I am on a very tight deadline to finish my essays for this semester. Of course, I have no-one to blame but myself. I’ve managed a LOT of reading so it’s just a question of getting the words down, I guess. Anyway, that’s what I spent half of today (and most of tonight) doing. The first half was quite different…

I had to go to see our lawyers to identify myself. For the flat buying. Now, we have bought and/or sold 10 properties with them over the last 10 years so you’d think they’d know us by now. I sort of like to imagine that when a new instruction comes in from us, they all say “Look! It’s another one from those two crazy, property indecisive Aussies!” If anyone does say that, it makes no difference. Each time, we have to trundle off to Fleet and tell them who we are.

I also had my yearly check up at the doctor. It happens over here when you have asthma. They need to make sure you know how to use the spray you’ve been using since you were 19. Every year they need to make sure. This used to be a right pain when we were at Haslemere because the doctor was miles away but now it’s a whizz. The doctor is down the end of the road. Brilliant.

On top of that, Mirinda was home yesterday (for book club) so I walked her up to the station this morning first. After waving her train bye bye, I then turned around and walked all the way back again, winding up at the doctor. She measured me, weighed me, tested my breathing, asked me the same questions she asked me last year, made sure I knew how to inhale and then let me go. It was then onto my first bus.

When I was working at Woking, getting to Fleet was quite easy. One train. That was it. I could pop over in my lunch hour. It is a bit of a hike from the station but even so, pretty simple and direct. Now, however, it’s not so simple. Or direct. Of course, there’s no bus from Farnham to Fleet. That would be far too easy. I have to get one to Aldershot then change for the Fleet bus. This wasn’t too bad, I only had a ten minute wait. And then a long trek, winding through the countryside, stopping at awful looking estates, until I was deposited outside the lawyer’s office.

I walked in and told the receptionist why I was there. She took my documents, photocopied them, returned the originals and that was it. I could have been anyone. The whole thing took 5 minutes. I then walked back out to the street ready for ther trip back to Aldershot.

The Fleet bus only comes every hour so it was with a bit of dismay that I realised I had 50 minutes to wait for the next one. Fortunately a nearby Wetherspoons was open so I sat and nursed a lovely pint, read the paper and waited there.

It was then back to Aldershot in order to switch to another bus for Farnham. I had a 15 minute wait this time. I stayed on the bus into Farnham so I could shop for my lunch and dinner then walked home.

I had left home at 7:20am and returned at 12:45pm. If I was a driver, the whole thing would have taken less than an hour! That’s what you get for doing the right thing and being fiercely independent.

So, I was back to uni today. I have four essays due so I figured I’d get a lot of work done on the train. This reminds me of a story in the press not long ago. A politician claimed he had to travel first class because he couldn’t work in second. He managed to make it sound like he was putting himself in some better class than the other passengers by saying they weren’t ‘the same’ as him. Bad choice of words, clearly but a more than accurate sentiment. I can but dream of first class.

Firstly, the new trains do not lend themselves to giving enough room to work properly. I’ve mentioned before that they’re modelled on a very thin, very short German midget as opposed to a normal sized human being. This makes it difficult to type, one arm being wedged against the side of the carriage or one leg extended into the aisle – neither helpful.

Actually, having a Netbook helps a bit. The keyboard being 97% the size of a full sized machine means I can just rest my wrists on the base and my fingers can reach all the keys. I am still squeezed up against the wall of the carriage though. Not the most ergonomic of typing positions.

I guess one of the worst things is the annoying habits of other people. They plug in their earplugs, have their music (or whatever) WAY too loud then can’t hear themselves eating with their mouths open. This simply sends me totally insane. And jiggling legs. I like the way some ‘expert’ has given this a name, as if it legitimises it somehow. Restless Leg Syndrome. It’s a SYNDROME? No it’s not! It’s a HABIT! Personally, I just think it’s because they desperately want to annoy me. It’s times like this I’m glad I have a laptop so I can freely vent the vitriol which otherwise threatens to engulf me.

