A Whole New World

It's been a cool and drizzly day, but what a fine week I've had working at Eaton House Belgravia.

The school, steeped in tradition, is filled to the brim with kind and dynamic staff, and eager, bright eyed and well mannered students, dressed in caps and ties.

At this time of the year, it's sheer madness around the place- exams, cricket matches, golf games where Eaton House versus the Manor House, and lunch times are spent at either Battersea or Hyde Park- as you can imagine, it's quite the experience.

I spend my days running up and down the stone stair cases, from class to class, sneaking a cup of Earl Grey tea when I can, or stopping to look out over the Thames and the Houses of Parliament from the windows at the top of our school building. It's a far cry from from the humble halls of the Tolworth Nursery school...

We meet every morning at ten past nine, for a whole school assembly in the hall, where the Head of the music department plays on a baby grand piano- hymns are sung, prayers are said, poetry is recited and general 'house keeping' is attended to. In stark contrast to the Headmistress I likened to Maisie's (in Uncle Buck), Miss Lucy is full of praise- so many "Brilliant, gentlemen, brilliant!", as she wipes away a tear of joy when the boys have finished singing or reciting or just being boys- and in light of all this encouragement, the boys at Eaton are thriving!

On the morning of my birthday, I arrived at Eaton House, without breathing a word that it was in fact my birthday, and went off to a special assembly for Miss Sarah, who I was replacing, as she was leaving the school and moving up to the north of England. The head of the music department had organised for a singing-round to be performed in her honour- he started to play away, and asked the students and teachers to start a melodious chant that went something like "boom-bi-da, boom-bi-da, boom-bi-da, boom!", and then the junior choir stood up and began to sing a song about tree tops and daffodils, keeping perfect time, and harmonising beautifully. When they had finished, applause erupted throughout the hall, and Miss Sarah (and many other members of the staff) wept and wept. Then the senior choir stood up, behind Miss Lucy's podium and sang (with the words adjusted to farewell Miss Sarah) Leonard Cohen's (or some may know it as Jeff Buckley's) 'Hallelujah'. It was spell binding! I'm not sure I've ever heard young children sing so magnificently- and when they had finished, the entire school stood up, giving them a standing ovation and endless rounds of applause!

By the following day, the assistant Headmistress, Miss Annabel had found out that I hadn't told anyone it was my birthday (I'd had to hand in a next of kin form, stating my birthday), and told me I should've made a fuss, and that birthdays are a huge deal at Eaton House. So, at assembly that Wednesday, when the general business was complete, Miss Annabel announced, "Our new member of staff Miss Angela was rather cheeky yesterday, and didn't tell us that is was her birthday!" The whole school turned and looked at me and I would have happily suck into the floor boards, "So gentlemen..." she continued "Who can tell Miss Angela what we do at Eaton House when a teacher celebrates their birthday?", and from the boys came a loud chorus of "SING HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" All of the boys turned themselves in my direction, the junior and senior choir stood up in their positions, and the pianist started up a rather elaborate version of the Happy Birthday tune. Although it was a day late, it was the most incredible "Happy Birthday" that has ever been sung to me, and I was the happiest lass in the world!

That same day, a parent who owns a hotel in Chelsea- our neighbouring suburb-decided to bring in a stem of a yellow orchid for each member of staff, and on Fridays (as I found out today)- the staff are given a gift- today it was a basket of exotic fruit! Aside from having breakfast and lunch catered for each day by an in house chef (for both the staff and students...no beans or cheap ham in sight!), and a social once a month where limitless cocktails are provided, it's the students at Eaton House that make it such a pleasant place to be- "Miss Angela, you do look beautiful in that coat today!" ,"Miss Angela, may I go to the loo?" ,"Miss Angela, have you seen this episode of Tin Tin? It's simply scandalous!"- but I suppose the world is all sunshine and lollipops when you've got it this good.

Just call me the Sloan Ranger

Remember I said that last week was the mid term break, and I had the whole week off? Well, after I posted that little entry, I got two phone calls- one asking me if I wanted to work at an ACS International school out in Egham (out on the road to the infamous township of Slough, would you believe- my Oyster card didn't even work on the buses out there!) on Thursday and Friday, and another call from my teaching agency saying that a head mistress from a prestigious boys school in Sloan Square had got a hold of my CV, and wondered if I'd come in for an interview on Wednesday afternoon.

