Category Archives: Australian Abroad

Moments of joy

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It’s that time of year when the world looks back, wonders at what it didn’t achieve and makes a promise for the year to come.

Source: pinterest

I’m not really one for New Year, resolutions and all that. It seems pointless to me to wait for one day in the year to reflect and make plans.

But each year, while I don’t make a list, I can’t help but look back at where I’ve been, the unexpected paths taken, the unexpected moments of joy and sadness, and wonder where I might be this time next year.

It reminds me of the words from my favourite poem by Robert Frost:

So both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
 
From The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
 

Life has a funny way of showing you the path sometimes so this year there will be no plans, no resolutions for me.

Just a continuing hope to inspire, be generous, find peace and savour moments of joy wherever the road may take me.

Source: pinterest

Wishing you a 2012 filled with a million tiny moments of joy.

Destination…Museum of London

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So yesterday I told you all about the journey, leaving you with the adage that the getting there is often just as fabulous as the destination.

This is the post about the Destination.

I arrived at the Museum of London, eagerly anticipating a couple of free hours of strolling through time. The Museum is laid out in chronological order and is quite interactive with fewer than usual items of the ‘do not touch’ variety. Prior to entering the permanent exhibition there’s also a display called London and the Olympics which celebrates the Games already held in London (1908 and 1948) as well as the 2012 preparations.

The journey starts with an exploration of the region from 450,000 BC before London was…well London. The locations of significant archaeological finds are also showcased – places like the site of the current Heathrow Airport – as well the work along the shores of the Thames where FROG volunteers from Thames Discovery continue to catalogue new finds to assist in preserving London’s rich history.

From 50 to 410 AD, the Romans built, defended and rebuilt Londonium – there are some great displays of homes, shops, food and the opportunity to peek at the defensive City wall from another perspective.

Traditional Roman dining room
Roman Wall from the Roman Gallery of the museum

We then move to Medieval London and the galleries which showcase the period from 410 through to 1558 AD covering Viking raids and the emergence of Anglo-Saxon power right up to the early Tudor years. This gallery also shows much of the religious development of London and features a model of the original St Paul’s Cathedral.

The original St Paul’s Cathedral

The next gallery take us on the path of London’s devastation through civil war, the plague and fire. I was fascinated by the survival of London at the end of this period in spite of the loss of between one third and one half of the population to the Black Death, followed by the loss of some 13,000 homes (but only 9 lives) in the Great Fire of 1666 the following year. It took London 50 years to rebuild including Christopher Wren’s reconstruction of St Paul’s Cathedral as we know it today.

I followed the arrows downstairs to the next set of exhibitions entitled Modern London: Expanding City.

A main feature of this gallery is the recreated Pleasure Gardens which allow you to wander, sit and watch the cinematic story of the time unfold on the screens around you. The hats on display were…interesting. It must have taken incredible posture to manage these with any grace and dignity.

Pleasure Garden fashion – can you see the ship hat on the left of the picture?
Pleasure Garden – a (t)horny affair!

Just down the ramp from the Pleasure Gardens there was an arcade walk to celebrate the Victorian era.

The Victorian Walk celebrates the era of expansion 
Trinkets for sale – The Victorian Walk

Next we move into the late 19th and early 20th centuries in Modern London: People’s City. The class divide is brought to life by an interactive version of Charles Booth’s map of poverty in London which sits opposite a vintage motor display, a recreation of the entrance to the Savoy Hotel and panelling from the Selfridges lift which was installed in 1928.

Vintage ‘white walls’ representing People’s City
Japanese panelling in the Savoy Hotel recreation

The Selfridges Lift
But did you know that Harrods installed the first escalator in 1898?
Smelling salts were on hand to revive passengers from the ride.

The final step in time is Modern London: World City which takes us from pre WWII London, through the fab 50s and swinging 60s right up to today.  This was a busy gallery so I was frustrated in my attempts to take pictures and despite cases filled with fashion, music and even a real life Vesper, I managed this one only.

My one and only tribute to Modern London: World City

There’s a room off to the side of this exhibition called the City Gallery which contains the Lord Mayor of London’s official coach which leaves the gallery each November (since 1757) for the Lord Mayor’s Show.

The Lord Mayor’s Coach, first commissioned in 1757
Amazingly preserved after more than 250 years

So after two and a half hours I emerged into the dark evening thinking ‘well that was that’ – only to find a special installation in the windows outside.

