Macbeth

Today I went to see Macbeth at the Gielgud theatre, starring Patrick Stewart (of X-Men and Star Trek fame).

I would love to say I enjoyed every minute, but if I did, I would be lying. The reason is, I did nod off a few times. Now don't get me wrong, Patrick Stewart was magnificent, simply wonderful. But I've had a busy week at school and then a sleepless night last night, so by mid afternoon I was really very tired. And although they did their best to make the production interesting (and it really was well done, quite modern actually, with some absolutely excellent acting), its just that sitting through 3 hours of Shakespeare in a warm theatre really is quite a tall order.

I was quite embarrassed when I found myself doing that 'head nod' thing, so I tried desperately to prop my head up a bit to stay awake.

I intended to go wash my face a bit in the interval, but the people around me were not moving, and I was kind of trapped in the middle of a narrow row, with not much room to move - so I ended up staying there for the interval - which didn't bode well for the 2nd act. Fortunately the 2nd act was a bit quicker moving than the first, and I only did 1 head nod.

Bit of a shame really, when you consider how much the tickets were... oh well, at least I can say I've seen Patrick Stewart perform live...when I wasn't asleep...

Lament for abc1

I turned on my TV today and shock, horror! My favourite channel, abc1, is no more...

Now those of you who have lived in Britain will know that British TV, for the most part, is pretty much well mindless drivel. And they pay for this privilege, you know, somewhere in the region of £135 a year - the dreaded TV licence. All to watch crap on TV.

Mainstream TV consists of 5 channels - BBC1, BBC2, ITV, Channel 4 and Channel 5. ITV, Channel 4 and Channel 5 are ok, I mean, at the moment ITV are televising the Rugby World Cup, so that's pretty cool, Channel 5 has CSI, Grey's Anatomy and House, Channel 4 I think might show ER occasionally - but the BBC? The stuff you really pay your licence for? Drivel... Like for example, tonight. BBC1's Saturday night entertainment (now I know, most normal people are out on a Saturday night, but hey, I've been out all day in town, so I'm entitled to a Saturday night in) consists of "The World's Greatest Elvis", "The National Lottery", "Casualty" (a pile of poop if ever I saw it), and then "The Vicar of Dibley" (at last, something remotely watchable). As for BBC2, well. They're showing "The Blue Planet", "Michael Palin's New Europe" (actually that's not so bad as its a doco about Eastern Europe, where I've just been on the BEAMET), then "Who Do You Think You Are" (tonight is featuring Stephen Fry and his Jewish roots). I'm just so glad I have a DVD player...

The only way to escape this mindless assault on your intelligence is to do one of two things - either pay up big and get cable (Sky or Telewest, depending on your connection and availability for your area), or you can buy a set top box (most new TVs come with this as standard) and get the lovely Freeview. Aah, the freeview. You get something like 40 odd channels for FREE!

But before you get too excited, they're not exactly top of the pops type channels - I mean, seriously, like I'm gonna want to watch Teacher's TV, or price-drop TV, or something. But the one redeeming factor of freeview is, until today - it had abc1. Comedy for 12 hours of the day. Shows like Scrubs, Home Improvement, Hope and Faith, 8 Simple Rules... shows I could actually watch, shows I actually liked. Now gone.

Alas. Anyway, I did a bit of an internet search to find out why abc1 is no more, and alas - Disney, who owns abc1, has decided to stop broadcasting it. Noooooo... back to lovefilm and Blockbuster, I guess...

The Thames Festival

The other Sunday it was the Thames Festival. This is now an annual event in London and every year we have kids from school participating in it. The kids do a summer school with my colleague Mat, who is the musical director of a company called Kinetika, and they do a couple of carnivals throughout the year, including Notting Hill and the Thames Festival. They also perform at the London Jazz Festival.

Anyway, I went up town on Sunday night to help out. Usually I end up playing sax with the group and taking part in the procession, but this year I was water girl and just wandered around with the group dishing out cups of water.