Now, the first time I heard of Sloan Square was when Caitlin first came back from Europe in July 2006 and kept imitating the voice-over at the Sloan Square tube station (extra posh). The second time I heard of Sloan Square, was when I purchased Tina Brown's book Diana. I went and bought this book after I read an review for it in the Herald Sun sometime in 2007, and to be honest, I didn't enjoy it. It really was badly written, overblown and over-hyped, and although I'm a bit ashamed to say so, there was too much detail and information (which was largely inaccurate anyway, bordering on fictional), and not enough dirt!
There, I said it.

However, I did manage to chew through the chapter that detailed Diana's time as a Sloan Ranger, and was somewhat informed about the general culture and people that came from that part of London- and hung out, in and around- Sloan Square: royals, socialites, actors and other 'It' people. Regardless of all this, I decided to give the job a shot, and show up for the interview.

I caught the 319 bus from the street over from Cabul road, and it took very little time to make it over to Sloan Square, only about twenty minutes, and I had some time to look around; swish buildings, a Pret a Manger (best coffee in London, by far), beautifully groomed people, Tiffany and Cartier, even a M!Mco... but the best thing there on that overcast Wednesday afternoon, was the choir of about twenty women in matching black t-shirts 'signing' to Abba's greatest hits, being blasted out on two huge amps in the middle of the Square. Grand! I picked up a coffee from Pret, watched the women signing and singing away, bit my fingernails, and prayed that I wouldn't mess up the interview.

Of course I arrived a bit early, and got even more nervous when I saw the building, and had to buzz in at the security door. Very swank indeed, and I felt totally out of my league. Annabel, the assistant-principal equivalent, buzzed me in, and came down in the lift to meet me in the lobby of the school. She shook my hand, and led me up a few flights of stairs to meet Lucy, the headmistress. I was immediately taken aback by her- zany and off-beat, but utterly brilliant, and a totally unique character! Not at all what I had been expecting, I guess. She gave me the spiel about the school, and how everything ran, and then asked me some questions about my previous teaching experience. Lucy asked me what my strengths were, and I told the truth (which I kept going over in my brain later that night, neurotically dissecting the things I remembered saying, and decided that would probably have been the end of me right there) and what I liked to do in my spare time...I can't even remember what I said, I just kept trying to hold it together.

The interview took about twenty minutes, and as they let me out the front doors, I really thought I had snow-flakes chance of getting semi-permanent work at that school. Lucy and Annabel told me they'd let my agency know what their decision was the next day, because the job started on Monday, and needed to let the successful applicant know a-sap. But, I was grateful for the experience, and shot at the interview (my first here in London), and left my fate in the hands of God himself.

That night I was a bit feverish (lingering swine flu I suspect), and had a dream that Rachel, the girl from my teaching agency, called me to give me some "feedback" about the interview. In the dream, Rachel told me that I did very well, but when I walked into the school, I didn't ask the school gardener what the balance of the till was, and as a result, had missed out on the position. When I woke up, I was convinced that this position wasn't going to happen. I went off to work out in the International school that day, and checked my phone at 10am, 11am and then at 12 noon, but no calls...and I decided that I probably had a kind rejection letter in my hotmail inbox.

When I took my lunch break a bit after one, I checked my phone again, and there was a missed call from Rachel, and a message on my phone bank saying she wanted to give me some "feedback" on the interview. Hmmm. So I called her back, to hear what I thought was the inevitable.

"Well," Rachel said "You did very well in the interview...and Lucy was wondering if you'd like to start on Monday."

I believe I shrieked down the phone line, poor Rachel. I hope her ear drums are still intact.
I was completely shocked. Still, I managed to accept the position, or at least ask Rachel to do it on my behalf, and am now employed at Eaton House Belgravia until the end of the school year!
I had my first day today, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and I am hoping to do a really good job so that they might consider having me back after the summer break.

Fingers and toes, peeps, fingers and toes.

1 month in London, 29 years on Earth

The 2nd of June marks exactly one month since I arrived here in London, and 29 years since I was expelled from the womb. Funny that.

Caitlin and I decided to have a joint little-London-party to celebrate our birthdays- as we do every year, given that they are only a day apart- we also celebrated with Erin (one of Caitlin's besties), because her birthday is also on June 2nd.