The London Cityscape by Simon Crostin was commissioned by the Museum of London to commemorate the 2012 bicentennary celebrations of Charles Dickens in conjunction with the Museum’s exhibition, Dickens and London, running until June 10, 2012.

I wandered slowly back to Moorgate along the raised walkways around St Alphages, still snapping away (as my previous post will attest to). And as I finally sat, homeward-bound, on the top deck of the bus, I marvelled at the fascinating snippets I’d learnt about London’s chequered past and felt a quiet contentment at my big day out and the historic city that I’ve chosen as my home.

Your Armchair Tour Of…London Wall

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First things first – you might be wondering about the title of the post. It’s not meant to suggest that I have been an armchair traveller – as you know I like to get out and about and see what there is to see. But I’ve had a few people leave comments or send messages that, in reading some of my wanderlust-themed posts (Nuremberg and Prague to cite a couple), it’s like they get to visit without leaving their armchair. This is another one of those posts. If you are not in the mood for a meander, you should read something else.

This week’s small lull between the festivities of Christmas and the euphoria of New Year’s Eve means that Londoners aplenty have availed themselves of the opportunity for rest and relaxation (or a little sale shopping but I digress). Which means that the actual City of London is pretty deserted at this time of year – a  golden opportunity to mosey around free from the usual tyranny of the booted and suited.

My ultimate destination was the Museum of London, a museum I have not visited since I first ‘got off the boat’ in 2004, and one of my favourites. But the empty streets tempted me and I spent a little time meandering, fascinated, along London Wall.

London Wall is a street that runs through the City of London (also known as the Square Mile) that is located along the course of the first defensive wall that the Romans built around the beginning of the 3rd century AD.

On a quiet, traffic free day, it is easy to take photos and absorb a little of the atmosphere of London’s Roman past:

Restored Roman arches along London Wall

All that is left of the church of St Alban in Wood Street.
Remember my visit to St Albans early in December?

A blast of modernity right amongst the history
Walkway along the remains of the preserved wall
The old and the new – why I love London
Deserted City streets on December 27th – no festive cheer here!
Ruins on the other side of London Wall (the street) – they’re everywhere!
So I took this and then turned around…
…to see this. Looks a bit like a gigantic Meccano set to me.

Grace and elegance as I passed a random window
London’s Square Mile

At this point I had wandered right along to the Museum and so disappeared indoors for at least a couple of hours… 

…and when I emerged at about 4.30pm, the day had dipped its lights in deference to the night. As it does here in London during December..and November…and January.

So this is what happened walking back to Moorgate:

Remember the Meccano building? Looks quite cool at night.
And those Roman arches? Them and my shadow
Finally, a touch of Christmas on the corner of London Wall and Moorgate
No significance other than it seemed like a good idea to take a pic.
Some rather fetching glasswork across the road – missed this during the daylight hours
The Dragon and St George’s Cross, guarding the City of London

And so with London’s guardian of the realm at my back it was time to board the bus and take my weary legs and aching feet back up north to my cosy flat and a hot bath. But not before a final snap from the bus stop…

 …of largest licorice allsort I’ve ever seen!

We are so busy rushing to the destination sometimes we often forget that the getting there can be just as fabulous. In case you’re wondering, this is where I went:

So much to see in such a short walk.

And here endeth the tour.

A Rusty Old Ute And 8 Mighty Roos…

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Gidday peeps! Hope you’ve all had a fab Christmas (or however you celebrate). I’ve been lounging around, drinking champers and out and about swotting up on a bit of history (but not all at once you understand).

With Christmas done but still a week left on holiday, I’ve got quite a list of things ‘to do’ but decided to open up my emails this morning to see what the world at large had been up to.

Amongst the post Christmas/Boxing Day and End of Year sales (with even more discounts), there were a couple of missives from Mum. And in response to my last post, she had received an Aussie rendition of Twas the Night Before Christmas so before we say our final farewells to the little dude’s official birthday celebrations, here’s one more post Chrissy post script for you to enjoy Oz style.

It’s a bewdy!

