When you are part of a tour there are three important factors which, when combined, will almost definitely ensure its success.
a)Nice, friendly fellow tour group members
b)A well balanced and varied itinerary
And
c)A really cute guy you can perve at from the backseat
Unfortunately, our PaddyWagon tour of Ireland lacked in the department of the latter, however we also had one aspect that was, almost, better.
The funniest, and craziest tour guide ever.
Introducing Connor:
a.k.a Conrad
a.k.a Captain
a.k.a Capitano
Someone with that amount of names must have to have a similar sized head to match, and that pretty much sums up the crazy Irishman who manoeuvred us around Southern Ireland for three days.
Here are some of the better ‘Connor’ moments that have to be shared, if not for laughs, simply for longevity - these have to be written down for historical comedic purposes.
Connor Moment Number #1:
Connor loved the Aussies.
Whilst it may not appear it at first, or maybe at all, he had a little spot for us in the crazy Irish heart of his. Here are a few of the tender stories he shared with us about the special bond between the Irish and Australians.
‘We have a very strong pub culture in this country boys and girls (be prepared for that a lot, that’s pretty much all he called us even though none of us were five…). The Australians say that they do as well, but ill tell you, you do not have anything like us Irish do. Firstly, when we want a drink we go to the pub. Not you Australians. You drive into a weird garage thing and give a guy some money and he puts beer through your window, which you put in the fridge. When I was in Australia I said to a friend late on a Monday night, ‘let’s go to the pub for a drink’ to which he replied, ‘oh mate I’ve got work tomorrow and its like 10:00pm, just go to the kitchen and get a beer from the fridge’. In Australia you have to make plans to go the pub – ‘Connor we’ll go on Friday night ok, I promise at this time we will go’. In Ireland we got the pub whenever and wherever. In Ireland you have to make plans to go to kitchen to drink – ‘Connor on Friday night we’ll go to the kitchen to drink, I promise at this time we will go’.
Australian’s think you have a pub culture? We Irish think not, and don’t bother trying to come up with a retort for that one boys and girls cause I know you are thinking ‘Connor is right’
And unfortunately, but hilariously, he was.
‘We have a sport here called Gaelic football. And we actually do a tournament versus the Australians with a mixture of rules from their game AFL – it’s called International Rules. However, a lot of Irish folk feel that the Irish have to give up too much for the Australians.
You moan and complain because you have to learn to handle a round ball after the oval one that you use for AFL.
BUT the tackling rules are laid in favour of the Australians – we get our puny little Irishmen put up against your ENORMOUS AFL players, who get pummelled so hard they become part of the playing field. And the Irish argue our game is so much more skilful, whereas in AFL you just smash someone into the ground, step on them, grab the ball and run off.
Now does that sound fair boys and girls?
Connor Moment #2
His one liners
(talking about Irish history)
‘So it is all very interesting, lots of shit went down boys and girls and this made Ireland what it is today’
(leaving Galway on the first night)
‘Good morning boys and girls, hope you had a nice night in County Galway. If you had a big night and are feeling a little seedy this morning you will be happy to know we will be going through some of the windiest and roughest Irish roads pretty much all day!’
(referring to Louise and I)
‘I’ve decided to call you Floozy #1 and Floozy #2. What is a floozy? (we asked) – well if a very nice girl is a 1 and a prostitute is a 10 then a floozy is about a 6’.
Oh nice, thanks Connor!
(referring to Dublin)
‘I like Dublin, the best thing I like about it is the view of it in the rear view mirror. It’s shit’.
Was Connor actually a really good and informative tour guide?
DEFINITELY
Was he trying to hit on some of the tour members?
MAYBE
Will I get sick of hearing him calling us ‘Darling’ in his Irish accent all day?
There were very few things I knew about Ireland before I went there
a)They drink Guinness
b)They play Gaelic footy – the wussy version of the real man’s sport Australian Rules
c)They like to paint everything various shades of green
Whilst all the above may be true, it really doesn’t provide one with the clearest picture of what to expect from the Isle of Green. So where does my Irish tale start you ask?