Our little soiree took place at The Sun Hotel on Saturday evening, out in the beer garden. There weren't many of my people there, but I still had a good time. It had been a beautiful warm day (so much sunshine and a 25 degrees Celsius day), and the beer garden was packed with shiny, happy people.

Last time I had a birthday in a foreign country, 12 years ago now, it was the hardest day of my entire time away. I don't want to be so sad this time around...although I must admit, I am really missing my friends, and I missed them more than ever on Saturday night...but I'm going to stop here, 'cause I really want to try and enjoy my favourite day of the year.

Hyde-Away

This week in London Town, it's the mid-term break, and school is in recess til next Monday.

It doesn't really suit me- I'd much prefer to be earning a few quid- but because I really don't have much of a choice in that department, I've decided to try and do as much as I possibly can with my time.

I had some calls to make and a few little jobs to do this morning, but shortly after lunch I decided to catch the 345 bus over to South Kensington to visit the Victoria and Albert Museum. I didn't realise just how close we are to the Royal borough of Chelsea and Kensington, but the bus trip round past Battersea Park and over the Thames, took very little time.

We made our way over to Cromwell road, and passed the National Science Museum, before reaching the Victoria and Albert Museum- and like with the British Museum and the National Gallery, the buildings themselves are incredible structures. Given that I was calling the shots on the content that we were going to be viewing that afternoon, I decided to hit up the European Galleries and history sections. The most important things to note were the Cast Courts which were remarkable, and the dress up section, where you could try on an Inverness coat, hoop skirts from the 17th and 18th century and corsets.

By the time we had finished straining our brains at the V&A, we decided to make our way past Royal Albert Hall, through the Kensington Gardens and across Hyde Park to find a Tesco sandwich or two. When we entered Kensington Gardens, we passed by the Albert Memorial which is an absolutely amazing piece of work- it is a huge, largely blue and metallic gold, Gothic inspired structure that takes your breath away. It is a remarkable memorial, facing the Royal Albert Hall, and is equally as impressive as the Queen Victoria memorial fountain that stands outside Buckingham Palace.

As we walked through the beautiful gardens with the huge leafy trees (which would be great to climb!), we passed Kensington Palace, saw two people having a fencing-dual with large sticks, stopped at a large pond to marvel at the large white swans, and check out exactly how much it costs to rent out a deck chair in the lawns (2 quid for 4 hours, in case you were wondering).
We finally found a metro-Tesco, purchased some food and found a little spot in Hyde Park to sit and eat.

Hyde Park and it's surrounding gardens are absolute gems- and I only really walked along on two paths on the western side, and am completely taken by the lawns, the trees, the gardens and the general energy of the place... if you can't get onto me from late July til September, just letting you know now, that's where I'll be :)

Bank Holiday Weekender

The last three days have been perhaps the finest in London so far- well, certainly the 'finest' in terms of the weather. Given that it's been a Bank Holiday weekend (public holiday on Monday), the wonderful weather couldn't have come along at a better time. It's been mostly sunny, and around 23 degrees Celsius each day since Friday, and I, along with every other person in this city, have been out, about and amongst it!

On Friday evening, I went to meet Caitlin and Erin in the Clapham Common area for some Friday night drinks, and I really felt like they were deserved after my week at work! The Common is extremely close to where I am living, and incredibly easy to get to by bus. Many bars and clubs align the huge park with a pond in the middle.

We decided to meet right outside the Tube station around 6:30pm, and made our way firstly to a nearby Irish haunt, for some Brothers Pear Cider (much stronger than others I had sampled, but good all the same). Despite the fact that they were playing Nick Cave in the front bar, the place itself was kind of a dive, and so we decided to head to The Sun, in Clapham's Old Town. With an extensive beer garden (providing lots of shelter), reasonably priced drinks, and a 'trendy' crowd, The Sun is certainly the place to be on a Friday night.

The following morning, I was awake early, and was keen to head on down to the Battersea High Street. Every community/suburb here in London has it's own High Street (what Australian's might refer to as the 'main drag'), which usually feature one if not all of the three 'main' banks (Lloyds, Nat West, Barclays), various coffee shop chains (Starbucks, Nero, Costa, and Pret a Manger if you're really lucky!), supermarkets chains (Waitrose, Tesco, Marks & Spencer), a Boots (chemist chain), shoe and clothing shops, off-license convenience stores (selling cheap alcohol!) and of course at least three pubs. Some are better than others, but regardless all are unique and special in their own way.

