Category Archives: UK

A day at the zoo

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Louise and I at Blair Drummond Safari ParkWell, technically a safari park but I’m the pedantic one here so don’t go giving me any gyp. As past blog posts will show, I love zoos. Well, I love a good one – Hanoi was a little decrepit but on the whole I’ve been impressed with the animal welfare in them. Anything which encourages children to see and appreciate animals in a safe environment is fine by me. Yes, I do believe that an animal’s place is in the wild. On the other hand, it’s incredibly important that today’s younger generations get to see what they’ll be missing if we keep screwing the planet up. This handful of animals is doing a job in – hopefully – saving their species for lifetimes to come.

My view, anyway. Feel free to debate this in the comments. It’s always good to hear other viewpoints, even if they’re wrong 😉

Lions at Blair Drummond Safari ParkThe day started moderately early. Given that we’d kept my little cousin up well past her bedtime the night before, she had a little lie in. On Saturday evening she’d sat next to me as I went through pictures of the Tiger Temple (“Why is that man wearing those clothes? Is it to show he’s special?” That was the abbot in his safron robes) and Auckland Zoo before she started snoozing on the sofa.

The lovely Leah came with us as well. I’ve never taken a little kid out before on my own and Leah’s a certified teacher with experience of nippers, sprogs, kids, children and so forth. Lots of them at once. I was sure she’d be able to cope with one little cousin.

We bundled her (the cousin, Louise – not Leah) into her safety seat in the back of the car and set off. Of course, we wouldn’t tell her where we were going. That’s half the fun! She kept guessing, actually asking if we were going to the shops at Braehead as we drove past because she’d like that. She loves wandering round looking at everything and spending money. Takes after her mum…

Not once did we get an “are we there yet?”. Instead, we got “are we lost?” which we played along with. Until I looked over my shoulder and my heart broke to see her sitting there with tears coming down her face. In a quiet little voice she said “I want to go home”.

Enter Miss Leah, teacher extraordinary, and a bundle of enthusiasm about where we were going and all the great things we’d see and that she could do. By the time we stopped at some services for a little toilet break there was a bounce in Louise’s step and a smile on her face. I knew I’d brought Leah along for a reason.

MeerkatWe got to Blair Drummond Safari Park around 11-ish, and coughed up the entry fee of £10.50 per adult and £7.50 for the little one. There are a few ways you can tackle the park, and we opted to do the “drive around” part first, then park up and enjoy the lovely hot weather. I’d already removed the aerial from the car roof. It’s a staple of home video TV shows to watch monkeys unscrew them and run off into the trees.

Fortunately / unfortunately, simians were not to be seen in the drive-through segments. We did see plenty of other animals though. A handful of very impressive-looking rhino were first up. Some ostriches, gazelle, bison, camels, giraffe and the obligatory lions.

We were particularly lucky with the lions as we got stuck in a small queue of traffic just as a couple got up and walked towards the car. This gave us a great opportunity to snap some close-up pictures. As the last adult walked past the back of the car (my mum’s, incidentally), its tail rose up, thumped the back window and with an almighty *SQUIRT* that we could hear inside, sprayed gooey scent all over the side-panels. Whoops. At least it’ll keep the neighbourhood dogs from peeing on the wheels.

We parked up and had a wander round one of the central areas. The weather was gorgeous so a lot of the animals were out and basking or pacing. Meerkats, as always, drew quite a crowd. Cute little things. Louise liked the penguins and the llamas managed to abstain from spitting on us. Which was good.

There’s a regular sealion show which we attended. Just the two of them, but doing some pretty neat tricks and impressing the crowd. At least the adults, anyway. I overheard one obnoxious little brat later on saying “Well, I almost fell asleep. That’s how boring they were.” Well, sod off home and play on your X-Box then. Grr.

Sealion jumpingOne of the few extras we paid for was to have Louise’s face painted. She opted for the “bunny” design which was cool and all glittery. We didn’t see many bunnies around, so it made her even more special (you can tell I dote on my little cousin, can’t you?). Her balloon vanished during the afternoon – the string tied round the balloon end gave way – but the staff kindly gave her another one to replace it.

Lunch wasn’t too expensive given the potential captive market. Burgers were £3 and you could whack on as much salad as you wanted. My aunt had packed us drinks, crisps and yogurt so we didn’t need to buy anything else.

