Tag Archives: Life in the UK

Oh What A Night…

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How could a post about the fabulous Jersey Boys be called anything else? It was a night to remember indeed.

To celebrate A-use-to-be-down-the-hill’s birthday a couple of weeks ago, I decided to spring for a girlie night at the theatre. Jersey Boys has had such great reviews during its London run and you never know when these things are going to finish or get all expensive so I grabbed a couple of tickets and off we went.

Fuelled by a couple of glasses of wine over dinner beforehand, we climbed the stairs to the Grand Circle of the Prince Edward Theatre, squashed any vertiginous tendancies and squeezed into our seats to be greeted by a bird’s eye view of the entire stage. Then the music started and we were away.

I’d heard of the Four Seasons and Frankie Valli – although I did get him a little confused with Ritchie Valens before the show began (it’s sometimes good to feel too young to know these things for sure) – but with the first note, I realised that I knew every song. Some of the time I remembered the later cover versions – I particularly remember bopping along to The Spinners’ version of Workin’ My Way Back To You Babe in 1979 – but classics like Big Girls Don’t Cry and Walk Like A Man featuring Valli’s trademark falsetto are still as great now as they ever were.

The show charts the story of The Four Seasons, the struggle to hit the big time, the genius of Bob Gaudio’s writing and Valli’s extraordinary range, the personal tragedies and the ups and downs of life on the road. As Valli (Ryan Molloy on London’s stage) points out, as the bad times always pass, so do the good ones.

This is a fantastic, feel good musical. The cast is great, the show moves swiftly and the music of the era runs its nostalgic fingers through slicked back hair and many great memories. And quite frankly I defy anyone not to let a little tune burst forth on the walk back to the tube. 

Oh wait…I think that was just us…

The Very Best of British …

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There are times in this expat life of mine that I discover something that I think is so random and nonsensical that there is nothing for it but to shake my head and laugh.

This week, I learnt about Premium Bonds.

Premium (or lottery) bonds were introduced by Harold MacMillan in 1956 as part of the government’s National Savings and Investment Scheme. This is how they work:

1. You pay some hard earned cashola for a bond. You can sell this back to the government, at your request, at the original price you paid. No more. No less.

2. The government pays a return on the bond but not to you. Instead it goes into a central prize fund.

3. A monthly lottery distributes premiums to those bond-holders whose numbers are selected randomly.

4. The machine that generates these random numbers is called ERNIE. I kid you not.  It’s acronym of Electronic Random Number Indicator Equipment.

5. Your chances of winning (according to the Premium Bond Probability Indicator on moneysavingexpert.com) are as follows:

Hold £100 over a year = 3.28% chance of winning anything

Hold £1,000 over a year = 28.3% chance of winning anything

Hold £10,000 over a year = 96.4% chance of winning anything

6. The anything you could win ranges from £25 to £1,000,000. But you should know that in November 2011, 99.75089525% of the prizes made available were £100 or less. Just to be precise. I wouldn’t want any rounding up or down of the decimals to mis-represent the opportunity here.

After all, what could be a sounder investment choice than essentially putting a down payment on a whole lot of future lotto tickets?

But really, who am I to quibble about such things: apparently one in three Britons invest in them.

All I have to say is “The very best of British to them!”

Tour of Duty…Gunners Style

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For those of you who’ve been following Gidday for at least this year, you may remember I told you about my first sortie into the world of English football, in particular my visit to see Arsenal play Aston Villa at Emirates Stadium in the 4th round of the FA Cup. Arsenal won and I managed to have a jolly good time so it was thumbs up all the way round.

Well would you believe that I’ve been back already? After 8 years in London, I have managed to grace the Gunners home turf with my presence twice in 2 months but this time it was from an entirely different angle. I did The Stadium Tour.

As part of a Charity Dinner I was attending at the end of March, the tour was offered for those wishing to turn up early and get a sneaky peek behind the scenes of one of London’s newest football stadiums.

We headed out from the function area in all our finery and followed our guide, Colin, to the other side of the stadium. Here’s the view from the expensive seats:

We didn’t hang around here though – it was off to have a gander at the Players’ Entrance.

Interestingly, the players get hit smack bang with a big red wall the moment they arrive, just in case there’s any doubt what they are here for.

There are also some photos of…well…blokes playing football (don’t ask me who they were)…

…and also a time capsule placed in 2004 when the stadium was officially named.

Colin then took us to the Players’ Change Rooms where we all got a little feng-shui’ed.