Do they not care about anyone else? Are they so egocentric they only have brains attuned to themselves? Whenever I listen to my iPod, I always check the amount of bleed from the earplugs because I don’t want to annoy anyone. Is this just me? I must admit, I also do it so I can still hear what’s going on around me. I live in fear of missing an emergency flood announcement because Frank Zappa is screeching in my head.

I know the train is so crowded that people want to surround themselves with their own little happy bubble of aloneness, but just a smidge of consideration for others would be nice. Just like the people in cars who think everyone wants to listen to the constant drivel they call music which might be ok except all you can hear is thwump, thwump, thwump. OK, I know it’s never going to happen but it’s nice to moan about it. After all, what else is a blog for?

It was clear I wasn’t going to get a lot of work done, so I wrote this entry instead. I hoped he’d read it as I typed but, sadly, he didn’t. I also hoped to catch a glimspe of his email address (he had his laptop opened in front of him) so I could send him a rude email but I couldn’t make it out.

And while I’m moaning about people without social skills…I’m also not keen on the people who have to yell into their phones. Surely there’s been enough comedy skits showing how ridiculous it is. Sometimes I feel like joining in the conversation, just for a laugh but fear they have little (or no) sense of humour. Actually, when I think about it, if they don’t get the comedy skits, they are not going to get anything. Probably a good idea NOT to join in, then.

Well, that managed to take me from Clapham Junction to Aldershot, and I felt a little bit better. Not that I managed much uni work, but it did deter me slightly from the slurping next to me.

Poor Mirinda is still not feeling the best, though her voice is gradually returning. It’s still a bit quiet. Which means she doesn’t always get a cup of tea when she asks…because I can’t hear her.

Still, she feels better because we went to Hankley this afternoon. She needed to get out so we decided to enjoy the lack of planes that constantly fly across the common (albeit very, very high). It was truly beautiful. We stopped a few times to listen to the silence which was joyously filled with twittering bird song.

Back at home we enjoyed a late afternoon drink in the back garden, admiring the tulips, the daffs, the mown grass, etc. Again, no planes. I have just read that they are still banned until tomorrow morning, at around 1am, at the earliest. I feel a bit sorry for anyone under the flight path if they all decide to take off at 1am! They’ll probably all have their windows open.

Actually Mirinda said how annoying it would be if you’d never heard the silence from a lack of planes, having been born and bred in the same house, under the same flight path, all your life. Then, suddenly, because of a volcano, one day it all stops. For almost a week there is no noise. You are amazed, excited. So much so that when the planes resume normal service, you can no longer sleep, you can’t operate properly, you have been spoilt for under flight path living. It’s like huskies. You can’t let them inside the house. They feel the heat and no longer want to go out in the cold. Isn’t life strange?

I’m back to uni tomorrow. Mirinda is off to book club. Here’s a photo of our pink tulips. They are under the weather station and have a lovely yellow stripe through them.

Pink tulips with yellow swirl

I’ve changed the blog appearance a bit. Let me know what you think.

Today marked the beginning of my mowing for the year. I figured it was time when I couldn’t find Day-z and, after two hours of searching, realised she was lying down in the back garden. Mirinda has a cold so I locked her in the bedroom and, taking the dogs with me, I spent a goodly amount of time trying to extricate the mower from the shed. This finally accomplished, I found some petrol, filled the mower and then started the job.

The weather was perfect (still a total lack of contrails), not too hot, not close to cold. I spent the next hour happily cutting grass. It normally takes around half an hour but the grass was so long, I needed to empty the catcher twice as many times. After finishing, I sat on the patio with a beer, admiring my handiwork.

Mirinda finally made an appearance and we sat outside for a tea/coffee. She says the garden looks much better just having the grass cut. I agree. You can see the tulips better. Speaking of which…here’s the red ones.

