The House Husband

A year ago I arrived, fresh from the plane from Munich, still smelling of beer and sausages, at Northampton Square, eager to register at City Uni. I wandered, bewildered and, quite frankly, lost with all the other first day people.

Today I returned, no chance of getting lost, no need of a map, surrounded by eager faces all heading for registration or the red t-shirts of the ‘Free Campus Tour’ students or the many trestle tables set up with signs such as ‘How to join the Student Union’, ‘How to use the Library’ and ‘Free laptop insurance’ above them. For it is registration week once more.

I was there to hand in the two printed copies of my dissertation to Helen in the Programmes Office. Silly me. I thought being able to submit my work electronically was such a wonderful thing and that I wouldn’t have to spend mega-quid on getting the 98 page document printed and bound twice. How wrong I was.

I had a frantic couple of hours yesterday bartering with our local printer to get it quickly run off in time for me to take it up today. Fortunately he accepts files via email. I was then off first thing this morning to collect the copies, hop on a train and high tail it up to London. I have to admit, it looked quite good all prettily printed and slippery papered.

Once on the train I opened my saved treat and started reading it: Last Night in Twisted River by John Irving. I had almost weakened last night and peeked into it. but I was strong. I waited. The train trip into town was over all too quickly as I immersed myself in the life of loggers in 1954. Irving is SO brilliant.

What will possibly be one of my last trips on the number 4 bus proved equally quick, as the pages of my novel flew by.

Having successfully delivered my package, I was off to meet Mirinda for lunch, it being a Wednesday. Apparently I need to smarten up. My casual, holiday-like attire is embarrassing her. She said if I continued to dress like a mad artist in Tahiti at the turn of the 20th century, we’d have to meet well away from her office. Next week I’ll wear a suit. I think the looks I get are of jealousy. Mirinda calls me eccentric. Eccentricity is a small price to pay for comfort, if you ask me!

Anyway, we went to Pod today. A chain (I assume it is a chain, anyway) of little lunchtime eateries that specialises in healthy Thai food in little containers called ‘mini-pods’. We had green curry chicken which was fantastic. Just the right amount and delicious on the palate. I thoroughly recommend it.

We then went for our customary walk, this time around the seedier parts of Tower Hamlets. We ended up on Brick Lane, the Bangladeshi capital of London. Even the street signs are in English and Sandskrit. It’s a thriving place. The sort of area you feel you’d like to explore but not at night. I could be wrong.

To get there, we wandered through a typical dour council estate which had an interesting arch, originally been built by Four Per Cent Industrial Dwellings Company Ltd in 1886. It was built by a bunch of Jewish-Anglo philanthropists as a form of cure for the slum dwellings in the Jewish Quarter of London. The original buildings that went with the arch were pulled down in 1970 and the council estate built instead. if you want to read about it, you can visit here.

Brick Lane is so named because of a huge brickworks that once successfully created its wares from somewhere along it. The rich clay of the Thames banks was perfect for bricks (apparently) and so they renamed the street after them (it was originally Whitechapel Lane) back in the 15th century. There was also a lot of successful brewing in the 17th century.

it has been home to many types of immigrants but latterly is home to Bangladeshi’s. The history is quite interesting and can be found on Wikipedia, here. Most interesting is that one of the Whitechapel Murders of which Jack the Ripper was accused, took place just at the end of Brick Lane. In the photo below, Osborn Road, where it happened, is just beyond the taxi. The body and police tape has long since vanished and now the whole place is full of bustle and hum.

We gradually made our way back to the Gherkin where Mirinda went to a meeting and I made my way back to Waterloo for home, devouring more John Irving on the way.

The beginning of Brick Lane

I’m supposed to be having a Nicktor Night tonight and found a John Irving quote which I thought was somewhat apt:

“Ketchum and your dad liked to drink together,” Jane told young Dan. “I don’t know what it is that men like about drinking together, but Ketchum and your dad liked it a little too much.”

