Sick in London

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Not quite sick OF London.  But sick in London.  I’ve finally succumbed to the sickness which everybody promised me I’d get.  A cold, or the flu, or something.

London is cold.  London is big.  London is not as dirty as I’d been told.  But, it should be, as London has no bloody rubbish bins.  London is paranoid about terrorism.  So, I assume, the thinking is that no bins means no spots to dump a bomb.

But, other happenings.  They consist of me spending more time sitting at home waiting for phone calls and emails regarding jobs.  Usually getting one or two a day – but very rarely any follow-ups.

And, played squash on Sunday with Mike & Chook.  I was spectacularly awful at the beginning, but gradually improved to merely bad by the end of it.  I think once I learn how to serve, I might be able to end with a respectable score.  Not sure if that’d be worth the excruciating pain I was in for the next two days however.

Again – missed lots of birthdays this month.  Suffice to say that I did know they were happening, but not easy to do much about it.  So – happy birthday to all the Aquariuses.

Pie & pint last night with several of the folk from Aotearoa.  In honour of Waitangi Day.  And Chinese New Year’s Eve.  Unfortunately, still have not found a decent pie here.  My theory is that the English are great at thinking up things – excellent things – but then can’t actually do it any good themselves.  Football (not an excellent thing, but a thing), cricket, rugby, pies, fish’n’chips, etc.  I have to admit that they’re awlright at some things though – I’m guessing things that they didn’t invent.  Music, concerts, beer.  Maybe others.

This weekend – maybe make a cameo appearance at the Waitangi Day pub crawl.  Not too interested in it to be honest, and may be rather sick by then – but a good excuse to spend another day with all the tangata whenua.  Plans for a hangi haven’t really come to fruition – so instead maybe some kind of NZ-themed lunch in town, and then watch/help a couple thousand drunken kiwis attempt a haka.  Not really great timing, however, considering the latest cricket scores.

London

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Website has been having problems.  And my babble from last week has disappeared.  But at least I have email back, so I don’t have to wonder anymore if I’m missing job offers.  I wasn’t, and I’m not.

And, rather than trying to remember what I wrote a whole week ago – I’ll just write a quick update about London to this point.

– Have been to several nights out at pubs for various events.  Dom’s birthday, Mike’s birthday, Todd’s leaving,  and maybe others.  Each one of these nights, I’ve run into more people I haven’t seen for ages – so it’s been cool.

– Been looking for jobs.  Lots of phone calls from agents who sound enthusiastic, etc – but we’ll see.  One or two calls from agents who are obviously just trying to figure out what companies have roles open – by asking me who I’ve talked to.

– Helen, my scottish ginga bargirl from Quito – turned up here on Sunday.  On her way back home to gingaland, we had a few beers, and a few games of pool.  Then, after dinner back home, I managed to trick her into staying overnight by neglecting to remember that I should tell her what time the last train left.  Oops.

– Touristy stuff… seen a few of the big names from a distance.  And that piqued my interest to see them one day properly.  Westminster, Parliament, Big Ben, Tower Bridge, London Eye, etc.  Have been into the British Museum (twice – each time with a different lovely lass on my arm.  First Cazz, then Helen).  Saw all the stuff the english thieved off the rest of the world ages ago.  Some of it is pretty sweet.  Egyptian sculptures are rather impressive.  Their mummies aren’t too bad neither.  And some good clocks.  Natural History Museum – only really saw the most boring part of it so far.  Will have to go back – as the sections which aren’t about rocks look pretty good.

Other than that, not much doing.  Trying to resist my urge to start spending money with no care for cost/consequences.  Seeing as I spent half the money I’d saved for my tax bill overseas – and that tax bill turns out to be larger than expected, and my credit card is accruing interest – I really shouldn’t rack up any more debt.

Anyway – next time I’ll be telling you all about my exciting new job with a financial company for big bucks, for which I can work from home a couple of days a week.  I hope.

The Lake District

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So, 29 Dec starts off with some breakfast.  Or what the inglis call breakfast.  No refried black beans or rice in sight.  Bah.  Then, the subway.  Or the underground, tube, whatever you wanna call it.  Coffee while we wait for Carol&Dom.  And into the car.  And driving.  Motorway, etc.  I drive for a while, through some beautiful english weather.  Raining so hard the car seemed to be struggling to make it through the wall of water.  And eventually, we got to where we were heading.  Thanks largely to TomTom – Dom’s new toy.  SatNav – and it actually seems pretty cool.  Mostly due to it’s name, I’m guessing – but last time I looked at that kind of technology, it seemed pretty shit.  TomTom was cool.  And is called TomTom, and belongs to Dom.  If it rhymes, it’s true.

