I'm getting rather late with my posts. But there's so much to do! Packing, seeing everyone, eating very strange meals to use up all the food I have in my cupboard... On Wednesday a group of us went to the Late Night at the Science Museum, which was zombie themed. I was held up and late, so from South Kensington tube station I ran through the subway and up the stairs to the Science Museum. There were lots of people milling around and a sort of queue, but it was a very haphazard queue and I wasn't sure if it was really a queue or just people coming down the road. I wandered through the doors and got a pamphlet from a lady, then texted people to see where they were.
It turned out the queue really was a queue. Tricky Ricky had waited for half an hour and Twitterboy and his friend were still in line outside. And I, oblivious antipodean that I am, walked straight in.
They had actors shuffling around dressed as zombies, and lots of zombie-themed activities including zombie-rights picket lines. Unfortunately, we couldn't find any that didn't involve waiting for an hour, so we retreated to the silent disco and claimed headphones.
Silent discos are awesome. Everyone has wireless headphones with three channels, and they have at least two djs working at a time. This means that whenever you get bored of a song you can switch channels and hear something else. You can see what channel other people are listening to because the headphones have lights that glow different colours according to the channel. We had two channels going, and it's amazing how fast the crowd can shift between mostly listening to one song and then mostly to another. At one point YMCA came on, and almost immediately everyone was doing the actions.
And if you don't like either of the songs, it's a surreal experience to take off your headphones and hear people singing along to two different songs at once, with no backing music.
One of the things I will be leaving behind in the UK is my unlimited movie card. It seems like there are so many movies coming out on February 8 that I want to see, and now I'll have to pay for them individually! One, Warm Bodies (a zombie movie from the zombie's point of view) doesn't come out in NZ until April, and I was bemoaning the necessity of waiting for it. But then I noticed the advanced viewing at the Science Museum IMAX - this is zombie month after all.
So on Sunday I went back across London to see the movie. The cinema was completely full, with a few extra zombies who moaned and groaned at the screen through the credits and looked generally worrying to sit next to. I enjoyed the movie, though I think I would have liked it better if they'd had an extra line near the end explaining where the main characters were running to (or maybe it was there and I missed it). It's a good movie otherwise, with lots of jokes and ironic musings on life.
At this moment I am on a train to Stafford - my last UK trip for a while. The sun is out and shining into the carriage and all the fields are spring green.
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Snow and the Tower of London
It's cold here, though not quite cold enough for proper snow blankets. We were promised snow falling ALL WEEKEND, but I looked out the window this morning and the snow in the back garden is sinking sadly into the grass in patches.
Yesterday I walked along the Thames in the snow (retracing Bond's London car chase in Skyfall), past MI6 and along to Westminster. There was a team playing football on the green outside Westminster, snow floating around them. I was very glad of my thermal top, my knitted tunic, my half-mohair jersey, my blue coat, my sheepskin ugg boots, and my hat, scarf and gloves. Not sure how they were doing in their shorts and t-shirts.
From Westminster I got a Circle line train to Tower Hill, and wrapped up In preparation for the Tower. You enter via a drawbridge over the snow-white expanse of the grass moat, and walk along Water Lane, which is built on wooden pilings over the Thames. We had a short talk from one of the Yeomen Warders (aka Beefeaters) in the Chapel rather than around the grounds, because it was pretty cold outside. He told stories about the history of the Tower, and the executions that had taken place through the centuries, before informing us that the bodies had originally been buried exactly where we were sitting, with so many thrown in under the stones that the floor was higgledy-piggledy uneven. Most of them were exhumed and reburied in Queen Victoria's time, but some, including Anne Boleyn, were still under the altar.
I've become a great fan of audio-guides in my time in Europe - you can listen and look at the same time. Much of the audio-guide at the Tower takes place outside, so I was determined to stick it out through the snow with frozen fingers. I would get the full experience! I would hear and see all the Tower had to offer!
I went through the Medieval Palace above the Traitor's Gate, and saw a recreation of a King's chambers. Through a staircase and over a bridge was a beautiful octagonal room with vaulted ceilings, and up another spiral staircase I found the battlements of the inner wall. About this time, I realised I only had forty minutes left until the Tower closed, so I stopped looking at everything and made a shortlist (They tell you three hours is a 'long' time to see the Tower. In future, I think I should take all the maximum times for things and double them. I like to take my time...). So... around the battlements, and on to the Crown Jewels!
There are lots of very expensive things in the Crown Jewels, as you may think. The number of gold plates and sceptres and goblets was truly incredible, and then we came to the crowns. I hadn't quite realised that they don't generally reuse crowns - there's a new one (or two or three) for each monarch. And they all have lots of very sparkly jewels in them that glint in the light as you move slowly past on the tourist conveyor belt. There weren't that many people - I guess it's a good time to go to the Tower when it's snowing - so I was out quite quickly and heading for the White Tower, which is the big square one that you probably think of when you think of the Tower of London. It was built by William the Conqueror, and at the time was the tallest building in Europe.
The entrance to the White Tower is on the first floor and has wooden steps leading up to it - this meant that, in a siege, you could destroy the wooden steps and no one could get in. An opening in the stone wall halfway up the stairs shows where the bodies of the two Princes in the Tower were apparently found, which was quite creepy. It's strange to come across places where famous things you've learned about actually happened.
Inside is an exhibition of armoury, including a few sets of Henry VIII's. He was tall and pretty imposing, judging from his armour. There are also swords and horse armour and guns and the 'Line of Kings', which is a set of life-size models of kings and horses made in the seventeenth century. One of the sets of armour holds the world record for tallest armour, and another displayed right beside it is one of the smallest and looks like it was made for a three-year-old.
The warders began to usher us out, so I took a last few listens of my audio-guide and reluctantly gave it back. I hadn't had time for the Bloody Tower or the Queen's residence, but I didn't think the Yeomen Warders would appreciate me hiding in a tower room and exploring the rest in darkness.
It had stopped snowing, and everything was glowing in the dusk and lights. I took the DLR to Canary Wharf and admired the fairy lights and glowing paper boats floating in the water, and then was off home.
Yesterday I walked along the Thames in the snow (retracing Bond's London car chase in Skyfall), past MI6 and along to Westminster. There was a team playing football on the green outside Westminster, snow floating around them. I was very glad of my thermal top, my knitted tunic, my half-mohair jersey, my blue coat, my sheepskin ugg boots, and my hat, scarf and gloves. Not sure how they were doing in their shorts and t-shirts.
From Westminster I got a Circle line train to Tower Hill, and wrapped up In preparation for the Tower. You enter via a drawbridge over the snow-white expanse of the grass moat, and walk along Water Lane, which is built on wooden pilings over the Thames. We had a short talk from one of the Yeomen Warders (aka Beefeaters) in the Chapel rather than around the grounds, because it was pretty cold outside. He told stories about the history of the Tower, and the executions that had taken place through the centuries, before informing us that the bodies had originally been buried exactly where we were sitting, with so many thrown in under the stones that the floor was higgledy-piggledy uneven. Most of them were exhumed and reburied in Queen Victoria's time, but some, including Anne Boleyn, were still under the altar.
I've become a great fan of audio-guides in my time in Europe - you can listen and look at the same time. Much of the audio-guide at the Tower takes place outside, so I was determined to stick it out through the snow with frozen fingers. I would get the full experience! I would hear and see all the Tower had to offer!
I went through the Medieval Palace above the Traitor's Gate, and saw a recreation of a King's chambers. Through a staircase and over a bridge was a beautiful octagonal room with vaulted ceilings, and up another spiral staircase I found the battlements of the inner wall. About this time, I realised I only had forty minutes left until the Tower closed, so I stopped looking at everything and made a shortlist (They tell you three hours is a 'long' time to see the Tower. In future, I think I should take all the maximum times for things and double them. I like to take my time...). So... around the battlements, and on to the Crown Jewels!
There are lots of very expensive things in the Crown Jewels, as you may think. The number of gold plates and sceptres and goblets was truly incredible, and then we came to the crowns. I hadn't quite realised that they don't generally reuse crowns - there's a new one (or two or three) for each monarch. And they all have lots of very sparkly jewels in them that glint in the light as you move slowly past on the tourist conveyor belt. There weren't that many people - I guess it's a good time to go to the Tower when it's snowing - so I was out quite quickly and heading for the White Tower, which is the big square one that you probably think of when you think of the Tower of London. It was built by William the Conqueror, and at the time was the tallest building in Europe.
The entrance to the White Tower is on the first floor and has wooden steps leading up to it - this meant that, in a siege, you could destroy the wooden steps and no one could get in. An opening in the stone wall halfway up the stairs shows where the bodies of the two Princes in the Tower were apparently found, which was quite creepy. It's strange to come across places where famous things you've learned about actually happened.
Inside is an exhibition of armoury, including a few sets of Henry VIII's. He was tall and pretty imposing, judging from his armour. There are also swords and horse armour and guns and the 'Line of Kings', which is a set of life-size models of kings and horses made in the seventeenth century. One of the sets of armour holds the world record for tallest armour, and another displayed right beside it is one of the smallest and looks like it was made for a three-year-old.
The warders began to usher us out, so I took a last few listens of my audio-guide and reluctantly gave it back. I hadn't had time for the Bloody Tower or the Queen's residence, but I didn't think the Yeomen Warders would appreciate me hiding in a tower room and exploring the rest in darkness.
It had stopped snowing, and everything was glowing in the dusk and lights. I took the DLR to Canary Wharf and admired the fairy lights and glowing paper boats floating in the water, and then was off home.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Into the New Year
Christmas and New Year and the holidays that go with them are over for another year. The best thing about Northern Hemisphere Christmas is the lights - when it gets dark at 4pm, you can really get the full impact of all the twinkling, sparkling things. I may have mentioned that, this year, the Oxford Street lights were sponsored by Marmite. Here's proof:
The sad thing about Christmas lights is when they turn off. The twelve days of Christmas are over, and now many of the lights around London are hanging over the streets, dark and lonely-looking. Some places are ignoring tradition/superstition and keeping them on, however, which I think I like. Jermyn Street seems to be covering all bases (they've turned half theirs off) and a few arcades along Piccadilly are still fully bedecked. Christmas lights should be turned on as long as they're up - I know they have to come down some time, but they look much too sad hanging there in darkness.
I have many New Year goals to complete this year. I feel a bit like Schroedinger's cat at the moment - I still don't know whether I'll be living in NZ or the UK this year, so it's difficult to sit down to any one thing and forge ahead. Apart from writing, that is - that can be done anywhere (I tell myself I can write anywhere, including on the tube, and then still don't finish that project from 2010 that I've been meaning to complete for months).
On a side note, tomorrow the London Underground will turn 150. That is a very long time for an underground railroad. They're doing a commemorative journey with a steam train and one of the oldest electric trains still in service. Sadly, I won't be on the train (I considered it when I saw the article this morning, then reflected that a train like that doesn't have spare seats available the day before its journey). Happy Birthday London Underground, anyway!
I have many New Year goals to complete this year. I feel a bit like Schroedinger's cat at the moment - I still don't know whether I'll be living in NZ or the UK this year, so it's difficult to sit down to any one thing and forge ahead. Apart from writing, that is - that can be done anywhere (I tell myself I can write anywhere, including on the tube, and then still don't finish that project from 2010 that I've been meaning to complete for months).
On a side note, tomorrow the London Underground will turn 150. That is a very long time for an underground railroad. They're doing a commemorative journey with a steam train and one of the oldest electric trains still in service. Sadly, I won't be on the train (I considered it when I saw the article this morning, then reflected that a train like that doesn't have spare seats available the day before its journey). Happy Birthday London Underground, anyway!
