For my birthday this year (41. who'da thunk it!) my sister paid for me to go to a meditation workshop at our local yoga centre. Unfortunately the workshop was cancelled as the teacher couldn't get there – she was too stressed. just kidding. she was flying in from LA and there was a problem with her flight.
So we got a refund and had to think of something else for my special day.
I decided on the London Aquarium as i) I've never been ii) i love love love snorkelling so figured it would be like that but while being fully clothed. and no jet lag!
We went on Saturday afternoon. It was baking. The Aquarium, therefore, would be empty right? Who (apart from me) would want to go to the indoor, dark Aquarium on one of the hottest weekends of the year?
Erm.... about 400 other people. And their children.
Now, for some reason I'd created this image of the Aquarium in my mind, which was all lovely crystal blue waters, endless exotic fish and a brilliant glass walkway/tunnel where you ACTUALLY WALK THROUGH A TANK OF MASSIVE FISH!
What we got instead was a dark and dingy basement with home aquarium stylee tanks with grubby windows, in front of which an army of space-invading, shouty children gathered banging on the glass while their parents took endless photos with endless flashes from their cameras, even though the signs everywhere clearly stated NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY.
I was terrorised by one particularly loathesome specimin of smelly boyhood who, I swear to God, appeared at every window I stopped, leaning into me and pressing his face against the glass.
At one tank, as I admired the parrot fish, he actually bobbed up in front of me like a shark! Or a turd in the sea. Not nice.
Unperturbed, sister and I skipped a couple of tanks to get away from the throng of families and found ourselves watching an episode of Life On Earth as what we thought were two crabs 'making lurve' turned out to be one crab eating a smaller one. We only found this out when an even bigger crab came along and nicked lunch from the smaller rival.
Next we made our way to the ray tank for some light petting – i'd been looking forward to tickling a ray's tummy all week. apparently they like it. they do!
So, we get to the tank and guess what! No petting! No bombing or necking either. obviously in these post Steve Irwin times man must not pet a ray. Which would be fine, except there was one little blighter plopping up and down on the surface of the pool, looking really upset that all the potential ticklers standing around goggling him/her weren't even putting their hands in the water – prefering instead to blind him/her with endless flash photography. or bang on the walls of his home.
Oh well, at least we had the brilliant glass walkway/tunnel where you ACTUALLY WALK THROUGH A TANK OF MASSIVE FISH to look forward to.
Only of course, we didn't. Moving past a couple more dingy windows we found ourselves unceremoniously guided toward the exit and through the obligatory gifte shoppe.
At the exit we were asked to fill in a questionairre about our experience.
Do you have children? it asked. No, I replied. And after today I don't want anyway.
I'm going to Barcelona in a few weeks where there is an aquarium with a brilliant glass walkway/tunnel where you ACTUALLY WALK THROUGH A TANK OF MASSIVE FISH! can't wait! it's bound to be really quiet at this time of year.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Mr Angry
I saw a woman having an angry phone call at lunchtime. She was stropping down the road shouting ‘you don’t know how I feel’ over and over again, presumably at her lover / boyfriend / partner. And I found myself envying her ‘letting it all out’. In Japan they (apparently) have quiet rooms that you rent by the hour. These rooms are soundproofed and may or may not be padded, but basically you lock yourself in and then have a good old scream, releasing all that pent up aggression, frustration and anger. I’d love one at home. Imagine if, when you were looking in the window of your local estate agents the property specs said things like ‘2 bedrooms, one en-suite, sunny reception, fully soundproofed angry room’…
Anyway, in the absence of such luxuries I thought it might be nice to try ‘angry mobile phone’ therapy. Basically I’m considering just having a really angry phone conversation with mr N.O one. I reckon a nice old shout would get rid of some the London aggression that has built up over recent weeks. I’ll let you know how it goes.
And speaking of angry phone calls. I was once getting a Thameslink back to Herne Hill, in my Sawf London days, when a very well dressed woman got on. She was all ballgown glam with a big hat on, which hid most of her face, and, I realised as she sat down in front of me, completely shxt-faced.
After about 10 minutes of doing a nodding dog impression she pulled her phone out of her bag, pulled her hat down to cover even more of her face (lest us other travellers hear what she was about to say) then proceeded to scream at the top of her voice ‘you’re an absolute sxit and I never want to see you again’ into her mobile phone.