When I first went for a walk to explore the Battersea High Street, I first thought it to be a bit of a non event, compared to the High Streets in Hammersmith, Putney and up around Clapham Junction. However, on Friday I found out that each Saturday there is a Farmer's Market along the Battersea High Street, and I was keen to see what produce would be available...and I was not disappointed! There were fruiterers selling ridiculously cheap and fresh fruit and vegetables (I managed to pick up some sensational bananas and nectarines for next to nothing), a butcher, a variety of French and Spanish food stalls (featuring paella, sausages, salamis, crepes, waffles, cheap blue and brie cheese wheels and other traditional dishes from both countries), as well as lolly, fudge and chocolate stands, and nuts and eastern European desserts laid out fresh on carts.

There was also a variety of baked products, and decorated tins you could buy to fill with biscuits.

Aside from food being sold along the High Street, there was also clothing, cards and hat stands, and stalls were you could by toys and games. There was also a bloke selling crappy wooden statues (sourced directly from Taiwan), and I saw amongst his lot a little black and white cat, which reminded me of Caitlin's cat Ziggi. Given that it was only one quid, I decided to buy it for her, and when I asked the guy how much he said, "Ah, you're an Oz then?" and I said that I was, and he proceeded to tell me that he had lived just out of Coolangatta or Tweed Heads, "Oh right" I said, and smiled. "Yeah, it was the only place in the world I've ever felt homesick", he said, and took my coin... Jeepers! They're a whingin' lot these poms!

Around lunch time we headed back to Cabul road, to start getting organised to head over to Bayswater, to a friend's barbecue. The barbecue was set to start around 1pm, so we had to organise food and alcohol, and make our way across town. We made our way by bus to East Putney Station, then caught the Tube to Earl's Court, where we changed onto the Central Line, and made our way to our final destination, which happened to be an absolutely amazing apartment overlooking Hyde Park. So there we sat, on the edge of the balcony, waving to people as they zipped by on their opened roofed tour-buses, drinking stupid amounts of white wine and Moet champagne, listening to the Beatles (as well as an eclectic mix of Australian tunes) and dressing up in fur coats until the sun set late on Saturday evening.

By 10pm, it was time to head back to the South side (a trip I remember very little about, except for trying to feed a pigeon with my bare hand...). We stopped into the local Slug and Lettuce in Clapham Junction for a cheeky Pear Cider, and collected some late night greasy food from Chicken-2-Go (faux-KFC) on our way home, where we introduced ourselves to the mono-browed owner (we've been in there a bit since we moved into the neighbourhood!), and have now sworn off it for good. Dirty bird indeed.

The following day, we awoke to a magnificent Sunday, and naturally decided to return to the Clapham Common in our slightly hung-over state to lie on the grass in the massive park that the Common is, along with all the other hundred of others who were looking to soak up the sun's rays.

There were people kickin' the fuse ball, wearing two piece bathing suits, drinking cider and smoking herbal jazz cigarettes- there was laughter and ice-cream, public-displays-of-affection a-plenty, and people with their i-pod docks playing tunes. There were even people with their remote control boats having races, and doing tricky stuff in the Common's pond.

We ended up being there for most of the day, lying under trees and people watching, with some trashy magazines, cans of cider and Tesco salads, til it was time to head home to watch The Hills (series 5 is being aired in the UK at the moment!).

Monday, the actual bank holiday, was much the same as Sunday- glorious sunshine, and a chilled out vibe across the city. We decided to high tail it over to Hammersmith first, to hit up Primark (affectionately known as Prim-ani) to purchase some homewares and other items for Cabul road, before busing it over to Fulham for some Gourmet Burger Kitchen goodness and then to a local pub for a lazy afternoon.

Everywhere you look, it is obvious that Spring has sprung- the days are getting longer, birds are chirping (the same birds whose song I hear in Australia tell me that spring is on the way) and I'm recognising all these flowers in English gardens and flower pots that my mum used to grow back in the 80s before our continent started to run out of water. After beeing cooped up and locked inside during the epic London winter that I keep hearing about (from every person I speak to), I can understand why the people are busting out to enjoy the sunshine, the warmth and nature's ambience.

