The time has come to vent one of my annoyances publicly.
For weeks now, protestors have occupied not only St Pauls Cathedral but Finsbury Square in central London, making a complete mess of what is public space. This in itself is completely inexcusable in my mind, but today they have taken it one step further. They have decided to take over and occupy a dis-used building, owned by major Swiss investment bank, UBS.
What on earth are these people thinking?! Some of the claims are along the lines of "due to Government cuts people in society are losing out on their nurseries, community halls and youth centres, so we're going to take over this space which is not in use". BIG problem in my mind - that space is not owned by them! They have no rights to it whatsoever. Sure, if they want to pay UBS for the privilege, and UBS agrees, they have a contract and no problem. But in today's society, you cannot simply walk into some place that does not belong to you and take it over. Just because you think Government cuts are "unfair".
What a load of utter rubbish. Taking away public spaces by setting up hideous protestor camps akin to ghettos in war-torn countries is one thing, but simply thinking you have the right to march onto someone else's property and claim it is simply sheer hubris. Imagine if you go on an extended holiday and come back to find someone camping in your living room, just because they decided to take it over. The police would be called and the intruder forcibly removed.
I am beyond this - bring in the police, and get rid of the lot of the lazy, jobless hooligans who think they can hold this city to ransom.
Rant over. Adios.
Last night I was transported back in time to my teenage-self. No, not literally, but in spirit. The Man of the House and I, along with a good friend, took ourselves off to the sold out Smashing Pumpkins concert in Brixton.
Of course, the band looks little like its former self, which I fell deeply in love with during my angst-ridden teenage years. You know, a time when every song seems to be speaking to you directly, and you feel like the brains behind such important lyrics are somehow walking in your shoes? Along with Nirvana, I devoted a lot of my evening and weekend time to listening to the Smashing Pumpkins. I owned both Siamese Dream and Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, and drove my mother insane by playing them over and over.
I was surprised to find that little has changed in the 15 years since I belted out the lyrics to Tonight Tonight. The music is similar. Billy Corgan remains an amazing musician who shows little sign of slowing down. And there is a real sense of the songs speaking to you and having a deep meaning. Admittedly, apart from a well-selected few from the early stuff, I didn't know the majority of the songs that were played last night. But I still loved it....
While the band is completely different - only Billy Corgan remains from the original line-up - the feelings that were evoked were similar to those I felt in the mid 1990s. Which brings me to wonder whether I have remained the same? While I thought that my love of "grunge rock" was somehow tied up with a certain time in my life, I discovered last night that it most certainly is not. New music, new(ish) band but the same emotions and sense of being understood. Am I emotionally stunted? Have I carried with me my whole life a sense of being fundamentally mis-understood and different? Or do I just have a fantastic taste in music (and here thanks is due to my father, who even at age 45 fully appreciated the vocal stylings of Kurt Cobain)?
I like to think its the latter. I hope I have come some way from that 15 year old who railed against authority and school and being told what to do. Perhaps I haven't, deep down. I suppose I will never really know what it is that makes me (or anyone) love what I do love....nature or nurture I ask??
Adios....
This weekend just past saw the Man Of The House and I take off to Paris (with our close ex-Sydney friend) on the Eurostar. I am amazed at how simple it is to travel by train around Europe - passport control, immigration and security is a breeze and you simply carry your luggage on with you. This in itself is nothing new to me, as we mostly used trains to get around Europe on our honeymoon. But there is something so wonderfully simple about jumping on a two and a half hour train that transports you from central London to Paris.
This is definitely a key highlight of living in London. Since we have been here, we have been to Berlin and now Paris for long weekends (and the Lake District here in the UK too). While we had to fly to Berlin, it was all relatively easy and simple compared to getting oneself around Australia.
Australian travelling is not what I would call very "user friendly". The distances are so great that quite often flying is the only viable option, unless you are cool with being cooped up in a car for 10 or so hours. I am not. And we all know what a total pain flying can be - you have to arrive one hour before your flight time these days, clear security that is tighter than fort knox and then make it through immigration. Such a hassle! Then you have the horror of actually flying somewhere, with all that take off and landing fuss (I admit to not being completely cool with the aeroplane thing at all times).
So I am a convert to the train method of travel now that I am becoming more European. I even opted for the much longer train journey from Innsbruck to Budapest between the upcoming Christmas and New Year, just because it is so much more pleasant and enjoyable. And here in Europe, people who work on trains just seem so much more friendly and the whole thing is just so down-right comfortable (please note that what I have written does not in any way apply to Amtrack trains - especially between Boston and New York - as discovered earlier this year). Plus these trains are amazingly quick compared to what passes for a train in Australia. They cover great distances in super fast time - what's not to love?!
So train away with confidence readers - it will most certainly be my preferred method of travel in the upcoming years.
Adios....
One of my absolute favourite things to do ever is skiing. Which is weird, because I didn't even go on a ski trip until I was 24 years old, and that weekend at Thredbo (in Australia) with a bunch of girlfriends was somewhat less than successful. But there is something totally addictive about the sport when you get it right. Add that to the fact that The Man of the House is a fabulous skier, and my addiction was set for life when we began dating all those years ago.
We even went skiing on our honeymoon - 14 glorious days in the French and Swiss Alps - far from the beach side resort lounging that most of our now married friends have opted for. So I think its pretty clear just how important skiing is to me (us). This, of course, was one of the biggest draw cards of coming to London. The incredibly close proximity to the awesome slopes of Europe was just too good to pass up. And as we edge ever closer to that first snowfall, our thoughts have turned to ski holidays and long apres-ski sessions with friends.