In Louise’s room at Boddington, being woke up by our alarm at 4:00am…
Arrived at the Leeds Bradford Airport sleepy eyed and groggy (and surprisingly hungry for 5:00 in the morning!). Checked into our flight, ate a hearty breakfast of a chocolate muffin (are you allowed to have chocolate before 6:00am??) and sat waiting for our RyanAir flight to Dublin.
Note: Just to interrupt I feel it is important to say a little spiel about RyanAir. There isn’t really anything like it in Australia – it is a strange European phenomenon. It is a RIDICULOUSLY low cost airline which flies all around Europe. However, these amazingly low prizes do come with certain risks – like you might not actually get wherever it is where you need to go. And yes you may have only paid 5 pounds for your flight but most would say reaching your destination is relatively important….
So we get to the gate and get on the plane (this would be the time you could breathe the sigh of relief with other airlines…oh but not RyanAir) and luckily headed off for Dublin. And – wait for it – arrived in Dublin EARLY! That must have been a RyanAir first and I feeling pretty privileged to be a part of that! They should design commemorative medals for the passengers or something.
I’ll be waiting for it in the mail.
Although we did arrive early in Dublin it really wasn’t to our advantage as it was only just after 7:00am and still completely dark in Dublin. Can’t do much sightseeing in the pitch black.
So Louise and I hung out in the Dublin airport at the bagel stand, making one of our MANY, MANY food stops that we do daily whilst we are travelling, got a map and started to plan our day.
Caught the bus into the city centre and got to our hostel. Not a single person who worked at the Hostel was actually Irish but that was fine they were all very lovely. Bought a ticket to the Hop On and Hop Off Sightseeing Bus and did a full circuit loop around Dublin. Saw all the main sights and everything that is worth seeing in Dublin. Drove through the Main St, past Trinity College, St Patrick’s Cathedral, The Dublin Gaol, The Guinness Storehouse, The Dublin Zoo, and heaps of museums and other churches. Afterwards we picked out the places we wanted to see that day and did a walk through Trinity College (where I saw the most enormous snowball you have ever seen in your life – photographic evidence is available in my Ireland photos). Following this we headed the Dublin Castle. Now the problem with the choice of name for such a building is it really does not portray the true essence of the structure.
Not because it can’t fully describe its beauty.
Not because it can’t instil in you the true sense of its history.
It’s because Dublin Castle looks like NO castle I have ever seen….
Later on, we did read that Dublin Castle was voted as the number one Castle in Europe which ‘least resembles an actual Castle’ and more just looks like every other historical building in the area.
Ripped off.
Having been significantly disappointed by Ireland’s ability to accurately name their Castles we headed to Temple Bar for our first pint of authentic Irish Cider. The Temple Bar area isn’t one specifc pub but more the description of the whole area. It was really quite cool with HEAPS of proper little Irish pubs and cute touristy shops (you know I love my tourist shops!). However, we had been warned by a couple of other well worn travellers that Dublin was a great city, very lively, very Irish but to be careful because (to excuse my French) it will rape your wallet. Up until that moment we had been doing ok, but it was all a façade people! Dublin was just trying to lull us into a false sense of security before it stole every penny we had (or wait that would be cent because it was Euros…).
Went into an Irish Pub and Louise saved our table while I went to the bar.
Ordered two pints of Bulmers.
‘That will be 12 Euros love’
‘Um excuse me what?’
’12 Euros’
‘Right well I’m just going to go and sell Louise’s liver and my first born child and I’ll be back with the money’.
Ok that’s a little exaggerated. But it was SO expensive.
Went for dinner on Grafton St, to Bewley’s Café, a restaurant recommended to Louise by her parents, who had been to Dublin not that long ago. Had some really great food and a waiter with a crazy accent that Louise could not understand. By far the best part of our night though was the entertainment. Luckily for us, there was a choir group of some kind having their Christmas party in the same restaurant – and after dinner and many bottles of wine they sang Christmas Carols for everyone.
You could just feel the Irish love in the air.
The next morning we went shopping, had a surprisingly REALLY good coffee in a seedy looking Irish café and visited the Dublin Writers Museum. Of course anyone who knows me, knows I have a very special relationship with my books but Louise was a good enough friend to tag along – and didn’t once complain she was bored! Visited the gift shop, bought one book and then had to forcibly remove myself at the risk of wanting to buy all of them. Hopped back on the bus and visited the Kilmainham Gaol where some of Ireland’s most famous men and women were held.