The procession was very good, and here's a couple of pictures of our CEBS trombone girls all dolled up in their kit:

In the Dark

Recently at Sutton Salvos they've been doing some serious renovating work. They've knocked out some walls, cemented over the roof and created new rooms upstairs. They've ripped out the staging and the back wall in the main hall, taken up the old parquet flooring, laid down carpet, repainted the main hall and re-oriented it so the left hand side is now the front. And they're creating a cafe in the foyer. On top of that, they've repainted the kitchen, they're doing something to the YP hall, band rooms, and the offices. It's been a pretty major undertaking, and it isn't finished yet...

All the while that this work has been being done, it's been business as usual at Sutton. So, when they were ripping out the staging and flooring in the main hall, we've been having Sunday services in the YP Hall. Everyone's had to make do with the ladies loos as the gents are out of action, needing a serious overhaul. And there has been stuff everywhere. Old instruments, books, chairs - just stuff. Stuff that constantly needs moving, as there hasn't been anywhere to store it. Stuff that usually needs to be moved after band practise on a Tuesday night, or after the Sunday morning meeting... stuff that couldn't be put into storage as on and off, its in fairly constant use - and then stuff that should've been put into storage and for one reason or another, hasn't been.

Now I've actually been quite lucky, because I've been on the BEAMET, I haven't been part of this constant removalist operation - I've just had a couple of Sunday services and band practises in the YP Hall (the most echoey place on the planet - made sure I had my earplugs for that!). Some of you will know that I play Eb tuba in the Senior Band, and I conduct the Junior Band (aka YP Band). The YP Band are so funny, they're like 7 or 8 years old, and for some of them, their feet don't touch the ground when they're sitting on those big chairs, so they put their little cornet cases underneath to stop their feet from swinging backwards and forwards whilst they're attempting to blow their notes. They're quite cute - but they're very energetic, so practises are quite tiring for me - and exceptionally loud, especially young Louis, who, bless him, thinks he's the next Louis Armstrong and blows the living daylights out of his cornet at every available opportunity!

Occasionally at Sutton, (when they're really desperate), they ask me to play piano for the Sunday meeting. I don't really like doing it, not since the time Major put Maccabeus (you know, "Thine be the Glory, Risen Conqu'ring Son") on as the last hymn, and I stuffed up the dal segno (or rather, I added one that wasn't supposed to be there). Oh boy, was that an embarrassing moment! Especially as there are a lot of really good pianists at Sutton, and for some strange reason many of them were there that week to witness my humiliation (Steve, the bandmaster, keeps reminding me of it every time I get up to play piano now...). Anyway, last Sunday, our first one back in the main hall, I had to play the piano. Fortunately we didn't have any Maccabeus moments, although there was a potential catastrophe when Major deviated from the meeting plan and had me play "Give Thanks" 10 million times during the altar call - seriously, I don't think well on my feet and it's difficult to make something interesting (when you are repeating it for the 25th time!) but devotional - when you consider it has the same chord progression as "Go West"! There's only so many octaves on the piano, you know!

Anyway, as I said, we were back in the main hall - but there was no lighting. Now that wasn't so much of a problem on Sunday, it was an unusually sunny day, so we were ok. But tonight, Thursday night, was a totally different matter. Thursday nights are junior music practices - Singing Company and YP Band, and tonight I arrived at the hall at 7pm (just on sunset) for band practice, to discover that the flooring has been ripped up in the YP hall, rendering it unable to be used, and the lighting still hasn't been done in the main hall - and all they have are 2 IKEA lights that give off about as much light as a couple of candles and a torch with a flat battery in a black out - which is not much. And we're performing in the meeting on Sunday...

Suffice to say some quick thinking had to be done, and we're now playing "Blues in F" - which involves 3 notes that the kids learned by rote (as it was too dark to read any music), then lots of improvising on those 3 notes. Oy ve. Actually it wasn't too bad, except that in addition to the lack of light, the pedal for the bass drum was missing off the kit, so our rhythm section consisted of Nathan on high hat and snare, and me attempting to conduct whilst playing the "egg" shaker... to Louis's ear bleedingly loud G's....