Anyway – we arrived at the cottage, and met up with Katie&Mike.  Three couples, in an english cottage.  Romantic, sickening, and all that.  But, the cottage is next door to the pub.  So, I should be able to escape fairly easily if needs be.  We all seem to be thinking this, as it isn’t long before everybody heads to the pub.  A nice pub meal, amongst all the crazy english folk who are camping here, in order to walk the surrounding hills.  All wearing very muddy boots and tramping clothes – while I stroll in with my jandals (flip-flops/thongs).  Have dinner, and befriend the various dogs in the pub – before returning to our cottage for some whisky, then bed.

30 Dec – people are keen to go a-walkin’.  I use jet-lag and my sore foot as an excuse for not going.  Neither is exactly troubling me – but I’m quite happy to read Harry Stinkin’; Potter for the day in front of the fire.  And maybe a whisky.  And it turns out that Pen is happy to make carrot cake.  So, as one sickening couple, we make plans to take the car down to the other end of the lake in the afternoon to pick up the other two sickening couples at the pub down there.  That all goes to plan, and we head down to the other end of the lake.  Beautiful english countryside.  Just like on the telly.  Tiny thin roads, with stone fences on each side, and hills and trees and old crazy farmers.  Two pubs down the other end, so we have drinks at each of them.  No favouritism here.  Then, back to cottage.  Dinner, wine, beer, whisky, etc.

And then New Year’s Eve – 31 Dec.  Possibly my favourite day of the year.  No favouritism.  More lazing about.  Slept in, followed by breakfast, a bath, and then whisky in front of the fire.  And then dinner, with wine.  A quick pub quiz, but not at the pub.  And then, the pub.  Beers, shots, and then midnight.  I’m dressed in my red suit, making friends with all the dogs again.  Many oppurtunities for some photo-journalist type.  And then kissing many of the local ladies soon after midnight.  Invited quite a few people back to our cottage to continue festivities – and had some more good times.  Guests back to the cottage included a kitten.  Eventually, kicked everybody out – inviting them for lunch the next day.

01 Jan – got up just in time to start hoping nobody would arrive for lunch.  Nobody did.  Lazed about fairly hungover.  As did the others – except Carol&Dom left for London.  Mike got up sometime in the mid-afternoon.  And didn’t last long.  More beers, finished off the whiskey – and then I checked out the pub while the other three watched a romantic comedy.  Pub was strangely empty – and I figured all the old ladies I’d graced with a kiss the previous night must have had heart attacks when dreaming about it later.  Oops.  So – quiet night, and a pleasant hungover start to 2008.  Resolutions were all silly, and some of them may have to be fine-tuned.  Especially the “don’t eat anything white” one.

02 Jan – up and about reasonably early.  Breakfast, cleaned the cottage, and headed off.  Back to Mike’s parent’s place, and then into Katie’s van.  Onwards to London.  Then ‘the tube’.  And finally ‘home’.  Leftovers soup for dinner, and bedtime.  Need plenty of rest for Pen to go to work tomorrow.  And for me to find work.  Or something.

So – that’s it.  A rushed update to let you all know I’m still about.  Hope everybody had a great New Year’s.

Shainee – happy birthday.  Helen – happy birthday too?  Is that right?  Can’t remember, but I have a vague memory of that coming up.  Anyway – hope you had a great night anyway.  Ursula&Lee & Finn’s – hope it was all good.  I’m guessing it would have been great, and you’ll definitely be shopping for a new carpet round about now.

Leaving South America

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So, I wake up early on Boxing Day, St. Stevens Day, or 26 Dec – whatever you want to call it – with a ginga scottish bargirl in my arms, a couple of folks asleep on couches, barowner asleep on the floor, and the cleaner cleaning up around us.  I remove myself from the scot, praying that she doesn’t awake (you know the tempers on these redheads), and help the cleaner move the very heavy tables back to their original positions.  Then do a bit of cleaning up.  Starting a bit of work at a bar, even voluntarily, is rather addictive.  Although I’m hungover as hell, and just want to curl up in a ball somewhere the cleaner has already been – I feel the need to wash the dirty glasses, clean up the place overall, and then pour a couple of beers for some early-comers.  And one for myself, with a touch of lemonade.  A few people trickle in, as there’s some game on where people kick a round ball (ROUND?!) around a field – trying to get it into a net.  I therefore assume it’s called netball.  Because I heard that was some kind of a girl’s game, and this seemed like it was for girls.

