Much About Nothing

Provided that you leave the TV behind and keep your ears open there is lot to do here.
Oh I know that some of you will already have sniggered, I am in one of the biggest and certainly most exciting cities in the world. There is a lot to do… well Duh!
But you know what, I keep doing stuff and then talking to people who have lived here all their lives and not done those very things. Often for free.

In my life in North Wales one of the standing amusements was that all the tourists went up Snowdon, our highest mountain. All the locals meant to get round to it some day

London is the same it seems. Having changed so very much of the way that I and my extended family (Forgeron, The Boy Professor, MediaMan, Asbo, and The Black Cat) live, it seems silly to swap the location just to watch old episodes of Star Trek.
Coming to the city I wanted guns in the night, sirens, air traffic, the rush hour, a mixed community, fast food, and twenty four hour supermarkets. I also wanted to pick up the news and think…. “Yes tomorrow I am going to do that!”
And by and large dear reader, I have done just that.

The Paralympics courtesy of my friend Gamesmaker. The closing fireworks quite the most spectacular that I have ever seen. Notting Hill Canival. Endless festivals associated with religions which seem to have nothing to do with church or chapel. Bermondseys free pyrotechnics in November. The remembrance at the Cenotaph. Christmas shopping in a million lights. Various new years. Bike trips that seem extravagant until you realize it is flat in every direction here. Snow all over the famous landmarks. Protest marches, An opening night. Museums of childhood and anew. Galleries. Visitors. I have been clubbing in Camden and seen the Stones on their second visit to Hyde Park. Eaten and drunken (??) in some gorgeous spaces, markets, and pubs. Gotten to know the East End a little better. Shared some good time with my brother, though sadly less with my sisters. Listened to ‘Clue’ on Mornington Crescent. Found wild place for John Muir. I have had auditory hallucinations of geese which turned out to be true. I went to the Queens birthday party. Marched with pride. Watched some fine parades. Stood at the top of the highest tower. I became a member of the Baker Street irregulars and took a picture of a solar flare. Managed to squeeze some work in as well. This list goes on and on of course….

And I was outside the gate at the birth of the golden child who will one day be king.

All this and I have to leave out the fact that Forgeron and I shared Paris.
Also many visits to darkest Hereford.

I hope I can pick up some of these and share them with you as the next year sneaks by…

Wagons South

The capital city allowance and the promotion to Grand Poobah gave an apparent boost to the Hallett coffer I have to agree. Nonetheless, aspects of moving needed careful financial consideration.

Several friends who were at first enthusiastic about moving to a remote mountainside for a few years later found themselves challenged (quite rightly) by aspects of the isolated nature of Hallett’s Mountain.
My vision of finding it a doddle to rent out dwindled.

The transient nature of the population of East London also had an impact. My early advert for a room with a view there met with a terrific response, but when I made it clear that I was looking for a place in three to four months time I was regarded with amusement at best and probably as a time waster. It seemed that, unlike the protracted negotiation towards tenancy in North Wales, flats near where I was going to work were on the market in the morning and snapped up by lunchtime.

I flirted briefly with a newspaper, who agreed that my offer of a house swap for two or three years would be of interest to its readers. I even wondered about selling up but was not ready for this yet.

Eventually though I was able to agree with a friend from my old workplace who was pleased with an escape from the madding crowd. In addition, a visit to the city resulted in the fortunate coincidence of a flat on its way to advert, free for two hours, at the time I was there.

By the end the last week of August I had everything I needed wrapped up in a spotted handkerchief, a sturdy stick in hand, and a pantechnicon (yay a non Microsoft word! 1-0) stuffed to the very gills in close pursuit. I set off for the streets paved with gold, a sentiment which of course if it were realised would have solved the problems noted.

Yet another economic migrant in the already busy streets.

A Year In Hallett's London

Looking at some photos the other day I was taken to discover that a time has truly galloped by.
In the first week of August 2012 I came to East London to look for a place to live. This on the back of a new job which has taken me away from the mountains.

With the help of ‘La Forgeron’ I was delighted to get a four room, ground floor flat with its own rectangle of garden, and a garage as well.
My kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and sitting room have served well since. A base for explorations and a retreat from the world. The rent at the top end of extravagant for my meagre pocket but 'you only live twice'. How many of you, dear readers, can complete that quote without the aid of Google I wonder?

My adventure started back just before the Easter of that year. Sitting comfortable in my mountain farm, with a job I enjoyed, and a lifestyle the envy of many from where I am now. I noticed a job advert and before I knew it, Pandoras Box was opened.