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Travelling to Ireland after the End of the World
We're still alive! Hooray!
And I'm on a train in the Lake District, coming into the same station as last time where I did not see any lakes. This time I've seen quite a lot of lakes, but they tend to be lakes in the middle of fields that aren't really supposed to be lakes (there's been a lot of rain and some train lines are down because of it. Fingers crossed, the trains I am taking today will not be affected).
I am somewhat worried, however, that my train will not make it into Glasgow in time for me to connect with my next train to Ayr, from where I will take a bus to Cairnryan and then a ferry to Belfast. By the time you read this post, all will have been revealed, and you shall see whether I needed to use my travel insurance...
I got to the train station in London in reasonable time and stood with the hordes of other people with suitcases, staring up at the boards where they tell you what platform your train is on, approximately eight minutes before it's due to leave (is this done for some reason other than stressing people out? Why can they organise platforms nicely in Germany and Austria and tell you weeks in advance, whereas in London we get eight minutes?). The train to Glasgow was late. Other trains kept leaving. It got to our departure time, and they still hadn't told us, though the announcements did advise that the train would be delayed.
Finally the platform came up. Number 3! It turned out that pretty much every person standing in the packed station hall was going to Glasgow, and there was a mad rush for Platform 3, suitcases sliding and banging behind. I must admit that, once on the platform, I ran - my ticket doesn't have reserved seats, which meant that if I didn't get in first I'd be obliged to stand.
I found a likely-looking carriage and got in, staring at all the reservation screens and trying to find one that was available. Unfortunately I was not in one of the two separate carriages set aside for the unreserved passengers (and they were being pretty unreserved, too, what with a five hour journey with no seat at stake).
I got out and ran for the right car, but by the time I got there there was barely standing room. One lady had to get off the train because of claustrophobia and I was one of the last to squeeze on. Then we stood for a while before a conductor asked if anyone would mind taking a later train, because they couldn't really have so many people on board (safety and that sort of thing. Not good when you can't move for suitcases and scrunched-up people).
I set myself up with my four bags (suitcase, backpack, food bag, other food bag), finding that there are actually far more places to stuff things when you're sitting in the aisle on your suitcase. I had one food bag to my left, my backpack to my right, and my other food bag above. Two and a bit hours later, enough people left the train that I got myself a seat, all to myself, and celebrated with lunch.
Awwwww! The driver just came on and told us they are organising ahead! I am doing a sail-rail ticket and I wasn't sure how officially connected-up it was, but it turns out that they have organised for us to take a later train (yes, I will miss the train I'm supposed to get) and then THE BUS WILL WAIT FOR US. Awww. Thanks Virgin Trains.
I have apple pie and mandarins for dinner. I'm looking forward to it, and trying to convince myself that 2.10 pm is in no way dinner time when you've just had lunch.
2.24: I have scored myself a window seat! Ha! And eaten most of my mange tout. We will get into Glasgow in a little over an hour, ten minutes before sunset.
3.07: Going past Scottish lowland mountains with black vegetation across their smooth, rounded sides and a spattering of snow in patches on top. Low clouds drift fingers along their ridges. I have the theme from Skyfall stuck in my head (if you've seen the movie, you should know why).
6.40: I am checked in at the ferry! All gone well so far, with train and bus and ferry matching up nicely.
7.28: leaving port! I like ferries. They're like huge coffee shops that move. Well, this one is. I have myself a high-backed chair with a view into the black out the port hole. About to start my apple pie :)
And I'm on a train in the Lake District, coming into the same station as last time where I did not see any lakes. This time I've seen quite a lot of lakes, but they tend to be lakes in the middle of fields that aren't really supposed to be lakes (there's been a lot of rain and some train lines are down because of it. Fingers crossed, the trains I am taking today will not be affected).
I am somewhat worried, however, that my train will not make it into Glasgow in time for me to connect with my next train to Ayr, from where I will take a bus to Cairnryan and then a ferry to Belfast. By the time you read this post, all will have been revealed, and you shall see whether I needed to use my travel insurance...
I got to the train station in London in reasonable time and stood with the hordes of other people with suitcases, staring up at the boards where they tell you what platform your train is on, approximately eight minutes before it's due to leave (is this done for some reason other than stressing people out? Why can they organise platforms nicely in Germany and Austria and tell you weeks in advance, whereas in London we get eight minutes?). The train to Glasgow was late. Other trains kept leaving. It got to our departure time, and they still hadn't told us, though the announcements did advise that the train would be delayed.
Finally the platform came up. Number 3! It turned out that pretty much every person standing in the packed station hall was going to Glasgow, and there was a mad rush for Platform 3, suitcases sliding and banging behind. I must admit that, once on the platform, I ran - my ticket doesn't have reserved seats, which meant that if I didn't get in first I'd be obliged to stand.
I found a likely-looking carriage and got in, staring at all the reservation screens and trying to find one that was available. Unfortunately I was not in one of the two separate carriages set aside for the unreserved passengers (and they were being pretty unreserved, too, what with a five hour journey with no seat at stake).
I got out and ran for the right car, but by the time I got there there was barely standing room. One lady had to get off the train because of claustrophobia and I was one of the last to squeeze on. Then we stood for a while before a conductor asked if anyone would mind taking a later train, because they couldn't really have so many people on board (safety and that sort of thing. Not good when you can't move for suitcases and scrunched-up people).
I set myself up with my four bags (suitcase, backpack, food bag, other food bag), finding that there are actually far more places to stuff things when you're sitting in the aisle on your suitcase. I had one food bag to my left, my backpack to my right, and my other food bag above. Two and a bit hours later, enough people left the train that I got myself a seat, all to myself, and celebrated with lunch.
Awwwww! The driver just came on and told us they are organising ahead! I am doing a sail-rail ticket and I wasn't sure how officially connected-up it was, but it turns out that they have organised for us to take a later train (yes, I will miss the train I'm supposed to get) and then THE BUS WILL WAIT FOR US. Awww. Thanks Virgin Trains.
I have apple pie and mandarins for dinner. I'm looking forward to it, and trying to convince myself that 2.10 pm is in no way dinner time when you've just had lunch.
2.24: I have scored myself a window seat! Ha! And eaten most of my mange tout. We will get into Glasgow in a little over an hour, ten minutes before sunset.
3.07: Going past Scottish lowland mountains with black vegetation across their smooth, rounded sides and a spattering of snow in patches on top. Low clouds drift fingers along their ridges. I have the theme from Skyfall stuck in my head (if you've seen the movie, you should know why).
6.40: I am checked in at the ferry! All gone well so far, with train and bus and ferry matching up nicely.
7.28: leaving port! I like ferries. They're like huge coffee shops that move. Well, this one is. I have myself a high-backed chair with a view into the black out the port hole. About to start my apple pie :)
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Losing things on the Underground and general breaking of other things
Would you like to know what happens if you drop something down the gap between the train and the platform in an Underground station? I shall tell you.
Luckily it was not me who dropped something (though I almost did once), but I got onto the platform just as a train was leaving. I sighed and stopped hop-skipping (my foot, although castless, is still sore), then noticed as the train pulled away that there were more Transport for London (tfl) employees on the platform than normal. One of them was standing right on the platform edge, feet either side of the yellow line, and pointing a red torch down the tunnel.
We waited for the next train. As it came around the corner of the tunnel, it slowed down and stopped just where the tfl woman was standing with her red torch. The driver came out of his driver cabin to see what was happening. Another tfl employee with one of those long grabber things reached down into the trench beside the platform and retrieved a man's phone, and then the torch lady turned her torch to green, the driver went back to drive the train, and everything went back to normal.
Now I kind of want to drop something down there to see it all again. I won't though, I promise.
Speaking of dropping things, a very sad thing happened to my iPad last Wednesday. It slid off a table and I caught it on my feet, but then it slid off my feet and onto the floor. It only dropped about ten centimetres onto a hard surface (my feet are not that hard) and I thought it would be fine, but apparently Gorilla Glass is not as durable as one might think. A spider of cracks is all along one corner, which I stupidly poked at to brush the glass off and got a splinter in my finger.
I checked my bag to see if I had any sellotape to cover it with until I could get it to an Apple shop and see what could be done with it, but no luck. I was having dinner before a meetup, so thought I'd ask the cafe if they had some. They didn't. They did have a first-aid kit, however, so now I have a big sticking plaster across one corner. Very anthropomorphic.
Unfortunately they can't very easily replace screens on iPad 2s (something to do with the screen being attached with glue) so you have to get a replacement iPad which is rather a lot of money. So for the moment I'm keeping with my sticking plaster solution.
I thought about nail-polish, though most internet people say it's not a good idea, what with the primary liquid stage of nail-polish and the electronics etc. etc. Then I started thinking about exactly which colour might look the best, and whether it should be sparkly.
I may have to restrain myself...
Luckily it was not me who dropped something (though I almost did once), but I got onto the platform just as a train was leaving. I sighed and stopped hop-skipping (my foot, although castless, is still sore), then noticed as the train pulled away that there were more Transport for London (tfl) employees on the platform than normal. One of them was standing right on the platform edge, feet either side of the yellow line, and pointing a red torch down the tunnel.
We waited for the next train. As it came around the corner of the tunnel, it slowed down and stopped just where the tfl woman was standing with her red torch. The driver came out of his driver cabin to see what was happening. Another tfl employee with one of those long grabber things reached down into the trench beside the platform and retrieved a man's phone, and then the torch lady turned her torch to green, the driver went back to drive the train, and everything went back to normal.
Now I kind of want to drop something down there to see it all again. I won't though, I promise.
Speaking of dropping things, a very sad thing happened to my iPad last Wednesday. It slid off a table and I caught it on my feet, but then it slid off my feet and onto the floor. It only dropped about ten centimetres onto a hard surface (my feet are not that hard) and I thought it would be fine, but apparently Gorilla Glass is not as durable as one might think. A spider of cracks is all along one corner, which I stupidly poked at to brush the glass off and got a splinter in my finger.
I checked my bag to see if I had any sellotape to cover it with until I could get it to an Apple shop and see what could be done with it, but no luck. I was having dinner before a meetup, so thought I'd ask the cafe if they had some. They didn't. They did have a first-aid kit, however, so now I have a big sticking plaster across one corner. Very anthropomorphic.
Unfortunately they can't very easily replace screens on iPad 2s (something to do with the screen being attached with glue) so you have to get a replacement iPad which is rather a lot of money. So for the moment I'm keeping with my sticking plaster solution.
I thought about nail-polish, though most internet people say it's not a good idea, what with the primary liquid stage of nail-polish and the electronics etc. etc. Then I started thinking about exactly which colour might look the best, and whether it should be sparkly.
I may have to restrain myself...
Posted with BlogsySunday, November 11, 2012
Spending Vast Sums of Money (2) and NaNoWriMo
I've just got my tickets to New Zealand. I spent about four hours staring at different websites, ringing different travel agents to get them to explain their terms and conditions and then telling them that, no, I didn't want to book over the phone (I'm paranoid they'll spell my name wrong and tick aisle seat instead of window seat, and then I'll have to change EVERYTHING and these things are costly to change) but at last I clicked the final button and took the plunge and poured lots of money into the mouth of the travel beast.