Veruca, Sweetheart, Angel

First there was Madonna.

Then there was Kylie.

And then... there was Veruca.

Dreamers and Silly-Hearts

Okay, so I promise I'm not going to turn this blog into an online forum for airing my grievances about my teaching jobs, but my experience yesterday was so preposterous, that I feel like I've just gotta put it out there.

I was placed out in the South London region of Tolworth, in an infant school- something we don't really have in Oz- and wound up with the kindergarten-age-equivalent class. No dramas, I thought, how hard could it possibly be?

Because I'm so paranoid about a) being late and b) getting lost/not being able to find where I'm supposed to be going (this is one big city which appears to have been organised by a series of Town Planners who clearly had no freakin' idea what they were doing), I leave my home well before seven am each day, and head to Clapham Junction to jump on a train. This has served me well thus far, and I consequently arrived early in the area, and managed to find the school, wedged in between lines of what Melbournites would describe as commission flats. When I first entered the school, I was overcome by the hardcore hospital smell of the place-very sterile- and then somewhat shocked when I walked into the staffroom to put my lunch bag in the fridge and found stacks of empty wine bottles all over the sink... I made my way to my designated classroom and met with the teacher, who was as sour as citrus, and couldn't even manage to crack a smile during the school photos which happened a little later that morning (nb: you wouldn't credit the amount of folks that have said "Ah love, you're still smilin'- ya musn't a been 'ere long then"). She barked out the plan for me for the day, and took off, while I checked out the room. Seriously, the schools here seem to be severely under-resourced, and underloved...but, what's totally strange is that they're all fitted with interactive whiteboards, whaz up with that??

Anyways, the bell rang at about 8:45 am, and in rolled my class (the "Dragonflies") of about thirty children ("Kindergarten is like the ocean, you don't want to turn your back on it"- wise words said to Arnie, in Kindergarten Cop-click on this link please, hilarious!).

Along with the children, rolled in two Teaching Assistants (also known as TAs- another thing we don't have in Oz, and I'm still trying to decided whether I think they are a help or a hindrance), who are pretty much in charge of executing the discipline, in other words, screaming blue-murder at the children until they pipe down, or as I would like to put it, make a "good choice". We all managed to survive the morning session pretty well, there were a few domestics about the buckets and shovels in the sandpit and a minor paint fight, but otherwise nothing and no-one got broken.

Just before it was time for recess, an older child from another class brought in a basket of tomatoes. These were for the children to eat for their morning tea- the children here didn't bring any food to school- not even lunch. The English government subsides fruit for all children under the age of seven, and at this school, for 10 quid a week, the children can eat lunch at the cafeteria each day (pizza, beans and ham mostly), but most of the families are on a welfare program so again, it's subsidised. It made me reflect on the comparison made in the documentary Supersize Me, between student's behaviour in an elementary school where the students ate pure junk from the canteen, and students who were considered juvenille delinquents but were being feed a diet of fresh fruit and vegetables, which yielded 'suprising' results. Hmmmm. Regardless, most of the students passed up the fresh tomatoes, and went hungry, probably just hanging out for the beans and ham lunch combo...

Following the break, I went out to collect the children from their line, and take them to the morning assembly in the hall, and a little boy by the name of George wanted to hold my hand- no harm in that, I thought, until he went to wipe his runny nose on his sleeve, and narrowly missed my hand, which put an end to the hand-holding pretty quickly.

I managed to get the thirty odd children inside pretty easily, and we started to make our way down to the assembly hall, and as we approached we could here this woman shouting as other grades as they entered the hall, "Quiet! Be quite now! Shut it!" I always find it amusing when adults shout at children to be quiet.

This woman, who I guess was the headmistress of the school, would have been in her mid to late forties and should have known better...and what's more, her resemblance to the school principal in Uncle Buck was uncanny- although the wart-melanoma-growth was closer to her right nostril, rather than on her chin.

This horrible old bat continued to shout at and berate the children (aged between three and six, mind you) until they were all sitting quietly. Then she started to shout at the reception (prep) children, informing them that they were in for a big shock when they got to primary school, and would never succeed if they continued to talk and carry on the way they did. Unbelievable.