Says it all ,really.

My dissertation is complete. I submitted it this afternoon. I have to give them two printed copies which I will do tomorrow but that’s it. Finito. My education is complete. It’s such a relief. I would love to say that I’m now bored but I have too many things to catch up on.

Mirinda promised her dad a photo of the new restaurant in the Lion and Lamb so here it is.

Cote Brasserie in Farnham

It is almost opposite the Lion and Lamb restaurant. Last year it was a scrappy bit of brickwork trying to be a garden. Bit of it was a Turkish carpet shop. I think the new building blends in really well with the old.

We sat outside, which was lovely, and had a lovely lunch last Sunday. Alex, who used to work at Starbucks, is now waitressing there.

Highly recommended and we will return.

It all started sedate enough. The usual 7:30 wake up call to Mirinda, breakfast then a lovely walk in the park for the puppies and me. We saw lots of dogs out and about but none the poodles were interested in. There was one little fluff ball of a puppy who just wanted to play with Carmen but she went all shy and ran away. The puppy was called Lilian – Lilly for short.

It’s pretty typical of Carmen. She clearly doesn’t remember what it was to be young and boisterous. And she needs to run around a lot. At her last weigh in the vet said she needed to get more exercise and eat less food. Neither of these options appeal to her. In fact, her idea of exercise is dreaming about running in the park. Her feet go like Billy-O!

Not so Day-z. Slim, manic, Day-z. Though she tends to run away from anything and everything, so maybe that’s why she’s not overweight!

Anyway, having walked them and taken possession of our newest possession (a Garmin SatNav – I was totally convinced about the wonder of these in France with both John and Darren having them in their cars) I quickly showered then left for my usual lunch date with Mirinda.

I sat in the reception area, sipping my Starbucks, watching her take control of a meeting she was having in a corridor in front of me. I love the way she stands up. The other people are completely put off. Keeps them on edge. A wonderful tactic, skilfully employed.

Anyway, we had our usual wander around London streets and lunch at Eat, before I dropped her back at the office. But, unlike most Wednesdays, my day was far from over.

My next stop was Malpins, the electronics store. Mirinda’s DVD in the flat is being very temperamental and she needs a replacement. I checked online and found a very reasonable mini jobbie at Malpins, so that’s where I went. The fact that Malpins is a massive store full of all things that make boys shiver with anticipation, had nothing to do with it.

Actually, there was little time for shivering (sad face) as I took a box from the shelf, paid for it then left. Interestingly a postcode was not required this time although I was ready for them. This is just the sort of double standard that drives me crazy! Still, I took the box and walked quickly over to Liverpool Street station to board a very bumpy bus to Docklands.

I was in and out of the flat in around 15 minutes. In that time I managed to collect the mail (it is all addressed to me after all, and Mirinda never collects it anyway), unpack and install the DVD player and threw the old one and packaging away. I had to write the code for the garbage room on my hand because no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t memorise the 7 characters involved.

Still, I was back on the road to South Quay DLR station like the Flash, just missing a train. Not that this matters much. Apart from the fact that trains arrive every five minutes, the view over the docks and towards the Thames is lovely. Surprisingly the train was packed (the one I’d missed looked almost empty) and I stood all the way to Bank.

The change from the DLR to the Circle Line at Bank involves a walk of about 15 miles because you are actually going to Monument Station but all underground and as a continuation of your journey. Unlike Carmen, however, I don’t mind a bit of brisk walking and I arrived at the station just in time to miss the train. Four District Line trains followed in quick succession. Oddly, two of them went to Upminster and followed each other just two minutes apart. I’m not at all sure why. Anyway, it was only five minutes before I was on a Circle train to Barbican.

We had a brief wait at Aldgate because the train was early (a Tube train that was early? What’s that about!) and a chap stepped on and vaguely asked the carriage if it was a District Line train. Three of us said, no, it was a Circle train and he wandered off, back onto the platform. After a while, the chap next to me said “He’s not even at the right station. The District line doesn’t stop at Aldgate.” I chuckled, cruelly and replied “He’ll have a long wait then.”