Hm... Going to be an interesting performance on Sunday...

The Saga of the Visa Card and the HSBC

Like any normal person, I have debit and credit cards. I used to have a few credit cards but that was dangerous, so now I've consolidated all my debts to just the one, which I hate having to use. One reason I hate using it is because I'm trying to clear the balance. But mostly, I hate using it because nine times out of ten, whenever I do, the HSBC declines it. With no warning.

Now before you jump to conclusions, no, I don't have bad credit. I'm just with a bank that doesn't like to lend you money. At all.

It's actually very irritating, because sometimes I've missed out on stuff when they've declined the transaction (because they think the activity on the card is 'unusual' or suspect it of being 'fraudulent). Like for example, when I booked tickets to go to the 2004 Olympics. They blocked the transaction and I lost my booking - then I had to phone them up and tell them it really was me using the card. Fortunately I was able to re-book some seats, but I did lose tickets to some events because by the time I tried to re-book, they were sold out.

They've also recently taken to blocking transactions using my debit card too. Like earlier this year, when Mum, Mal and I went to Scotland - here I am at the ATM in Fort William and I can't get any money out. I have to phone them up and sure enough, they've noticed 'usual activity on my account'. Unusual activity? You're kidding, right? It would be 'unusual activity' if I WASN'T using my cards travelling somewhere during the school holidays - I'M A TEACHER, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

Therefore as a preventive measure, when I travelled recently I phoned the idiots up and told them where I was going - and this time they didn't block my card! Congratulations, HSBC, a world first!

But I digress. Back to the story. Whenever the HSBC detects 'unusual activity' on my credit card, they get some poor blighter in Delhi to phone me up to check. The problem is, when they call, the first thing they do is ask me for my security details to confirm that it's really me they're speaking too. What am I, an idiot? As if I'm going to tell them my security details - it could be anyone on the phone! So I ask them to confirm the security details with me, they say they can't, as I could be anyone - so we go round in circles before they finally hang up, telling me to phone the HSBC on a number I know to be the HSBC. I of course don't phone - why should I pay premium phone call costs? - and I go online and leave them messages til the whole silly mess is sorted out.

Anyway. Recently I used my credit card to book a flight to Australia, and was not surprised when the HSBC phoned me about it later - but did the usual and did nothing (except for the online secure messages thing). I needed to use my card a few days later, and was quite surprised to see it declined - tried it a few days after that, and still no joy. Oy ve, I have to phone the HSBC.

So by the time I get through all the automated rubbish at the start of the call, I'm pretty irate - and when I get the woman in Delhi, I let her know in no uncertain terms. She passes me on to someone in Calcutta or something, who reads off the spiel about 'unusual activity'. Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before - so I launch into my "What's the point of having a credit card if every time I use it you just block me?" speech, only to be cut off mid sentence by the statement "So you really did buy furniture from Bedz R Us online then?" Excuse me?

Alas, it seems this time the bank is right. There has been fraudulent use on my card - I just don't have any idea how. I haven't done any online ordering other than a flight with Singapore Airlines. I haven't responded to any phishing emails. My card has not been out of my sight, I haven't lost my purse... nothing. I don't get it.

But because of the Bedz R Us thing, I now find myself in the position of having had my credit card cancelled. This would not be a problem but for the fact that in December, I have to present the visa card I used to purchase my airline ticket in order to get my boarding pass - and that card is now cancelled.

And the bank are now giving me grief over writing a letter to that effect, which would get me out of all sorts of difficulty with Singapore Airlines... which means more phone calls to the bank til I get what I want... Oh Lord, give me strength...

I've Been Tagged!

So the other day I was on Beck's blog and the blighter's gone and tagged me! Now to be honest, I don't really know what that means, but apparently I'm supposed to write 8 interesting things about me. Hm. I don't know if there are that many... but here goes...

Oh, before I post them, I'm supposed to post the rules...