That night we had dinner with Alice and Bec our fellow ‘Radadelaiders’ and Alice’s cousin Megan. Stupidly, we headed for Temple Bar again, to find we couldn’t eat at any of the Irish pubs because of their outrageous prices. And besides after yesterday’s cider experience Louise and I only had one liver between us to sell and I don’t think that is medically recommended. So in very un-Irish fashion we ate at the Hard Rock café and drank 5 Euro cocktails.
It was the DUBLIN Hard Rock, surely we get some Irish credit for that???
Monday saw us leave on our 3 Day Southern Ireland Tour. Got introduced to our bus driver, tour guide and local Irish crazy person Connor, a.ka. Conrad, a.k.a Captain and headed off with 20 others West to Galway. Along the way we met Roxy and Jonathon, two fellow Aussies, Brian the bubbly Canadian and Sarah and Kyle, perhaps the only genuinely nice Americans we have met since we have been in England…(too harsh?!?!)
Along the way Connor pointed out various Irishy things, and gave us many a spiel about Irish culture. Some of them were so classic, they deserve an entry of their own so keep your eyes pealed for that.
Drove past Galway, even further West into the wild Connemara region. Stopped at the village of Cong (no, not as it King) and had lunch at a gorgeous little Irish pub. We were the only people in there but the service was amazing, the food was a credit to those fine Irish people. For the rest of the afternoon we drove through the Connenmara which had some of the most spectacular scenery I have seen anywhere. Visited Kylemore Abbey which was this enormous and ornate mansion built into the side of a hill alongside a beautiful lake. Connor told us it was built by an Englishman for his wife.
Now that is the sort of husband id like!
Spent the night in Galway where we ate in Murphy’s (I had VERY traditional Irish lasagne…) and then headed to Taffe’s for some proper Irish music. The little four person band that played there looked like they had been ripped straight from an Irish postcard (and I would know, I have bought so many since I’ve been here!) and the youngest guy played the tin whistle, the spoons and cracked some amazing Riverdance moves.
And to his credit he didn’t even laugh THAT much when Roxy got up in the middle of a completely empty dancefloor and danced around like a looney trying to impersonate his Riverdance and stealing his spoons.
God Bless the Australians – there’s always one…
Tuesday saw us drive South heading for Killarney, along the coast of County Clare. Again, the scenery was breathtaking and SO different from where we had been only a few hours away the day before. Got some great photos overlooking the Atlantic, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky!
Arrived at the Cliffs of Moher and hiked up the way-too-many number of steps to O’Brien’s Tower which overlooks the whole cliffs. Bought, yet MORE souvenirs and got back on the bus.
Spent Tuesday night in Killarney and had a big group dinner at yet another proper Irish pub. Although, at one point they played a terrible Irish cover of ‘Land Downunder’ by Men At Work. Not quite sure whose idea was that but I would suggest in future taking your advice from Michael Flatley and sticking with the Riverdance…
Spent the rest of the night in an Irish ‘club’ (oh dear it was as sad as it sounds) but there was a great cover band on, and once again Roxy kept the ENTIRE tour entertained with her solo interpretations of Irish dancing.The next morning we were introduced to Bill and Patrick who took us on a horse and cart tour through Killarney National Park (Bill was the horse, Patrick the driver in case you were confused…) Luckily the views of the park were amazing, because after sitting in an open aired carriage for an hr in the freezing Irish air you would want it to be worth it!
Drove on from Killarney to Blarney Castle where Brian, Louise and I hiked up the castle to kiss the famous Blarney Stone. Now they say that when you kiss the stone you get given the gift of the Irish gab for seven years. Well the ‘gab’ is something I do not lack so kissing it was either rendered completely obsolete, or I’ve been given an overdose of the talking gene.
Which probably isn’t a good thing for anyone involved. However, I did kiss it and we explored the Castle grounds before heading back to Dublin.
Because a couple of the people on our group were doing the six day tour – they left with Connor to continue on and we hopped on a bus with Shaunie who was taking us back to Dublin. If I thought Connor was a little crazy in his little Irish head, Shaunie is like Glenside personified (sorry if your not from Adelaide and won’t get that!). He was really good fun, but nobody could barely understand a thing he was saying and he lead the bus in an a capella rendition of Backstreet Boys ‘I Want it That Way’.