Our red tulips in the evening sun

We were going to St John’s tonight to celebrate a certain someone’s birthday but, due to illness, I had to cancel. We have rescheduled for next week instead.

There’s a part of me that feels very sorry for the people stranded in UK and most of Europe by the volcanic ash drifting down from Iceland at the moment. Especially because I know people it has affected. Joanne, of course, who can’t get to Ireland to see her mother and the two American women who have been working with Mirinda for the last 8 weeks. Also the poor women I heard about this morning who have been stuck in Spain and have to keep moving hotel rooms because of other bookings which the hotel needs to wait for cancellation. There’s clearly a lot of misery.

I heard an interview with a pilot who flew a 747 through a volcanic ash cloud on a test flight a few years ago. He said all the engines suddenly stopped. It was the scariest thing he’d ever experienced. About 20,000 feet in the air, sitting in a massive metal cyclinder and, bang, no engines. They are not known for their gliding abilities. As he approached the ground, he managed to get them to start again but it was a very close thing. And so, the planes are grounded. I don’t care how put out I’d be by grounding a plane, I’d rather they stayed on the ground. Though that’s probably scant relief for the thousands sitting in airport terminals right now. And any dead Germans in wheelchairs who will start to smell pretty soon.

BUT…

On Breakfast this morning, a group of three people from Richmond, who have fought against the third runway since it was first announced, were filmed standing on a green space, looking up, their faces full of joy. Once you’ve been to Richmond, their looks are completely understandable.

Richmond, though an expensive suburb, is constantly flown over as planes make their final approach into Heathrow. It is constant. People can’t open their windows unless they’re deaf. It was a big decider in us not buying there when we were considering living closer to London.

On the radio yesterday, a listener rang in to say she was listening to the birds in her garden for the first time since she moved into her house. She lives under the Gatwick flight path. This seems to be the most popular result of the ash deluge in the upper atmosphere. The birds can be heard.

Walking back from the shops this morning, it suddenly struck me how blue the sky was. It looked glorious. Then I realise why. A complete lack of contrails. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sky without contrails. We get a lot of planes flying very high over us (so no noise) and they leave a constant criss-crossing of vapour trails but not today. I feel like I’m in pre-flight Britain. It is wonderful.

When I grew up, one of the roughest towns nearby was Blacktown. It paid to be very streetwise when venturing out at night. Being close friends with a few locals helped a lot. Well, when I think of Woking, it reminds me of Blacktown: Fine during the day, a bit scary at night. And I’ve always called Stevie a Woking boy. He’s lived in the area all his life. He knows the right places to go, the right people to avoid looking at, the right kebab shops, etc. Well, no more!

Yesterday evening, Stevie met me at Woking station in his mini, all Mr Slick with his car keys, and took me for a spin around the area where he grew up. While it isn’t that far from Woking proper, it is worlds away. A leafy suburb with big, set back lawns, towering hedges and sleepy streets. He grew up in a paradise! No longer the Woking boy, he shall henceforth be the Little Prince. Sadly, we didn’t drive by his parent’s mansion. He was concerned that they’d spot his rather distinctive car and force us inside.

He then drove me to a nearby lake, where he goes fishing. He parked up and we walked over to admire this massive reservoir of water. Yachts sail on it, it’s so big. It’s about the size of Frensham big pond but long rather than round-ish. It was a glorious evening and nice to see so many people enjoying the water. It was also quite chilly so I was also quite surprised.

Back into the car and off to Shere. Shere is one of those English villages that has parking for 12 cars and manages to attract 30,000 people every weekend. It is the quintessential English, chocolate box kind of village with two pubs, an old church, Tudor buildings, thatched rooftops, the works. Mirinda and I used to live quite close to Shere when we first started living in Surrey. We went over one weekend, drove around a bit, then came home, it was so crowded. That’s a slight exaggeration. We actually managed to find a spot and parked, wandered around then visited the White Horse pub for a beer.