It is stressful clicking that last button. Double checking dates and times (what if I've booked for 2014? What THEN? Oh, you mean you can only book a year in advance? Okay, then. But what if it's SEPTEMBER not February?), card numbers, spelling of names (obviously I might have spelled my name wrong. Or given a different name. Or just put 'Name' instead of my actual name. I did that once), trusting that this is a reputable website and most of the reviews I've spent the last hour trawling are okay, or at least acceptable. And then screen-printing pages in two different ways to prove I've seen the confirmation and can brandish it in people's faces if anyone dares to suggest otherwise.
I'm not paranoid, am I?
Thirty-six hours each way. It doesn't matter when you leave or when you arrive, because time doesn't really have a meaning anymore. You're not on London time, and you're not yet on NZ time. It's a long grey limbo of the body-clock.
I suppose it does kind of matter when I arrive for people who want to meet me at the airport. They're nice arrivals times, don't worry.
My plan for today was to get all my NaNoWriMo done by midday, which of course didn't happen. I was a bit behind until yesterday, but I caught up and am back on track. I'm not using Scrivener, because I found out that, if your computer crashes, the Scrivener index file corrupts and you can't use it anymore. I decided that, with my usual inability to turn my laptop off for weeks, it wasn't worth the possibility that all my extra notes and pretty structure would become unusable if the computer crashed. So I'm back to MS Word, which is kind of strange after so long using Scrivener.
Writing so much and rationing my time is strange. Normally, I must read over what I've written quite often, because I'm not really doing that now and I feel like I'm writing blind. This is funny, considering that this time I have actually done a bit of planning and I know where the story is going, whereas last time I did NaNoWriMo I had absolutely no idea. I'm enjoying it though, and getting to know characters that I hadn't realised were so interesting. I think I may have built some rather large plot holes into my plot, however, so there's a bit of work needed to fill them in.
Have a good week!
It is stressful clicking that last button. Double checking dates and times (what if I've booked for 2014? What THEN? Oh, you mean you can only book a year in advance? Okay, then. But what if it's SEPTEMBER not February?), card numbers, spelling of names (obviously I might have spelled my name wrong. Or given a different name. Or just put 'Name' instead of my actual name. I did that once), trusting that this is a reputable website and most of the reviews I've spent the last hour trawling are okay, or at least acceptable. And then screen-printing pages in two different ways to prove I've seen the confirmation and can brandish it in people's faces if anyone dares to suggest otherwise.
I'm not paranoid, am I?
Thirty-six hours each way. It doesn't matter when you leave or when you arrive, because time doesn't really have a meaning anymore. You're not on London time, and you're not yet on NZ time. It's a long grey limbo of the body-clock.
I suppose it does kind of matter when I arrive for people who want to meet me at the airport. They're nice arrivals times, don't worry.
My plan for today was to get all my NaNoWriMo done by midday, which of course didn't happen. I was a bit behind until yesterday, but I caught up and am back on track. I'm not using Scrivener, because I found out that, if your computer crashes, the Scrivener index file corrupts and you can't use it anymore. I decided that, with my usual inability to turn my laptop off for weeks, it wasn't worth the possibility that all my extra notes and pretty structure would become unusable if the computer crashed. So I'm back to MS Word, which is kind of strange after so long using Scrivener.
Writing so much and rationing my time is strange. Normally, I must read over what I've written quite often, because I'm not really doing that now and I feel like I'm writing blind. This is funny, considering that this time I have actually done a bit of planning and I know where the story is going, whereas last time I did NaNoWriMo I had absolutely no idea. I'm enjoying it though, and getting to know characters that I hadn't realised were so interesting. I think I may have built some rather large plot holes into my plot, however, so there's a bit of work needed to fill them in.
Have a good week!
Friday, October 26, 2012
The name's Bond.
I have a blow up boot thing that means I can walk! A bit! With crutches! I took advantage of this to spend the day at the movies, making the most of my free movies card and my sore crutch hands.
One of the films I saw was Skyfall, at the big screen where I saw Spiderman (well, one of the times I saw Spiderman). Like when I saw Spiderman, they had film problems. Last time it was the coordination of the 3D images. This time everything was pink for a while, which it turns out is very distracting. Everything was back to normal by the time the actual movie started (there were a very, very many ads, ninety percent of which were Bond themed) so I got to witness the Istanbul opening sequence in proper technicolor.
And I had been to many of the places! I recognised the exotic street corners and bits of mosque wall! I realised that the compositing if locations was done with quite a bit if artistic license, because there was no way some scenes could have happened in the real places, unless there was some time-space stretching going on. But what am I talking about? This is a Bond film. They laugh in the face of reality and probable-sequence-of-events.
Bond films can do this, I think. You can see the filmmakers gleefully rubbing the hands as they contemplate different action scenes. What do you mean, it's unlikely there'll be (highlight the spoilers if you want them) a digger and four VW Beatles on a Turkish passenger train? It's all right! It looks awesome! The audience will accept it! The bar of willing suspension of disbelief is higher for Bond. We want to see a fun movie. We don't really care about the little details, like the fact that Circle and District underground trains do not run in deep-level tunnels. We can forgive, if you give us villains using entire (strangely empty) Jubilee line trains as weapons at Embankment Station, where Jubilee trains do not run. Ha! That beats a puny little laser, Goldfinger.
It's a good movie and I really enjoyed it (though I was slightly concerned that the villain was portrayed as gay, considering various 'moral' debates at the moment. Yay for having gay characters on screen and having a more numerically-accurate representation of society, but not so great that it was portrayed negatively. There's already enough negativity around, and it just solidifies prejudices, doesn't it?).
I've been thinking about plotting lots this week, considering I'm doing Nanowrimo next week, and so I went into Skyfall with a particular eye. The movie follows the beats of a story well - problem, try to solve, doesn't work, try to solve, maybe we have, yes we have! Oh... no, screwed up. Badly. Try to solve... Fall back... Try to solve... Maybe... Yes! It was also interesting in that they address Bond's seeming invulnability - a character who has too much skill or power is too easy to get out of situations, so there's much less tension. I have been struggling with this in my Nanowrimo planning - how do you stop a character from becoming unbeatable, especially in fantasy? In Skyfall, you're no longer sure that Bond will be up to the challenges he faces. You're reasonably sure he won't die in the end, but there are lots of things that could happen that don't include him dying... Tension is higher because Bond isn't so perfect anymore.
And, I have to admit, I cried. This is the second time I have cried in a Bond film. The first time was when a car in one of the Pierce Brosnan movies got sliced in half by a helicopter-mounted circular saw. This time also involved the destruction of a car... No, I don't want to talk about it.
So I'm inspired, and back to the plotting! Must figure out how to heighten the tension and maybe think of a few scenes with explosions...
One of the films I saw was Skyfall, at the big screen where I saw Spiderman (well, one of the times I saw Spiderman). Like when I saw Spiderman, they had film problems. Last time it was the coordination of the 3D images. This time everything was pink for a while, which it turns out is very distracting. Everything was back to normal by the time the actual movie started (there were a very, very many ads, ninety percent of which were Bond themed) so I got to witness the Istanbul opening sequence in proper technicolor.
And I had been to many of the places! I recognised the exotic street corners and bits of mosque wall! I realised that the compositing if locations was done with quite a bit if artistic license, because there was no way some scenes could have happened in the real places, unless there was some time-space stretching going on. But what am I talking about? This is a Bond film. They laugh in the face of reality and probable-sequence-of-events.
Bond films can do this, I think. You can see the filmmakers gleefully rubbing the hands as they contemplate different action scenes. What do you mean, it's unlikely there'll be (highlight the spoilers if you want them) a digger and four VW Beatles on a Turkish passenger train? It's all right! It looks awesome! The audience will accept it! The bar of willing suspension of disbelief is higher for Bond. We want to see a fun movie. We don't really care about the little details, like the fact that Circle and District underground trains do not run in deep-level tunnels. We can forgive, if you give us villains using entire (strangely empty) Jubilee line trains as weapons at Embankment Station, where Jubilee trains do not run. Ha! That beats a puny little laser, Goldfinger.
It's a good movie and I really enjoyed it (though I was slightly concerned that the villain was portrayed as gay, considering various 'moral' debates at the moment. Yay for having gay characters on screen and having a more numerically-accurate representation of society, but not so great that it was portrayed negatively. There's already enough negativity around, and it just solidifies prejudices, doesn't it?).
I've been thinking about plotting lots this week, considering I'm doing Nanowrimo next week, and so I went into Skyfall with a particular eye. The movie follows the beats of a story well - problem, try to solve, doesn't work, try to solve, maybe we have, yes we have! Oh... no, screwed up. Badly. Try to solve... Fall back... Try to solve... Maybe... Yes! It was also interesting in that they address Bond's seeming invulnability - a character who has too much skill or power is too easy to get out of situations, so there's much less tension. I have been struggling with this in my Nanowrimo planning - how do you stop a character from becoming unbeatable, especially in fantasy? In Skyfall, you're no longer sure that Bond will be up to the challenges he faces. You're reasonably sure he won't die in the end, but there are lots of things that could happen that don't include him dying... Tension is higher because Bond isn't so perfect anymore.
And, I have to admit, I cried. This is the second time I have cried in a Bond film. The first time was when a car in one of the Pierce Brosnan movies got sliced in half by a helicopter-mounted circular saw. This time also involved the destruction of a car... No, I don't want to talk about it.
So I'm inspired, and back to the plotting! Must figure out how to heighten the tension and maybe think of a few scenes with explosions...
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Nanowrimo and the Broken Foot
The longer I'm on crutches, the grouchier I become. Latest in my tale of woe is the closing of my bus stop - apparently they feel the need to do road works, and this for some reason affects the ability of my bus to stop at the proper place. Ha! Why couldn't they wait until my foot was healed? And the buses do not stop elsewhere along the road, even when I'm late and there's no way I could ever run with crutches without taking a skidding tumble down the hill in a tangle of broken limbs. I'll have bones poking out of me soon.
I am also imagineering (can I borrow that word? I'm pretty sure it's copyrighted. Hmm. Thanks, Disney) a dumb-waiter that could ferry plates, groceries and cups of tea between the kitchen and my room. It would be nice if it could also ferry me. Or maybe some kind of Great Glass Elevator, which could also save on plane fares (thought: is the Great Glass Elevator pressurised? How fast does it travel? Would you have to go through customs, and if so you'd probably have to land near an airport, and if so do you have to worry about air traffic control?)
In other news, I've decided to do Nanowrimo this year. For those who don't know, this involves writing 50,000 words in 30 days, and this year over 300,000 people are doing it in the month of November. I did it three years ago and was amazed at how I could go from absolutely nothing (I had a last-minute change of idea, which meant that my pre-November planning consisted of about half an hour on the evening of October 31st) to an almost-complete first draft. Things just seem to click sometimes as you're writing and plotting, and a story comes through when a month before there was nothing.
This time, I'm going to try planning, and hopefully I won't have to change my idea at the last minute like last time. My commute takes an hour and a half each way at the moment, so I should have a reasonable amount of time to get my 1667 words done each day. I'm still not quite sure about my ending, but i'm confident it'll sort itself out. Eventually. I'm quite excited to get into the writing and see what will happen.
I am also imagineering (can I borrow that word? I'm pretty sure it's copyrighted. Hmm. Thanks, Disney) a dumb-waiter that could ferry plates, groceries and cups of tea between the kitchen and my room. It would be nice if it could also ferry me. Or maybe some kind of Great Glass Elevator, which could also save on plane fares (thought: is the Great Glass Elevator pressurised? How fast does it travel? Would you have to go through customs, and if so you'd probably have to land near an airport, and if so do you have to worry about air traffic control?)