We had a good wander around to see the elephants and up to the river, but Louise didn’t want to go in the boat because she was scared she’d fall off! Instead, we walked across the bridge onto the new Lemur Island, home to some Brown and Ring-Tailed Lemurs. The Browns were skulking around the back of their shelter so we could barely see them but a family of Ring Tails were out enjoying the sun. I think we spent around ten or fifteen minutes watching them dash around and play-fight. The baby was particularly cute as it practiced the jumps that the older animals managed with ease.

Louise decided that she still wanted to wander around the shops – those X-chromosomes have a lot of power – even though there are only two in the park. And they both sell the same stuff. She’s quite subtle, not asking for anything. Just picking it up and carrying it around the shop on the off-chance you notice and buy it for her.

Baby Ring-Tailed LemurShe’d spotted a cuddly penguin which she liked, but I set down the law – penguin or ice cream. The scales were tipped when I mentioned that her new teddy bear I’d given her the day before might get jealous of a penguin. She nodded, agreed and decided on a Ribena ice lolly instead. Quids in!

The last event of the day was a play on the big wavy slide thing. I remember these from when I was her age. The raggy old rope mats, the bump on your tailbone as you go over the last hump at speed. The friction burns if you run your arm down the side. Ow.

After an agreed-on half-dozen run down the slide, we headed back to the car. Louise “rested here eyes” on the way back home, and we dropped her off in good time for tea. Via Asda where I bought her sweets. I am a bad influence.

I had a great time and I think she did as well. Leah seemed to enjoy herself, too, but I confess I was just reveling in spending a whole day with my little cousin. I’ve missed her a lot while I’ve been traveling. As you can probably tell!

Oh, and I’ve still not told my mum about the car.

Going… going… back home

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Dishwasher, open and loaded with dishesMy last morning in Chamonix was… eventful. Actually, one of the busiest working mornings I’ve had in a while. I was late into the office as I had to hand back the apartment to the people we’d rented it from. They were expecting Sophie, who handles the contracts, but had to deal with me instead. I was up till silly o’ clock tidying the place and my reward was a handful of snide remarks and comments about getting cleaners in at our expense to tidy it.

If it wasn’t for the fact that I know so many nice French people, this is the kind of attitude that would put me right off them. The floor was a mess, sure – but the vacuum I’d been provided with was less sucky than an asthmatic granny after a 10-mile run. I’d forgotten to wash a handful of spoons. I somehow think that claiming this warrants a €20 cleaning bill is a little out of perspective given there’s a dishwasher in the apartment and I’ve left behind half a tub of cleaning crystals for it.

Frankly, I expect them to do the job themselves and then bill the company. The stories I’ve heard about some of the people we lease from does make one jump to the conclusion that they’re all out to rip you off.

Anyway, I made it to the office in good time and had the last of my luggage with me. As I said, I used every trick I knew of to get all my luggage packed. This included tying my trainers and my boarding goggles to the carry-handle of my day-bag as they wouldn’t fit in my rucksack. Technically one piece of luggage and I got away with it, so I’m not complaining.

Nat kindly drove myself and one of the Chris’s to Geneva Airport. Chris had a 3-hour wait as we had to get there in time for my flight, but there wasn’t enough time to do two separate airport runs. My apologies for that.

The auto check-in involved some detective work as I didn’t have my booking reference to hand. Or the postcode of the British office, which was an alternative detail asked for. I did have the name of the person who booked the ticket… but it wasn’t their name used on the actual booking. I eventually sussed it as being the initial of the first word of our company name, and the second word in full – like “S Removals” as the booker on behalf of “Smith’s Removals”.

Luggage tagged, I handed my rucksack in (“Be careful of the weight next time” as it tipped the scales a whopping 1.6kg over the limit) and wandered through the boarding pass check and security in search of duty free for my mum. Only I didn’t find any. Aside from some small refreshment areas, all the shops in Geneva Airport are actually before the area where they check your boarding pass. Which is weird. I can only assume that if you buy something then they check your ticket at the till to see if you’re leaving the country. Seems a little weird, given that you could buy a budget ticket and a vast amount of duty free to outweigh the cost. Regardless, certainly if you’re heading for any of the “B” gates, there are no duty free shops past security so be aware.

My flight had a 40 minute delay in taking off, but arrived in Edinburgh earlier than that airport was claiming – an hour earlier, in fact.  I think they were advertising the times based on those in Switzerland, that is one hour ahead. Either way, my dad was expecting a long wait and had barely arrived at the arrivals area when I walked out.