*Each player must post these rules to begin.* Each player starts with eight random facts or habits about themselves.* People who get tagged must blog about their eight things and post these rules.* At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.

Ok, so my 8 'interesting' things are:

1. When I get really mad I bite my lower lip, baring my teeth to all like some sort of mad dog. It's really gross actually.

2. My all-time favourite movies are the Star Wars saga. I loved Star Wars so much as a kid that me, Mel and my cousin Simon once wrote our own version, starring John Sunrunner and Darth Snotvad. Hmm. Suffice to say it wasn't a hit!

3. When I was a child I loved Enid Blyton so much that when we played make believe games I called myself Enid. Also, I really, really, REALLY wanted to be a writer when I grew up.

4. I once met ex-British Prime Minister Tony Blair and his wife Cherie. For more info on that, you need to go to a previous post "Goodbye Mr PM" way back in June this year...

5. I was part of a guard of honour (well, of sorts) for Lizzie, the Queen, a few years back. Every year in March they hold special "Commonwealth Day" services at Westminster Abbey. I'd taken the girls from school annually to the services and this particular year we were invited to line up outside the Abbey and stand as a kind of guard of honour (with some other schools). Although I never got to say g'day to Lizzie, I was about 3 or 4 metres away from her (and Philip, Charlie and Tony Blair). Pretty cool.

6. Me, Mel and Dad once "starred" in an episode of Wombat with my Uncle David. Me and Mel were in our school uniforms and had to pretend that we were hitchhiking. We were standing right outside our house, on the quietest road in Brisbane, pretending to hitch, when a crappy old Valiant pulls over- and just as we were about to get in my uncle, Constable Dave, steps in and stops us from going off with a "crazy madman", who bore a remarkable resemblance to... my Dad...

7. I can play (badly) a few instruments - piano, saxophone (sop, alto, tenor and baritone), tenor horn, baritone horn, Eb tuba - and a few notes on the trumpet - but the funniest was Awards evening a few years back. We had just invested in some trombones for school, but had no teacher yet and no kids could play them. So up I hop, with the school jazz band, valve positions written in underneath the notes, and play along with the band. My first and last ever trombone performance. Oh, and there was also the time that our junior band leader thought it would be a good gimmick to have me play both flugel horn and saxophone in the one piece, culminating at the end in me playing the two instruments at the same time for the last note (oh, what a shocker that was!). And finally, in the playing stakes, let's not forget how I failed my A Mus A, then tried to sit the Trinity College version (ATCL) - failed it too - and was scheduled to re-sit it a few months before I came to England - only 3 days before the exam I broke my finger playing netball. By some sheer fluke they allowed me to re-schedule the exam 4 weeks later (1 week after the splint came off) - and by an even bigger fluke I managed to pass...

8. Speaking of performances, I have played / performed in some famous-ish venues. I've performed in a choir at the 4th World Choral Symposium in Sydney at the Sydney Opera House. I've performed with the school steel band at 10 Downing Street. I've performed with our violin students at the Houses of Parliament, with our drummers at Shakespeare's Globe theatre, with the jazz band (and others) at the London Jazz Festival, Royal Festival Hall (and also performed in the Purcell rooms there), and played / processed in the Thames Festival procession. Not bad for a lowly high school teacher, eh?

And that's it. Can't think of any more things. Well, other than love of travel, chocolate, movies, music... oh and then also the time I accidentally flashed my undies to the kids at St Pauls... (long story, involving jumping up on a bit of staging at the back of the music room and 'feeling the breeze' as the zip on my skirt popped open...)

Now apparently I'm supposed to 'tag' 8 others. The only problem with that is that not many of my friends are on blogger, or any blogging thing - maybe you can write your "8 interesting things" in the comments section on this blog if you don't have your own blog. So, I tag - Mel, Jane, Aga, Topher, Art, Bean, Erik and Dad. If they ever read this, that is...

Oh No! Brace Yourself...

... for the Sheila's Wheels single! Aaaahhhh!!