In other news, I've decided to do Nanowrimo this year. For those who don't know, this involves writing 50,000 words in 30 days, and this year over 300,000 people are doing it in the month of November. I did it three years ago and was amazed at how I could go from absolutely nothing (I had a last-minute change of idea, which meant that my pre-November planning consisted of about half an hour on the evening of October 31st) to an almost-complete first draft. Things just seem to click sometimes as you're writing and plotting, and a story comes through when a month before there was nothing.
This time, I'm going to try planning, and hopefully I won't have to change my idea at the last minute like last time. My commute takes an hour and a half each way at the moment, so I should have a reasonable amount of time to get my 1667 words done each day. I'm still not quite sure about my ending, but i'm confident it'll sort itself out. Eventually. I'm quite excited to get into the writing and see what will happen.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Two decades of Number One Singles. And a broken foot.
Update on the foot: I have a new shoe thingy that's supposed to take pressure off my toe but I don't think it does. My other foot and knee are feeling the pressure, as well as my hands. Two weeks on crutches is not advisable, for those of you who were thinking you might try it. Four weeks to go, I guess...
I mentioned last week that I'd worked my way through all the number one singles since the year I was born. It was an educational experience. In the first few years, I didn't recognise too many of the songs, and was somewhat horrified by a few (there was actually a number one that included rap and yodelling). I made rules: I was not allowed to skip any if they were terrible, but if I couldn't find a particular song I could listen to a different version or skip it. If a song came up twice, i only had to listen to it once (this was especially good with things like Crazy Frog).
It was interesting to slowly move through the years and come to a point at which I began to recognise a lot of the songs, or be able to link them to a certain event in my life - a dance concert, a school disco, playing cassettes in the car. Music is very good at capturing the feeling of a particular time, and listening was like taking a journey through my life.
I was surprised at how some songs hadn't dated at all, and how others were so clearly from a particular era (eighties/early nineties) that it made me cringe. I found one song that I really like except for one repeated line in the chorus, which marks it as a product of the early nineties. They should rerelease it, without that bit. Am I conditioned to dislike songs that came out before I was properly listening to music, or is the music just bad? I'm not sure.
Closer to the present day, I found myself astonished at how many years had passed since a particular song was number one. Time should not move so quickly. You could also see the rise of particular types of music, and I enjoyed things like listening to Cher's first artistic use of auto tune, and then hearing all the number one songs that have used it in the last ten years.
Some of the music was bad, as number ones sometimes seem to be. Some of it was pretty good. The whole thing took me about a week and a half, and I'm not sure I'd do it again, but it was a good experience. Maybe I'll go through all the number two singles that weren't number ones next, though that might be harder to figure out.
I mentioned last week that I'd worked my way through all the number one singles since the year I was born. It was an educational experience. In the first few years, I didn't recognise too many of the songs, and was somewhat horrified by a few (there was actually a number one that included rap and yodelling). I made rules: I was not allowed to skip any if they were terrible, but if I couldn't find a particular song I could listen to a different version or skip it. If a song came up twice, i only had to listen to it once (this was especially good with things like Crazy Frog).
It was interesting to slowly move through the years and come to a point at which I began to recognise a lot of the songs, or be able to link them to a certain event in my life - a dance concert, a school disco, playing cassettes in the car. Music is very good at capturing the feeling of a particular time, and listening was like taking a journey through my life.
I was surprised at how some songs hadn't dated at all, and how others were so clearly from a particular era (eighties/early nineties) that it made me cringe. I found one song that I really like except for one repeated line in the chorus, which marks it as a product of the early nineties. They should rerelease it, without that bit. Am I conditioned to dislike songs that came out before I was properly listening to music, or is the music just bad? I'm not sure.
Closer to the present day, I found myself astonished at how many years had passed since a particular song was number one. Time should not move so quickly. You could also see the rise of particular types of music, and I enjoyed things like listening to Cher's first artistic use of auto tune, and then hearing all the number one songs that have used it in the last ten years.
Some of the music was bad, as number ones sometimes seem to be. Some of it was pretty good. The whole thing took me about a week and a half, and I'm not sure I'd do it again, but it was a good experience. Maybe I'll go through all the number two singles that weren't number ones next, though that might be harder to figure out.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Broken legs in London
I have done many interesting things in the past few weeks. I have catsit, I have listened to all the number one singles from my birth until the present day, I have put up some more photos of my trip to Turkey and also a few more, I have been to see Stomp, and I have broken my foot (I know, I misled you in the title. But the alliteration!!)
This last one happened about a week ago, and involved a moss-green wing armchair viciously kicking my foot. The altercation also involved my flatmate (who I was teasing) and an intended inside hook kick, but it was mostly the chair's fault.
I spent four hours in the A&E the next day, got an X-ray and confirmed that my foot was indeed broken. The doctor seemed quite excited and pronounced it a 'beautiful fracture' (hey, that could be the name of a song). I made my way home and collapsed on my bed for the next two days, moaning about my sore arm muscles (crutches take a lot out of you...) and bruised hands (crutches again. The foot was fine).
I'm back at work again this week, taking a different route on my commute that minimises the amount of walking. I go past large houses that I'm sure are terminator Transformers in disguise, with their Mohawk of chimney pots and chimney pot guns at either side, blank window eyes staring out over the heath. I plead with bus drivers to let me off fifty metres before the actual bus stop, crutch my way over cobble stones and onto the train platform. I work out the shortest distances to everywhere, and walk boldly through a pub to get to my bus stop. Before today, I hadn't used the Underground in more than a week.
People smile at you when you're on crutches, and talk to you and offer to carry things. You get to use the disabled seats on public transport without feeling guilty. I've been getting quite good at my crutches (my arms are stronger now) and I've figured out the fastest technique is to crutch forward, then hop, then crutch forward again. Even without the hop (which I only use on special occasions, like when my bus is almost at the bus stop) I'm already fast enough to get annoyed at the pace of tourists in central London. I dislike moving slowly.
I went on my first escalator today. I didn't realise how difficult it would be until I actually stood in front of it and stared at the steps sliding out, out, out, out and considered where I would put my crutches, when I would hop and how to keep my crutches and hold on to the handrail. It was like being a three year old again, and trying out your very, very first escalator. Getting off was much easier. Hopefully things will improve with practice, and I won't be on crutches too much longer... I will restrict my use of escalators, though.
This last one happened about a week ago, and involved a moss-green wing armchair viciously kicking my foot. The altercation also involved my flatmate (who I was teasing) and an intended inside hook kick, but it was mostly the chair's fault.
I spent four hours in the A&E the next day, got an X-ray and confirmed that my foot was indeed broken. The doctor seemed quite excited and pronounced it a 'beautiful fracture' (hey, that could be the name of a song). I made my way home and collapsed on my bed for the next two days, moaning about my sore arm muscles (crutches take a lot out of you...) and bruised hands (crutches again. The foot was fine).
I'm back at work again this week, taking a different route on my commute that minimises the amount of walking. I go past large houses that I'm sure are terminator Transformers in disguise, with their Mohawk of chimney pots and chimney pot guns at either side, blank window eyes staring out over the heath. I plead with bus drivers to let me off fifty metres before the actual bus stop, crutch my way over cobble stones and onto the train platform. I work out the shortest distances to everywhere, and walk boldly through a pub to get to my bus stop. Before today, I hadn't used the Underground in more than a week.
People smile at you when you're on crutches, and talk to you and offer to carry things. You get to use the disabled seats on public transport without feeling guilty. I've been getting quite good at my crutches (my arms are stronger now) and I've figured out the fastest technique is to crutch forward, then hop, then crutch forward again. Even without the hop (which I only use on special occasions, like when my bus is almost at the bus stop) I'm already fast enough to get annoyed at the pace of tourists in central London. I dislike moving slowly.
I went on my first escalator today. I didn't realise how difficult it would be until I actually stood in front of it and stared at the steps sliding out, out, out, out and considered where I would put my crutches, when I would hop and how to keep my crutches and hold on to the handrail. It was like being a three year old again, and trying out your very, very first escalator. Getting off was much easier. Hopefully things will improve with practice, and I won't be on crutches too much longer... I will restrict my use of escalators, though.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
The Strange World of No Internet or Underground
It was a very weird weekend. About half the Underground lines were down (all right, all right, I exaggerate) and the entirety of SE7 had no Internet service, if they were with a certain provider. (Quick note on postcodes: in London if someone asks where you live, you may give them a tube station or a postcode region. People generally know London postcodes, and it's generally quite easy to guess N is north, SE southeast if you don't know). I woke up on Saturday morning to a different world. What was I to do with my weekend? I had big plans for internet research. I would have to go and find wifi. I would have to use the buses.
I hadn't expected the buses to be quite so horrific. I guess on a normal weekend it may not be so bad, but with everyone using their cars because there were no tubes, there were insane traffic jams. I got the impression that my destination, the library, was at least fifteen miles away, even crawling at a snail's pace through traffic. I could probably have reached France faster. But finally, I arrived!
And the library had no internet either.
Sunday was about the same, so I didn't manage to get much done that I had planned. I did, however, write three thousand words that I probably would not have written had the Internet been live, more than I've written in one day in months. The world feels different when there's no Internet - cut off, peaceful maybe. Your world is here, now. Immediate. Even if you're reading a book. And having no Underground makes everything much smaller - your choices for days out are limited, unless you commit to public transport combat strategies and at least two hours to get to your destination.
Despite everything, I think I kind of enjoyed the weekend. It was different, anyway.
Update: we had an entire WEEK of no Internet. I am going slightly crazy now I have it back. Shrieks of glee etc. etc.
I hadn't expected the buses to be quite so horrific. I guess on a normal weekend it may not be so bad, but with everyone using their cars because there were no tubes, there were insane traffic jams. I got the impression that my destination, the library, was at least fifteen miles away, even crawling at a snail's pace through traffic. I could probably have reached France faster. But finally, I arrived!
And the library had no internet either.
Sunday was about the same, so I didn't manage to get much done that I had planned. I did, however, write three thousand words that I probably would not have written had the Internet been live, more than I've written in one day in months. The world feels different when there's no Internet - cut off, peaceful maybe. Your world is here, now. Immediate. Even if you're reading a book. And having no Underground makes everything much smaller - your choices for days out are limited, unless you commit to public transport combat strategies and at least two hours to get to your destination.
Despite everything, I think I kind of enjoyed the weekend. It was different, anyway.
Update: we had an entire WEEK of no Internet. I am going slightly crazy now I have it back. Shrieks of glee etc. etc.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
All hail the Paralympics! And Wicked!
Hello again! I trust you've all finished reading my holiday blog posts and are ready for some new ones? I continue to be slack after holidays - must be something about trying to write every little detail of a week and still actually holiday-make at the same time. Now I will attempt to write the details of two weeks into this post. Wish me luck.
Rundown of the post: Paralympic Opening Ceremony, Paralympic Swimming, Wickedness, Paralympic Athletics.
There looks to be a theme going on here.
The Paralympics opened on a clear Wednesday night in London, under a buttery gibbous moon. I hadn't realised that it clashed with my writing meeting on Wednesdays, but that only meant I was still in town at 8.30 for the start of the ceremony. I went down to Trafalgar Square with another writer, to sit in the crowd and watch the big screens. The square was filled with people sitting on the concrete, on the steps, and standing to the sides (you got shouted at if you stood in the middle and blocked the view from the stairs).
They started the count-down. Everyone yelled and cheered along with the screen. And then the Paralympics had officially started!
There was Ian McKellen reading from The Tempest, and many people, abled and disabled, who descended from the sky on wires and flew around the stadium. There were eyelash things that were like bendy poles with people tied on top and bouncing around, and dancing with umbrellas, and drums. Lots and lots of drums.