Need I say anymore.
Headed back home to Leeds with our trusty RyanAir, bags full of kitchy shamrocks and leprechauns (ok well maybe that was just my bag…) and our heads full of Irish tunes.
Was Ireland actually a lot better than I was expecting?
DEFINITELY
Is it a pre requisite for all Irish people to be slightly mental?
MAYBE
Will I ever forget our bus theme tune – The RubberBandits ‘Horse Outside’?
PROBABLY NOT! (and seriously people look it up on YouTube its freaking hilarious!)
The London Underground is an inexplicable phenomenon.
Much like the Northern Lights or a Solar Eclipse, it is confounding, a little puzzling and is running at 100% efficiency only about as often as one can see either of the above.
My experiences with what Londoners refer to the ominous sounding ‘Tube’ (affectionately or otherwise I am yet to ascertain) were mixed and therefore I wanted to flesh out the pros and cons to decide for myself whether the ‘Tube’ (I feel like the Jaws music should accompany the very term) is indeed friend or foe…
Pro Number #1
It’s underground.
This may seem as deadly obvious as the nose on your face but this is often a commonly overlooked MASSIVE pro. By having the whole system underground, commuters do not have to contend with any of the mental London traffic. Also, it doesn’t need to follow the already designated roads and when building in new lines they can pretty much just hack out a tunnel anywhere they want (I’m sure it is more complicated than that but that is why I deal with words and not engineering). This also means you can get somewhere IN THEORY quicker than you could on the roads. Although NASA has said people could live on Mars IN THEORY and you don’t see people rushing off to their local rocket ship….
Also, it is warm underground. Well warmer anyway, but when you are contending with minus one London weather as I was even the slightest increase in temperature is welcomed. Although, on this note, it probably would get a little hot in the summer. But seeing as the English wouldn’t know what a real summer was if it slapped them in the face, I’m guessing this wouldn’t be a real issue.
Con Number #1
It’s underground.
No, I haven’t suffered short term memory loss – the fact the Tube is underground is a negative just as much as it is a positive. I discovered the joys of this con when trying to get to Piccadilly Circus to see Grease on West End.
Got on the train.
My train was fine.
The train in front? Not so fine.
So what do you do when the train in front of yours breaks down?
You guessed it people – absolutely nothing. There is no such thing as a Tube ‘detour’, for the simple reason that there is nowhere to go. So everyone just has to wait on the train until the problem is fixed and the line is free again. Obviously this can cause HUGE backlog problems, big delays and a lot of cramped and angry Londoners. And trust me; they are cramped and angry at the best of time so these sort of situations are not helping.
Pro Number #2
The Oyster Card
I would like to kiss the person who invented the Oyster Card. If only the head of the transport system in Melbourne or Sydney had been there when God handed him the gift of the Oyster Card, then we wouldn’t have some of the most badly organised and run transportation systems in the world. The concept is quite bewilderingly simple.
Put money on Oyster Card.
Swipe Oyster Card.
Get on Train.
Get off Train.
Swipe Oyster Card.
And repeat.
Of course there are other ticketing options, but the idea of buying a ticket for EVERY single leg you to take makes watching paint dry look more appealing. It also is a very efficient system as it means you don’t have to line up for the ticket machines and can just swipe away like the crowds and crowds of local Londoners who are rushing around the Underground at a million miles an hour in their typical uptight English fashion.
Con Number #2
The Oyster Card
Some famous guy once said there are always two sides to the same story. The Oyster Card my friends is no exception. Yes it is efficient and yes it is easy to use but there is one little characteristic of the humble Oyster Card which is often overlooked and is almost always the cause of its downfall.
It is ultimately a piece of technology and what is the one thing we can rely on when it comes to technology boys and girls? It will and does break.
So for example, I loaded my Oyster Card with 10 pounds from a local newsagent and got the station. Moved into the enormous queue of people lining up to swipe their precious Oyster Cards and got the front. Swiped it and lo and behold it didn’t work. Swiped it again. No go. (And of course it has one of those little red lights which just teases you incessantly…’haha I’m not letting you through’.