This is where the players change (obviously) and where Arsene Wenger briefs the team. The room is a horse-shoe shape (apparently corners are not great for Feng Shui) with every player considered equal. All sit in their allotted places every time: the defenders sit together, the strikers together and so on. The goalkeeper always sits closest to the entrance/exit and the Captain occupies the middle of the horseshoe’s curve (see Van Persie’s shirt in the picture above).

The middle table is low so that all players can see each other easily when seated. Colin is not a tall fella and as you can see, it only came to waist-height on him. (Sorry if you are reading this Colin.)

We then had a sneaky peak at the Away Change Rooms. Funnily enough, the room is rectangular and you might like to check out the height of the table…

Before we knew it we were heading out to the pitch…

…and into the dugout.

Citroen sponsor this area so the seats are specially designed…and very comfortable.

Arsene sits in that front row seat on the right. I happened to sit there without any prior knowledge of this fact (power attracts power maybe? I’ll bet all the Gunners fans on the tour were gutted I got pole position) so I thought I should let you know what the Wenger view was like…

I know. It doesn’t look that much different compared with the view from the expensive seats higher up.

Anyhow, we were making good time and the next tour group from our do was gaining fast so we managed to squeeze in a visit to the Press Conference room.

The Away Team Manager always gets the first gig after the match here. 25 minutes then he’s off and Wenger takes the chair for 25 minutes. It’s the Press Officer’s job to make sure there’s no over-running.

In the neighbouring corridor there are a number of rooms used by radio and TV channels for post-match interviews. You know when you see a player interviewed in front of a wall with all of the sponsors names on it? Well that’s all it is…

…a wall!

Champagne o’clock was nigh and not wanting to risk the wrath of his thirsty guests, Colin led us back around the stadium to finish the tour. I know the photos start to look the same but I just had to take one more cheeky snap.

You can actually take an audio guided tour of the Stadium yourself rather than wait for an invite aligned to a posh function like I managed. You can also combine it with a visit to the Museum (which I didn’t get to see so you’ll be one up on me!)

I have to admit that it will never have the awesome magnificence of the MCG – they are just enormous shoes to fill. And I’m not a follower of English football (as we have established in my earlier post). But given that it’s an intrinsic part of England’s sporting culture, it was fantastic to feel the ‘passion of the game’ brought to life for the second time this year in Arsenal’s hallowed halls.

Flattened By Easter…

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As you know I like a little baking foray every now and then. Easter is a very opportune time for this as a) I love Hot Cross Buns and b) every one of the little blighters here comes with a healthy dose of mixed peel (which I cannot eat being allergic to oranges). So as I started last year meaning to go on, it was time for Gidday’s Easter Buns.

Buoyed in anticipation of lashings of butter on warm fruity buns, I weighed and mixed and kneaded and poked the fruit in. Waited an hour then formed my little parcels of Easter yumminess ready for the oven.

But something didn’t feel right and I knew before I took them out of the oven (actually I knew before that but I was in denial) that there would be no light and fruity bundles scoffed at Gidday HQ today.

There was no rise. No uplift. The yeast had lain inactive. Inert. Literally flattened by the chill in the air. (In retrospect, I should have left it in the bathroom – the warmest room at Gidday HQ – to do its ‘thing’.)

So I spent 4 hours today making fruity – and inedible – rock cakes.

Buggar.

The 39 Steps…British and Brilliant!

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Last night I popped down to The Criterion in Piccadilly Circus to see The 39 Steps. I read the book several years ago and then saw the Hitchcock film (with its amended ending) so I was looking forward to seeing how this tale of murder and mystery translated not only on to the stage but also into a comedy as well.

The play follows the Hitchcock movie plot pretty faithfully and there’s a clever mix of effects, movement and acting which allows for the transition of each stage of Richard Hannay’s thrilling and fast-moving tale.

The show is billed as 4 actors playing 130 characters over 100 minutes. The three female roles – the predatory Annabella Schmidt, the innocent Margaret and the ‘do-right’ Pamela – are played by Catherine Bailey.

Catherine Bailey plays Pamela, love interest for the protagonist, Richard Hannay

These are necessary roles in the story and Catherine does a great job with all of them. But this play, by its very nature, throws its male characters into the limelight.

Andrew Alexander plays Hannay with manic, John Cleese-ian fervour moving from privileged languor to adolescent awkwardness to splendidly British stoicism as Hannay evades the law, the criminal and any costume changes. 

The police chase through the train and across the roof achieves just the right mix of panicked flight  

That leaves 126 characters. And these are brought to life by Stephen Critchlow and Ian Hughes providing moment after moment of comic ingenuity…

An early moment of hilarity from Stephen Critchlow and Ian Hughes

So it is indeed 4 actors playing 130 characters over 100 minutes.