Tonight whilst I was surfing youtube I came across a video announcing that the Sheila's Wheels chicks will be releasing a single. Now personally, I don't mind the Sheila's Wheels ad (I know, weird, but hey, it is quirky - in an oddly irritating way) and have actually been known to sing along to it - to Jane's chagrin, who insists on muting the volume when it comes on if we're watching Grey's Anatomy - but the thought of these three girls being let loose on society to assault the radiowaves with their contribution to the world - hm, I don't know if even I could stand that (though to be fair, can't be any worse than the rubbish that's already out there...)

Now for those who haven't been blessed with the Sheila's Wheels chicks on E4, a special treat for you, courtesy of youtube:

Avenue Q

Tonight I went to see the award-winning "Avenue Q" at the Noel Coward Theatre, Leceister Square.


I really wanted to see this show ever since last May, when Erik and I did a recce mission to Tunbridge Wells to scope out a suitable venue for the school Music camp. On the way down to Tunbridge Wells, Erik had his Mac in the car, and he was telling me about this new show coming to the West End soon from Broadway, Avenue Q. He played me the soundtrack and I have to say, I found the music to be very catchy and thought the concept of the show sounded pretty good. But when it finally arrived in London, the ticket prices were quite high (hey, I only go to the West End if I can get half price tickets or special deals), so I just never got around to it.

Anyway, the other day, after my recent 'theatrefest', I checked out lastminute.com (soooo my favourite website, seriously) and found 2 for 1 tickets to the Friday matinee (which was at 5.30). My housemate, Nic, really wanted to go, so we booked the tickets. Unfortunately Nic has been laid up for the past 2 days with suspected food poisoning, and couldn't go, so Michelle from school came to see it.

Funny? You bet it was! Seriously laugh out loud stuff, on a par with Boeing Boeing last week. Think Sesame Street meets Benny Hill. The basic premise of the show is that a fresh-faced college graduate moves to Avenue Q and meets some wierd and wonderful characters in his quest to find his 'purpose'. Some of the songs include "The internet is for porn", "Everyone's a little bit rascist", "What do you do with a B.A. in English".

At first its kind of wierd to watch, because the main characters are puppets but their puppeteers appear with them on stage, providing the voices and acting too, so that you can see their faces - they're really talented too, especially the guy playing Princeton and Rod (they all play 2 characters), and the girl playing Kate Monster and Lucy the Slut (very versatile singer) - and you're torn with wanting to watch the puppets or the actors, but by the second half you tend to block out the actors and watch the puppets mostly. Or maybe what I have to do is go see it again...

I found some clips on youtube about it (from the Royal Variety performance, so the Queen and the Royal family were there), so have a little look below:

Farewell to a Real Legend

Ok, so I know its 10 days too late, but better late than never where tributes are concerned, right?

So last Thursday, my alarm goes off at 6.15am as it usually does, and as usual, I hit the snooze and turn over. After a couple of goes at the snooze, I start to get up, but I can't fully get out of bed til I hear the weather report, so I turn on BBC1's Breakfast programme (don't worry, its not a jot on Koshy and Mel) - and that's when I heard the news that Pavarotti, one of the greatest tenors (if not the greatest lyric tenor) had died.

I was reminded of the time, in July 2001, when I went with friends to hear Pavarotti live at Hyde Park, London. I was so excited to go to that concert because I had never heard Pavarotti perform live before, and actually it was the first concert I attended of someone so famous and so talented. Not to mention his 'special guests' - Charlotte Church (who at that time was actually pretty good), Annalisa Raspagliosi, Vanessa-Mae and Russell Watson.