Just as I was about the try it a third time there was a sharp and angry London voice in my ear:
‘It won’t let you in cause you have no money, now can you please move?’
Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine….
I of course turned and told her that I had just put on 10 pounds so it did definitely have money on it but nevertheless I backed out of the massing crowd and had to get someone to check my card. They informed me that yes the money was on there but just to try again as they can be a little funny sometimes.
The Oyster Card. Reliable, efficient, but sometimes a little ‘funny’?
Uh huh.
Pro Number #3
The map.
Despite being a crazy labyrinth of colourful lines and tiny little station names in ridiculously small black font – the system is actually quite easy to use. Each station is really well signed and you really would have to be pretty stupid to get on the wrong one. Especially because when you get on they tell you where that particular train is going. So if you were going to get on the wrong train you would have to be really thick or deaf or both and if you fit into any of these categories I do apologise. Even when getting off a train and wanting to transfer to another one, there are plenty of signs and plenty of time to read them with the crowds moving incredibly slowly through the station.
Con Number #3
The dreaded strike.
That one S word is enough to instil fear into the hearts of every Londoner. Unfortunately for me, one of their famous strikes happened to fall on one of the days I found myself in London. And let me tell you it is as annoying and frustrating as it appears.
Having said this, the transport people do actually deal with it the best way they can. At each station there are loads of transport officials who can help you try to get where you need to go if you can’t take the route you normally would. Yes, this is helpful and I was very grateful for it, but if there weren’t SO many lines and stations closed the problem wouldn’t be there in first place. And of course for the strike to have any ACTUAL effect they shut off the lines which are the most central and go through the most stations where people need to go.
People meaning tourists as well.
Gay.
Is a ride on the London Underground a bit of a hit and miss experience?
DEFINITELY
Would something similar work in certain cities in Australia?
MAYBE
Will I EVER stop giggling at the Piccadilly line that terminates at Cockfosters?
London Bridge
London
Streets of London
Landing in London
London by Night
Cemeteries of London
London Conversation
London Calling
London Underground
People say that London can be a little full of itself. Well let me be the first to say if I had so many songs written specifically about me I’d probably be pretty big headed as well.
But it’s not being conceited if it’s true.
London is so amazing it can park its huge head in my backyard anytime.
Friday morning I was on the train to London and arrived at Kings Cross Station a little after lunch (and a compulsory stop at Pret of course…man I love that place!) Surprisingly, I had arrived in London having planned very little. Which, for anyone who knows me, knows is very odd (I have been known to make lists of to do lists to make and am not the slightest bit ashamed to admit it). But having been in Newcastle the weekend before, and trying to madly finish some uni work (oh right that’s ACTUALLY what I’m here for…), planning was left a little by the wayside. So here I found myself, in London with the address of my hostel in Earl’s Court but without a single clue of how to get there.
Having luckily perused Google maps before I left I knew that Earl’s Court was south west from Kings Cross so I figured I’d just start walking, find a tube stop and get on the tube to the hostel.
Or perhaps not.
After walking for who knows how long, dragging my little suitcase behind me, not being able to feel my hands anymore in the -1 degree weather I came upon the Tottenham Court Underground station. There were people EVERYWHERE and I can assure you they do live up to their not so delightfully friendly reputation. I could feel it coming down over me like a plague, hovering above my head somewhere waiting to strike… a little thing I like to refer to as being OVERWHELMED. After failing to get hold of my resident London expert Louise who was at Heathrow picking up Andy, I had to resort to more dramatic measures. Calmly I ran my regularly used mantra through my head (‘suck it up sez’), took a deep breath and bought a London map. Then I ventured into the monster’s lair that is the tube and asked a nice man how I could get to Earl’s Court. And then suddenly, 20 minutes later I was there.
I should take up a motivational speaking circuit that’s all I have to say.
Dumped my stuff in the hostel and took a call from Louise, to whom I proudly relayed to my story about surviving my first hour in London.
Little was I to know the drama that was to come…
I had bought a ticket for Grease on West End for that evening (had to virtually sell my liver for it but hey you only live once right?) and met Andy and Louise in Earl’s Court for a pub dinner. The show began at 8:30pm at Piccadilly Theatre which the receptionist at the hostel assured me was a two minute walk from the Piccadilly Tube station, which was a 15 minute ride from Earl’s Court. So hearing my mother’s voice in my head and thinking ahead I left Earl’s Court at 7:30pm, just to be safe.
