Single Figures…

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We are down to single figures peeps.

In just 9 sleeps, my little sister (aka Lil Chicky) will step off a very long flight from Down Under and into Old London Town (well Heathrow Airport anyway).

It will be her first ever trip here – hopefully not the last.  And I am ridiculously excited.

It’s getting difficult to think about anything else at the moment. I try to remember what my first London Loves were and I find myself wondering what are sorts of things she would like to do and see. Are they the same things that struck me when I first travelled here in 2000? The history, the theatre, the eclectic cultural mix, the architecture? Or is it something else? Perhaps a little high tea or some high kicks at a show? Or shall we take in the Eye, the Abbey, the Shard, the Wall or even the Cock in the Square.

The National Gallery and St Martin in the Fields overlook Trafalgar Square and the latest installation on The Fourth Plinth

The mind boggles.

Lately I have found myself in the midst of my day when I am struck by something I want to show her or share. Like on Friday night when I left the office (my ‘new’ one – our Head Office – where I am now based) and saw this…

…or the view from Waterloo Bridge at night which, after almost 10 years here, still makes me catch my breath and say to myself ‘I really did it. I live here. This is my home.’


So much to do and so little time.

And only 9 sleeps to go.

That’s exciting.

In Shardlake’s Shoes…

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It’s Sunday again (where does the time go?) and I’ve been out and about today enjoying the lovely Autumn weather and indulging my passion for history and books in one fell swoop.

The City of London proved itself an excellent stage for Shardlake’s City, a walking tour based on the novels of C.J. Sansom and his protagonist, Matthew Shardlake, a lawyer living in Tudor London. Blue Badge guide Paula met us this morning at the glorious Royal Courts of Justice and took us on a 2 hour odyssey back into 16th century London…


The Royal Courts of Justice, Fleet Street London

We visited Shardlake’s ‘home’ at 124 Chancery Lane, the Inns of Courts where he plied his trade, the public houses frequented by his able assistant Barak and a whole range of locations pertinent to the five novels in the Shardlake series so far. Here are just a few pics…

Shardlake’s offices were located at Lincoln’s Inn in Chancery Lane, just a short walk from his front door….

…but he also petitioned at Gray’s Inn and Clifford’s Inn. The Prudential building actually housed one of the ‘feeder’ inns for London’s legal profession.

The Old Mitre is representative of the back alley pubs where Barak, Shardlake’s assistant, would have visited.

Shardlake’s investigations took him all over the City of London, from Cromwell’s corridors to the seedier parts of the city…

Clockwise from top left: Smithfields Market, site of public executions in the 16th century; getting our bearings coming out of St Bartholomew’s; peering over the ‘back fence’ at St Bartholomew’s Monastery and Chapel

Clockwise from top left: St Bartholomew’s Hospital (with Henry VIII over the door), the dome of St Paul’s Cathedral, the site of the infamous Newgate Prison (demolished in 1777) opposite the Old Bailey (right)


Near the end of the two hours, we approached one of our final stops on the tour, the Guildhall, to find that rather than a quiet square, the Pearly Kings and Queens Harvest Festival was in full swing…


As the tour drew to a close in Poultry (which ended at the site of…ahem…Grope C*nt Lane – did what it says on the tin really) it was time for a well-earned coffee and chinwag. The conversation started with giving our guide Paula a bit of a grilling about the whys and wherefores of being a guide before weaving through subjects like architecture, book clubs and history just to name a few. It was a very pleasant way to cap off our shared walk through Shardlake’s City together.

Finally, I headed for home, foot-sore and mind buzzing with all of the interesting tidbits that I’d learned about London over the course of the tour. As I sat on the tube going back to Finchley, I flicked through all of the photos I’d taken, reliving a fantastic three hours (including the post-tour coffee). And I marvelled at how a little girl from the other side of the world grew up to live in one of the most fascinating cities in the world.

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If you like the sound of this tour, check out crossingthecity.co.uk and find out when the next Shardlake City tour – or any of the other tours in Paula’s repertoire for that matter – is scheduled. You might just fall a little bit more in love with London yourself.


Kindred Spirits…

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Each evening as the 82 bus trundles north up Finchley Road and navigates the lights at Henly’s Corner I find myself cheered by the thought of just a few more stops before I’m off for the short walk home. Henly’s Corner can be a nightmare for the traffic if things go wrong but most nights, it’s a fairly seamless crossing to deliver passengers to the bus stop on the other side so my optimism is usually well-placed.