Unfortunately, being a 'picnic in the park' type concert, we were quite some way away from the screen and surrounded by a load of people who weren't as enthralled by Pavarotti's powerful voice as I was, so they did talk rather a lot through the whole thing. I had enough of that after a while and wandered as close to the front as I could, and got a pretty good view (and good listen, too) of the King of the High C's. The concert was just wonderful, the music so uplifting - I couldn't believe I was really there. Pavarotti performed Recondita armonia from Tosca, Che gelida manina from La Boheme, Lamento di Federico from L'Arlesiana, Addio alla madre from Cavalleria Rusticana, Vesti la giubba from I Pagliacci... it was simply wonderful. As he took his encores, I was so inspired and over-whelmed by the experience, I had to share it with someone who would really appreciate it (other than the group I was with) - so I phoned my sister Melissa, held the phone up in the air so she could listen too. If I remember correctly, it was his signature aria - Nessun Dorma from Puccini's Turandot. That aria means more to me and Mel because of our experience hearing Turandot for her 21st birthday at Sydney Opera House. Plus, Mel does a pretty good Pavarotti impersonation on that one!

I know much has been said of Pavarotti's private life, and actually I don't care about that. The world lost a legend last week. The Voice will be missed.

This video is of one of Pavarotti's last performances, at the Torino 2006 Winter olympics. Although I didn't hear him there, I did go to those Olympics...

Boeing, Boeing

So today seeing as I have been to see quite a few shows lately (and also seeing as its the end of the week and I worked hard this week for a change) I decided to take advantage of living in London and go see a show. I hopped on lastminute.com and got cheap tickets to Boeing Boeing. Only prob was no one else wanted to see it. No worries, I said to myself. I'm a big girl, I can handle going by myself. I can sneak in just as the lights go down and hopefully I'll be on the end of an aisle or something, somewhere up the back (it was a cheap ticket) and no-one will be any the wiser. I don't know why it even bothered me, going by myself. I mean, I'm pretty sure people don't actually look at you and think, 'Now there's a saddo, Friday night and she's at the theatre on her own, bless' but you know, sometimes you're a bit more insecure and vulnerable than other times, and for some stupid reason this was one of those times. I don't honestly know why. I mean, its London, its the West End - the chances are if you're there by yourself its because you're a tourist, travelling by yourself...that's the logical conclusion. Not because you're a Nige. I don't often have qualms about going to stuff on my own, because for one, I don't do it that much. I mean, I'm quite happy to travel on my own, and go to theatre / cinemas in different countries on my own, but I won't go to a restaurant by myself when I'm there (other than Macdonald's, which doesn't count anyway). I kind of figure I won't see these people again anyway, plus if you're in a foreign country by yourself its kind of hard to find people to go to things with you. Like, a few years back I was in Riga, Latvia on my own, and I went to see the ballet Swan Lake. That was perfectly fine, got nicely dressed up and all. In London I can sometimes manage going to the movies on my own, especially if you go to one that's not near your area, so you don't feel like a doof - but I don't like doing it in Croydon because they have cameras in the cinema and they play the images on screens outside in the foyer - so everyone can see you sitting there on your tod... But anyway, back to Boeing, Boeing. So I book the ticket on lastminute.com, and the confirmation email says they'll give you the best seats once you've paid for it. Well I don't know what their idea of best seat is, but it sure ain't mine. I decided to stick to my original plan of action, leave it for the last minute to pick up my ticket, go get my seat just as the lights were coming down, but my plan was foiled. First of all, I go to the box office to get the ticket, and the dude, tactful git he was, practically yells out 'Just the ONE ticket, Madam?'. Everyone looks around to see where the voice is coming from. 'Yes' I mutter, grab the ticket and go off to hide in the tut. Except that for once in the history of the universe, there was no queue at the loo, so I couldn't really stay in there without looking like I had a serious problem. Hm. Nothing for it then but to go to my seat. Maybe it'll be ok, its only a few minutes before the performance starts, maybe they'll think I was waiting for someone who's just nipped off to the loo too... so I check my ticket, and my seat is - A16? A? The front row? Talk about major embarrassment! The whole auditorium can see me! One consolation, there is a couple next to me, so maybe the audience will think I'm with them... But that wasn't the half of it. Halfway through the second act, the American air hostess does a bit feet kick during a passionate moment, right on the edge of the stage, and her red stiletto (picture this, in slow mo) flies off her foot, does a triple somersault and comes crashing down.... on my handbag! For a few seconds, I don't know what to do. Oh the shame of it all, sitting there in the front row, obvious Nige, trying to hide and now the WHOLE AUDITORIUM IS LOOKING AT ME!!! I reach down, pick up the shoe, pass it back up to the stage and slink back to my seat, dying a thousand terrible deaths... to uproarious laughter from the audience and the cast combined... The show itself actually was excellent, extremely funny - and I mean laugh out loud funny (and not just at me!). The cast were magnificent, actually quite a few famous people, it starred Rhea Perlman (best known as Carla from Cheers), Kevin R McNally (Joshamee Gibbs from Pirates of the Caribbean) and Doon Mackichan (from Smack the Pony). They were all great, Mackichan was soooo funny and spot on in her delivery as the German air hostess Gretchen, but my favourite cast member was Neil Stuke as the painfully shy Robert - he was absolutely hilarious! So I can thoroughly recommend going to see this, just don't get front row tickets, and if at all possible, find someone to go with you... BTW in this clip, the guy playing Bernard isn't the guy I saw, Kevin R McNally, but the rest of the cast is the same...