It is also inordinately clever and brilliantly funny. If you are in London and fancy anything from a giggle to a guffaw, make sure you catch this.

An Urban Thriller…The End

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It’s quiet.
Not a sound.
I’m pleased to report
Has found
The bait I laid down.
With patience I waited,
With pellets of green
In a little white tray
Four times baited.
(A poisonous hue
As ever I’d seen.)
And now my abode
Is quiet and still.
The scrabbling has ceased
And it would appear
My guest ate his fill
And ventures no more.

An Urban Thriller Part 1….

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There’s a mouse in my house.
An unwelcome guest,
A worry, a pain,
An unsightly pest.
For my pragmatic mettle, a test.
I thought I heard something
From my sofa this week
And when I looked up
My eyes caught a streak.
With a scurry, a squeak
It vanished so fast,
I thought it a dream.
No sign ’round the fridge
Where I thought I had seen
A tail most obscene
Disappear.
But last night there were noises
A few rustling sounds
So I tip-toed straight in
Stood my stockinged-feet ground
And waited.
And guess what I found.
With a flick of the switch
The room was alight
And against the white floor tiles
I took in the sight
Of a furry black critter
In flight.
So I turned off the light
And closed off the room.
And this morning I searched,
A harbinger of doom,
For something to rid that pest
From my room.
Now the trap has been set
And I patiently wait
‘Til my unwelcome guest
Tempts its unwitting fate
By taking the bait….
Source: Andrea Borges on pinterest
…to be continued

The Beginning Of Time…

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As regular readers of Gidday From The UK will know, I have just played host to my lovely Mum at Gidday HQ. Having visitors of the family kind stay in ‘your space’, I’ve always felt that it’s important to sprinkle the intensity of trying to cram 18 months apart into 10 days with a jaunty outing or two. Which brings me to Greenwich.

After stuffing ourselves severely the day before (see the Departures post for a snippet of our High Tea exploits), what was called for was an outing full of fresh air, fascinating facts and fab photo opportunities. So we headed out into a clear, crisp Sunday to explore the delights of South East London. Having never been there before, I seriously underestimated how much there is to actually see and do in Greenwich. There’s the Royal Naval College, the Maritime Museum and Greenwich Village just to name a few. But Greenwich is most famous for its status as the beginning (and end come to think of it) of time and so, like good little tourists, it was to the Royal Observatory we went.

Yep, there is it. On the top of the hill. A meander through Greenwich Park followed by a steep, short yet concentrated walk upwards.

The Royal Observatory was founded by Charles II in 1675 who decided to build an observatory in Greenwich Park, his own royal back yard so to speak. The ability for early sailors to safely navigate the high seas once out of sight of land was extremely limited and while a comprehensive understanding of the skies was seen to offer a solution, the conundrum of time was inextricably linked. And in defining one’s position east or west, the important question of ‘from where?’ has left us with the Prime Meridian and Greenwich Mean Time.

John Flamsteed was appointed Astronomer Royal and every night for 40 years he used a telescope and clock to record the movement and altitude of stars across the meridian line. After a disaster at sea in 1707, more reliable means of finding longitude at sea were sought and it was Yorkshire carpenter turned clockmaker John Harrison who solved the problem almost 60 years later. (His four timekeepers are on display and in full working order!) On his 1768-71 voyage to explore the South Pacific, then Lt. James Cook (yes, the dude that came a cropper on the reef off the coast of what is now Far North Queensland Australia in 1770) became the first to successfully test this new method of finding longitude at sea and he continued to test emerging methods on two further voyages until 1779.

The meridian line shifted four times (across the now Prime Meridian Courtyard) as each new Astronomer Royal took advantage of the increasing accuracy available. And finally in 1884, the Greenwich Meridian was awarded the prize of Longitude 0º by 41 delegates from 25 countries, making it the Prime Meridian of the World. Makes it sound like a super-hero doesn’t it?

The Prime Meridian Marker at the Royal Observatory Greenwich.
I had to be quick to get this before the next in the very long line positioned themselves for a happy snap.