At Barbican, I popped into the Tesco on the corner for some coffee, sugar and milk and then went to the flat at Florin Court, where I worked on my dissertation for a few hours while I waited.

I was waiting for two people. A Schumanian from the realo, who wanted to look at the flat and for Dan. I had placed the bed and the two chests of drawers on Freecycle on the weekend and Dan had said he wanted them. He was arriving at about 6:30 in a rental van to take them away. And he did.

Dan was a lovely guy. He works at Deloittes. I know because he said he was sitting in his office a block from the flat but had to go home, change, pick up the van then drive back to the flat. Anyway, I helped him load the booty and he drove off happy as the proverbial.

Back in the flat I did a quick furniture rearranging then wandered across the road to catch the old number 4 bus to Waterloo. I’m going to miss the old number 4 when I’ve finished with the flat for there’ll be little reason to get it again. Except, maybe for my graduation. When I’ve finished this damn dissertation, that is.

Which I must now get back to as I sit on the crowded 8pm train home.

A rather dull day, today. Most of it was taken up with writing test scripts. I also managed a few glimpses of football – mostly dull as well.

For a break I planted a few plants courtesy of yesterdays trip to Crondall. Of course I took the poodles for a walk and, of course, Carmen had an FSI. Rotten dog. That’s two baths in two days.

The highlight of the day was when the British Gas guy arrived to give us a quote for a new boiler. Ours is over ten years old, so he says and needs replacing.

The Italy v Paraguay game is currently on and Italy (the reigning champions), having been surprised by a goal from Paraguay in the first half has pulled one back. FINALLY, an exciting game! Two Italian girls in the crowd blew kisses at the goal scorer. Among the 89,000 fans, I’m not sure the guy saw them, somehow.

I forgot to mention my Neros’ coffee on Friday! Everything was as it should be. Service and coffee were excellent!

I notice that New Zealand has a team in the World Cup this year. The commentator just called them the minnows of the competition. Extraordinary. I didn’t even know they HAD a football team.

What a miserable day we’ve had. One of those drizzle days when the rain doesn’t quite rain but everything is wet and sticky from the humidity. Even the poodles are miserable. Still, I managed to stay dry, which is a bonus.

Another bonus is that Nicktor’s gout has almost gone. He was amazed when I told him one minute it would hurt and then, suddenly, as if by magic, it would be fine again. And then it happened. He was amazed he could walk once more. He was most pleased because he can come over next week for a Nicktor night.

I have been busy writing test scripts and tidying the house as we have visitors coming over on Saturday. Susanne and Rafi are coming for lunch. Apparently, Rafi can’t wait. He’s even picked out the movie we’re going to not watch.

I find, with my dissertation now under way, that Thursday has become my housework day. Not the minor things like washing but the big dust and sweep jobs. And we get a lot of dust! I assume it has something to do with the poodles. They may not shed hair but they cause a lot of dirt to traverse the house!

I particularly like cleaning the lounge because I can put the SoundBridge on and blast the street with either opera or musical comedy or, like today, some 1970s glam rock. David Bowie is still warbling from the speakers as I type…

Ch-ch-ch-changes,
(turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock ‘n rollers…

I’m sitting typing at the dining table and it reminds me yet again that I MUST get some speakers for the dining room. It’s only because the house is so small that I can hear the music in the other room. Of course it is regularly punctuated with rain drops.

Oh, you pretty things (oh, you pretty things)
Don’t you know you’re driving your
Mamas and papas insane…

David Bowie always reminds me of how I first started in theatre. I was at a party in Cammeray when I was 19. At some stage during the party someone put Life on Mars on the turntable (I assume it was a turntable but I guess it could have been a cassette). This was, at the time, my favourite song. I sang it with gusto.