It was nice to have some proper British grub for a change. Stew, spuds, carrots… A cup of tea and some cake afterwards. Two bouncy dogs going mad at my feet and a ton of mail to sort out.

Yup. Back home.

Now to sort out some couch surfing and flights for the Baltics…

Quick trip home

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Gammon and Brown AleFriday was a short day in the office until Chris drove me to Geneva airport for my Bristol flight. I’d opted to get my passport sorted in Newport so I could catch up with some people I’d otherwise not get a chance to see on my next trip home. Passing through security and so forth at Geneva was a breeze, though my flight was delayed around 45 minutes due to congestion over Brussels or something. Ah well. My PSP and a few episodes of Dexter helped while away the time.

The late landing meant that Talia was left hanging around at Temple Meads station for a little longer than planned. Of course, due to those ludicrous rules on mobile phone use I couldn’t contact her until I did land. Bristol airport‘s website stated that there was a train to the city centre. This is a lie. I actually emailed the airport and asked about it as I couldn’t find any information on the fare. They told me to check with Great First Western who manage the route. Only they don’t as it doesn’t exist. A quick glimpse at Google Maps shows that it would be a hard route to maintain what with the complete lack of train tracks anywhere near the airport and all.

Instead there is an overpriced bus service. According to the web site, the airport is 7 miles from Temple Meads. To me, that’s 10-15 minutes and a couple of quid. The buses have “£5” written on the side. The timetables claim £6 and the actual cost, I believe, is £7.

So I walked out the main entrance onto the A38, stuck my thumb out and inside of 5 minutes had a lift from a nice gentleman heading home after returning from Aberdeen. Conversation was polite and he asked if I’d been working a season in France, and which company for. It turns out his son started at one of our hotels in December, but quit after two months as he didn’t get on with the manager. Small world.

I beat the “express” airport bus into Temple Meads (saving £7 into the bargain), and met up with Talia who had waited patiently. We walked to The Crown, the local metal pub, where I enjoyed a rather welcome bottle of Brown Ale and a proper pub-grub gammon steak with chips. Well cheap and very tasty, though I did have to explain to the barmaid what a bottle of “Dog” was. I so need to get that tattoo done.

We partook of a few more beers before heading down the road to Bristol Bierkeller, or “The Keller”. This is a place I’ve heard of as it’s normally on the tour list of mid-size metal bands who play the UK. Three quid in before 10pm and “free” shots with every pint. OK, so they charge more than the pubs for a beer, but they make up for it with the shots. The music was pretty good and I think I wrenched my neck from head banging without warming up. I am so unfit. Talia settled for getting mindbogglingly drunk and wenching at all and sundry. She’s good at it.

I think we finally crashed around 4:30am. A good night, but a big mistake as we had to be up before 8am to get to Newport and the passport office. Somehow we surfaced, though not in the finest of fettle. The transport was typically expensive, over £2 into the town from Talia’s, then £4 each (booked online in advance) into Newport. Aside from the passport office, there’s nothing in Newport. At all. As far as we could find, and we had over four hours to not find it.

Sure, it was a giggle watching the 12 year olds pretend to be tough, and trying to not stare at a fully grown man wearing a blue shell suit (I thought even Scousers had banned them now) but overall it was a pretty dire experience. I usually take photos of places for the blog, but there was nothing at all worth taking a photo of. At all. Nothing.

Thankfully, Anni joined us for a couple of hours to help maintain the sanity as we slowly slipped into the world of the non-hungover. She regaled us with tales of the kitties and we had a (soft) drink in a pub up the road from KFC. Oh, yeah. I may have had KFC for breakfast. Ahem.

Sadly, I couldn’t get in touch with Joe. For some reason we couldn’t get through to her mobile even though I definitely had the right number. I checked with her when I next caught her online and we can’t figure out what caused the problem as her phone had been working all weekend. Neither of my texts got through, and calling her on Talia’s phone gave us a “Number not in use” error. Weird. I tried emailing her from the free email terminal in the library, but to no avail.

Finally, after one interim trip to provide replacement photographs, my new passport was ready. £123 well spent, I hope. And I have my old one stuffed with visas and stamps as a souvenir to be proud of.