Anyway, eventually things sort themselves out.  I drop off the santa suit.  Lee has two attempts at going to the bank.  Without his car keys – lost.  But, manages to get there – to find he’s left the till receipts at the bar.  Drunkard.  Second attempt – sweet.  Leaves me taking care of the bar each time – second time possibly not the best idea, as I take a second nap on a bench.  But, by the 2nd time, I think he’d got his shit together enough to see this possibility – and it seems that the chef, Patty, is keeping an eye on things as well.  To be fair to myself, which I always am, I did sleep in a position where I could see people coming up the stairs.  And I did wake up each time somebody came up.  Nearly.

Anyway, starting to regret the several wake-up beers, and lack of sleep, and lack of scottish bargirl – I figured I should probably return to my hostel for the first time in a long time.  Tried to sleep.  Not much success.   Shower instead, and then prepared for my final night at the bar.  This involved making sure I had a fair bit of cash in my pocket to pay for my tab.  Then making sure I took my kruse-suit to the bar – as a gift.  And making sure I smelled nice.

Got to Finn’s, and the place was dead.  Seemed like nobody else could do another night after last night.  Even Steve was missing.  But Ursula was there.  And Helen.  And Merav (I think the spelling’s right?).   And the ladies are all that matter.  But, after a few hard nights, nearly everybody wanted an early night.  And I guess I can partly blame myself for that.  So, after a half-yard of beer, and some other cocktails and shots and what-not, it was an early-closing.  And fair enough – there weren’t any customers.  Ursula, Ross & Helen get in a taxi together for their respective places.  So, I walk home with tears in my eyes after my last night at Finn McCool’s.

Run into the neighbourhood drug-dealer/mugger – (who I’ve made friends with, without buying any drugs – just giving cigarettes, talking to like a friend, and not being intimidated (well – appearing not to be)).  Tell him it’s my last night.  Nope – don’t need any crack.  Sorry.  Haven’t got any change either – just gave it to that other guy on the corner.  What?  Oh – change of clothes.  Last night here – might have some clothes I want to get rid of?  Just so happens I’ve got a pair of pants I don’t want anymore… he obviously doesn’t believe me – but a minute later I open the hostel gate again – and give him the pair of trousers I was going to throw away.  Probably shouldn’t encourage the nasty piece of work – but he hasn’t given me any problems.  Just some very good friends.

Oh well.  Maybe I’ve shown him the way to be a nice guy.  Anyway, pack my bags – and just as I’m starting to undress for a few hours of sleep – there’s a knock on my door.  Turns out to be Helen & Ross.  Couldn’t bear to be apart from me, it seems.  So – a couple of beers, and some chatting.  Definitely last night – although maybe they’re trying to get me too drunk to get my flight.  Ross fails – falls asleep at the foot of the bed reasonably early.  He eventually leaves, and then Helen & I have one last night of beautiful, beautiful love-making.  Well, love-making in the sense of the word that the protestants would use.

Still – I suspected ulterior motives – and sure enough, she kept me awake long enough that I damned near missed my flight.  Got awoke by the hostel staff at 7am, but was lured back to bed by those flaming red locks.  Then, same hostel staff was nice enough to bother about having another go, at 8am.  This time, it was panic a-go-go.  Left Helen sobbing into the pillows as I rushed to the airport.  Just in time to buy some trite souvenirs, listen to the pilot chatting with some guy at the bar, and then discover that it was to be delayed by two hours.  Only turned out to be about one hour, enough to fail at getting food – but succeed in getting a few cervezas.  Well, half cervezas.  Each time I bought one – something would suggest that the plane was ready, and I’d have to leave some left behind.  Only to return to buy another.  But eventually we were ready.  And we left.  After watching two 10-year old or so boys screaming and refusing to get onto the plane.  The poor kids were physically manhandled (with much difficulty) by a security guard.  I have to give it to them, they put up one hell of a fight.