After the first part of the show, the athletes began to come out. I wished for the second time that New Zealand had officially changed its name to Aotearoa. It was getting late. I decided to stay until New Zealand appeared and then go and watch the rest at home, much closer to bed than Trafalgar Square and much warmer too.
I joined the Kiwi cheering, then ran for the Trafalgar Square Underground entrance (it was open! This is the first time I have seen it open! It's always been under refurbishment). I got home just as the speeches were finishing, and was able to watch the rest on the sofa with a blanket with my flatmates. Good thing, too, because it didn't finished until half past midnight.
I had tickets on Sunday night to the swimming finals, right in the Olympic Park. This was the first time I'd been to the Park, and I coasted along with the crowd from the tube station, past the giant mall and around to one of the main entrances. One of the games-makers was sitting on a high chair with a megaphone at the corner of the roadway, and made the observation that, if it were dark, it would be like the zombie apocalypse, with so many people shuffling towards him. Through the security (I forgot about that, and had worn lots of jewellery I had to take off) and into the Park.
I'd planned to do a quick walk around before my session, but a look at the signs told me that wasn't going to be possible. It was half an hour's walk to the other end of the park. That's how big it is. Instead I did a quick running-tour of the area between the stadium and the aquatic centre and joined the queue to get in.
My seat was up in one of the wings of the pool, so that I couldn't actually see the seats on the other side because the roof of the pool was in the way. It's a pretty good design, really - the two wings are temporary and will come down when there isn't a demand for a swimming pool with thousands upon thousands of spectator seats. I had a good view of the pool and the entrance for the athletes, though, which was great. It's very strange to see something so many times on a television screen and then to actually be there in person.
The evening was entirely finals, which was very exciting. The first four races all broke world records. I think the total for the night was eight world records and ten Paralympic records. The crowd was amazing, cheering and cheering and going crazy whenever a GB athlete appeared. For future reference, I think the best crowds are to be found in events with a finish line, because you can see in real time exactly what's happening. By the end of the night I was hoarse, but had seen a gold medal from Cameron Leslie and a silver from Mary Fisher. Awesome.
On Monday the One Who Speaks Russian arrived, tired but cheerful after a forty hour journey from New Zealand. I stocked her with supplies of chips and we started the two hour journey across London to my house (London is big).
On Tuesday we went to Wicked, which was absolutely incredible. It is a thought-provoking musical, with themes of prejudice and preconceptions and talking animals. I love the way it interweaves the story of The Wizard of Oz, so that you make connections every so often about characters' fates. The sets included giant cogged screens and a huge time dragon looming over the stage, the costumes reminded us of The Hunger Games (though of course Wicked came first) and the music and lyrics were great - especially the song entitled ’Loathing, Unadulterated Loathing'. I liked the ending too, more than I had in the book.
Thursday was our Paralympics day. We took supplies of chocolate cake, raspberries, popcorn and dinosaur jellies and sat in the stadium, another case of I-am-sitting-in-the-television-ness. The sun was blazing hot (The One Who Speaks Russian got amazing weather while she was here) and the crowds were huge. The most impressive event of the day was the T11 triple jump final for blind athletes. Imagine running at full tilt, then hop-skip-jumping as far as you can without being able to see. The crowd of eighty thousand had to be silent while the athletes completed their jumps, because they ran towards the sound of their coach clapping at the jumping line or the sandpit. The eventual silver-medallist had a show with velcro track pants, whipping them away like a matador as the crowd shouted OLĖ!
A few jumps went awry (an official by the track had to topple backwards twice to get out of the way) but mostly they were pretty spot on. There was also wheelchair racing, restricted sight racing, discus and shotput finals, and general running races. It was a great morning.
Rundown of the post: Paralympic Opening Ceremony, Paralympic Swimming, Wickedness, Paralympic Athletics.
There looks to be a theme going on here.
The Paralympics opened on a clear Wednesday night in London, under a buttery gibbous moon. I hadn't realised that it clashed with my writing meeting on Wednesdays, but that only meant I was still in town at 8.30 for the start of the ceremony. I went down to Trafalgar Square with another writer, to sit in the crowd and watch the big screens. The square was filled with people sitting on the concrete, on the steps, and standing to the sides (you got shouted at if you stood in the middle and blocked the view from the stairs).
They started the count-down. Everyone yelled and cheered along with the screen. And then the Paralympics had officially started!
There was Ian McKellen reading from The Tempest, and many people, abled and disabled, who descended from the sky on wires and flew around the stadium. There were eyelash things that were like bendy poles with people tied on top and bouncing around, and dancing with umbrellas, and drums. Lots and lots of drums.
After the first part of the show, the athletes began to come out. I wished for the second time that New Zealand had officially changed its name to Aotearoa. It was getting late. I decided to stay until New Zealand appeared and then go and watch the rest at home, much closer to bed than Trafalgar Square and much warmer too.
I joined the Kiwi cheering, then ran for the Trafalgar Square Underground entrance (it was open! This is the first time I have seen it open! It's always been under refurbishment). I got home just as the speeches were finishing, and was able to watch the rest on the sofa with a blanket with my flatmates. Good thing, too, because it didn't finished until half past midnight.
I had tickets on Sunday night to the swimming finals, right in the Olympic Park. This was the first time I'd been to the Park, and I coasted along with the crowd from the tube station, past the giant mall and around to one of the main entrances. One of the games-makers was sitting on a high chair with a megaphone at the corner of the roadway, and made the observation that, if it were dark, it would be like the zombie apocalypse, with so many people shuffling towards him. Through the security (I forgot about that, and had worn lots of jewellery I had to take off) and into the Park.
I'd planned to do a quick walk around before my session, but a look at the signs told me that wasn't going to be possible. It was half an hour's walk to the other end of the park. That's how big it is. Instead I did a quick running-tour of the area between the stadium and the aquatic centre and joined the queue to get in.
My seat was up in one of the wings of the pool, so that I couldn't actually see the seats on the other side because the roof of the pool was in the way. It's a pretty good design, really - the two wings are temporary and will come down when there isn't a demand for a swimming pool with thousands upon thousands of spectator seats. I had a good view of the pool and the entrance for the athletes, though, which was great. It's very strange to see something so many times on a television screen and then to actually be there in person.
The evening was entirely finals, which was very exciting. The first four races all broke world records. I think the total for the night was eight world records and ten Paralympic records. The crowd was amazing, cheering and cheering and going crazy whenever a GB athlete appeared. For future reference, I think the best crowds are to be found in events with a finish line, because you can see in real time exactly what's happening. By the end of the night I was hoarse, but had seen a gold medal from Cameron Leslie and a silver from Mary Fisher. Awesome.
On Monday the One Who Speaks Russian arrived, tired but cheerful after a forty hour journey from New Zealand. I stocked her with supplies of chips and we started the two hour journey across London to my house (London is big).
On Tuesday we went to Wicked, which was absolutely incredible. It is a thought-provoking musical, with themes of prejudice and preconceptions and talking animals. I love the way it interweaves the story of The Wizard of Oz, so that you make connections every so often about characters' fates. The sets included giant cogged screens and a huge time dragon looming over the stage, the costumes reminded us of The Hunger Games (though of course Wicked came first) and the music and lyrics were great - especially the song entitled ’Loathing, Unadulterated Loathing'. I liked the ending too, more than I had in the book.
Thursday was our Paralympics day. We took supplies of chocolate cake, raspberries, popcorn and dinosaur jellies and sat in the stadium, another case of I-am-sitting-in-the-television-ness. The sun was blazing hot (The One Who Speaks Russian got amazing weather while she was here) and the crowds were huge. The most impressive event of the day was the T11 triple jump final for blind athletes. Imagine running at full tilt, then hop-skip-jumping as far as you can without being able to see. The crowd of eighty thousand had to be silent while the athletes completed their jumps, because they ran towards the sound of their coach clapping at the jumping line or the sandpit. The eventual silver-medallist had a show with velcro track pants, whipping them away like a matador as the crowd shouted OLĖ!
A few jumps went awry (an official by the track had to topple backwards twice to get out of the way) but mostly they were pretty spot on. There was also wheelchair racing, restricted sight racing, discus and shotput finals, and general running races. It was a great morning.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Back to London, More Trains and Staffordshire
I'm doing a lot of travelling.
I took the train down the East Coast from Edinburgh to London, and finished my Scottish trip by taking pictures of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and seeing Brave at the movies. A day back at work, and then back on the train to Staffordshire!
I had another adventure getting the train, after my Oyster card ran out of pay as you go money and I made a few bad decisions about timing and catching trains, and ended up running at full tilt through stations to catch my Staffordshire train on time. And I'd left early! Next time I think I will be picking up my tickets the day before I leave.
I had a lovely time on my Staffordshire weekend, cycling through forests and 'moorland' with purple heather (I don't think it was a moor, but that's what I'm calling it), walking beside canals, visiting an ancient half-timbered house with a MOAT, and walking through Lichfield Cathedral with its beautiful ornate carvings, stained glass and hoard of ancient gold. So many ancient things, and such skill involved in making them.
And now I'm just about to get back into Euston Station, hopefully to a nice week ahead.
I took the train down the East Coast from Edinburgh to London, and finished my Scottish trip by taking pictures of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and seeing Brave at the movies. A day back at work, and then back on the train to Staffordshire!
I had another adventure getting the train, after my Oyster card ran out of pay as you go money and I made a few bad decisions about timing and catching trains, and ended up running at full tilt through stations to catch my Staffordshire train on time. And I'd left early! Next time I think I will be picking up my tickets the day before I leave.
I had a lovely time on my Staffordshire weekend, cycling through forests and 'moorland' with purple heather (I don't think it was a moor, but that's what I'm calling it), walking beside canals, visiting an ancient half-timbered house with a MOAT, and walking through Lichfield Cathedral with its beautiful ornate carvings, stained glass and hoard of ancient gold. So many ancient things, and such skill involved in making them.
And now I'm just about to get back into Euston Station, hopefully to a nice week ahead.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Train to Edinburgh
Okay, that was stressful.
I am now on the train to Edinburgh.
I am facing backwards, because people took my seat I booked and they're fully installed with laptops and are not getting off until Milton Keynes. I have some vague idea that that's not too far away.
***
I was right! It was the next stop. But still not particularly close to London. I'm now sitting in my proper booked seat with a table and a window. We're waiting at Birmingham New Street Station until our scheduled departure time, and I've spent the last hour talking to a lovely lady from Northern Ireland who has family in New Zealand and has now left the train for a quilting exhibition (though she told me I wasn't allowed to tell anyone that).
The stress of my day could have been slightly reduced if I'd left the house earlier, but not by much. I got the bus to the tube to the tube to Euston Station and arrived with twenty minutes to spare, but realised I hadn't written down my reservation number, and the email with it wasn't cached on my iPad. I had to access the Internet to get it off my email account, which is supposedly possible at tube stations, but yu,re never in a tube station long enough for the email to realise it has Internet and download stuff. So when I got off at Euston, I was madly trying to load emails and failing terribly. When I got up to the ticket hall I was going to go up to the ticket office and talk to someone, but then I got Internet (after typing in about three wrong passwords/email addresses) and found my reservation number. Success!
So I went to the ticket machine, which, unlike the ticket office, had no line, put in my debit card and my reservation number only to be told that I had to present the original card I'd used to book the ticket.
Problem: the original card I used to book the ticket was later copied and used in Mexico, so I cut it up.
