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.
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....
Another thing I am yet to get completely acclimatised to here in London is the noise. All day, everywhere, noise. Sirens, people yelling and cars (interspersed with birds tweeting in the trees outside our apartment of course.)
In Sydney, The Man of the House and I lived very centrally. Right next to the city and the infamous Kings Cross. You would have thought I would therefore be used to a certain level of noise, but for whatever reason, we never experienced it. Our little part of the world was uncannily quiet (apart from that night someone got shot in the Cross!). Here, living in N1, we have sirens constantly, traffic, and not to mention the fact that a pod of whales seems to have moved into the flat above us.
I am not complaining (really) though, because an article I read today in the Sydney Morning Herald, the local Sydney newspaper, pretty much summed up why Australians leave the island and head overseas for their holidays (and to live, in our case). Here is the link for those interested:
http://www.smh.com.au/travel/sorry-australia-europe-rules-20111026-1mj5o.html
But in summary form for everyone else, it pretty much says that although Australia is a beautiful country (very true), it just cannot compete with all Europe has to offer to inquisitive individuals. For example, Australia has one good museum (the National War Museum in Canberra for those planning to head down under) whereas every single city in Europe has at least one museum of international significance. Likewise, Australian architecture is fairly ho-hum when compared with all of the historical buildings, churches and monuments found littered across Europe. Sure we all love the Opera House on Sydney Harbour, but when you are looking at the Colosseum from around 70 AD, it pales into the utmost insignificance.
I agree absolutely with the article - I am still getting used to how much of Europe is just on my doorstep, and how easy it is to travel there from London. And just how amazing it is.
I think it will be quite some time before I feel the lure of Australia pull me back, but needless to say I will be much more widely travelled than I was the day I arrived here in London. And no amount of noise will put me off that just yet!
Till tomorrow...
Well, maybe not exactly!
But since it was a Saturday, the sun was shining and The Man of The House was at home, he persuaded me to make the most of it and go for a bike ride. The two of us are both "into" cycling and our road bikes had arrived from Australia a couple of months ago with the rest of our furniture. Cycles to date in London had been....well.....a tad of a disaster. Unlike in Sydney, the roads are winding, small and often one way. Throw in having no clue where you are going, and a bunch of crazy people in cars, and it's a recipe for disaster (or at least a domestic argument!)
I am sure you can understand my reluctance. Being a good wife though, I conceded and off to the streets we took. The grand plan was to cycle on one of the so called cycle "super highways", the dream baby of the City of London Mayor, and somehow end up at Richmond Park. This was quite an undertaking....and needless to say we didn't quite make our final destination. Once the "super highway" ended, we got a little lost and decided to make the 45 minute trip back home instead.
Despite not achieving our goal, I still felt pretty good about myself. This ride had been somewhat less of a disaster than previously, and I felt like being on a "super highway" protected me a little from those crazy Saturday morning drivers (a problem anywhere in the world really). Anyway...it was mildly fun. I really do applaud the institution of the cycle highways, it makes getting around London so much easier. I am also amazed that in such a massive place as London it was possible to actually put them in!
Kudos to you, Boris.
See you next week....
So here's the thing - I am not what you would describe as a "homemaker" type of woman. As such, I have had a very limited interest in all things craft related for as long as I care to remember (except for that brief flirtation with cross-stitch at age 10...). Why then, you may ask, did I sign up for a sewing course on a recent Monday evening?
Well, although the precise logic escapes me, I think it had something to do with my deep love of fashion and some perverse idea that I, too, could churn out some little Prada-esq numbers at some future point.
Encouraged by The Man of the House, I signed up for a "make your own hot water bottle cover" introduction to sewing at a recent addition to my area, Ray Stitch in Islington (www.raystitch.co.uk). Bearing in mind I had never even so much as touched a sewing machine before, it promised to be a challenge. And who knew that loading a bobbin could be so complicated?! ....luckily our fantastic teacher was on hand to smooth the process for me (I should also mention that The Man of the House was along for moral support - and proved also to be much help - I like to think that his engineering degree gave him an unfair advantage though...)
What can I say? The class was fantastic....I encourage all budding sewers or people with any interest in perhaps making a Versace like number to sign up for an evening course at Ray Stitch. They also do more advanced classes for people who, unlike me, have more of an affiliation with the sewing machine. Our teacher was a god-send, and all materials, as well as snacks and wine, were provided (the wine being much needed!) What did the end product look like you ask? See for yourself:
While I admit it is not perfectly symmetrical, I am as pleased as punch with the outcome. At the very least, my fake Burberry clad hot water bottle will keep my feet warm now that the colder weather seems to have begun...my first winter in the Northern hemisphere is creeping up on me quicker than expected!
Until tomorrow....
So I may have jumped in a little early yesterday without a proper introduction.
I am student from Auckland NZ, via a stint in Sydney Australia where I met and married my soul-mate (The Man of the House). We moved to London on a wing and a prayer about 3 months ago now. I am still trying to work this massive city out and thought it would be memory capturing to record my experiences and findings in this blog.
A little about me? I am a book nut, and usually have 2 or more on the go at any one time. I love skiing (which will probably feature a lot in here), running (3 marathons down) and film. That's about it really. I am married to the perfect man (if that's possible), childless but with one very spoilt brown cat (Coco Bean).
Well, I hope that someone out there is interested enough in a London newbie recording her experiences to actually read this thing. Stay tuned for more exciting instalments about life in a big, "full of people" city!
I thought a gratuitous shot of my little baby would help things along:
See you tomorrow....