So, after a few hours, we arrive in Amsterdam early in the morning of 28 Dec.  How was the flight?  Piss poor technology, acceptable food, shit movies/entertainment, and awful seat.  With a bad foot.  And too tired/hungover to keep asking for more booze in order to make everything better.  Still, managed to be tired enough, and to drink enough wine, that I slept a fair bit.  And the silly lady next to me got off at Bonaire, so I had two seats – and could kind of put my foot up when I wanted.  Kind of.  Got to Amsterdam late, so had to rush to the other airplane.  With bad foot – which only starts hurting when I’m doing something silly like this.  Rushed too much, and got there early, with pain.  After spending quite some time searching for an easy option for, and deliberating if I should, drinking a beer – I find a place that does it.  But big queue.  Then, spot an irish bar.  Sorted.  Have to wait for ages while the barman talks to some americans.  Never would have happened in Finn’s.  Have to wait for so long that when the guy finally does tend me, I only have time for a half-pint of Murphy’s Stout.  That goes down as quick as possible, and back off to the gate.  Just in time for final boarding.

Short flight across what I’m now going to have to refer to as The Ditch, while reminiscing fondly of what I used to call that term for.  And so I arrive in the famous Heathrow, London.  Buy some bottles of booze, and get met by Penelope.  Luckily – as I’d figured a while back that I hadn’t actually made any solid arrangements with her as to what was happening when I arrived.  Kinda wish I had – as those arrangements would have involved meeting at an airport bar.  Instead – straight to the Underground.  And the Underground is just like on the telly.  Look out the windows at streets of houses.  And the streets of houses are just like on the telly.  Long time later, switch trains.  Or lines, or whatever they want to call them.  Ages later, get out, and catch a taxi.  And the taxi is just like on the telly.  And the taxi’s driven by a driver with an accent.  And the accent is just like on the telly.  And we arrive at a doorway.  And the doorway is just like on the telly.  And we go inside, and Skye’s there.  But Skye’s not even on the telly.  Mike’s not there either, and he’s not on the telly neither.  (I wish I knew how to spell “either” and “neither” with the excessive “v” noises that the poms use).  Anyway – a couple of bottles of Guiness.  Some sleep.  A bath with red wine and a book.  A bottle of champagne.  Getting reacquainted with all the technology I left behind.  And now it’s nearly time for my first night’s sleep in what isn’t quite home, but will do for a while.

And tomorrow, I apparently start travelling again.  Some joint called the Lake District.  There were Lake Districts in both Chile and Argentina, and I avoided them – seeing as I got lakes at home.  Good lakes.  This here english Lake District had better be impressive, or the locals will be getting some talking-to.

Guess where… Finn McCool’s

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As I hinted last time, I’m not feeling so good at about 9:30am 23 Dec – when Ursula and Helen turn up to collect me. But, I manage to make it to the car. And to not make a mess of the car while Ursula drives us to the supermarket. Then, I try to get out of the car to walk around the supermarket. Legs don’t work. Feel hollow, to the point where I am actually sure I would fall over if I tried to stand up. I think I proved it. I tell the lovely lasses that I’d catch up with them. And then try to recover. I get woken up by the girls returning with several trolleys full of groceries. Oops.

Return to Finn’s, and this time manage to help out. Carry the groceries in, and discover that the brags about the size of the turkey(s) weren’t exaggerated. Huge.  Then, some recovery cervezas and shepherd’s pie.  And so on, and so on.  Helping out behind the bar once in a while, drinking always, and playing absolutely awful pool.   And limping about.  Figure I may have broken my foot somehow, so go to hospital.  A fair amount of time and money later, I discover I just have an inflammation around the tendon.  Or something.  So – it’s bandaged up, and I’m told to go home, put it up, put ice on it, don’t walk on it, and take some pills.  I of course walk back to Finn’s, as I figure a pub is the best place to find ice, and to sit around with your foot up.  Of course I quickly find sitting down fairly boring.

And, it turns out to be the staff party.  The owners of Finn’s also own about 5 other bars/cafes/etc.  So – lots of staff – mostly ecuadorian.  And I figure that seeing as it’s supposed to be a party for the staff, I should work the bar while the Finn’s staff has fun.  Turns out to be a silly option, as there was free drinks.  I don’t think ecuadorians are used to free booze.  But they learnt pretty bloody quickly, and there were some instances where I thought brawls would break out between people trying to get to the booze first.  Turns out they probably had the right idea – as we ran out of nearly every booze available.  All the beer, whiskey, rum, wine, vodka which was supposed to be free got used up rather quickly.  So then we had to pour beer from the taps – and went through every keg in the place.  Madness.  People jumping up and down, causing the jeebersmas tree to sway, and then actually start hopping along from the vibrations.  Eventually people leave.  Leaving me rather tired, and a little intoxicated.