After I’d finished, aglow in the final high note, I was approached by Wim (who lived in the house where the party was and where I had just taken over a room from a lesbian who had left) who, glassy eyed asked if I’d ever been in musicals. To be fair, I had no idea what a musical was. Obviously I said no. He then explained that he was choreographing The Boyfriend and one of the males had dropped out. He claimed, with my voice, I’d have no problem handling the part. He could teach me the choreography so I could catch up.

I was drunk, I was happy, I was easily swayed. I said “Sure, why not” and that was me hooked. Theatre had me in it’s talons for a very long time. While I preferred straight theatre, I have never forgotten the fun that musical comedy can be. I guess that explains why I still like them. I quite like singing as well…

No lunch with Mirinda this week as she had a meeting booked right across it. So I stayed at home and wrote some test scripts for my dissertation. Who’da thunk it? All those years of being a tester have come in handy after all.

Though cloudy most of the day, we’ve had only little spits of rain every now and then. For breaks, therefore, I weeded and planted some snapdragons. I also took the poodles to the park. Carmen had an FSI! Annoying dog. She also freaked out when a golden retriever tried to sniff her butt. Day-z jumped into my arms but Carmen was left running in circles around me, her tail down as this big dog eagerly tried to sniff her. It makes a change from her snapping at other dogs and embarrassing me!

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I’ve just realised I forgot to give my review of Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland that we watched on Saturday. So…

For anyone that doesn’t know, I’m a big Alice fan. I’ve read both books many times and even sat on Alice Liddell’s grave! I’ve also seen the secret garden in Oxford where she played with her sister. I’ve visited the Alice Shop in Oxford which was the original inspiration for the shop in Looking Glass where the sheep is knitting. Of course, there are lots of Lewis Carroll stuff in Guildford because he lived with his aunt there for a while. I’ve stood at his grave on the Mount and smiled at his gentle genius. So, yes, I’m a big fan.

I sat down to watch Burton’s version with some trepidation. I knew beforehand that it was about an older Alice and that both books had been amalgamated to create a new adventure. These things didn’t really bother me. The characters are so wonderful, an attempt to move the story forward in time is a tribute to Carroll’s masterpieces. In this, I think Burton succeeded. His Alice doesn’t remember the Wonderland of her childhood and this gives the director an opportunity to re-introduce her (and us) to all the ‘Underland’ characters, as if for the first time. An excellent device.

The look of the film is fantastic. Exactly as it should be. A magical place with a hint of foreboding. Like Alice, we should not know what to expect. Speaking of Alice (Mia Wasikowska), I thought she was terrific. Her gradual growth (not literally!) was cleverly accomplished by both director and actor. I believed she was an older Alice.

One of the main problems Burton has is his continual use of both Helena Bonham-Carter and Johnny Depp. I reviewed Sweeney Todd a while ago and thought they were terribly miscast. Not this time. Helena, particularly. She is tremendous as the Red Queen. Johnny Depp, too, was a great Mad Hatter.

With so many great actors in the film, mostly as voices for animated characters, it’s difficult to pick any single one out. As for animated characters, the Cheshire cat was superb. The way it slowly vanished into smoke was exactly as I’ve always imagined it. Beautifully voiced by Stephen Fry as well.

A big surprise was Anne Hathaway as the White Queen. What a ditz! She was tremendous. Loved her performance. I can’t forget the Tweedles. Marvellous Matt Lucas.

And so, I really enjoyed the film, but…of course there’s a but and it’s a big one. Actually there’s a big but and a quibble. Firstly the quibble.

I’m not sure why the Red Queen had playing cards for her soldiers. I have no problem with her being the ‘baddie’ rather than the Queen of Hearts, even though it was the latter who always said “Off with his head!“. I cannot understand why the cards, though. It makes no sense. Especially when the White Queen had chess pieces for her army. Small, but annoying. There was also a mistake in the flash back sequence but, at the moment, I can’t remember it.