She then put her phone back in her bag, lifted up her hat and nodded off again.
OH NO! MAYBE SHE HAD THE ANGRY PHONE THERAPY IDEA BEFORE ME!
Anyway, in the absence of such luxuries I thought it might be nice to try ‘angry mobile phone’ therapy. Basically I’m considering just having a really angry phone conversation with mr N.O one. I reckon a nice old shout would get rid of some the London aggression that has built up over recent weeks. I’ll let you know how it goes.
And speaking of angry phone calls. I was once getting a Thameslink back to Herne Hill, in my Sawf London days, when a very well dressed woman got on. She was all ballgown glam with a big hat on, which hid most of her face, and, I realised as she sat down in front of me, completely shxt-faced.
After about 10 minutes of doing a nodding dog impression she pulled her phone out of her bag, pulled her hat down to cover even more of her face (lest us other travellers hear what she was about to say) then proceeded to scream at the top of her voice ‘you’re an absolute sxit and I never want to see you again’ into her mobile phone.
She then put her phone back in her bag, lifted up her hat and nodded off again.
OH NO! MAYBE SHE HAD THE ANGRY PHONE THERAPY IDEA BEFORE ME!
Monday, June 16, 2008
put 'em on!
i'm just back from a weekend at a luxury spa in Austria.
hmmm. funny word luxury. very subjective.
all i can say is that if that is the Austrian idea of luxury, i think i'll pass on what they would describe as 'basic' .
the spa was like a cross between a holiday camp and a run down 1970s swimming pool, with a touch of primary school thrown in - there were primary coloured pieces of ceramic thrown at, i mean positioned on the walls, with lots of chimes hanging around.
but let's not dwell on the decor.
let's talk about the people!
ever had a dream that you were having it off with one of your parents (just me then!), well, this is about as close to parental nudity and displays of sexuality as you are likely to get without being taken into care or imprisoned in a cellar (well, we were in Austria!).
everywhere we looked there was a Mum or Dadalike wandering around letting it all hang out (and down, and over!).
the size 0 debate clearly hasn't reached Austria yet, or if it has someone pickled it and ate it on toast as a snack.
let's just say that xtra large, elephantine, diplodocusesque and oh-my-god look at the size of that would be suitable adjectives for a size chart describing our fellow spa-ers. and that's just the children!
sister (who i took as my +1) came back all pink and flustered from her first trip to the sauna.
'it was like walking into a pub in the village of the damned, where everyone goes totally silent and stares at you.'
i pointed out that the reason she might have attracted so much attention was that she was wearing not only a bikini, but also a towel AND a towelling robe. 'that's like walking into Selfridges in just your knickers and wondering why everyone else is looking at you'.
i shall spare you her descriptions of the people she encounters in case you're eating.
we were generally well behaved though, being sure not to overdress for the naked areas (i bore all, Tracy stayed away) or underdress for the restaurants (buffets of the eat as much as you dare kind - i put on 2 kilos in 3 days) .
we did have a couple of funny encounters while we were there. firstly with a wedding party. I KNOW! which we gate crashed by mistake, taking a wrong turn at Volcania (pronounced Wulkaneeeeeeeea), one of the swimming pools. one moment we were lounging by the lovely thermal pool in our swimwear. next we'd wandered into a full on wedding reception - in our bathrobes. how we laughed! (the wedding party weren't quite so entertained).
next came at the end of a lovely bike ride in the country (during which we got totally soaked thanks to a passing monsoon). returning to the spa we once again took a wrong turn and were soon cycling amidst bemused looking towelling robe clad fellow guests, heading for Wulkaneeeeeeeeea! how we laughed (two laughs in three days - what fun!
i don't think either of us is in any hurry to return.
hmmm. funny word luxury. very subjective.
all i can say is that if that is the Austrian idea of luxury, i think i'll pass on what they would describe as 'basic' .
the spa was like a cross between a holiday camp and a run down 1970s swimming pool, with a touch of primary school thrown in - there were primary coloured pieces of ceramic thrown at, i mean positioned on the walls, with lots of chimes hanging around.
but let's not dwell on the decor.
let's talk about the people!
ever had a dream that you were having it off with one of your parents (just me then!), well, this is about as close to parental nudity and displays of sexuality as you are likely to get without being taken into care or imprisoned in a cellar (well, we were in Austria!).
everywhere we looked there was a Mum or Dadalike wandering around letting it all hang out (and down, and over!).
the size 0 debate clearly hasn't reached Austria yet, or if it has someone pickled it and ate it on toast as a snack.
let's just say that xtra large, elephantine, diplodocusesque and oh-my-god look at the size of that would be suitable adjectives for a size chart describing our fellow spa-ers. and that's just the children!
sister (who i took as my +1) came back all pink and flustered from her first trip to the sauna.