The trip back cost us twice the price of the trip there (obviously…?) and we headed right back to Talia’s where a comfy couch and snoozage awaited. In the evening, we opted to go an see Iron Man. A decision we’re both glad to made as the film pretty much rocked. A little formulaic, but well made and with a nice line in dry humour. Excess popcorn and Pepsi killed my appetite for sausage and chips on the walk home and I was curled up in my sleeping bag by 11:00. I watched one more episode of Dexter before nodding off, though.

Sunday was a complete chill-out. The household was up and about pretty early on with various family members dotting about doing various things. To pay my rent, I crushed the contents of the bins. Talia’s mum picked me because I had my whacking big 1000-mile boots with me. Such things as bin-crushage are requires as they live in one of the areas where the council will only collect every 2 weeks. Not very helpful when you have six permanent residents in the house, one of whom is pregnant and due in the next couple of months. I can see that bin overflowing all too soon…

By mid-afternoon I’d managed to get hold of Lisa, Indy’s wife. They were in Wales having a break from life down under, and it would have been mad not to go and see them. I thanked my hosts for the comfy couch and made my way out towards the M4. On foot.

You can walk a long way in a residential area without anyone stopping to give you a lift. I walked from Talia’s place, all the way to the edge of the city centre, under the Clifton Suspension Bridge and another mile or two up the road before finding a layby and deciding to stay stationary. Give or take 6 miles with not more than the occasional *beep* and a wave. I waited another 45 minutes before a nice girl (with a hangover, I think!) called Imogen drove me up to the M49 turnoff. She picked me up as one of her friends had hitched for years until he had a child and suddenly realised that he had responsibilities. These included being somewhere when he said he would be. Sadly, she was heading north up the M6 so I had to wait for another lift.

And wait.

And wait.

Until after another 45 minutes or so, a red van pulled up. I can’t recall the driver’s name, but his little Jack Russell was called Max and he was adorable. My driver built eco-friendly housing for a living, and got Max from his mother, a social worker. One of the old ladies she looked after passed away and Max went from home to home until the shelter basically put him in “last chance saloon”. I hope he enjoys the next few years with the Red Van Man. Nice chap!

I got dropped off at the M4/A449 junction and began walking into Newport (again), giving Indy a call to let him know where to find me. At last, I had a lift and we stopped at Porky’s in Pontypool on the way to his in-laws for a pizza. Definitely a good pizza place. It doesn’t have a web page (I checked) , but just chuck “Porky’s Pizza Pontypool” into Google. You’ll find it.

And finally to Lisa’s parents’ place. Sadly, it was gone 21:00 so both little girls were in bed, but I had a chin-wag with the grown-ups before a fairly early bed. And sleep after the mandatory episode of Dexter.

In the morning I got to see Megan again for the first time in over a year. And her new baby sister, Carys. Carys is about the same size Megan was last time I saw her. Both are just lovely, and spoiled rotten. By all accounts, Megan’s a great kid. Indy could only tell me of one occasion when she’d thrown a strop. Good parenting and lots of luck! Cerys is just lovely and I did the usual thing of getting all broody again.

Time passed too swiftly, but the long trek over there was more than worth it to see them all. Indy very kindly drove me to Bristol Airport for my return flight. Checking in here was far more intimidating and annoying than at Geneva. Longer queues, more oppressive staff, scarier warning signs. I swear we’re looking more and more like the 51st State (and more and more paranoid) every time I go home.

Not too impressed with the airport, either. You don’t even know what gate you need to be at until it actually opens, which is a little unhelpful. Internet is a pound for ten minutes, which is just insane given than it’s free in so many other countries. The loos are tiny, the waiting area far too small, and the shop queues spill out into the queues for the gates. Whoever designed it didn’t seem to realise that planes seat more people than minibuses.

Regardless, the flight was on time and I was into Geneva and outside into the parking area in less than ten minutes from the doors of the plane opening. The benefits of travelling with hand luggage only.

And so, back to work for my last few days. I’ve got enough food to last me till Friday (more than enough, actually – I’ll have to give some away), just enough work to do to keep me busy and plans to make for when I’m back in the UK next week. Know me, and want to remind me to visit? Use the Contact Me page or the comments!

He’s coming home…

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My flight home - marked in the calendarMy flight back to the UK is officially booked. Friday next week, the 23rd, I’ll be on the easyJet flight from Geneva to Edinburgh, and then enjoying the wonderful public transportation we are blessed with in the UK. Unless some kind person wants to brave the roads and give me a lift!