Forgeron was off to University, The Boy there already, and my need for travel in foreign lands was pricking at the heels. Second advertisement it said. Head teacher. Just the job that I have been avoiding looking for…..

I agonized and rationalized for days…. No I didn’t! From the second that I saw the post I knew it had my name writ large upon it and the world was going to have to fit. The Great Moo Moo (who occasionally appears to me from slices of toast) had already cast the die.

I called by via the funeral of a friend of over forty years to see the office chair and nod to the outgoing occupant.

On Thursday I decided to apply. On Friday I sent the application. Monday I was shortlisted for an interview on Tuesday. As I drove back to North Wales I pulled over to stretch my legs and get fuel for the car, I took the call, paused for breath and said yes.
The guy on the other end breathed a sigh of relief.

And so everything was about to change.

Darn the Pab

The Games Maker and I listened in stunned disbelief. Back in the old walled town sentiment of a racist nature is seldom expressed so overtly. Indeed it is generally reserved for the English over the period of the RBS Six Nations Tournament when they are seen as fair game. I am sure others may quote further example but generally I always felt that it was a muted affair at best.
No suppression of thought or voice round here though.

The Bigot is spouting forth....

‘Facking Romanians. They are a bunch of bast..rds as well mind. But ...if you give a facking pair of them a facking shovel and facking barrow and facking tell them to dig a facking hole they will be there at the end of the facking day and you will have a facking hole, even if they facking do have their facking hands out.’

‘Facking Albanians though, don’t get me facking started. Give a facking shovel and a facking barrow to a facking pair of Albainians and at the end of the facking day they will have put the facking shovel in the facking barrow. Facking wheeled them off and facking sold them. ‘

‘Now then what about these facking apples from facking Afghanistan.....’

And so on.

Gentle reader, I could scarcely credit my facking ears.

The photograph bears no relation to the post. How could I illustrate it?
Instead you get a pink thing that I saw on the dockside at Greenwich.

Up A Lazy River

After an initial fruitless foray I have discovered a path that grants access to the Old Father Thames and is just a hop, skip, and cycle ride from my front door.

So, home pleasantly early from work, I first took tea , and then mounted trusty Belerephon for points south.

London's roads are, as far as I am concerned, a dream for cyclists. After a leisured forty minutes wandering down roads where traffic can hardly exceed twenty miles an hour, I crossed leafy parks in dappled shade.

The evening air here this September seems to have a magic quality. The heat of the day is subdued a little, though still the stones bathe you with warmth. The light, a golden blessing, lifting the heart and soul at once.

As I wound my way along the last quarter mile of path I could see that this particular hour was a perfect spell.

I sat amongst the long grass, listening to it whisper in the evening breeze. Watched the sea birds nod each other in cordial acquaintance lined up along the jetty. The sun dipped ever lower over the city towards its rest. The river slid gently between its banks like a lazy grey snake.

As I listened, I tell you friends, I could hear the great Moo Moo humming a gentle tune.

And as the stars began to peek, I turned to home, stopping only to avail myself of some particularly fine fish and chips on the way.

(Greater) London Calling

“Warawak?”
My new neighbour, Mr Singh has just stuck his head over the fence. Closely followed by his hand of friendship.
I struggle to decipher his expectant enquiry. Reluctant to admit that my foreign ears cannot understand this obviously common opening shot.
“Warawak?” he beams.
And then my predecimal penny drops...
“In the hospital up the road.” I beam back at him. “Though actually I don’t start until the first of September. Just moving in today”

Mountaineers, I have moved to London. To the East to be precise. Somewhere in the sprawl between The River and Redbridge.

I have had several expressions of enquiry as to my sanity, and I understand. Truly I do. There I was with the forty acre smallholding. A small farmhouse. Sitting pretty in the middle of the beautiful Snowdonia National Park. Dark skies and views of the sea and the Conwy Valley. Not to mention an enviably interesting job.
This I have exchanged for a small flat. The job I have been recruited is again enviably interesting and engaging of course. I am afraid though that I cannot tell you much of it. Nothing secret at all but it is in the health service and I would not seek to break the confidentiality involved.

So then, you must content yourself with my reactions to this vibrant city.
In my first week here, I have visited the Notting Hill Carnival, and attended the Paralympic Opening Ceremony. I have cycled far and wide. I am soaking up the rhythm of a new way of life,and adventure.
Let me tell you more then....