As you reach the other side of the North Circular and start up Regents Park Road, there’s a big green ‘space’ to the left. It seems an odd place to position a patch of nature, right next to the heaving flow of traffic. Even odder is the statue – a naked woman raising her arms to the sky, her sword in one uplifted hand. As the bus merges back into the traffic from the stop, her brazen profile stands stark against the urban ‘wallpaper’ behind her. A silent silhouette, triumphant and still, while I sit, usually oblivious, immersed in my post-workday literary feast. 

Image source: Wikipedia

But a few weeks ago, too tired to read, I spent the entire journey from West Hampstead gazing out of the window and as I saw her, arms uplifted, I wondered how she came to be there. What’s the story here, I wondered?

So out came my trusty HTC One and before long I had the answer.

The Naked Lady (real name La Délivrance) was purchased by Lord Rothermere (the family of The Daily Mail fame) in 1920 and gifted to the district of Finchley. Initially local officials, in need of a war memorial, planned to place the statue – created to celebrate the first battle of Marne which prevented the Germans from capturing Paris in 1914 – at the entrance to Victoria Park. But our well-heeled aristocrat put his foot down – the current location or not at all – and so the statue was unveiled in its current location by Prime Minister David Lloyd-George in 1927.

The Naked Lady is the creation of French sculptor Émile Oscar Guillaume and stands, a bronzed 16 feet tall, at the southern edge of Finchley.

A bronzed goddess hey?

I always knew I’d find kindred spirits in Fab Finchley.


ps…speaking of kindred spirits, there are only 19 sleeps to go until my very own sibling kindred spirit arrives…la deliverance indeed!

Going Downto(w)n…

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There has been a blogging hiatus here at Gidday HQ as life in general overtook…well everything over the last couple of weeks. Preparing our exhibition at an international industry fair last week has been a six month affair but the last couple of weeks have been all-consuming and short of tapping out my 3am lists of things to do here on Gidday – not very interesting reading – I’ve been a bit bereft of my usual ability to blog about the things that I have found fascinating, curious, annoying, inspiring and funny. It was like everything all got stuck in the pipe and I couldn’t find the wherewithal to squeeze them out.

So this weekend has been a time for making space, for letting my head empty and my body unravel from the work of the last six months and in the process, I’ve discovered a whole new addiction…

…Downton Abbey.

Highclere Castle, or as we know it, Downton Abbey.

I know many of you may be wondering how I have managed to come so late to this particular party in light of my predilection for the historical. Well, a few weeks ago I was out for dinner with friends and they were talking about the show, how great it was, and were quite surprised that I hadn’t succumbed. We left the pub agreeing that Season 1 would find myself to me the following day…and the rest, as they say, is history. Season 2 was done and dusted soon after.

With both a purposely empty Sunday – to recover from the last seven days away and enjoy an unimpeded re-aquaintance with my own bed – and the start of Season 4 screening tonight, I have spent this weekend watching Season 3. If any of you have watched a whole season of something in a compressed period of time, you might understand the emotional rollercoaster of watching a whole nine episodes in quick succession. There are A LOT of ups and downs in this season so I’m thinking that it was probably much less exhausting to allow a week in between viewings.

But be that as it may, I am completely hooked. So I’ll be joining the hordes of fans for tonight’s frolic through Fellowes‘ fictional take on upstairs and downstairs.

And just in case you were wondering (it’s been a little while so you may have forgotten), there are 23 sleeps to go until Lil Chicky arrives at Gidday HQ.

And I only have six working days left until I move into my new role at work. 

So much excitement, I can hardly stand it.

Has Our Luck Run Out?

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The results are in and Australia has a new Prime Minister.

Yes, another one. Our third this year.

And I cannot believe this man has been chosen by ‘the people’ to represent them.

Or has he?

When I moved to the UK almost ten years ago, I added myself to the UK’s electoral roll (as an Australian, I can do that here). There are many places in the world where having your say is not an option so I appreciate the privilege of living in a society that allows me to do this, whatever the mechanism.

At the same time, I removed myself from the Australian electoral roll, figuring that if I make my home elsewhere, it is not for me to have a say in the lives of those who still live in Australia. That is their privilege – albeit a compulsory one. But I remain staunchly Australian, carrying my native twang, laconic style and direct approach with pride and  hoping to be a good ambassador for my homeland wherever I go.

The outcome of this weekend’s election Down Under has left me stunned. I can find absolutely nothing to recommend Tony Abbott and as far as I’m concerned, he is an incredibly poor representative of the Australian people. And unusually – I move in opinionated and voluble circles – I haven’t come across anyone with a different point of view. No-one.

Pundits talk about a long election campaign (seven months) riddled with ‘reality stunts’ as opposed to committed and thoughtful politics; a circus of name-calling and sniping that perhaps voters just wanted to be done with. And given the Rudd-Gillard-Rudd tug of war within the Labor Party, perhaps people voted for the leader with a semblance of alignment behind him.