The Vegemite Tales

Last weekend I went to see Vegemite Tales at the Venue, Leceister Square. Recently I've been to see several plays - The 39 Steps, In Celebration - and now a couple of us had managed to get tickets for the Vegemite Tales. I really enjoyed this play, it had Blair something from Neighbours and Aussie Big Brother in it as Dan. The play is about Aussies living in London, and really, they got it spot on. Sam's thinking of going home, but he's been here for 7 years, going back to Wagga Wagga... then there's Jane, the clean freak, Eddie, the dosser (played by another Neighbours actor, Tad or something)... it was really funny and I enjoyed it immensely. Much of the show struck accord with the audience of mostly Aussies too...

The only bad thing about it was the serious overacting... come on guys... you can do better than that...

In Celebration (of Orlando Bloom)

This afternoon I went to see 'In Celebration' starring Orlando Bloom at The Duke of York theatre. Actually, it's pretty much well been a weekend of theatre as last night I caught up with some of the Sutton ladies for dinner and a play (for the very cheap price of £20 thank you very much). Last night's play was 'The 39 Steps' and it was really very good, very funny - although Ira had a little dispute with one woman because we were sat quite high and this woman kept changing position in her seat, leaning forwards and then backwards and so on, which made it even more difficult to see. The woman thought it was rude of us to ask her to stop moving around and let us know in no uncertain terms. Other than that though, it was a top night.

This afternoon's play was very well performed, but I have to say I didn't always understand it.

It was a nice pervfest on Orlando though!

Munchen in Munich

In hindsight this might not be the best title for this post, as the focus is really on Dachau. If you're a bit squeamish, it might be best for you to skip this one - or just read the last few paragraphs...

We finally boarded our TUIfly flight from Tel Aviv to Munich. The plane left at something like 1.40am on Wednesday morning, and arrived around 5.30am in Munich (which is an hour behind Israel, so the flight took something like 5 hours or so). I tried to get some sleep on the plane, but you know how it is, trying to sleep sitting up - I'm really not that good at it. Plus I was still quite wired from the quick coffee after the stringent security checks in Tel Aviv.

Suffice to say when we finally arrived in Munich I felt literally like Death Warmed Up. Because we had a 12 hour stopover we had to actually collect our bags, then go put them in some left luggage place before we could head off into town. We decided to have a coffee and pastry for breakfast whilst we made our plans for the day.

I have been to Munich on a couple of occasions, but Agnieszka has never been there, so we decided we would split up - she would go look at all main tourist sites, and I would make my way out to Dachau, the nazi concentration camp. We made plans to meet for lunch and then make our way back to the airport, as our flight was leaving at 5.30pm.