Then, she motioned over towards the piano, and said,

"Okay children, we're going to do some singing. I thought we could start by singing 'Banana's in Pajamas'."

The children gave a little cheer of excitement and joy, and well, she lost it.

"Who was talking? Oh! Now you've ruined it all. You're wasting my time! It would serve you right if I didn't play anything today!" she shouted.

But of course, she wanted to hold the floor, and played it anyway (she was actually quite a good pianist, but obviously bitter that she never amounted to anything, and now taking out her anger and frustration on the (very) young and defenceless. Classy. She then started taking requests from the children, and said she would pick people who were singing well to choose the next song (and unless she had eyes in the back of her head, there was no way she would have known). One little boy put his hand up and said, "Twinkle, twinkle little star?" To which she replied, "You're Max, aren't you?", then little boy nodded, and his blue eyes lit up because he'd been acknowledged, and then she sqaushed him, saying "You're joking right? Your singin' was awful". I looked around at the regular teachers, all who had their eyes to the ground, lifeless, and seemed to need a bomb under them; not even reacting to this horror scene! Suffice to say I spent the rest of the day in a bit of a blur after that assembly.

This sort of situation brings out mixed feelings in me- part of me wants to write them, or the education department, letting them know that this is absolutely woeful, unacceptable practice. The other part of me gets inspired to go back and try to combat the problem, and make a difference where I can. So, at the end of the day, when I went to get my timesheet signed, the mousey girl at reception asked me if I'd be interested in coming back to do some work in the future, and I thought about what Uncle Buck would do in this situation.

Buck wouldn't back down or wuss away, in fact, he'd get right in there and set 'em straight, bless him!

So, you guessed it, I said yes.

Life in the Bus Lane

Well- it's official- I'm back on the chain gang and out in the UK workforce, and I'm going to need to get used to life in the bus lane.

My first supply teaching job took place on Tuesday, which was a half-day in the city's South, at St. Matthew's Church of England school. It didn't take me long to get out to Surbiton and up a large hill to the school, and I ended up arriving much earlier than I had anticipated. Given that there wasn't really any places to hang about (and return a few missed calls), for first time in my life I went to the pub before school! Mind you, I only stopped in at the Prince of Wales on Upper-Brighton road for a cheeky diet Pepsi, but still... I imagined myself hanging out in a pub in Deer Park before work, and had a bit of a lone-chuckle.

The afternoon was surprisingly chilled, the staff and kids were great (one grade six girl even told a boy who was giving her the irrits to "shut your rotten face"- I loved it!) and it was an all round pleasant experience. Even better than the teaching itself though, was the fact that I made it home in under forty minutes, which is excellent time for travel in this city! Just call me Ange Costanza!

Today's work 'experience' was slightly different- I was posted at Robin Hood Primary School, out around the Wimbledon boondocks, and the kids were pretty full on. The fact that most of the children are sent to school without something to eat at their morning tea break might give you an insight into the nature of the school and the surrounding community- it may just be customary here, but I don't think so. I guess what I found even curiouser, was when I expressed my surprise about this to the teacher whose grade I was teaching in first, and she didn't think it was odd! Then again, she did mention she'd recently come from a little village school in Yorkshire, and this was her first job in London, and had been finding it quite a big adjustment. Hmmm.

Travelling back and forth on the trains has been a joy, largely because Nick Drake is predominantley in my head phones. I've always adored his music, but Bryter Layter just sounds so right here- with the trees rushing by, and the quirky lines of Victorian-esque cottages and their little orange chimneys, it's like a perfect soundtrack for the South London scenary. It's blisssssssss.

'Abbey Birthday Brother!

In honour of Eugene's 24th Birthday today, we decided to make a pilgrimage to the famous crossing just down from Abbey Road Studios, and to make the birthday call from right out the front. We caught the train from Clapham Junction into Waterloo Station, and then caught the Jubilee Line out to St. John's Wood.

It was a surreal experience to see the crossing (I had flashes of Beatle-mania), and then to walk across it- many times as it turns out! Trying to get a good photo on this crossing is extremely difficult I'll give you the tip- all of our attempts to capture a quality image paled in comparison to the shot shown above- it's actually a really busy section of road (made extra busy by the cricket match being played at the Lord's Cricket Ground which is-very close by- today), and I think the Beatles must have had the road closed off in order to stage that shot- and what a shot it is! No photo shop/editing functions back in when this epic album was released back in the September of 1969.