So what did happen? Is it a result of apathy or is there really something worthwhile under all of the surface nastiness and sniping? I’d be genuinely interested to hear any views that explain Abbott and the coalition’s policies, if only to understand what the future looks like over the next four years for Australia.

 

Australia continues to hold the rest of the world in its ‘lucky country’ thrall and with a pretty buoyant economy (by global standards) and four cities in the world’s top ten most liveable cities, this perception seems warranted.

But after this weekend, I’m left wondering whether our luck’s about to run out.

Photobombed

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Here we are at the first day of September. Summer has ended (although it’s rather sunshine-y at Gidday HQ today) and Autumn will start its annual pilgrimage across the northern hemisphere, creeping in with nippy mornings and shorter days. The leaves will…

…hang on. Stop right there. This is not meant to be a post about Autumn!

Take 2:

Here we are at the first day of September. And today is Father’s Day in Australia.

So in honour of celebrating the man that is my Dad and warm the cockles of your hearts, I though it was time to do a little roasting….Gidday-style.

Let’s start at…well, the start.  Here’s where it all began for us…

There’s an ‘okay now what do I do with this?’ look here.

But soon he got into the swing of things…blowing out candles (an important life skill even today)…

…and giving fatherly advice (while I practise my ‘whatever’ look).

The decades flashed by and a few years ago, Dad swapped the city for a life roaming around the countryside.

This was taken in New Zealand but I have seen many a similar picture of Dad-and-Stepmum in Down Under’s very own great outdoors.

His days now consist of travelling to outback properties and national parks around Australia, ‘homestead-sitting’, painting, mending fences – generally lending a hand wherever needed – and visiting family and friends, whether they may be other itinerants or those of more fixed abode. Dad even put his new-found construction skills to work at Christmas, stepping up to the challenge of making this for our Christmas Day host…

…and seemed rather pleased to consider some liquid refreshment after the big unveiling.

Dad’s also become quite the photographer and newsletters are often filled with amazing pictures of the local flora and fauna he finds on their travels. But it’s a dangerous job you know – not at all for the faint-hearted…
And nor has it been to have two rather independent and opinionated daughters living a few hours flight away for most of our lives. Which is why our recent frolicking about in old Melbourne Town last December was such a great testament to the passing of the years and the changes in our relationship…
…because growing up, I would never have credited Dad with photobombing! (By the way, that’s me on the left with Lil Chicky and the old man.)

So there’s only one thing left to do and that is to say Happy Father’s Day to my old man.

May you keep finding ways to surprise us all.

T Minus 43…

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Exciting news this week at Gidday HQ.

Chicky is coming!

Yes, after almost a decade of me living here, Lil Chicky has booked her ticket and is coming to experience a bit of London Love at the hands of yours truly.

We’ll get to hang out (so completely ace just on its own) and I get to show her around Fab Finchley and my adopted hometown.

We’ll also make a little pilgrimage across the Channel to visit Dad’s birthplace – the land of clogs and tulips – Amsterdam.

And there’ll be the small matter of celebrating a rather important birthday while she’s here.

So much to do in so little time together.

And 43 sleeps to plan it all.

Luckily she’s already bought the t-shirt…

So in case you missed it, that’s T minus 43 peeps…

Let the countdown begin!

The Information Super Highway…

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I’m reading a book by Niall Ferguson called Empire: How Britain Made The Modern World. It’s a fascinating read and already – I am just under halfway through – we’ve explored piracy, banking and borrowing (a system borrowed from the Dutch no less), colonisation and slavery. And we’ve even been to deepest darkest Africa for one of the most famous salutations in history, “Dr Livingstone, I presume“. 

The latest chapter covers the Victorian Empire and I’ve just finished reading about India and Queen Victoria’s increased interest in foreign affairs following the Indian Mutiny in 1857. What is interesting about this particular time in history is that the ‘world’ is shrinking. The far reaches of the imperial fold are becoming more accessible with steam power and advances in iron being used to industrialise the empire. Travelling by steamer is reducing journey times and technology is driving industry and commerce to the point where consumerism is no longer restricted to the ruling classes.

In our modern day lives, the world is literally at our fingertips with news from across the globe available in a matter of minutes. But did you ever think about where it all started?

Francis Ronalds offered his idea of the telegraph to the Navy in 1816. The Admiralty turned it down and it took the private sector to see – and develop – its possibilities for overland communication. However, it wasn’t until the adoption of a rubber-like substance from Malaya called gutta-percha that durable undersea cables could be manufactured, opening up the potential of Ronalds’ brainchild to expansion on a global scale.