This won’t be my first visit home within the next week and a half, though. On Friday this week (16th) I’ll be flying into Bristol as I have an appointment in Newport to have my passport renewed same-day. It’s got about 7 years left on it, but only one blank page. As my travel plans involve returning to SE Asia later this year, I’ll need more than the one page for visas. I’m hoping to catchup with a few people in Bristol and Cardiff while I’m over there including Talia, Anni (both last seen at Download last year), Indy, Lisa and their two nippers (last seen in Auckland some months ago, except little Carys who was born a couple of days after I returned home from The Walk), and perhaps also Rik and Joe.

I just twigged something as well. For the first time in ages, the FA Cup Final will be at Wembley, not in Cardiff as it has been for the last few years.  So the city shouldn’t be heaving. Ah, only Cardiff are in the final this year… So the city’s either going to be dead or in absolute uproar if they get one over Pompey. I’m actually hoping for the Canaries to take it. Always one for supporting the underdog.

I gather that the weather’s due to take a downturn by the weekend. Sorry about that. Blame me. Judging by the torrential, though brief, downpour we just had here – I’ll be bringing the weather with me!

All in all a busy couple of days. I already have plans for what happens once I get back home. And they don’t involve staying for very long! Updates on those details soon.

Here we are again..

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Sat in an airport, tapping away on a laptop and waiting for a flight. I seem to recall doing this a lot over the last year and a half, though this should be the last time for the next half-year. This time, I’m in Edinburgh airport with a choice of three extortinately-priced wireless signals, so you’re waiting until I get settled in Chamonix before you have a chance to read this!

Getting through security was fun. Despite my best efforts involving a set of bathroom scales and a double-hernia, it turned out that my baggage weighed 23kg and therefore I was asked to “remove some things” from it. The question of what to actually do with those things wasn’t made clear. As my laptop bag was full of… well… laptop, I couldn’t physically fit anything else in it. My daybag was packed inside my hold baggage, so that came out and I ended up stuffing a book and all my underwear in it.

I strapped the two smaller bags together, re-weighed my knicker-less hold bag and it came in at 19.7kg. I have 3kg of pants and socks with me. Good grief. Luggage deposited and boarding pass in hand, I walked upstairs where I was stopped before the security gate by a chap telling me I could only take one piece of hand baggage through security.

Great.

Only he turned out to be really nice and argue my case with the two equally nice (and incredibly lovely, beautiful, friendly and helpful) ladies at the checking desk. Not that I’m being nice to them simply as they let me bend the rules, oh no. Their argument was that, with my laptop and hard drive removed, my day bag would fit into my laptop bag were it not for the rigid support strips on the back.

As soon as I heard one ask the other “how nice are we feeling today?” I knew I’d be OK. As ever, the rule in an airport – be polite, friendly, and not afraid to beg. These people can treat you with deserved contempt if you’re a prat, but they can also bend the rules slightly if you’re a nice person who’s just having a bad day.

Once through the x-rays machines, I resisted the temptation to pick up a Nintendo DS (£85 – genuinely cheaper than anywhere else) and instead just parked my bum and drapped the old laptop out.

Well, my gate’s just been called now, so off I hop. Next stop, Geneva.

*** later ***

I am now ensconced in a hotel lounge in Chamonix on wireless which I have access to 24/7. Sadly, no wireless in my dinky little apartment even though the McD’s I’m above has free WiFi, so I have to walk a whole 3 minutes to the office to get online. But seeing as I have a key, this isn’t going to be a problem!

The flight was more or less on time, and Vlad drove me to the resort from Geneva airport. I’ve spent the afternoon being supplied with door codes, keys, a phone and meeting people. They’re a friendly bunch and good company – I’m really looking forward to working with them!

My apartment, as I said, is dinky but OK. I need to ask them to put some proper curtains up as I want to use the double sofa bed in the lounge rather than the bunks in the hallways. The curtains at the moment are flimsy net ones that just don’t stop the light – or give any privacy at all! I might also ask if they (or I) can put a proper shower fitting in. The one in my (nice) bathroom just dangles from the bathroom tap and I like to stand right under a shower when possible!

The weather is crisp, but not quite snowy as yet. It’s lovely outside, though I seem to be the only one walking around in a t-shirt…