Back to the ticket office. Twelve minutes to spare. Wait in the line, only to be told I was at the wrong ticket office and the right one was up in the main hall (I hadn't realised that this was not the main hall). Run to the main hall. Find the ticket office, with queue of ten people. Nine minutes to spare, and I see a sign that says train doors shut two minutes before departure so it was really only seven minutes to spare.
I asked the ticket man if I could jump the queue, and he said I had to ask everyone in the queue (fair enough, I guess). So I did. I asked every single person if I could go in front of them and they all said yes! One man told me I should have gotten up earlier, but he still let me past.
The man at the ticket desk was very nice and understood my situation very quickly, took down my reference number, looked at my ID and gave me my ticket as well as instructions to get to the platform. I ran all the way and got there just in time, hauled my suitcase onto the train and tried to find my seat. Which I think is where I came in at the beginning of this post.
The train is a Pendolino that sways so it can go around corners really fast, and it will take just over five hours to get to Edinburgh. I'm excited.
Impressions of the Lake District haiku:
Soft, knuckled green hills.
Full brown rivers, drifting mist.
Strangely no lakes yet.
Ooh! And now I've heard the infamous Virgin Train beeping noises, the ones no one knows the purpose of.
And I guess I must now be in Scotland. Only five minutes until our destination... Where did the last two hours go?
I am now on the train to Edinburgh.
I am facing backwards, because people took my seat I booked and they're fully installed with laptops and are not getting off until Milton Keynes. I have some vague idea that that's not too far away.
***
I was right! It was the next stop. But still not particularly close to London. I'm now sitting in my proper booked seat with a table and a window. We're waiting at Birmingham New Street Station until our scheduled departure time, and I've spent the last hour talking to a lovely lady from Northern Ireland who has family in New Zealand and has now left the train for a quilting exhibition (though she told me I wasn't allowed to tell anyone that).
The stress of my day could have been slightly reduced if I'd left the house earlier, but not by much. I got the bus to the tube to the tube to Euston Station and arrived with twenty minutes to spare, but realised I hadn't written down my reservation number, and the email with it wasn't cached on my iPad. I had to access the Internet to get it off my email account, which is supposedly possible at tube stations, but yu,re never in a tube station long enough for the email to realise it has Internet and download stuff. So when I got off at Euston, I was madly trying to load emails and failing terribly. When I got up to the ticket hall I was going to go up to the ticket office and talk to someone, but then I got Internet (after typing in about three wrong passwords/email addresses) and found my reservation number. Success!
So I went to the ticket machine, which, unlike the ticket office, had no line, put in my debit card and my reservation number only to be told that I had to present the original card I'd used to book the ticket.
Problem: the original card I used to book the ticket was later copied and used in Mexico, so I cut it up.
Back to the ticket office. Twelve minutes to spare. Wait in the line, only to be told I was at the wrong ticket office and the right one was up in the main hall (I hadn't realised that this was not the main hall). Run to the main hall. Find the ticket office, with queue of ten people. Nine minutes to spare, and I see a sign that says train doors shut two minutes before departure so it was really only seven minutes to spare.
I asked the ticket man if I could jump the queue, and he said I had to ask everyone in the queue (fair enough, I guess). So I did. I asked every single person if I could go in front of them and they all said yes! One man told me I should have gotten up earlier, but he still let me past.
The man at the ticket desk was very nice and understood my situation very quickly, took down my reference number, looked at my ID and gave me my ticket as well as instructions to get to the platform. I ran all the way and got there just in time, hauled my suitcase onto the train and tried to find my seat. Which I think is where I came in at the beginning of this post.
The train is a Pendolino that sways so it can go around corners really fast, and it will take just over five hours to get to Edinburgh. I'm excited.
Impressions of the Lake District haiku:
Soft, knuckled green hills.
Full brown rivers, drifting mist.
Strangely no lakes yet.
Ooh! And now I've heard the infamous Virgin Train beeping noises, the ones no one knows the purpose of.
And I guess I must now be in Scotland. Only five minutes until our destination... Where did the last two hours go?
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Taekwondo and Flying to Ireland
I'm sitting on a bus to the airport in traffic near Baker Street. Hopefully the traffic will go away soon.
I got up early this morning after about six hours sleep, made some last minute packing changes (though I'm still pretty sure I've forgotten my camera and my glasses...), decided I had no time for breakfast and ran for the bus, only to find it absolutely full at 6.50 in the morning. It was a double decker bus. So I had to wait for the next one.
When I got to North Greenwich Station I began to realise that this is the last time I will see soldiers and police and purple-shirted games-makers and tourists wandering around for the Olympics, and felt a bit sad. There's still the Paralympics, but that's in a few weeks and I don't know if it'll be the same. I've enjoyed living in Olympics London - there's a kind of excitement in the air, and the predicted transport apocalypse never eventuated. In fact, my trains and buses were pretty empty.
I guess I know why: everyone had packed onto buses at 6.50am.
Now I'm at Lord's Cricket Ground. I'm amazed at how many statues and sculptures I'm seeing as we wend through the streets of London. Of course I knew there were lots, but on this particular route there seem to be hundreds.
When I boarded my tube train, it hit home that this actually wasn't that early in the morning - even though I still felt half asleep and I hadn't had any breakfast (I always have breakfast), these were normal commuters on their way to work. They got up this early every day.
So really, you probably want to know about the Taekwondo. It was really good, despite the changing of the draws so I wasn't watching any New Zealanders and the terrible directions and fences everywhere. Okay, so maybe some of me getting lost was due to specifically passing through the 'no exit' signs and refusing to do what everyone else was doing, but there was one very important place where there should have been a sign and THERE WAS NOT. After a ten minute detour and a pause at security (apparently my glasses case looks like a bomb when it's empty), I got into the ExCel Centre, which is ginormous but has no Olympics shop where you can buy T-shirts. I know, I walked its entire length.
This may be a ranty post.
I'd taken the gondola/cable car across the river from North Greenwich (after standing in two consecutive queues to get a ticket and then board) which was amazing, and not as scary as I'd been led to believe. You get beautiful views of the O2 and the buildings of Canary Wharf and The City, as well as the Olympic Park and a whole swathe of London. If you can, take your pet dog with you - it means you get an entire car to yourself.
Next came the journey from the station to the ExCel, to which I have already alluded.
Once I got into the Taekwondo arena, it was great. Apart from the unenthusiastic family beside me, where the father was at times reading the paper. There were a few seats empty so I moved closer to the action halfway through, and sat among much more interesting people who shouted and cheered satisfactorily.
We saw a demonstration from WTF, the World Taekwondo Federation, where the group of them did a few fighting patterns and broke lots of boards, sometimes three held 1.5m, 2m and 2.5m off the ground in one go. I feel I should learn to do this. I wondered if the floor was bouncy, considering how high they were jumping, but it didn't look like it was.
Then the actual fights started. The officials and athletes were announced, and they all marched out from the backstage area looking very impressive to music. The fight is held on a raised platform in the centre of the room in three bouts of two minutes with a minute's rest in between. The athletes were mostly using kicks to get points, each kick resulting in 1-4 points depending on complexity. I don't remember them mentioning that a spinning kick to the head gets you four points when I was in a tournament, but possibly they didn't want lower-belt teenagers trying to spin-kick each other in the head.
I was watching the quarter-finals and the semis. Some of the opponents were very closely matched, and two fights ended in sudden death rounds, but others were decided almost from the start. It was actually relatively relaxing having no Kiwis to watch - I could pick and choose who to support and not be too invested when they didn't win. The semi-finals were exciting: they decide who will go through to the gold medal fights, so 75% of the athletes we were watching would get a medal. As the pressure built, there were more and more appeals from the coaches or the athletes, asking for a kick to be reconsidered by slow motion video. At this point, the Who Wants to be a Millionaire music came on while the judges deliberated, and the appeal was deemed successful or unsuccessful.
I should really check up on who won the Taekwondo, seeing as I've actually seen it all now.
You've probably guessed from the title that I'm spending a few days in Ireland. The flight wasn't all that interesting, so I'll put the rest in a future post.
I got up early this morning after about six hours sleep, made some last minute packing changes (though I'm still pretty sure I've forgotten my camera and my glasses...), decided I had no time for breakfast and ran for the bus, only to find it absolutely full at 6.50 in the morning. It was a double decker bus. So I had to wait for the next one.
When I got to North Greenwich Station I began to realise that this is the last time I will see soldiers and police and purple-shirted games-makers and tourists wandering around for the Olympics, and felt a bit sad. There's still the Paralympics, but that's in a few weeks and I don't know if it'll be the same. I've enjoyed living in Olympics London - there's a kind of excitement in the air, and the predicted transport apocalypse never eventuated. In fact, my trains and buses were pretty empty.
I guess I know why: everyone had packed onto buses at 6.50am.
Now I'm at Lord's Cricket Ground. I'm amazed at how many statues and sculptures I'm seeing as we wend through the streets of London. Of course I knew there were lots, but on this particular route there seem to be hundreds.
When I boarded my tube train, it hit home that this actually wasn't that early in the morning - even though I still felt half asleep and I hadn't had any breakfast (I always have breakfast), these were normal commuters on their way to work. They got up this early every day.
So really, you probably want to know about the Taekwondo. It was really good, despite the changing of the draws so I wasn't watching any New Zealanders and the terrible directions and fences everywhere. Okay, so maybe some of me getting lost was due to specifically passing through the 'no exit' signs and refusing to do what everyone else was doing, but there was one very important place where there should have been a sign and THERE WAS NOT. After a ten minute detour and a pause at security (apparently my glasses case looks like a bomb when it's empty), I got into the ExCel Centre, which is ginormous but has no Olympics shop where you can buy T-shirts. I know, I walked its entire length.
This may be a ranty post.
I'd taken the gondola/cable car across the river from North Greenwich (after standing in two consecutive queues to get a ticket and then board) which was amazing, and not as scary as I'd been led to believe. You get beautiful views of the O2 and the buildings of Canary Wharf and The City, as well as the Olympic Park and a whole swathe of London. If you can, take your pet dog with you - it means you get an entire car to yourself.
Next came the journey from the station to the ExCel, to which I have already alluded.
Once I got into the Taekwondo arena, it was great. Apart from the unenthusiastic family beside me, where the father was at times reading the paper. There were a few seats empty so I moved closer to the action halfway through, and sat among much more interesting people who shouted and cheered satisfactorily.
We saw a demonstration from WTF, the World Taekwondo Federation, where the group of them did a few fighting patterns and broke lots of boards, sometimes three held 1.5m, 2m and 2.5m off the ground in one go. I feel I should learn to do this. I wondered if the floor was bouncy, considering how high they were jumping, but it didn't look like it was.
Then the actual fights started. The officials and athletes were announced, and they all marched out from the backstage area looking very impressive to music. The fight is held on a raised platform in the centre of the room in three bouts of two minutes with a minute's rest in between. The athletes were mostly using kicks to get points, each kick resulting in 1-4 points depending on complexity. I don't remember them mentioning that a spinning kick to the head gets you four points when I was in a tournament, but possibly they didn't want lower-belt teenagers trying to spin-kick each other in the head.
I was watching the quarter-finals and the semis. Some of the opponents were very closely matched, and two fights ended in sudden death rounds, but others were decided almost from the start. It was actually relatively relaxing having no Kiwis to watch - I could pick and choose who to support and not be too invested when they didn't win. The semi-finals were exciting: they decide who will go through to the gold medal fights, so 75% of the athletes we were watching would get a medal. As the pressure built, there were more and more appeals from the coaches or the athletes, asking for a kick to be reconsidered by slow motion video. At this point, the Who Wants to be a Millionaire music came on while the judges deliberated, and the appeal was deemed successful or unsuccessful.
 |
| Tied at 10 points with 4 seconds to go... |
I should really check up on who won the Taekwondo, seeing as I've actually seen it all now.