And so it was that in 1851 the first cross-channel cable was laid with the first transatlantic cable to follow in 1866. By 1880 over 97,000 miles of cable criss-crossed the world, joining continent with continent and creating the world’s first global communications network.

So as we log on, read emails, surf for news and opinions and tap-tap-tap away to cast our particular version of word-smithery out into the digital ether, let’s give a nod to the acquisitive ambition of the British Empire.

And to the miracle of gutta-percha…

…the original information super highway.

A Spring In Your Step…

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I spent a couple of happy hours on the back patio at Gidday HQ today catching up on a whole lot of reading while enjoying the gentle bursts of afternoon sunshine. These are often the days when I am inspired to post about a particular item I’ve read or a germ of an idea that’s been running around in my head for a while forms itself into a narrative and ends up here. I enjoy trawling through it all, a journey through different minds and viewpoints from mine.

Today several themes captured my attention but they have all been washed aside by a rather inspiring idea I’ve found on Springwise.com. Atlas may have held the world on his shoulders but Ministry of Supply’s ATLAS socks may just lay the world at your feet.

Ministry of Supply (MOS) has developed a rather awesome technology that they embed into their clothing to help manage body heat and the latest addition to their range is ATLAS, socks that are designed to banish foot odour for good. Using a start-up crowd-sourced funding website called Kickstarter, MOS raised over USD200,000 to fund the project by rewarding investors who paid in USD28 with a couple of pairs of the product itself. Nothing like building your fan base as you finance I say.

But it’s not just a clever combination of ventilation and moisture wicking that has one’s feet smelling of roses but an everyday boost of another kind.

Coffee.



Image source: http://www.springwise com


You know how putting a bowl of coffee beans in the fridge will dispense with all of those ‘funky’ odours? Well the same principle is applied here. MOS infuses carbonised coffee – salvaged from restaurants and cafes – into the sock fibres and voila! Fresh feet are all yours…all day.

Talk about putting a spring in your step!

The Sh*t Bit…

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I saw someone post on Facebook this week that people who only have happy positive status updates were not being completely honest – that sometimes life is just a bit sh*t.

After an amazing couple of weeks where I got promoted, had a birthday and generally felt lucky, humbled and a bit like I was floating on air, I’ve come down to earth with a bit of a thud.

So in the interests of having a good moan balancing the scales, here it comes.

The sh*t bit.

It all started with a second rubbish night’s sleep in a row as my back grumbled and groaned through the early hours after a pretty ‘robust’ acupuncture/ massage/ cupping session on Saturday.

A bad night’s sleep is NEVER good…and also one of the many reasons I don’t have children.

Anyway I fronted up to the train station this morning to buy my weekly travel card only to have my debit card declined. Upon further investigation, it transpired that my card had actually been cancelled by the Fraud Team (FT) at my bank…last Thursday (today is Monday). While I’m all for taking steps to ensure that some bugger doesn’t empty my funds albeit meagre from my account, a notification (like a text message or phone call which said bank seems to use at will for a myriad of other occasions) would be nice. Let me tell you, I can think of a few other words FT could stand for.

Needless to say, I held my breath as I waited for the credit card from my ‘other’ bank to clear the funds for my ticket.

I arrived at the office, looking forward to a quiet moment with my coffee to ease into the busy day ahead. I opened my email to find that the person from our Russian office who was to join us for 6 months to cover a colleague‘s maternity leave from today was refused entry into the UK and shipped back to Moscow on a flight at 8.50 this morning. Oh crap crap crap!

Then mid morning I placed a call to my local medical centre to follow up a referral from an appointment 3 weeks ago. After having to explain several times that I wasn’t chasing the results but the referral and asking for the letter to be re-faxed (as I had been asked to do by the nurse), I was given a number to call to get a name so that the fax could be addressed to a specific person for me to follow up.

On the best of days, this convoluted sort of process tests me. Today…

…and to make matters worse the number I was given didn’t connect, so I had to ring back and explain everything again. Apparently I was going to get a call back this afternoon…

Finally I left the office. I had a physiotherapy appointment booked (for said grumpy back) so I got to the station in plenty of time…and managed to get on a train that didn’t stop at my station. The lovely train station lady at St Pancras did let me get back on a train going the other way 15 minutes later (instead of fining me for not having a ‘valid ticket for travel’) and I did get home in time for a quick change of clothes before my appointment so you could argue that things were starting to turn around.

But quite frankly it was a day I could have done without.

I know that there could have been a lot of other, much worse things to deal with than my litany of inconsequential irritations. But it just didn’t feel like I could catch a break. So I figure that tomorrow’s got to be a better day…

…right?