It was no easier finding a park last night but fortunately you can park a mini in the smallest of spaces, which we did, then wandered up to the White Horse for dinner. It’s a brilliant country pub. It was a farm house originally and became a pub in the early 1700s. Very welcoming, good beer and excellent pub food. Stevie went all blokey and went for the mixed grill while I had the delicious gammon and eggs (my usual pub dinner).

Stevie, being the good, concientious chap he is, drank some fizzy stuff with blackcurrent cordial in it while I had a few pints of TEA. And I have to say that it was delicious. It’s interesting that beer from the same brewery can taste differently in different pubs. For instance, TEA is quite undrinkable in Wetherspoons in Woking but it was fantastic in the White Horse. Like buying it fresh from the brewery (something Nicktor often does when he’s been working in Guildford as the brewery is about a mile from here).

We had a lovely long chat, catching up on each other. He is presently engulfed in wedding plans – he is due to marry in September – as well as preparing for a friend’s wedding at which he is best man. The wedding will be by a celebrant (a registrar over here) in a garden and sounds like it will be lovely. Like they all do, I suppose. He also ran the half marathon in Reading, which I find amazing. Not because he’s unfit – he is the fittest person I know – but because it’s an amazing thing to do. Running 13 miles. Incredible.

We left Shere and popped into the Onslow Arms at Clandon where a band was playing to five people and a dog. The dog seemed to be enjoying the music more than the five people as it’s tail was swishing in time to it. I had a pint of Shere Drop, a very local beer with a lovely summery palate. We chatted some more and then he drove me back to Woking where we made the usual promise to make it a monthly thing.

It made a big change to our usual meet-ups as we didn’t get drunk. I mean, Stevie didn’t drink anything! I think we should try and do it like that next time as well. It makes for much better conversation and I can read the paper on the train going home.

Stevie proudly holds up his car keys in the White Horse

A few updates:

The Dead German
I have since found out that it costs £5,000 to send a body back to Germany if the person dies when away from home. The man concerned was visiting his daughter in England and on holiday. Clearly it would be cheaper to use the return half of one’s plane ticket. Not that anyone is saying they knew he was dead. They haven’t been to court yet. I still like the idea they thought he was asleep.

Joanne
Joanne is my cousin on my mum’s side. And yes, Heather took the photo. Joanne then made her take a photo of all three of us. But that was on their camera.

CRB Check
Yes, we have the same thing here when you have any interaction with children. It’s called a CRB Check. I had to have one when I volunteered to help primary school kids to read a few years ago. Because I’ll be ‘working’ in the back office and not coming into contact with any children, I didn’t need to have one for the Science Museum. I think they’re a great idea. When they work.

Aldershot
The game last night was terrible. The Shots lost 2-0 and fully deserved it. The other side was much hungrier and worked hard for the win. Not very entertaining for us. We actually left 5 minutes before full time, something we rarely do.

The fact that Chelsea won against Bolton more than made up for it though. It puts us 4 points clear at the top of the table with only four games to play. We only need to win three of these last games to be League champions! Ah, memories of 2006.

Nicktor
Nicktor didn’t stay last night. Dawn and the boys have been away in the New Forest (Remember that sign to Sandy Balls, Claire…well that’s where they’re staying!) and he had to clean up the mess he made constructing his Ikea bookcases in the ‘Good Room’. He was sad but resigned. He also spent a large part of the evening telling me about his bookcases. He even showed me photographs.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬
Tonight I’m meeting Stevie for a few drinks and a huge catch-up. We haven’t seen each other since last December! He has since managed to pass his driving exam and is keen to drive me somewhere. I’ve missed him and I’m really looking forward to it. Seeing him as well as being driven.

When we went to the park this morning for our walk, it looked wonderful. The hawthorn has started to blossom, readying itself for any Beltane festivities, daisies are springing up everywhere, the trees are back n leaf, the mud has dried up. The sun was shining and a wind was blowing, keeping everything cool. I was forced to wear shorts, it was so warm.