‘Twas the night before Christmas; there wasn’t a sound.
Not a possum was stirring; no-one was around.
We’d left on the table some tucker and beer,
Hoping that Santa Claus soon would be here;

We children were snuggled up safe in our beds,
While dreams of pavlova danced ’round in our heads;
And Mum in her nightie, and Dad in his shorts,
Had just settled down to watch TV sports.
 
When outside the house a mad ruckus arose;
Loud squeaking and banging woke us from our doze.
We ran to the screen door, peeked cautiously out,
snuck onto the deck, then let out a shout.

Guess what had woken us up from our snooze,
But a rusty old Utepulled by eight mighty ‘roos.
The cheerful man driving was giggling with glee,
And we both knew at once who this plump bloke must be.

Now, I’m telling the truth it’s all dinki-di,
Those eight kangaroos fairly soared through the sky.
Santa leaned out the window to pull at the reins,
And encouraged the ‘roos, by calling their names.
‘Now, Kylie! Now, Kirsty! Now, Shazza and Shane!
On Kipper! On, Skipper! On, Bazza and Wayne!
Park up on that water tank. Grab a quick drink,
I’ll scoot down the gum tree. Be back in a wink!’

So up to the tank those eight kangaroos flew,
With the Ute full of toys, and Santa Claus too.
He slid down the gum tree and jumped to the ground,
Then in through the window he sprang with a bound.

He had bright sunburned cheeks and a milky white beard.
A jolly old joker was how he appeared.
He wore red stubby shorts and old thongs on his feet,
And a hat of deep crimson as shade from the heat.
 
His eyes – bright as opals – Oh! How they twinkled!
And, like a goanna, his skin was quite wrinkled!
His shirt was stretched over a round bulging belly
Which shook when he moved, like a plate full of jelly.

A fat stack of prezzies he flung from his back,
And he looked like a swaggie unfastening his pack.
He spoke not a word, but bent down on one knee,
To position our goodies beneath the yule tree.

Surfboard and footy-ball shapes for us two.
And for Dad, tongs to use on the new barbeque.
A mysterious package he left for our Mum,
Then he turned and he winked and he held up his thumb;

He strolled out on deck and his ‘roos came on cue;
Flung his sack in the back and prepared to shoot through.
He bellowed out loud as they swooped past the gates-
MERRY CHRISTMAS to all, and goodonya, MATES!’

3 Sleeps To Go…A Little Pre-Christmas Cheer

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This week I have been in and out of central London to meet with friends for a spot of Christmas cheer. There’s something about Christmas lights that make things all glistening and beautiful and so I wanted to share a little of this week’s Christmas sparkle with those of you who have spent 2011 following the Gidday journey.

If you remember, my meanderings began with 20 sleeps to go and a wide-eyed wander down Oxford Street.

Creating Christmas magic in Oxford Street

And last week I was dashing down Regent Street to meet friends for a pre-Christmas dinner and managed to snap a couple of sneaky pics in the middle of the bustling crowds:

Christmas lights in Regent Street

So this week it was time to slow down and venture further afield to discover a little more magic:

The famous Liberty of London storefront

Liberty are renowned for their Christmas windows…

…but I have to say that, while these are impressive, my heart still belongs to Christmas windows of department store Myer in my hometown of Melbourne.

Source: Rachel Gray, weekendnotes.com

Anyway, I continued on to fall across that bastion of all things hip, Carnaby Street:

Hmmm the lights look…interesting
They’re still um interesting close up!

I finally made my way down to the back streets below Piccadilly Circus to meet my friend…

I do love stumbling across London’s amazing churches like this one on the corner of Jermyn and Duke of York Streets

…and after drinks were done, I was off for another festive feed at Westfield London. I was a little early so I managed some sparkly snaps here too.

This was hard to capture but is really spectacular. This is over an ‘outdoor’ arcade featuring lots of restaurants along the left and the shopping centre entrances to your right. I’m standing outside John Lewis after walking from the tube station close by. Gorgeous!
This is the unadorned ceiling inside – kind of attractive in a wavy way right?
…and their Christmas lights?  Oh no….

So there was nothing left to do but join my Aussie friend, feast on fab Mexican street food at Wahaca and enjoy my first foray into the world of churros…

Churros – gone! Let’s face it, anything with this much chocolate is always festive

…before heading home to bask in my very own Christmas Lights at Gidday HQ.