So that’s enough of the history stuff for now. Suffice to say we spent all afternoon wandering around the Observatory and finished with a stint at The Peter Harrison Planetarium to see ‘Secrets of the Stars’ before some coffee and cake overlooking the park. Here’s how it went…

There’s a spectacular view of Canary Wharf (L) and the O2 (R) from the Observatory hill.
This is just one part of the 40ft long telescope that William Herschel, famous for the discovery of Uranus in 1781, had built but rarely used. Boys and their toys eh?
Flamsteed House was built by Christopher Wren for the first Astronomer Royal, John Flamsteed. The red ball was known as the Time Ball and every day at 1pm, the ball would fall, allowing all around to set their timepieces. Those who may have been partaking of a few too many and missed this daily ‘missive’ were deemed to be ‘not on the ball’. 
Told with great enthusiasm in the Prime Meridian Courtyard, we learnt about the beginning of ‘time’ itself.
Mum though she should check out the Prime Meridian laser, just be sure.
And here it is. The beginning and end of time. It lights up at night but it’s a little underwhelming for something so renowned isn’t it?
We wandered around the galleries for a while and there’s some amazing stuff – like John Harrison’s 4 timekeepers – but it’s really difficult to get a good photo. So you get this quirky display of telecommunication through ‘the ages’. I probably shouldn’t admit that I remember them all!
The Peter Harrison Planetarium, home to the winners’ gallery for the Astronomy Photographer of the Year and our tryst with Patrick Stewart, he of Star Trek fame and narrator of ‘Secrets of the Stars’. This is also home to the oldest thing from my Departures post – a piece of Gibeon meteorite some 4.5 billion – yes that’s with a ‘b’ – years old.
Finally it’s time for coffee and cake but boy it was chilly!

As closing time approached, we reluctantly shifted from our glorious vantage point…

…headed back down the hill and across the park to the bus stop. I must admit that, in the face of the trek back to North London after so long on my feet, the little voice in my head was groaning a little with each step I took. A little ‘beam me up Scotty!’ would not have gone astray.

So that was Greenwich peeps. The beginning and end of time immemorial. And definitely worth a visit with so much more to do than we managed in an afternoon.

Arrivals…

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A few weeks back I read a post over on 4 Kids, 20 Suitcases and a Beagle, Arrivals or Departures, where Australian serial expat Kirsty shared her love of the Arrivals Hall. 

It struck a chord. The anticipation of seeing loved ones, the joy and the relief (particularly if you meet anyone coming off a flight from Oz) of even the most seasoned traveller in arriving at last. The excitement of embarking on new adventures, renewing old acquaintances and reinforcing the deepest connections of the heart. That moment when time and distance disappears and suddenly you can see, hear, touch each other for real.

No matter what the advances modern technology provides – and the advent of Skype is a wonderful thing, if I could only get them all the way down there on it – nothing beats that moment.

And my moment will come later today. Just before 9pm tonight, Egypt Air flight 9230 will touch down at Heathrow Airport and deliver my lovely Mum to me. To hear, see, touch for real. For a whole 10 days.

I’m excited.

Snow Stories…Fabulous Finchley

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This is probably not the first snow post you will read today, nor is it likely to be the last you will stumble across particularly if you are reading anything about the UK. 

But I can’t help it. I get all excited and Australian when the white stuff falls so I beg your pardon today if I seem unoriginal.

Last night’s snow fall here in London has left 4-5cm of pristine whiteness over Fabulous Finchley as I discovered on opening the curtains this morning…

My snowy back garden

 …so I quickly dressed, cleared the front path…

Not that I want to seem like a big girl or anything but this shovelling  snow sh*t is hard work!
 …and set off to snap some of snowy Finchley.

A couple of inches covered the cars in the street – that’s quite a bit of snow for Londoners. (I can hear some of my followers from colder climes scoffing about now).

I passed a few early on in my snowy shuffle that were committed to business as usual…

Determined local restaurant staff braving the elements…
…as was this mad jogger. Just silly behaviour really!

 …but undeterred, I shuffled on until I reached my destination…

…and began to snap away.
Taken from the main gate above – I love the Narnia-esque quality of this shot (could that be Mr Tumnus up ahead?)

No tennis today…
…but plenty of action on the swings!
Families were out in force and it seemed that in every corner I beheld a flurry of activity…

There was much ‘work-in progress’ going on as well and even this poor pooch got caught up in the adventure of it all.

Doggone it! It looked much smaller before…

Maybe he should have paid better attention…

Helpful sign??
Anyway getting back to the action, it appeared that the park had been invaded by a few rather cool customers…
Hats off to the clever clogs who made this one!
Is it my turn on the swings yet?
Nice ‘do’
Do you think this one’s on the property ladder yet?
This seated cutie made me laugh out loud
Shrek in snow…love your work!

By now, all this shuffling about glove-less in the snow had developed me a yearning for a nice warming cuppa and the toasty cosiness of Gidday HQ so I headed for home…

Leaving Finchley’s snowy playground
A fabulous splash of colour in the wintery day
Gorgeous architecture just around the corner
Almost home…

 …and arrived, wide-eyed and happy and filled with that magical feeling that only a Winter Wonderland, and the anticipation of a steaming mug of hot chocolate, can bring.

Hope you find a little of your own magic this Sunday.