There is a reason why mothers are always right people.
I got on the tube at Earl’s Court. Fine.
The tube left on the time from Earl’s Court. Fine
The tube was going along well and I was going to be there in plenty of time. Fine.
The tube stops at Hyde Park Corner and does not move. At All. NOT FINE.
Have you ever had the experience of tearing up the stairs of a tube stop three stops from where you need to be, and running around like a madwoman trying to hail a taxi in the midst of crazy Friday night traffic?
No?
Well I have.
Luckily, I encountered the one Londoner who God graced with manners and he could see I was so distressed and gave me his taxi. Not so luckily, the reason my train had stopped was that the one in front of it was broken and therefore they had to block the traffic ABOVE ground to allow the maintenance men in.
I mean did I do something wrong in another life? Really?
Eventually I ran (no not power walked, RAN) up the stairs of the theatre, breathlessly waved my ticket in front of the face of the surprised adolescent theatre worker person and sat down in a flurry of hair, coat and stress.
Just then the lights went down and the first bars of ‘Grease is the Word’ began.
I wanted to simultaneously laugh hysterically and burst into tears.
Day 2 was dubbed ‘sightseeing day’ and with my walking shoes packed Andy and I headed in from Earl’s Court to meet Louise in the city. Had breakfast at Covent Garden, at this really cute little place. Strangely though, they served the hot drinks in a bowl. With no handles. Must be the London way I guess….
Once we were all topped up with energy the sightseeing marathon began. Firstly, to Trafalgar Square where Andy scaled the Lion monument like a monkey whilst Sarah (in a dress) thought it best not to subject the innocent London public to such a view. From there walked down past Pall Mall, some palace… (what was that called Lou?) and Downing St. Following this we turned left and suddenly there it was; a thousand times more amazing in real life: Big Ben!
Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament were perhaps my favourite attraction, they are almost more London than that old lady herself. On the other side of the Thames in London Eye which was just as impressive and I could have stood there all day admiring the view.
Alas, we moved on pretty quickly, because due to the breeze coming off the river, we were freezing all parts of our anatomy off. And I mean all parts. I have yet to be as cold as I was on that bridge!
Louise: ‘do you want another photo with Big Ben? That one didn’t really work’
Me: ‘I want a heater. Now’
After that we walked what seemed like a million km’s along the river (although we did bypass a Xmas Market which is always a bonus) and found a tube stop and caught it to Green Park to visit that old lady at her little home. Well by old lady I mean that Queen of England and by her little home I mean Buckingham Palace but I must say unlike the day before, I was feeling a little underwhelmed. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting and there was only one funny walking guard on the gate to point and laugh at.
But at least I can say I’ve seen ‘Bucks Pal’ as Louise calls it. Ha!
The rest of the day we spent in Hyde Park, eating cone fries from yet another German Christmas market and trying to fight our way through the weekend crowds.
I actually thought my blood was going to boil with how slow we were moving! Not a good place for someone with my tendencies to be! Made a pit stop to Harrods on the way home, the crowds must have read our minds cause they were all there as well.
Bought a Harrods bag tho! Miss Lia Harris if you’re reading this I have one now too!
Saturday night, the three of us spent a good few hours in a cute little Italian restaurant with amazing food, good wine and great company. I think it was at this point I was starting to get good at this whole London thing.