24 Dec – get up and go to Finn McCool’s.  Cerveza, shepherd’s pie, cerveza, irish stew, cerveza, etc.  Help out with the cooking for tomorrow’s dinner a little bit – but mostly watch/tend the bar while others do the kitchen stuff.  Another big night, with plenty of drinking behind the bar.  And then we close early – allowing Lee & Ursula to spend the night in the bar by themselves, doing the gift thing in front of the fire.  The theory being that tomorrow, they’re already here, and can start doing useful stuff early.

But, 25 Dec arrives – and then I turn up to the bar.   Lee & Ursula very much asleep in the middle of the floor.  We clean up the place a bit, and set up the tables for christmas dinner.  Drink some champagne.  More champagne.  Get into a santa suit, but the first two children were old enough and smart enough to figure I wasn’t really santa.  Third child, however, a gorgeous little girl – seemed rather convinced.  Couldn’t stop staring at me.  But I’m used to that now.  Lunch was eventually served – and we discover we are rather short of cutlery.  I run down to another cafe owned by the owners.  Quite the sight – fully costumed santa running down the street, in order to beg for knives and forks.  With a bandaged foot.  But, I succeed, and the dinner goes off rather well.  Except I couldn’t eat – because of my santa beard.  And the little girl kept standing next to me staring, so I couldn’t sneak the beard off for a couple of minutes.

Eventually dinner is over, and I give a couple of gifts out.  Then, wave goodbye, out the back door – and finally get out of the ridiculously hot and restrictive santa suit.  And get some food.  Very good meal – and I don’t think anybody could finish their plate.  Then, watching some christmas type movies on TV, drinking more champagne, then beer, then wine, then whatever one could think of.  And so on, and so on.  Until the bar becomes busy, and then I work the bar again.  Everybody enjoyed themselves quite a bit, I think – and once again it was a struggle to get people out at closing time.  Then, a few more drinks with some of the regulars/friends entrusted to stay after closing.  And a few of us end up sleeping here.

Next update will hopefully be written from London.  If they’ve got internet over there.

Finn McCool’s

Kruse Leave a comment

Right – I usually use the name of the city or town as my subject-header for each story. And, I have again… I can’t really honestly say I’m in Quito – but have to admit that I’m just in Finn’s.

So – what’s been happening in Finn’s for the last couple of days? Madness. Full Moon Syndrome has hit with a vengeance. Relationship troubles, staff troubles, drunk troubles, mate troubles, etc etc. But, nothing too serious. Here goes…

Woke up on 21 Dec after a nice kip. Got to the bar just as Lee was arriving. Had been open for a little while previously though – so technically I was late. But, made up for it as soon as possible. Drinking drinks. Pouring drinks. Buying drinks. Drinks drinks drinks.  I cut Helen’s hair.  Helen cut my hair.  While each of us weren’t particularly sober.  Good idea at the time.  Fair bit of time behind the bar.  Without checking that it was alright – which was a bit naughty. But, Ursula and Lee know me well enough that if it’s not cool, or I’m getting in the way – they’ll let me know. But – all was good. More drinks. And then, after closing, I finally checked out Subway – a famous (well… infamous) bar nearby. My first thoughts… “okay, looking at the clientele, I see drug dealer, drug dealer, prostitute, drug dealer, prostitute, etc etc” And then – I go to the toilet. And follow the trail of drips-o’-blood down the corridor to find it. Decide I don’t really like Subway. So, drink my free drinks – wait for others to get sick of it also, and head off back to the hostel for another night of sleep. Discover daylight when we get outside Subway.

Which of course meant I was late again on 22 Dec. Finn’s opened at 7:30am for some soccer/football games, while I awoke at 2pm. So again, had to make up for lost time. Decided that vino blanco (white wine) was the best method. Turns out I was right. The last chap to stay with me last night, Steve, was already here. But asleep. Poor fella – it seems I’m a bad influence at times. Anyway – he eventually awoke – and taught me how to play Crib. Not a bad game actually – and I got to the point of trying to find a drill, so I could drill holes in the table for a crib board. Was given permission to, but there was no drill about. Maybe – I suspect that may have been a bluff. But – after a couple of games of crib, and some other game called Crash I was taught (two new card games in one day – my brain must still be working)… same old. Played some pool – but turns out I’m not very good on certain days. More bottles of the vino blanco. Barefeet all day, carrying around an ice bucket. Pure elegance and style. A few more drinks after closing time, and back to the hostel for some more sleep, so that I can be fresh and eager the next morning to go supermarket shopping for jeebersmas day dinner with Ursula and ‘Elen.

Next update – I fail at being fresh and eager. Miserably. To the point of being unable to stand/walk when we get to the supermarket because my legs feel hollow.