Along the walls of the studio are messages written to the Beatles, as well as many of their song's lyrics- Eugene asked me to tell him what I saw as we spoke, and I rattled off a few of the quotes that were scrawled on the studio walls, one of which read "Pink Floyd is Better!" I was a bit taken aback until Ue was able to point out to me that Pink Floyd in fact had recorded their Dark Side of the Moon album there in 1973.

We ended up spending about an hour or so hanging around the crossing, dodging buses and enjoying the sunshine until the battery in the camera was just about empty, and we decided to head back to St. John's station.

Given how close we were to Waterloo station, and that I didn't need to start work until the following day, we decided to head back there and walk from the station to Leake Street, where the Banksy Tunnel is. The space is a disused road tunnel in south London (right near Leake Street) that has been turned into a giant exhibition space by graffiti artist Banksy.

Murals in the Bristol artist's famous stencil style appear with work by other artists in a half-mile stretch of the tunnel. It really is a phenomenal space (with classical music booming through a number of speakers in the ceiling!) where graf artists are allowed to graf what-ever and whenever (there are a few exceptions) they like without fear of prosecution. The official Banksy exhibition 'opened' in the tunnel on May the 2nd last year, and sadly (although it is ultimately the nature of this sort of art work) most of Banky's work has been sprayed over with other images.

Unfortunately, the camera battery was dead by the time we arrived at the Tunnel so I have no hard evidence, but we were able to find several of Banksy's works that have been preserved- probably because they are in hard to reach sections of the tunnel. Incredible works all the same, and although I'm guessing the Tunnel isn't mentioned in the Top 10 things you should't leave London without doing, I really rate it.

Radi-coooool.

Just to complete Ue's UK birthday celebrations in style, we decided to pop into a local Clapham pub, The Windor Castle, for a lunch of fish and chips and peas (salad, not mushy), washed down with exactly 568mls of pear cider. I just wish he'd been here to celebrate with us!

Happy Birthday Blinky :)

A Room with a View...of Cabul Road

It is with great pleasure that I write this latest post from the lounge room of my new house on Cabul Road. As I sit here, with three of my other flatties (and one ex-dosser who's just hangin' out, but has brought his laptop nonetheless), all typing away on our lap tops, face-stalking, crap talking, and half watching pay TV, I just can't believe my luck. And I don't want to put the mocchas on or anything, but it all kind of feels like it was meant to be.

I realise that the title of this blog does in fact beg a photo of the view from the gable of the room that Caitlin and I are sharing, and I will most certainly post one soon, but I decided that this image was more appropriate.


For one, I love the keys- really old school, huh? But, in the second instance, see that key ring? Well, the other day when we were eating our penultimate meal at Edward's, a man walked up behind Caitlin (I saw him approach, but she did not), and startled her when he put that key ring and a little piece of paper next to her right elbow which read,

"I am a deaf mute, and find it very challenging to sustain long term employment. Please help my income by purchasing this keyring at a price of your discretion"

After the timid fellow put the little slip of paper down, he backed off shyly, and made his way around the pub, dropping off other little slips of paper and key rings on the other tables. We'd been knocking back other hawkers that had been coming into the pub, trying to flog off their pirated dvds and other assorted rubbish (not to mention that I never really felt comfortable at the 'Lentil as Anything' vegetarian restaurant on Sydney road, where you decide what you pay for your meal), but I liked his approach and product, and I knew that I'd need a key ring soon for our new house keys in a couple of days, and so I decided to fork out a couple of quid for the little gold heart. When he came back, I handed over my coins, and he gave me a grateful smile, and went about his business.

I popped the keyring into the side of my purse, and to be honest, forgot about it completely, until yesterday afternoon when the two gold keys were handed over to me when we arrived at our new dwelling. As soon as I saw the two gold keys, I remembered the golden heart, and attached it straight away to the keys- and I guess that was the moment when I realised my key ring matched my new keys, and indeed the planets had aligned....ahhhhhhhhhh.

You're proabably thinking that I'm over tired and that I really should go and get some more sleep, but you also know I'm a hopeless romatic, who really likes it when things all come together in the end, after the many near misses and close escapes life throws you, and if you're bothered with reading my blog, then I'm guessing you do too :)

That is all.