Hope this adds a little sparkle to your Christmas!

ps…the post title says it all peeps. Just 3 sleeps to go. Just naggin’ sayin’

Friendships Are Made Of This…

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There’s nothing like a special guest to make a new pad feel like home. Apart from the opportunity to welcome someone into your new space, it also makes you get your a*** into gear with that last little bit of unpacking. You know, the pile you have left in a corner and avoid making eye contact with, the half empty box you’ve been walking around while muttering ‘I must get around to doing that…’

Anyway, last night Gidday HQ played host to its very first guest – A-down-the-hill (the down-the-hill bit a reference to the place I lived before). The guest bed was made up, living room cushions plumped, cosy blankets draped over the couch (our friendship has a history of much ‘vino, cosy blankies and a movie’) and the place was all ready for her arrival.


Gorgeous house-warming flowers from A-down-the-hill.
The thistles are fitting – hubby is Scottish!

A-down-the-hill was my first ‘London’ friend. Fresh off ‘the boat’ in 2004 and with only her email address to guide me, our friendship has been a rock for me – ups and downs ‘n’ all – over the last eight years and outside Mum and Lil Chicky, she’s the person I feel closest to on the planet.

By the time this post is published, she will have featured a dozen times on Gidday from the UK, appearing the first time on the 29th June 2009 as ‘A’ in Muscles & a Minor Heatwave and most recently at my latest birthday bash, Pukka Picnic & Polo Ponies.

In between, there have been BBQs, baking, and bicycles. I’ve been a Hot Chick to her Hen, and an Emergency Handbag. We’ve been Ladies Who Lunch and we’ve even Kew-ed the Music together. She was also the one who inspired my Kindle-envy, culminating in my abandoning my bookish faith and embracing the pure, electronic loveliness of Audrey.

And she’s another Happy Little Vegemite and Australian Abroad, an enduring fellowship for those of us who’ve made it beyond the initial couple of years here to ‘settle’, whether by marriage (her) or by sheer bloody-minded declaration (me).

So, A-down-the-hill was my first guest, a fitting tribute to all sorts of new chapters we’ve seen each other through over these last eight, London years. And to welcome her last night to Fabulous Finchley was…

…well…

…fabulous.

ps…today we also hugged each other Merry Christmas as we said goodbye as we will not see each other again before the big day. This provided little ol’ moi with a timely reminder to let you all know that there are only 8 sleeps to go.

That’s right, we are down to single figures peeps. Are you ready?

Verulamian By Any Other Name..

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Last Friday night I stayed in St Albans after our work Christmas Party and the following morning, my hostess with the most-ess took me on a little guided tour of this bustling market town 22 miles north of London.


St Albans Coat of Arms

St Albans started life as an Iron Age town called Verlamion (meaning settlement above the marsh) and following conquest by the Romans in 43 AD, was renamed Verulamian and grew to become the second largest town in Roman-occupied Britain (after Londinium of course). Sometime around 250 AD, the pagan-converted-to-Christian Alban was executed for his beliefs. Actually he was beheaded – there was nothing new about Henry VIII’s predeliction for offing heads. He was later named a saint (the first British Christian martyr) and a shrine built over the site of his execution following the adoption of Christianity into the Roman empire by the Emperor Constantine. And so St Albans was born.

Market Place, St Albans

Saturday is market day in St Albans so it was first a wander amongst the stalls lining Market Place.

Before long, we turned into a covered alleyway, much like the Block and Royal arcades in Melbourne, and emerged to see the Church and Abbey of St Alban basking in the wintery sunshine.

Source: allaboutstalbans.co.uk

A reverent stroll around inside revealed an awe-inspiring array of history, architecture and restoration works – if you click here, Robin from St Albans Blog has taken some magnificent photos of the interior.

Ye Olde Fighting Cocks
Source: Wikipedia

We emerged back into the winter sunshine and set out down the park towards our lunch destination, the oldest pub in Britain, Ye Olde Fighting Cocks.

It started life as a pigeon house near the Abbey before being dismantled and rebuilt in its current location as The Round House. The foundations of this building date from about 793 AD and in 1800, it was renamed to reflect the popularity of its main attraction, cockfighting – that is until it was banned in 849 AD. There’s even a glass case containing a large black cockerel above the door as you enter the low-beamed dining room. (For the record, I had a butternut squash and swiss chard bake which was really delicious and perfect for such a chilly winter’s day.)