My big problem with the film as a sequel to Alice is the format. The thing about the two Alice books is that they are made up of a series of adventures that Alice goes through. Both have an ending (the garden party and trial in Wonderland, Alice being made a queen in Looking Glass) but neither is a struggle for good and evil with a hero needed to save the goodies from evil. And this is what Burton created. A typical fantasy film where an unlikely hero is needed to thwart an evil threat hanging over a once peaceful place. Works fine in Narnia, Lord of The Rings, and any number of other fantasy stories. I think it’s an easy option and rather sad given Burton’s early skills of personality films (think Edward Scissorhands).

Anyway, Mirinda thinks I’m wrong. She loved it. And, to be fair, I loved it as a film. Just not as an Alice.

Today I found out that the proposal I have to prepare for my dissertation is, basically, another essay! 2000-4000 words. All with a strict structure too. And so I have frantically started (it’s due on June 4) writing again.

On the one hand I know what I’m writing for my dissertation but on the other I now have to write about what and how I’m going to do it. Not that I’m complaining…really. It means I will be well prepared when I come to start work on it.

The rest of my day has been spent in housework and getting my hair cut and coloured so, having to start writing again, is a nice diversion.

Another (nice) surprise was my first result for last semester. 70% for my Open Source assignment. Yay! Another distinction.

So, Claire commented yesterday that I knew how to enjoy myself. Well, sadly, it appears I know how to enjoy myself way too much! Today was a bout of gout day. I have been in agony. I’m fine now I’m at home, sitting down with nothing on my foot, but today…aghhhhhhhh!

I had uni so I set off at 8:30 for the train. By the time I reached the end of our street, I was starting to limp, feeling the pressure beginning to build. I was tempted to turn around, go back home, just put my foot up (or take a jigsaw to it) but I missed the previous class because I was sick and I’d organised a meeting with my dissertation supervisor…I really had to go. I dragged my sorry foot to the station.

I was walking pretty slowly by the time I reached Farnham Station, but I made the train. I made the mistake of taking my shoe off for the trip to Waterloo. It felt good while we chuffed along, but when I replaced it, the foot hurt a lot more. Anyway, I hobbled down to the temporary bus stop for the bus to uni (someone has dug the main road up all over the place, including Waterloo Bridge, and the traffic is a mess) which, fortunately came quickly.

I slowly limped to uni (it’s pretty close to the bus stop), bought a coffee and went to class. And my foot throbbed all the way through it. And it was a load of old toss! I could so easily have missed it. I’m pretty sure today has been the worst lecture I’ve had. Of course, this could really be my gout talking.

It was about different generations (baby boomers, generation x, generation y…) and how libraries could or should adapt to them. Quite apart from the gout, I’m pretty sure there is no divide. Teenagers have always been grotty little misery laden trolls. Oldies have always been oldies. Middies have…well, you get the picture. I made the point in class that this was all bollocks, if you want to cater to different people, try catering to their needs! If I need to access a certain book because I’m studying library science, it doesn’t make any difference to anyone that I was born in 1955.

God, I was furious! Though to be fair, that probably WAS the gout. But it was like astrology. Just rubbish. So, I sat through it, took few notes and wished I was reclining somewhere with my foot in the air.

After class, I had an hour wait before my meeting with Andy (my supervisor). He’d told me to meet him in his office in E304. I went to E304. He wasn’t there. I was about to go home when I realised he was dyslexic. I found him in A304.

We had an excellent meeting (making me not regret quite as much, wasting my time n the morning). He is very positive and encouraging. I feel like I know what I’m doing, though I’ve set myself a rather mammoth task. Still, no pain, no gain, eh?

And then it was the long haul back home. Mirinda said she’d probably be getting home a lot later than me so I staggered onto the 3:23, just before the doors closed. I texted Mirinda to say which train I was on. Half an hour later she responded by saying she was on the train behind me. I waited at the station and we walked – actually, she walked, I sort of slithered like a sick penguin – home together.