Sunday morning we got up bright and early and headed off for another of London’s well known attractions: markets! Being able to only do one that day we decided to bypass the more common Portobello and headed to Camden, to the Camden Street Markets. We were not to be disappointed. I have never seen anything like it: it makes Melbourne’s Victoria markets look like a yard sale. Everywhere you turn there is a new little lane with yet more stalls and there were several occasions where I had absolutely no idea where we were. And that’s exactly how market shopping should be. Bought a few things, including the BEST EVER present for Mum (haha don’t think I’m going to let the secret slip in cyberspace Mummy dearest…)
Ate dinner by myself in a restaurant in Earl’s Court, which was strangely nice. However, the waitress sat me next to this other business guy eating by himself. I didn’t realise we had to be placed together in a corner where everyone can look at us with pity and wonder why we have no companions…
Monday morning the news had come through that half of the Tube was on strike. Just. Great. Wanting to go to Harrods again and avoid the huge crowds I set off early and got off at the nearest Tube that was actually running and walked 20 minutes to the department store. To find it closed until 10am. And it was 9:30. Despite wanting to kill someone, I spun around and was graced with the best sight I could have hoped for at a time like this: a gorgeous little coffee shop. After a coffee and the BEST granola I’ve had EVER, Harrods decided it would open and I went in to purchase a few more presents… (o now I’ve got you thinking…)
My plans to get across to the other side of the city to the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge were a little derailed but after making three stops and catching three lines I managed to get there. Actually really enjoyed the bridge, because unlike the Palace, it really was as amazing as I thought it was going to be.
Unsure of where to go to next I sat down on a little park bench to get out my map and rethink my next move. Decided I would head back into the city and have lunch at London’s Hard Rock Café, I got up and headed to the Tube. Got on the train and was just about to sit down and made a mental calculation of all my possessions:
Wallet? Check
Phone? Check
Camera? Check
Harrods Bag? OH SHIT
Leapt off the train just as the doors were shutting, ran screaming up the stairs to the street, dashed across the road and luckily my little green bag of joy was still sitting exactly where I had left it.
To those who will not be named who are getting a Harrods gift… you better damn like it for what I had to go through to get it!
Lunched at the Hard Rock Café again by myself (I’m starting a new trend) and then walked around a little more exploring before heading down to one of the few stations that WAS still open and catching a line home. That evening I had tickets to the Brooke Fraser concert, a kiwi singer with whom I have been in love with ever since she first released a song over five years ago. Luckily for me, she has another couple of devoted fans in Pete’s English cousins Micki and Francesca and two of their friends, and so the five of us headed off the gig together. Despite making us wait in the cold for almost an hour, Brooke lived up to all of our expectations. We got great spots (especially for the vertically challenged Francesca and I) and she was amazing to say the least. Although, still SO jealous of the girls who got a photo with her after they had to go back for Micki’s missing glove… why didn’t I drop my glove! Grrrrr!
Tuesday morning was to be the last time I was going to wake up in the freezing London air… and it was snowing! A fact that I exclaimed a little too loudly at 8:00am to a room full of sleeping girls….oooppppsss…
Wasn’t going to have a repeat of the Grease Tube Incident of 2010, so I left REALLY early to make sure I wouldn’t miss my train. Arrived at the station, looked up on the board and lo and behold my train wasn’t on there. Of course it wasn’t.
Kindly asked the information man at the information booth why my train wasn’t on there. His response you ask?
‘Oh that train’s been cancelled’.
Me?
‘Oh has it now? Oh I’m so glad you told me thank you so much for your excellent help’
My real response?
‘I’m sorry come again?’
Lucky for me there was an earlier train that wasn’t cancelled because of the snow and I was able to get on it as I had arrived at the station so early. See this is why mothers are ALWAYS right.
Left London in a flurry of snow, sad to see it go.
Was London everything I hoped it would be and more?
DEFINITELY
Did I lose 5 kilos on our sight seeing marathon?
MAYBE
Thanks to me, is there a single souvenir left in the whole city?
The excitement levels were high - after all this time in England I was finally making the trip up North to visit my favourite English person. No sadly not Prince William (to whom I’m still not speaking to after news of the engagement) but the lovely Miss Ria Farncombe.
Oddly enough, with Pete being in England as well, we had our own little Australian reunion, albeit minus the sunny weather and replaced by the very chilly and rainy Newcastle….
Pete and I arrived on a train from Leeds on Friday to meet Ria who had skipped class early because she was so excited ‘that my Australian friends are coming!!!!’ (direct quote there). Headed back to Ria’s place and met all of her lovely housemates. We didn’t really have much time to see Newcastle that day, because as soon as we arrived we were whisked off the Durham to see Paul’s art exhibition.