Who knew that finding a chalet for 6 people in Verbier in January would prove so difficult? For the last two weeks I have felt a little like this:
Not only is it impossible to please everyone (so I quickly discovered), apparently Verbier is the most expensive place on the planet. Of course, none of this mattered to me when I suggested it as our first major ski destination since moving to London. Now I can see why so many people suggest those smaller, less well known resorts when you ask them their favourite. Thank goodness that I finally stumbled upon someone who could help me out, actually emailed and phoned when she said she would, and came up trumps in the "finding a chalet" quest. Big shout out to Independent Mountain (http://www.independentmountain.com/) if you are ever looking for a chalet!
So all in all, I am only missing perhaps one handful of hair. But I now also have the excitement of an impending ski holiday at a resort that I have wanted to ski at for quite some time.
Although the cold and dark can be depressing at times, for skiers it also means one very important thing - SNOW. So fingers and toes crossed for a terrible winter with a tonne of the white stuff!
Adios....
Its official - the sun is setting earlier and the days are turning colder. Winter is almost here. I can smell it in the air, and see it in the fallen autumn leaves. For someone from the Antipodes, this is frightening.
It has definitely meant a slowing down of outdoor weekend activities for The Man of the House and I. So what did this past weekend bring? Something that goes hand in hand with moving continents and perhaps my two least favourite words in the English language ... IKEA and building. I think IKEA is one of those things that divides people. Some people that I mention it to love the idea of home do-it-yourself building and creating (and following laborious diagrams). Others loathe it. Like me. In my mind, building something yourself is an immense waste of precious time and looks a little like this:
I am not a builder of any description. The little confused IKEA man just about sums it up for me.
Thankfully, The Man of the House does a much better job of these things. A little peak at his handiwork:
It got me to thinking, why is IKEA so successful? Why on earth does the thought of building cheap furniture themselves appeal to so many people world-wide? If I had my way, all furniture that entered our home would be fully assembled but sadly, British Pound Sterling doesn't grow on that tree in our backyard. And I think that must be it - if nothing else, IKEA is cheap and stylish. Designs are modern. Everything comes in a flat-pack. You know what you are getting.
In any event, I hope that we are done with building furniture for the near future. There's nothing like a confused blobby man to cause domestic disquiet!
Adios....
Now that daylight savings have been removed from our London lives, it is getting dark pretty quick in the afternoon. And cold. And wet. I am not complaining - everyone in Australia knows that you don't move to England for the weather. All it means I guess is that I will have to be a little more creative when it comes to activities outside of the house.
One indoors activity that I am a huge fan of is shopping. Yep - it can be done in all weather, at all times and every day of the week. And in London, there are a lot of shopping opportunities. Just when I think I have had enough, something new comes along to entice me. For example, the sample sale. Sure there were sample sales in Australia (everyone waiting desperately for that twice a year Sass & Bide sale) but nothing like there is here.
Before arriving in London, a good friend clued me in about certain daily emails that inform you of such things as sample sales when they come along. So this morning, I got wind of a Reiss sample sale in Mayfair and along I went.
Well....I could not breathe in that place! A warehouse room crammed full of clothes and humans all fighting for those same garments is a recipe for disaster in my mind. It was pure chaos. I think I lasted about 3 minutes before the unbearableness of it all forced me back out the door. Sort of like this:
So I think the lesson learnt today is that a sample sale in a place as big as London (even on a Thursday) is a no-go zone. Even for someone as dedicated to the art of shopping and fashion as I am, too many people clawing over clothes is simply not cool.
Time to find a new wet weather hobby....
Even though I was born in New Zealand, I have been an avid follower of the English Premier League for a large chunk of my life. I think this was largely due to the influence of my father, who has been a fervent Manchester United supporter since sometime in the 1960s. Me being me though, I decided to support Chelsea at a point in the early 1990s, mostly to annoy my father.
Moving to London then offered to me the lure of attending Premier League games....
So when tickets to Chelsea v Arsenal in the Premier League became available through The Man of the House's work late last week, we jumped at the chance. The seats were awesome. Simply awesome. Right at ground level, corner post, close enough to smell the grass pitch. The game itself was sensational - 8 goals - a true rarity in this day and age of modern football.
But what intrigued me far more than this was the fans. It is one thing to support a team from thousands of miles away on television, it is truly another thing to be there in the thick of it. One guy seated right behind me managed to keep up a running commentary about everything his beloved Chelsea FC were doing wrong throughout the whole match. He barely drew breath. I thought, at several points in the game, he might blow an optic nerve out. The guy should be on coaching staff he seemed so opinionated about every aspect of the game. Then there was the other 'fan' behind me who insisted on using various colourful expletives at every opportunity... don't people bring their small children to these matches??
I thought to myself, sure, disappointed that my team ultimately lost but it's not going to ruin my day or even the experience of being at Stamford Bridge. I got the feeling though that most of those around me would be in an emotional fug for at least another week, or until Chelsea notched up another win.
I think Australians and New Zealanders have a different approach to sport. There is no separating of supporters at games of any code, nor is there a need for mounted police to patrol the stadiums after matches. Being an All Blacks supporter, I have sat right in the middle of hundreds of Wallabies fans at Bledisloe Cup matches with no fear whatsoever. We take the good with the bad and roll with the proverbial punches. Sure losing is disappointing but I don't think that anyone takes it that personally. Conversely, on Saturday afternoon at Stamford Bridge, I got the feeling that most of the fans most certainly took our loss very personally.
I understand that football fanaticism runs deep here. But why let a game ruin your life? Lighten up fans....life is way too short.
Till tomorrow....