'it was like walking into a pub in the village of the damned, where everyone goes totally silent and stares at you.'
i pointed out that the reason she might have attracted so much attention was that she was wearing not only a bikini, but also a towel AND a towelling robe. 'that's like walking into Selfridges in just your knickers and wondering why everyone else is looking at you'.
i shall spare you her descriptions of the people she encounters in case you're eating.
we were generally well behaved though, being sure not to overdress for the naked areas (i bore all, Tracy stayed away) or underdress for the restaurants (buffets of the eat as much as you dare kind - i put on 2 kilos in 3 days) .
we did have a couple of funny encounters while we were there. firstly with a wedding party. I KNOW! which we gate crashed by mistake, taking a wrong turn at Volcania (pronounced Wulkaneeeeeeeea), one of the swimming pools. one moment we were lounging by the lovely thermal pool in our swimwear. next we'd wandered into a full on wedding reception - in our bathrobes. how we laughed! (the wedding party weren't quite so entertained).
next came at the end of a lovely bike ride in the country (during which we got totally soaked thanks to a passing monsoon). returning to the spa we once again took a wrong turn and were soon cycling amidst bemused looking towelling robe clad fellow guests, heading for Wulkaneeeeeeeeea! how we laughed (two laughs in three days - what fun!
i don't think either of us is in any hurry to return.
Monday, June 9, 2008
oh my oh my, have you seen the weather?
Well, this is nice.
A bit of sun.
lots of inappropriate bearing of flesh and lots of pink shoulders (hairy to boot!).
The good weather is set to continue tomorrow, too. Day after it’s going to be back to rainy cloudy grey-ey, so at least we’ll know where we stand.
We were talking about the weather here at work earlier (as you do – perish the thought we ever actually talk about anything interesting / pertinent / world-changing) about how lovely it is and how it will be equally pleasant tomorrow.
And I asked, why is it that they only show today’s weather on TV, along with a preview of what’s to come but never yesterday’s?
I think it would be much more useful to get the weather today in context with the weather yesterday.
For example, today it is 26 degrees c and I am wearing a lovely linen shirt / baggy jeans combo, and, like Goldilocks’s porridge, I am not too hot, not too cold.
How useful, if lovely Andrea on GMTV tomorrow morning were to tell me that the temperature will be exactly the same as today, so I know what layers / fabrics to wear.
Instead she will no doubt tell me sunny today with highs of X (by which time I will be incapable of remembering today's magic number), cloudy tomorrow. Giving me two sartorial dilemmas to worry about and not a mention of the past.
The people at work thought this was a riduculous idea, so i just shut my eyes and pretended they weren't there (thank heavens for black-out eyeshadow!)
A bit of sun.
lots of inappropriate bearing of flesh and lots of pink shoulders (hairy to boot!).
The good weather is set to continue tomorrow, too. Day after it’s going to be back to rainy cloudy grey-ey, so at least we’ll know where we stand.
We were talking about the weather here at work earlier (as you do – perish the thought we ever actually talk about anything interesting / pertinent / world-changing) about how lovely it is and how it will be equally pleasant tomorrow.
And I asked, why is it that they only show today’s weather on TV, along with a preview of what’s to come but never yesterday’s?
I think it would be much more useful to get the weather today in context with the weather yesterday.
For example, today it is 26 degrees c and I am wearing a lovely linen shirt / baggy jeans combo, and, like Goldilocks’s porridge, I am not too hot, not too cold.
How useful, if lovely Andrea on GMTV tomorrow morning were to tell me that the temperature will be exactly the same as today, so I know what layers / fabrics to wear.