Meanwhile, our garden is starting to come alive with bulbs. A few isolated frescias are starting to appear around my fairy circle. The daffs that line the shadow of what was once the Wendy House have yet to be anything but green, but the tulips are all starting to bloom. The yellow ones up under the gazebo are the first while the red ones down by the cherry tree are almost ready. Mirinda’s potted tulips are just ready to explode with colour as are the ones I planted beneath the weather station.

And the magnolia! Goodness. What a lot of flowers.

As I sit typing this in the study, the garden looks alive. The birds are twittering and dashing to and fro, a squirrel is hanging from the hornbeam, one poodle is asleep on the patio while the other is lying behind me on my chair. The world looks wonderful today.

Nicktor is due at 6pm and we’re off to watch the mighty Shots.

Yellow tulips under the gazebo

What a great day I had today!

Science Museum
The induction went very well. There were 11 of us, each volunteering for different roles. We started with a short video entitled A Day in the Life of the Science Museum which was very good and showed how active the place is at all hours. After this we all introduced ourselves around the table. Six of us are over 50 and the other 5, under 30. We then had a presentation, given by the director of volunteers (Oliver), about the history of the Science Museum. Part of this involved a question and answer session.

Oliver put up a photograph and asked if anyone knew what it was.

“Crystal Palace,” Everyone over 50 answered instantly.
“And what’s happening?” Oliver asked.
“The Great Exhibition,” The oldies answered together.
“Very good,” Oliver said. “And what year was it?”
“1851,” We obediently answered.

He then went on to explain that there was around £1800 left over after the Great Exhibition finished, and Prince Albert suggested it be poured into the establishment of a musuem of science and industry. From this, gradually grew the V&A and the Science Museum we know today.

After this we had to fill in a lot of documents to prove we were who we said we were and eligible to work as volunteers and a bit of a chat about Health and safety and Confidentiality etc.

Oliver then took us on a tour of the museum. I’ve never been until today. What an amazing place! I shall definitely go now. They had tried to cater to all sorts of visitors and each gallery we visited was different. I particularly liked the Wellcome collection of medical instruments but the others were brilliant as well.

And then it was all over. All I have to do now is wait for my supervisor to get in touch for my start date. I’m really looking forward to starting.

Cousin Joanne
And then I went over to Waterloo to meet my cousin Joanne, who I haven’t seen for about 35 years. I told her to look for a guy wearing a blue baseball cap which she reckoned wasn’t blue. She recognised me anyway, claiming I hadn’t changed.

We had a wonderful couple of hours in the Duke of Wellington over a few beers, chatting and reminiscing. She is in the UK, briefly, with her daughter Heather, before popping over to Ireland to see her mum, Bridget. They’d just been to the US to see Janet and her brood as well as New York, the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas. They are having a great time, though it sounds a bit exhausting.

It was lovely. And to prove it I made her pose for a photo:

Gary & Joanne at Waterloo

They both then disappeared down to the Bakerloo line while I waited for the 7:25 to Farnham.

So. Big day tomorrow. My induction into the volunteer ranks of the Science Museum! Pity Karen isn’t still at the V&A next door. Not that I know which days I’ll be ‘working’ yet. I guess all will become clearer tomorrow. And speaking of clearer…it’s not inputting the scientific glass after all. It’s another job. I’ll also explain about this when I know more.

Also tomorrow I’m supposed to be having dinner with a cousin I haven’t seen for…about 40 years. I remember her as a little girl, she remembers me as someone who had too many cassette tapes. She now has two daughters while I have too many digital music tracks. She’s visiting London as part of a whirlwind world trip…well, the US and the UK and a short pop over to Paris.

Today, however, is about resting up for my busy, busy week. I have essays to write, blind people to read for, cousins to sup with, inductions to take part in, Stevie to see on Wednesday and, of course, Nicktor on Tuesday.