Source: allaboutstalbans.co.uk

With the magnificent Verulamian Park just across the bridge (over the River Ver), we took a brisk and chilly stroll around the part-frozen lake and climbed the hill to view the hypocaust and mosaic. The building looks a little like a toilet block from afar so if it hadn’t been for my local guide, I may never have bothered with this.

By this time, I needed to head back for the train (silly old me had booked a Sainbury home delivery for 4pm thinking I would be home in plenty of time instead of playing tourist in St Albans). So up the hill we trudged again, this time through the Monastery Tower (which has been a prison in its life amongst many other things), back into town, past the Clock Tower (erected by the town to symbolise its independence from the church, including the setting of its own curfew) and parted ways with me off to the train station for the trip back to London, feeling very satisfied with my impromptu day out into one of England’s most important historic towns.

The Silent Letter…

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One of the things any Australian coming to the UK feels assured of is the ability to speak the language. You know, to communicate, be understood, that kind of thing. And after almost eight years here, despite some early faux pas (the use of words like pants and thongs come to mind), I don’t find myself thinking twice about the way I speak.

However, working for a global business, I am surrounded by colleagues whose first language is not English. My team mate is French and a close colleague who sits across the partition from me is Turkish. Within a couple of desks away are three Germans so by the time you add the erstwhile Aussie to the mix, the locals represent less than 50% of the seating arrangements in our area. 
There’s often much hilarity as sayings go a bit awry with regularity. We’ve had the dog barking at the wrong door (vs up the tree), don’t let the bugs bite (the bed just went amiss), cookie (vs brownie) points and my personal favourite, a ‘one pony trick’ which leads the mind in a significantly different direction from the one trick pony!

But on the train home today, I was reminded what a real minefield the ‘English’ language can be, particularly when it comes to place names.

It’s not just the longer prefixes to the shires that trip one up on this green isle – I mean how do you get ‘wooster’ from Worcester – or the fact that words tend to dribble away here as opposed to the emphasis-on-every-syllable pronunciation employed by my lot (eg. Bir-ming-ham rhymes with ‘I eat SPAM’). 

It’s the presence of a letter.  A letter that just sneaks in there, quiet as you like. And upsets the natural order of things.

The letter ‘W’.

It’s a dastardedly affair. The ‘W’ sound is happy to lead off, loud and proud, at the beginning of a word – Walthamstow, Windsor, Worthing are fine examples. 

But the rules seem to differ when that little ‘w’ ensconces itself right in the middle of things. So Southwark is pronounced ‘Suthick’ (vs my fresh-off-the-boat South-walk all those years ago), Harwich is pronounced ‘Harrich’…

…and today, I automatically corrected my collègue français’ Flitwick – without skipping a beat – to ‘Flittick’.

My family keep telling me I sound more and more English every time I speak to them.

I think they may be right.

A Liverpudlian Tipple…

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I was in Liverpool for work last week (yes I know, this Gidday Gal’s been getting around a bit of late) and as part of the conference agenda was a Brewery Tour.

What? I hear you say. No Fab Four tour?

No, but ours was a magical mystery tour of a completely different kind.

Cains Brewery was started by young Irish immigrant, Robert Cain who bought his first pub in Limekiln Street, Liverpool at the tender age of 24. In 1858, just eight years later, Cain’s hard work enabled him to buy the site on the corner of Stanhope Street where his brewery still stands today – and is the site of our tour.

Twenty-five years later, Robert Cain was one of the wealthiest and most influential businessman in Liverpool, having built over 200 pubs Mersey-side (and a palatial mansion for himself) as well as a reputation for exceptional quality. Of beer I mean. I can’t speak for any of his other predelictions.

In 1887, the year of Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee, Cain began work on the red brick brewery and ornate tower that still in use today (I can attest to this personally) and remains a Liverpool landmark and upon his death in 1907 (at the age of 81) more than 3,000 mourners attended this ‘adopted local’ lad’s funeral.

But it’s been a checkered past for Cain’s. During the 1900s, the brewery changed hands 5 times. A merger with Walkers of Warrington in 1911 saw the newly formed business become one of Britain’s top 50 companies by 1918. Then in 1923, the Stanhope Brewery was sold to Higson’s. – Cain’s continued to flourish until Higson’s sold out to Boddington’s of Manchester in 1985. The company then faced a further change of ownership 5 years later as Boddington’s divested its breweries to Whitbread who then closed the landmark brewery. In 1990, the site was reopened by The Danish Brewery Group who renamed it Robert Cain & Co Ltd but despite brewing a popular Liverpudlian pint, in 2002 the business found itself on the brink of closure.