You've probably guessed from the title that I'm spending a few days in Ireland. The flight wasn't all that interesting, so I'll put the rest in a future post.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Gymnastics, Athletics and Triathlon
In twenty years I will look back on these blog posts and say "Why? Why didn't I write more during those heady days of the London Olympics?" Answer: hmmm. Have been spending all my time watching the Olympics.
So a return to blogging! I haven't actually been to see any ticketed events yet (that's tomorrow) but I have wandered around the North Greenwich Arena while the gymnastics was on, and I saw the cycling leg of the men's triathlon today.
I went to North Greenwich firstly to go on the bouncy castle Stonehenge that looked like it was life size, but IT WASN'T THERE. I was very disappointed, but decided to make my way through security and into the arena anyway. The North Greenwich Arena is also known as the O2, and I have mentioned it before. It's the giant white circus tent that James Bond once slid down. The actual seats and stage are in the middle, and there are lots of restaurants and a cinema around the outside. You can get to them without a ticket, but you have to go through x-ray machines and have all your water bottles, hair gel and deodorant confiscated.
The elderly lady after me had a walking stick that set off the beeper, so they had to search her with a wand. One of the soldiers on the x-ray machine got out the rubber gloves and Vaseline, then murmured to me that she probably wouldn't appreciate the joke and put them back. The next guy through the x-ray was wearing jandals/flipflops and the soldier told him he wasn't allowed open-toed shoes and was very convincing for at least a minute. The x-ray soldier confided to me that they were a bit bored.
Inside the arena it was packed. I've never seen so many people, and Olympics signs and t-shirts were everywhere. I wandered through, enjoying the atmosphere, and came right to the end where guards were stopping people going behind the scenes. I heard one tourist talking to a security guard, asking if there was something going on in here. He seemed very surprised to find out the Olympics were on.
I was looking for a big screen, but there wasn't really much. The screen outside by the queue shows adverts and nothing else. Apparently there'll be a festival on there soon, but it hasn't started yet.
On Saturday we went to Blackheath where they do have a big screen set up, and watched a lot of sailing (a big cheer went up when they finally changed the channel) and then the Super Saturday athletics with its three British Golds. So much cheering my ears were hurting.
And then today the triathlon was on! It went past Buckingham Palace at lunchtime, so at noon I ran (literally) all the way to Buckingham Palace and joined the crowds standing around the track. I got a really good position right by the fence, and ate my banana while I waited for the next lap.
First came the whistle. The stewards who were lining the pedestrian crossing hurried everyone to the sides, and the first two motorbikes came past, followed by the breakaway group moving very fast and a few more motorbikes. Everyone waved their flags and flashed their cameras and cheered. A minute later the peloton arrived in the same way and then we were back to waiting for the next lap.
It was a lot of fun, and great to actually see all those athletes close up. When the last lap had gone past, I ran back to work to catch the end of the race on the BBC live video. I was afraid that the triathletes would be able to run ten km faster than I could run two, but I was back in time to see the last lap of the running track Unfortunately the New Zealanders weren't quite up there with the medals, but it was fun to see it anyway.
Tomorrow I'm off to the Taekwondo. They changed the draws of the matches so I won't actually see any kiwis, but I guess it will be good anyway. I will report back!
So a return to blogging! I haven't actually been to see any ticketed events yet (that's tomorrow) but I have wandered around the North Greenwich Arena while the gymnastics was on, and I saw the cycling leg of the men's triathlon today.
I went to North Greenwich firstly to go on the bouncy castle Stonehenge that looked like it was life size, but IT WASN'T THERE. I was very disappointed, but decided to make my way through security and into the arena anyway. The North Greenwich Arena is also known as the O2, and I have mentioned it before. It's the giant white circus tent that James Bond once slid down. The actual seats and stage are in the middle, and there are lots of restaurants and a cinema around the outside. You can get to them without a ticket, but you have to go through x-ray machines and have all your water bottles, hair gel and deodorant confiscated.
The elderly lady after me had a walking stick that set off the beeper, so they had to search her with a wand. One of the soldiers on the x-ray machine got out the rubber gloves and Vaseline, then murmured to me that she probably wouldn't appreciate the joke and put them back. The next guy through the x-ray was wearing jandals/flipflops and the soldier told him he wasn't allowed open-toed shoes and was very convincing for at least a minute. The x-ray soldier confided to me that they were a bit bored.
Inside the arena it was packed. I've never seen so many people, and Olympics signs and t-shirts were everywhere. I wandered through, enjoying the atmosphere, and came right to the end where guards were stopping people going behind the scenes. I heard one tourist talking to a security guard, asking if there was something going on in here. He seemed very surprised to find out the Olympics were on.
I was looking for a big screen, but there wasn't really much. The screen outside by the queue shows adverts and nothing else. Apparently there'll be a festival on there soon, but it hasn't started yet.
On Saturday we went to Blackheath where they do have a big screen set up, and watched a lot of sailing (a big cheer went up when they finally changed the channel) and then the Super Saturday athletics with its three British Golds. So much cheering my ears were hurting.
And then today the triathlon was on! It went past Buckingham Palace at lunchtime, so at noon I ran (literally) all the way to Buckingham Palace and joined the crowds standing around the track. I got a really good position right by the fence, and ate my banana while I waited for the next lap.
First came the whistle. The stewards who were lining the pedestrian crossing hurried everyone to the sides, and the first two motorbikes came past, followed by the breakaway group moving very fast and a few more motorbikes. Everyone waved their flags and flashed their cameras and cheered. A minute later the peloton arrived in the same way and then we were back to waiting for the next lap.
It was a lot of fun, and great to actually see all those athletes close up. When the last lap had gone past, I ran back to work to catch the end of the race on the BBC live video. I was afraid that the triathletes would be able to run ten km faster than I could run two, but I was back in time to see the last lap of the running track Unfortunately the New Zealanders weren't quite up there with the medals, but it was fun to see it anyway.
Tomorrow I'm off to the Taekwondo. They changed the draws of the matches so I won't actually see any kiwis, but I guess it will be good anyway. I will report back!
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Ollllllllympics!!! The Opening Ceremony :D
I love the Olympics. So many amazing people trying so hard, making their countries proud, flags and anthems and surprise victors coming from behind. And this time around I'm right in the middle of it all!
We had a table booked at a bar near London Bridge with a huge projection screen to watch the opening ceremony, so I turned up there at 6pm to find that one of our party had managed to scrounge a ticket to the actual ceremony. So we all complained about that for a while but decided that we'd probably get a better view, what with the cameras showing it all in close detail. I found a drink on the menu called a Pan-galactic Gargle-blaster, which was chocolate rather than lemon-flavoured and tasted like someone had shaved dark chocolate into it, though it looked like white wine. The bar also had a really good vegetarian platter with mozzarella and olives and sundried tomatoes and risotto balls which were absolutely delicious.
The place began to pack out and we fiercely defended the space in front of our chairs when people tried to block our view. At last the countdown started.... Fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight... We were very impressed by the visuals for each of the numbers, and the air was tingling as everyone shouted the countdown along with the screen. There were at least two hundred people inside, and more outside. You could hardly hear the commentators for the noise.
And then it was happening! I loved the dance moves from the men in top hats, and the huge chimneys rising out of the idyllic farms, and all the cameos from famous Britons. When Daniel Craig arrived at Buckingham Palace everyone was muttering 'please let it be the actual queen, please let it be the actual queen' and a huge cheer went up when it was. We sang along to the songs, clapped when Mary Poppins vanquished Voldemort and oohed at the fireworks.
And then came the teams!
There are an awful lot of teams. I love the opening ceremony procession, because everyone looks so proud to be representing their country, so happy to be actually at the Olympics after working so hard for so long, and so hopeful - everything is still to come, and anything could happen. I decided quite quickly that New Zealand should legally change its name to Aotearoa (see? Then we'd be almost first) but finally there was Nick Willis with the flag, and everyone behind him marching into the stadium to the roar of the crowd. Then we still had to wait for the other half of the world until Great Britain's entrance, which was pretty deafening in the middle of a crowd of English people.
It was awesome. I quite liked the fact that they said everything in French first, because I could understand most of it and I knew what was happening before everyone else did (heehee). I also liked the oaths from the representatives, some of whom looked extremely nervous as they did it and so relieved and proud afterwards. The lighting of the cauldron was beautiful. Hey Jude was the perfect song for the end, because everyone can sing along even if they've never heard it before and don't know the language (though I did think there were about four too many hey Judes...).
The whole thing finished at about one o'clock, which is usually too late to catch the tube home (stupid tubes finish at 12.45) but THEY ARE EXTENDING THE TUBE HOURS FOR THE OLYMPICS. This is amazing. They should do it every weekend. I'm also enjoying being able to grocery shop on Sunday evenings, which is usually impossible because everywhere shuts at 4 - but not during the Olympics!
It's the small things.
We had a table booked at a bar near London Bridge with a huge projection screen to watch the opening ceremony, so I turned up there at 6pm to find that one of our party had managed to scrounge a ticket to the actual ceremony. So we all complained about that for a while but decided that we'd probably get a better view, what with the cameras showing it all in close detail. I found a drink on the menu called a Pan-galactic Gargle-blaster, which was chocolate rather than lemon-flavoured and tasted like someone had shaved dark chocolate into it, though it looked like white wine. The bar also had a really good vegetarian platter with mozzarella and olives and sundried tomatoes and risotto balls which were absolutely delicious.
The place began to pack out and we fiercely defended the space in front of our chairs when people tried to block our view. At last the countdown started.... Fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight... We were very impressed by the visuals for each of the numbers, and the air was tingling as everyone shouted the countdown along with the screen. There were at least two hundred people inside, and more outside. You could hardly hear the commentators for the noise.
And then it was happening! I loved the dance moves from the men in top hats, and the huge chimneys rising out of the idyllic farms, and all the cameos from famous Britons. When Daniel Craig arrived at Buckingham Palace everyone was muttering 'please let it be the actual queen, please let it be the actual queen' and a huge cheer went up when it was. We sang along to the songs, clapped when Mary Poppins vanquished Voldemort and oohed at the fireworks.
And then came the teams!
There are an awful lot of teams. I love the opening ceremony procession, because everyone looks so proud to be representing their country, so happy to be actually at the Olympics after working so hard for so long, and so hopeful - everything is still to come, and anything could happen. I decided quite quickly that New Zealand should legally change its name to Aotearoa (see? Then we'd be almost first) but finally there was Nick Willis with the flag, and everyone behind him marching into the stadium to the roar of the crowd. Then we still had to wait for the other half of the world until Great Britain's entrance, which was pretty deafening in the middle of a crowd of English people.
It was awesome. I quite liked the fact that they said everything in French first, because I could understand most of it and I knew what was happening before everyone else did (heehee). I also liked the oaths from the representatives, some of whom looked extremely nervous as they did it and so relieved and proud afterwards. The lighting of the cauldron was beautiful. Hey Jude was the perfect song for the end, because everyone can sing along even if they've never heard it before and don't know the language (though I did think there were about four too many hey Judes...).
The whole thing finished at about one o'clock, which is usually too late to catch the tube home (stupid tubes finish at 12.45) but THEY ARE EXTENDING THE TUBE HOURS FOR THE OLYMPICS. This is amazing. They should do it every weekend. I'm also enjoying being able to grocery shop on Sunday evenings, which is usually impossible because everywhere shuts at 4 - but not during the Olympics!
