only managed bring home some £ in the last race - the Queen Alexandra race - when I backed the winner and second place. Rach had better luck and so did Kylie, who was celebrating her birthday so it made for a nice birthday present. (Photo left - Kylie)

There was about 15 of us all up. 14 girls and Will, who I must say, probably thought he was in heaven and had the most fun out of all of us. We spent the afternoon drinking champagne with strawberries and eating our picnic lunch in between putting a few bets on. I kept going back to the same bookie who was nice enough to explain what to do to bet i.e. pick a number and give him money (a MENSA student I am not). (Photo right - Will and Thesea)

Surprisingly, the day went really quickly. As with all things you look forward to, you tend to over do the excitement stakes and it takes it's toll. Both Davina and Rachael had a quick kip on the lawn but we couldn't take too much of the mickey as we soon saw the races "bogan of the day" passed out on the grass on the way back to the train station. As with most rowdy incidents, he will find himself the subject of many a Facebook photo with people standing over him and posing in lewd acts. It was hilarious. Especially when his girlfriend saw what was going on and launched into a tirade of abuse at the crowd. (Photo - Passed out guy on the way to the train station).

To top the day off, Vanessa and I stopped in for Thai takeaway on the way home and we finished off our Saturday watching dodgy 90s films in our PJs. What more could you ask for?

What have I come to?

Here's some food for my thought...

I have just finished having dinner with my flatmates. We were talking about what happened today at work. Vanessa is going to work on a photo shoot, Katie is working out visas and KK is working with more numbers but when it got to my turn I said "Nothing much happening. It was an okay day. Oh but one of my kids sent another one to hospital". That in itself is worrying but you know what the truly disturbing thing is? I actually didn't think it was really a big deal, like it is normal, an everyday occurance.

I think there is something very wrong with that. What have London schools done to me?

Farewell Skeet

My flatmate Skeet has gone back home to Perth to help his Dad out on the farm. He'll be back but not for a while. So we had a house dinner to send him off in style.

Photo - (going clockwise) Charlie (in red), Andrea, Katie, Vanessa, KK, Skeet and Me.

The things that happened in April.

April, for the most part was full of me procrastinating about doing things and then not really doing much at all. It did snow on the first Sunday of the holidays, so I walked through the Common. See my earlier post for more on that.

I did do a school club day on the first Friday because they didn't have anyone else to do it. It was a swimming day (that would be why) so I walked 21 kids to the bus stop (20 mins) then took the bus (25 mins) got off the bus and walked to the pool (20 mins) then got them changed (30 mins + extra whinging) and then swam with them for 1.5 hours then repeated the whole process backwards for the trip home. But I actually had a fabulous time and it was interesting to see how the group of mixed ages from 12 to 4 interacted together. I walked with Hannah, aged 5, who speaks Japanese, English and French fluently and insisted on informing me about where she "came from" (think reproduction here people). She tells me, and I quote, "I'm only little so I am still learning..." I didn't take any photos because, as the trip wasn't actually a school function, it was illegal - to take photos, not go swimming.

For my birthday last year I was in New York City climbing the Empire State Building. That is very hard to beat and since I stayed in London this year I decided to do the most strangest and weirdest thing I could find. So...I went to...THE DOCTOR WHO EXHIBITION! Surprisingly, I actually enjoyed it. I'd only ever seen one Doctor Who episode (the week before) since it returned to the BBC. I used to watch when I was a kid and get scared silly. It wasn't illegal to take photos of that. Will post some more of them up soon but here is the Face of Boe.

Then after a very quiet second week, see earlier post about procrastinating about the dishwasher, this last weekend was pretty jam packed. Friday night I went to the movies with my flatmates Charlie and Andrea as well as Sarah, my friend I met in Scandinavia last year who was staying with us. Saturday I helped Sarah move to Standford Brook where she was going to stay before heading off on her Top Deck training tour. Sarah was training with Contiki but they asked her to leave when they got to Prague after 45 days because she was "too nice". What a crock! Anyway, Top Deck Tours snapped her up and she is now traipsing around Europe once again.

Saturday night was spent at Rachael's house party. When I first met Davina she lived at 62 Minford Gardens a.k.a "62MG". She has since moved out, but when Rach was looking for a new place to live a room was available there and she moved in. 62MG is the location of many great house parties and so, Deevs passed the hostess tag onto Rach. Saturday night saw Rach's first 62MG party and I went and hung out with Rachael, Jan (Rach's boyfriend) and his German friends visiting from Hanover. We did manage to have a very lively and interesting conversation about Inspector Rex (a German show shown on SBS TV at home). Oh and I did know about their Prince who is married to Princess Caroline of Monaco. But they didn't. Oh, that and we chatted about hats! Theresa is a milliner! I didn't realise people still made hats by hand. I thought that they were all done by machines now. Der me!

On Sunday I met a few friends at the Revolutions Bar in Richmond for some beverages and brunch by the river. It was lovely going back to West London and spending some time at a bar next to the river like I used to when I lived over there with Karen. Once again I was blown away by the fact that half the people there I didn't actually know at this time last year. Katie, Charlie and Andrea came along too, which was great.

And then there was Monday. Monday was a back to school. Phew! But no kiddies. We had a Inservice Day where we had to think about what learning means to us and then build it out of willow sticks. My group built a tree complete with leaves and a butterfly. One group made a treasure box with stars in it and another made a hot air balloon. Fran made a stealth turtle. The turtle itself wasn't stealth, rather she wasn't supposed to be making it so had to make it on the sly under the table when the instructor wasn't looking our way. :)