Even in the dark Durham was so cute, with its famous Durham castle all lit up. Made our way through the fully cobbled streets of the shopping area (quaint in theory, not so great practically) and stopped for dinner at some Italian place with spaghetti in the title… despite not being able to remember, surely the fact that it had spaghetti in the title has to give it some kind of Italian credibility. We all shared the most enormous antipasto plate I’ve ever seen, which in turn was served by the sleaziest waiters I have ever seen. Shared two bottles of wine and ate in communal Italian food happiness (poetic pause here for the ecstasy of Italian food happiness).
Arrived at the art exhibition and spent the next few hours trying to convince myself and the other people there that I actually knew anything about art. Epic fail there but a lot of it was good – occasionally odd, but good. A shout out has to go to the person who’s piece was a big, black leather chair facing backwards and placed in a corner under an ominous red light.
My bets on the ‘mystery’ occupant of the chair were on Voldemort or Mr Burns….
Had a couple of drinks and a bit of a dance at a Durham club and then made the last bus home to Newcastle to collapse into bed.
Ria’s plans for day two were to head to the ‘beach’ (keeping in mind the English definition of the beach). However, she must have done something wrong in another life or Mother Nature didn’t get the memo because the weather was not exactly of ‘beach’ quality. We were determined to go though, and armed with all of our wet weather gear headed to the coast. To boost our spirits a little there was a cute little weekend market on with heaps of stalls selling a wide range of things. Unfortunately one of these many items of bric-a-brac was books, which are one of my few not so secret vices (the others being old school Britney Spears and Kit Kats of course). I did buy one book (oh come on it was 2 pounds!), but made sure I stayed away from the temptation of all those colourful covers for the rest of the day. For lunch we were expecting a lot. Ria had talked up the fish and chips from this place to no end, and she had a lot to deliver! Apart from the fact the food was really good; I just loved the whole English feel of it! You know it’s a true Northern fish and chip shop when they ask you if you want curry sauce with your chips (soooooo strange) and you can’t understand half of what they say because of their accent! After eating we thought we should at least see the ocean which is what we came here for in the first place. So with umbrella’s at the ready we dashed to the beach, looked and ran straight back again.
I mean we all know what water looks like right?
Saturday night Ria had planned to take us out on the Newcastle town. However, before anyone can do ANYTHING on a Saturday night in England they must all partake in the one weekly television event, rivalled only by the news and football… the almighty X FACTOR. I cannot describe how obsessed the English are with this show, I mean I know we have it in Australia but I really did think my Mum was the only one who really watched it (sorry mum!). So whilst we were all getting dolled up, lots of pairs of English eyes in that flat were glued to the X FACTOR action. Go figure.
Started off at Lynches the cocktail bar, with a huge list of options (not that I stole a menu or anything…..) and then finished off at O2 Academy. Ria and I finished the night off with sharing a pizza and getting into a warm bed!
Ria had told Pete and I that she had something planned for Sunday that we could only do on that day…My response?
‘oh god it’s not church is it?….’
But she laughed and assured me it would be much more to my liking. This then leads me to explain the one tradition that the English have which my stomach is particularly fond of. Sunday Roasts. Of course lots of countries have a Sunday Roast but even in Australia you don’t necessarily have it on a Sunday and on the weekend the family are often out doing different things so can never be home together to eat. So Sunday afternoon saw Pete, Ria, Anna and I in a proper little English pub having my first proper English Sunday Roast. And man was it totally worth all the hype! I think we all could have quite happily died then and been happy that we had lived a fulfilled life. Sunday night we took a trip to the shop on the corner for munchies for a night of relaxing. Alicia had the amazing idea to watch Moulin Rogue, even though Pete had no idea what was happening in the movie…. And asks how we do?
Because we CAN CAN CAN of course (even I’m proud of that pun Moulin Rouge fans!)
Monday was to be my last day in Newcastle and we spent the morning looking around the University and the City. Discovered the Newcastle Christmas Market, which is so much better than the Leeds one, and bought yet more fudge. I’m going to look like fudge soon… Had lunch at a little American style diner and then Pete and Ria escorted me to the train station to head back to Leeds.
Was it so good to see my bestest English buddy again?
DEFINITELY
Have I become a Yorkshire pudding convert?
MAYBE
Will I miss the sleazy Italian waiters drooling over the girls at our table? (I bet their names weren’t even Mario…)