The current owners, the Dusanj brothers, were inspired by the ethos and tradition of Robert Cain & Company and believing that success could not only be found for the product in Liverpool but around the world, mounted a rescue operation. Under their stewardship, Cains now brews more than 120 million pints a year and is one of the fastest-growing brewers in the country.

One of the innovations brought to market by the brothers is Cain’s Fine Raisin Beer which has won a few awards including Winner of Tesco’s Autumn Beer Challenge in 2003, “Beer of the Festival” at the 2004 Liverpool CAMRA Festival and “World’s Best Fruit Beer” at the World Beer Awards in 2007.

So I tried it – well it seemed rude not to – and quite liked it. Although it does not taste like raisins. Whether this is good or bad, I will leave you to decide.

In true immigrant-made-good fashion, Robert Cain had become a legendary brewmaster, married the Liverpool Lord Mayor’s daughter (he’s a mover and shaker that one) and was enobled as Lord Brocket (although what he would have made of his great-great grandson’s antics on I’m a Celebrity… in 2004 we’ll never know!).

Photo courtesy of officialpubguide.com

The Brewery is open to the public for tours and apart from the history lesson, you get to see how all that lovely beer is made and then get yourself a little tipple or two on the house at the The Brewery Tap which adjoins the brewery.

Not bad for £7.99 eh? 

Sigh…I love my job!

Postcard from…Nuremberg

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When last I tap-tap-tapped away, I promised you some visual splendors from Nuremberg where I was fortunate enough to be for work last week. Nuremberg is probably not a common tourist destination but its old town is architecturally gorgeous in that medieval way that this area of Europe seems to do so very well.

Nuremberg is, for most of us, most commonly linked with the activities of the Nazis during WWII, being the location chosen by the Nazi Party for the Nuremberg rallies and then later the site of the most famous war crimes trials in modern history. But it is a city with a long and intricate history. Founded at the turn of the 11th century, Nuremberg’s importance as a location along key trade routes grew until the late 1500s. During this period, Nuremberg was known as the ‘unofficial capital’ of the Holy Roman Empire and in the 15th and 16th centuries, Nuremberg was also considered to be the centre of the German Rennaissance.

The Kaiserberg stands high overlooking the town and it was here that all of the German Emperors of the Holy Roman Empire resided at one time or another. This Imperial Castle is the symbol of Nuremberg and is deemed to be one of the most important palaces of the Middle Ages.

Photo source: www.nuernberg.de

We were lucky enough to be entertaining our customers here and so I was able to get some amazing snaps of the views over Nuremberg.

The Holy Chapel, just off the main hall…
…where we dined in splendor.

As with all good trips to Germany, we also managed some dining of the less formal kind and I can report that there was much sausage and dumpling eating, beer drinking and generally sociable behaviour amongst we good folk. Here’s a sampler from our excursion into Central Nuremberg for sausages earlier in the week:

A pre-dinner cocktail of Raspberry and Cassis

A rather unusual display of canapes
The empty sausage platter was pushed aside while my colleague ate every piece of dragon fruit in sight

The end of the week saw it down to just two of us who had stayed on to tidy up so to celebrate the end of a successful week, we headed off to Peruvian restaurant (as one does in downtown Nuremberg) El Encanto. The ambience may have been a little lacklustre…

El Encanto – made up for its lack of ambience with amazing food
…but the food was so good (avocado and tomato salad, dumplings and then fish for main – completely scrumptious) and the cocktails so forthcoming, I forgot to take another picture until the funky teaset came out at the end.

Saturday morning arrived and I packed up my things and headed off to the station for the fastest-train-in-Germany (300km/hr) trip back to Munich to connect with my flight. But after the reasonably balmy temperatures of the week, I was little under-dressed for the bone-chilling air on the platform…

Even that front pigeon looks cold!

…so it was with delight that I finally climbed on board the carriage, sank into my seat and soothed by the high speed whirr of the train, let myself alternate between dozing in the warmth and simply watching the world go by.