Instead she will no doubt tell me sunny today with highs of X (by which time I will be incapable of remembering today's magic number), cloudy tomorrow. Giving me two sartorial dilemmas to worry about and not a mention of the past.
The people at work thought this was a riduculous idea, so i just shut my eyes and pretended they weren't there (thank heavens for black-out eyeshadow!)
Thursday, June 5, 2008
radiator update
on plumber's instructions i bled the bathroom radiator.
a very technical affair which involved wedging a spoon in a screw like opening (no, the screwdriver didn't fit) and allowing lots of air out.
have you ever smelt rotting fish mixed with dead people and cat poo? i have – it's exactly the aroma that wafted out of the valve.
anyway. the radiator is now so hot i'm thinking of opening up a teppanyaki grill in the bathroom.
and it still squeals!
a very technical affair which involved wedging a spoon in a screw like opening (no, the screwdriver didn't fit) and allowing lots of air out.
have you ever smelt rotting fish mixed with dead people and cat poo? i have – it's exactly the aroma that wafted out of the valve.
anyway. the radiator is now so hot i'm thinking of opening up a teppanyaki grill in the bathroom.
and it still squeals!
on the shelf
on facebook today (I know, what century AM i living in!) i saw that one of my 'friends' is a member of a gay rounders team.
i love rounders!
i looked at his most recent post and was greeted with picture after picture of athletic looking men running around with balls and bats, having what looked like a real laugh, and a picnic, and i found myself thinking 'I want to play'.
and that then led on to thinking about 'it' and meeting someone to do 'it' with (and yes, we have moved on from rounders now).
and i thought, oh no, am i going to have to join the virtual hordes and get online to get it on offline with someone?
and how would i describe myself these days and what would i ask for.
so far the best i've come up with is blue toothbrush seeks blue toothbrush. must like rounders.
which patently makes me sound like a maniac.
i love rounders!
i looked at his most recent post and was greeted with picture after picture of athletic looking men running around with balls and bats, having what looked like a real laugh, and a picnic, and i found myself thinking 'I want to play'.
and that then led on to thinking about 'it' and meeting someone to do 'it' with (and yes, we have moved on from rounders now).
and i thought, oh no, am i going to have to join the virtual hordes and get online to get it on offline with someone?
and how would i describe myself these days and what would i ask for.
so far the best i've come up with is blue toothbrush seeks blue toothbrush. must like rounders.
which patently makes me sound like a maniac.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
could it be that it was all so simple then/
whatever happened to life? we used to drink tea or, if we were forward thinking Camp coffee, with a splash of milk and sugar (OK, so we didn't keep our own teeth beyond our 20s but we were happy!).
we used to drink beer or, if we were French, wine.
now, we don't have lives anymore. we have lifestyles.
you can't go into a coffee shop and ask for a coffee anymore, you have to ask for a one-shot, decaf, extra dry, straight up cappuccino. fewer than four adjectives and you'll be exposed as a Luddite. or my mum!
you can't go into a greasy spoon anymore (it's a surely only a matter of time before these are rebranded as something with olive oil in the title. greasy is such a dirty word) and ask for a bacon butty. today it's a foccacia (elongated vowels optional and let's not get started on how people now insist on saying pan au chocolat or croissant with French accent start on) drizzled with olive infused olive oil, proscuitto and buffalo mozzarella. lightly toasted.
everything is bespoke. everything is designer (like no one designed stuff before, it just willed itself into being).
it's all style and no life if you ask me
we used to drink beer or, if we were French, wine.
now, we don't have lives anymore. we have lifestyles.
you can't go into a coffee shop and ask for a coffee anymore, you have to ask for a one-shot, decaf, extra dry, straight up cappuccino. fewer than four adjectives and you'll be exposed as a Luddite. or my mum!
you can't go into a greasy spoon anymore (it's a surely only a matter of time before these are rebranded as something with olive oil in the title. greasy is such a dirty word) and ask for a bacon butty. today it's a foccacia (elongated vowels optional and let's not get started on how people now insist on saying pan au chocolat or croissant with French accent start on) drizzled with olive infused olive oil, proscuitto and buffalo mozzarella. lightly toasted.
everything is bespoke. everything is designer (like no one designed stuff before, it just willed itself into being).
it's all style and no life if you ask me
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