It's the small things.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Margaret Mahy, the Olympic Torch and Horsies
This will be a double-topic post, catching up from the one I meant to do in the weekend but never really got around to.
I was very sad to hear of Margaret Mahy's death earlier in the week. My copy of A Lion in the Meadow has a very good picture of a lion drawn in by the lady herself, and I remember standing before the Wellington Library steps as a small child, entranced by her rainbow wig as she read aloud. I loved her picture books, especially Seventeen Kings and Forty-Two Elephants, and her books for older readers of which my favourite is Alchemy.
I keep hearing about how much people love The Changeover, and wondering whether I've read it or not - I thought I had, but maybe not. I must investigate further. I think I might have to have a go at reading all her books... And watching Maddigan's Quest and Kaitangata Twitch, which I never managed to catch for some reason. She will be missed! If you've never read any Margaret Mahy, go and find some now. It should be pretty easy in New Zealand, but you might have to search a bit elsewhere. She was incredibly prolific, so there should be something for everyone :)
Last Saturday saw the Olympic Torch relay come near me, so I woke up early and stared at the live video of the torch making its way through Greenwich, aghast at all the people who'd got up before seven on a Saturday to see it go past. Their commitment inspired me in the end and I dragged myself out of bed and out the door.
I wasn't quite sure where to go to see the torch, so I just ended up walking until I found the route and then walking a bit further until it seemed like I had a good spot. There weren't too many people at first, but there were quite a few kids waving torches they'd made themselves and lots of police stationed or coming past. My spot was right outside the entrance to the Royal Artillery Barracks, and I didn't realise how good this was until the horses appeared.
Horses! A huge procession of them, pulling carts with guns on them! Horsies with guns! And soldiers all dressed up in red uniforms! The procession strung out along the yard and the horses stamped and fidgeted a bit as we waited in the early morning sun for the torch.
First past were the sponsors, singing and dancing and giving out free drums and the smallest coke bottles I've ever seen (250mL). That was amusing, and I tried to decide how I feel about sponsorship. On the one hand, I think it's slightly evil that these huge conglomerates get to brainwash people all along the way, but on the other hand, they're running a business and they are making the Olympics happen, and I appreciate that. After the sponsors came the traffic jam of normal people who were just trying to get around on a Saturday morning. After that was a bit more security, and then the runner with the flame and his bodyguards!
Everyone cheered and waved flags and snapped away with cameras, and then ran to follow as he went past. There was a changeover right outside the Royal Artillery gates, with lots of good photo opportunities while they passed the flame from one torch to the next. The torches are very sparkly.
The next runner set off, and the Horsies with guns followed dutifully behind, along with about half the people who'd been watching (including me). It was a great atmosphere, and I can't wait for the opening ceremony which I'm sure will be even better.
I was very sad to hear of Margaret Mahy's death earlier in the week. My copy of A Lion in the Meadow has a very good picture of a lion drawn in by the lady herself, and I remember standing before the Wellington Library steps as a small child, entranced by her rainbow wig as she read aloud. I loved her picture books, especially Seventeen Kings and Forty-Two Elephants, and her books for older readers of which my favourite is Alchemy.
I keep hearing about how much people love The Changeover, and wondering whether I've read it or not - I thought I had, but maybe not. I must investigate further. I think I might have to have a go at reading all her books... And watching Maddigan's Quest and Kaitangata Twitch, which I never managed to catch for some reason. She will be missed! If you've never read any Margaret Mahy, go and find some now. It should be pretty easy in New Zealand, but you might have to search a bit elsewhere. She was incredibly prolific, so there should be something for everyone :)
Last Saturday saw the Olympic Torch relay come near me, so I woke up early and stared at the live video of the torch making its way through Greenwich, aghast at all the people who'd got up before seven on a Saturday to see it go past. Their commitment inspired me in the end and I dragged myself out of bed and out the door.
I wasn't quite sure where to go to see the torch, so I just ended up walking until I found the route and then walking a bit further until it seemed like I had a good spot. There weren't too many people at first, but there were quite a few kids waving torches they'd made themselves and lots of police stationed or coming past. My spot was right outside the entrance to the Royal Artillery Barracks, and I didn't realise how good this was until the horses appeared.
Horses! A huge procession of them, pulling carts with guns on them! Horsies with guns! And soldiers all dressed up in red uniforms! The procession strung out along the yard and the horses stamped and fidgeted a bit as we waited in the early morning sun for the torch.
First past were the sponsors, singing and dancing and giving out free drums and the smallest coke bottles I've ever seen (250mL). That was amusing, and I tried to decide how I feel about sponsorship. On the one hand, I think it's slightly evil that these huge conglomerates get to brainwash people all along the way, but on the other hand, they're running a business and they are making the Olympics happen, and I appreciate that. After the sponsors came the traffic jam of normal people who were just trying to get around on a Saturday morning. After that was a bit more security, and then the runner with the flame and his bodyguards!
Everyone cheered and waved flags and snapped away with cameras, and then ran to follow as he went past. There was a changeover right outside the Royal Artillery gates, with lots of good photo opportunities while they passed the flame from one torch to the next. The torches are very sparkly.
The next runner set off, and the Horsies with guns followed dutifully behind, along with about half the people who'd been watching (including me). It was a great atmosphere, and I can't wait for the opening ceremony which I'm sure will be even better.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Gridlock London, Spider-man and Comic Books
I know, I know, I haven't done a blog post in a while now. I have been trying to figure out the best way to get to work when they close half of a major tunnel for the Olympics and it backs up the traffic so that my bus takes twice as long to get to the tube station. The transport for London people were kind of helpful - they've supplied us with walking maps of the area - but even with the traffic I think walking would take longer than the bus. I could take the train and change to the tube at London Bridge, but London Bridge is pretty much my most hated train station and they've made it even worse at the moment by closing off the direct route from train to tube. Now you have to go out onto the street, around, and back into the station if you want to get on the Underground.
Ha. Rant over.
Another reason I may not have posted recently is that I have been watching Spider-man. I really like this movie. I have seen it in 3D, 3D-moving seats, and er, twice in 2D. It's free, okay?
I get like this with some things. You may remember my Merlin posts from last year. So I've been trying to figure out what I like about it. Secret identity? Check. Good acting? Check. Minimal plot holes? I think I've found them all now, and they don't bother me too much. I prefer the oh-we-can't-be-together ending in this version much more than the Tobey Maguire ending, which I thought was a bit unbelievable and faintly annoying (oh, I love you so much I'm going to stay away from you out of the amazing moral awesomeness of my heart. Come on. It's cliché). I also liked that Peter Parker wasn't that stereotypical geeky guy who always gets picked on - the character development was great. You can really see that pre-spider bite Peter could become Spider-man.
My slight obsession with the movie got me thinking about comic books, and why I love comic-book style stories but not comic books. Or manga or graphic novels. I feel I should like them. I like art, and I like stories. Graphic novels have both. So why can't I get into them?
Maybe it's because I feel I have to study the pictures in depth and really appreciate them and so I never get into the flow of things. Maybe I miss the description of books, and my brain isn't satisfied with pictures (though I did love the Hugo Cabret book, which is half in words and half in pictures). Whatever the reason, my brain just doesn't click with them. It's the same with video games. I like driving games and the flying bits in Spyro and Harry Potter, but anything else and I get bored.
I guess lots of people can't get into books the same way I can't get into graphic novels.
Oh, and by the way, if you can get to watch Spider-man with moving seats, do it. It's awesome. I thought it would be a bit distracting, but I missed it when I watched it again without the seats. I kept expecting to feel the explosions or rock back when Spider-man's swinging, and was disappointed when it didn't happen.
Is there a particular medium you get bored with?
Ha. Rant over.
Another reason I may not have posted recently is that I have been watching Spider-man. I really like this movie. I have seen it in 3D, 3D-moving seats, and er, twice in 2D. It's free, okay?
I get like this with some things. You may remember my Merlin posts from last year. So I've been trying to figure out what I like about it. Secret identity? Check. Good acting? Check. Minimal plot holes? I think I've found them all now, and they don't bother me too much. I prefer the oh-we-can't-be-together ending in this version much more than the Tobey Maguire ending, which I thought was a bit unbelievable and faintly annoying (oh, I love you so much I'm going to stay away from you out of the amazing moral awesomeness of my heart. Come on. It's cliché). I also liked that Peter Parker wasn't that stereotypical geeky guy who always gets picked on - the character development was great. You can really see that pre-spider bite Peter could become Spider-man.
My slight obsession with the movie got me thinking about comic books, and why I love comic-book style stories but not comic books. Or manga or graphic novels. I feel I should like them. I like art, and I like stories. Graphic novels have both. So why can't I get into them?
Maybe it's because I feel I have to study the pictures in depth and really appreciate them and so I never get into the flow of things. Maybe I miss the description of books, and my brain isn't satisfied with pictures (though I did love the Hugo Cabret book, which is half in words and half in pictures). Whatever the reason, my brain just doesn't click with them. It's the same with video games. I like driving games and the flying bits in Spyro and Harry Potter, but anything else and I get bored.
I guess lots of people can't get into books the same way I can't get into graphic novels.
Oh, and by the way, if you can get to watch Spider-man with moving seats, do it. It's awesome. I thought it would be a bit distracting, but I missed it when I watched it again without the seats. I kept expecting to feel the explosions or rock back when Spider-man's swinging, and was disappointed when it didn't happen.
Is there a particular medium you get bored with?
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Countdown to that big sports tournament thingy
It is becoming more and more apparent that the Olympics will be on in London in less than a month. All important tube stations have pink signs up advising which way to Olympic venues, which is very helpful in a vague sort of way, considering I am much more likely to be trying to get to work or home than Horse Guards Parade for the beach volleyball. I found out this morning that Bank Tube station has changed the direction of some of their escalators so that they ACTUALLY MAKE SENSE. This means I am less likely to get stuck in Bank Station for months wandering round and round, every so often catching sight of signs saying 'Way Out' but never quite getting there.
Piccadilly Circus tube station was announcing everything in Italian the other day, which was rather jarring, and an enthusiastic young policeman tried to force an oyster card holder on me as I came through the barriers. Hmm. I wonder if it was a special Olympics one. maybe I'll take one next time.
I was on the Underground at 6.30 this evening, later than normal, but it was still completely packed, so much so that sometimes people couldn't get on. You also hear lots of foreign accents and languages.the tourist and athlete and support staff influx is beginning...
I received my Olympic ticket in the mail this morning from a very cheery postman. It includes my ticket, an all-day travel card (very handy... Now I have to figure out how to time it so I don't pay for my oyster card on that day), some cardboard punchy-outy things and information about taekwondo, the sport I'm going to see. It makes it seem a lot more real and close.
Not long now...
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| The Great Olympic Fence of St James's Park |
Piccadilly Circus tube station was announcing everything in Italian the other day, which was rather jarring, and an enthusiastic young policeman tried to force an oyster card holder on me as I came through the barriers. Hmm. I wonder if it was a special Olympics one. maybe I'll take one next time.
I was on the Underground at 6.30 this evening, later than normal, but it was still completely packed, so much so that sometimes people couldn't get on. You also hear lots of foreign accents and languages.the tourist and athlete and support staff influx is beginning...
I received my Olympic ticket in the mail this morning from a very cheery postman. It includes my ticket, an all-day travel card (very handy... Now I have to figure out how to time it so I don't pay for my oyster card on that day), some cardboard punchy-outy things and information about taekwondo, the sport I'm going to see. It makes it seem a lot more real and close.
Not long now...
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