Random Stuff about the UK: places we stayed
So we’ve been home for a number of months now, and sometimes I feel like we never went. So I’m going to start trawling through my diary* and write up a few bits and pieces. I’m going to start by listing all the places we stayed, with a couple of words about what I thought of them.
# Started in Sheffield, because that’s where J’s relatives are – we stayed there for a week over Christmas. The ‘burbs we were staying in were very nice; the city – basically just like any other city.
# Windemere, in the Lakes Country. World’s Biggest Tourist Trap. Nice enough town, but expensive… the lake itself was quite nice. I’m sure it’s lovely in summer and even more expensive and crawling with even more tourists.
# Dumfries. Once we managed to find somewhere to stay – long, and annoying, story – a nice enough town. Had a very cool bridge in the middle of town, built at some time just to transport some huge gun.
# Haltwhistle. Very little border town. Not much to say about it, really. Nice pub; Newcastle fans to the max.
# York. I loved York – because we stayed within the walls (at a scummy backpackers’… more about that later). I loved the Shambles – they were beautifully crazy, cool little shops, and the Minster’s spire above it all.
# yeh, then we went back to Sheffield for a night, to do some washing…
# Llanberis, in Wales (so glad we stayed somewhere with the aspirated l). Lovely little town in Snowdonia; surprising variety of food, and J fell in love with the bike shop.
# Abergavenny – another lovely Welsh town. And another glorious bike shop for J to moon over. This was a really nice town, in general – pleasant ‘burbs, nice town centre… I could probably live there.
# Crosley Heath. The weirdest place we stayed, simply because we were staying in the post office and the owner of the house… well. Old and a bit crotchetty, but quite nice to us; we got weird looks from people down the pub when we told them where we were staying… and the farmhand dude was a bit odd, too. The house itself was nice. The town was really a village.
# Oxford. As a city, my least favourite place in the entirety of the UK. Dirty, congested, impossible to park in the town centre – and maybe I’m a bit biased because we nearly didn’t go there, due to not finding somewhere to stay. Crazy bikes, crazy motorists…
# Cambridge. As opposed to Oxford, probably my favouritest town in the entirety of the UK. The town centre, anyway – didn’t spend any time in the ‘burbs. The colleges and the Backs are glorious… the Heath is wonderful, to have such a huge space for anyone to use… it was just so liveable.
# Canterbury. A very nice town – small, easy to get around.
# London! There is absolutely no way I could ever live in London. The ‘burbs are more like separate towns that just happen to connect – funny, that’s just what they are. Inner London was entertaining, for a short period of time, but I couldn’t live there or work there. Way, way too many people. And cars. And pollution. But it was fun.
* I kept a diary every day. Every Day. It became quite a chore by the end, but I’m glad I did it.
My dad would be so proud
My dad could talk to anyone. And did talk to anyone. He truly had the gift of the gab. Me, not quite so much. Too shy and introspective, sometimes just too disinterested.
Tonight, coming home from dinner with J (he had his bike to ride home), I got a taxi driven by an Ethiopian man. I know this because when I got in he changed the music station from one playing African music to Fox, and I told him he could turn it back. I then got up the courage to ask whether he was from Africa originally, which part – because he just said east, at first – and then I said something about having just read a little about Ethiopia, about when the Italians invaded.
We proceeded to chat for the whole ride home – only about 10 minutes, I grant you, but impressive for me nonetheless. Helped that he did most of the talking. Apparently, the reason why Jamaicans revere Hali Selase (?sp) so much is that he made it rain, when he visited during his round the world tour, including being the first black African leader (?) to visit the White House. And it seems he also had a mark on his palm like a stigmata.
Fascinating. Maybe I should try this random conversation thing more often.
Oh the joy
I have finally found someone else who likes BSG! Hallelujah!
The story goes like this:
Friend happens to find out we have been watching it – not sure how; maybe I confessed I was tired because we were watching it too late at night. He then admits that he got hooked on the first season. But – and here is the tragedy of the story – he doesn’t have broadband and didn’t know that the second season was out on DVD. So you know what he’s been doing?
Oh yes. Reading the scripts.
So I fed his addiction and gave him season 2 – which he watched in the holidays – and then season 3. He just finished season 3 last night, so we were able to have a good old yak about it today. It was so nice to talk to someone else about it!! Somehow talking to the person you watch it with – that is, J – isn’t quite the same as finding someone who has watched it independently.
Randomly Yours, Alex 