We caught the S-Bahn into Marienplatz and left the station to find a suitable landmark at which to meet - deciding upon the Rathaus. But as we left the safety of the underground, we discovered something - it's raining. And cold. And I'm in 3/4 pants and a t-shirt, with a very light jumper. Fortunately I had my waterproof with me, and Agnieszka her umbrella, but judging from the level of the rain and the coldness of the temperature, I knew that I was in for a bit of a miserable time. It's pretty rough to think that yesterday I was lying on a beach in Tel Aviv in my swimmers, and today wrapped up as much as I can in rainy Munich. Anyway, we said goodbye and went our separate ways.

I caught the S2 train out to Dachau, and from there the local bus to the concentration camp. I arrived there right on opening time - already there were a few tour groups lined up. I have to say that this was not my first visit to a concentration camp, as I have already been to Mauthausen (near Linz, Austria), Auschwitz (Krakow, Poland) and Sachsenhausen (Berlin, Germany), so I knew what to expect - at least I thought I did, but nothing can really prepare you for the assault on your mind, body and soul as you visit a place as evil as this.

The first thing that hits you about the concentration camp is the gate labelled 'Arbeit Macht Frei' ('work makes free') which you get at all of the concentration camps. Then the camp opens out onto the expansive roll call ground where the prisoners had report for roll call twice daily, sometimes being made to stand for hours whilst the names were called - dead prisoners had to be brought to the roll call and included in the count. At the roll-call area the prisoners were counted every morning and evening and assigned to their work details. Punishment measures were announced and carried out here publicly to intimidate the prisoners.

The roll-call area was bordered by the maintenance building; to mock the prisoners its roof carried the following inscription: "There is one path to freedom. Its milestones are obedience, diligence, honesty, orderliness, cleanliness, sobriety, truthfulness, sacrifice and love of the fatherland." The prisoners were forced to look at this saying at every roll call.

After looking around the parade ground I made my way to the main museum, which is in a building just off the parade ground. They had very interesting displays about why the war started in the first place, why the Jews were such a problem and how Hitler came to power. Apparently when Dachau (which was the first concentration camp) first opened in 1933, they only had political prisoners, common criminals, 'asocials', gypsies, homosexuals and others who were considered 'enemies of the state'. If a Jew was imprisoned there, it was because he fit into one of those categories, not because he was a Jew. Also, many of these prisoners were 'rehabilitated' and then were released. It was only once the war kicked off that the camp became something much more sinister. The first Jews to be sent there just for being Jewish were those arrested on 9-10 November 1938, Kristallnacht (the 'night of broken glass').

Anyway, I continued my visit through the museum and with each new display I saw the sickening feeling in my stomach got worse, to the point where I actually could not face any more displays and had to go outside. I saw horrific pictures of torture, death, evil, misery... but it was the pictures of the medical experiments that disturbed me the most. Stuck permanently in my mind now are images of prisoners upon whom they had conducted high altitude experiments, there are two photos, one during the experiment, one afterwards - the look of sheer terror and agony on the subject's face is an image that will stay with me forever - but worse still, is the knowledge that the second photo, taken after the experiment, is a picture of a dead man. Then there were experiments for hypothermia, where they would plunge people into tubs of freezing cold water and leave them there for hours, until they died. The images of these experiments literally made me sick.

I went outside the museum when I could stand it no longer, and walked around the 2 barracks that are left. These are not original barracks, as the originals were destroyed in 1964 as the cost of maintaining them was too high. They have, however, been reconstructed accurately to look how they would have in the heyday of the camp. In each barrack the sleeping quarters consisted of triple decker bunks. The prisoners had to make their own mattress every day out of straw, and by the latter days of the camp, when the number of prisoners was astronomical, several prisoners would have to share the same bed. In the corner of the room was a small pail for night waste - for several hundred prisoners to share. If you were healthy, you made it to one of the top bunks - this was ideal because if the bucket was full, you didn't have to worry about excrement dripping down onto you from prisoners on the top bunk. Of course, if you were old, weak or sick (or all three) you couldn't get the top bunk, so you got dumped on in the night.

I left the barracks and walked down the poplar lined avenue, past the gravel beds outlining where all the other barracks had been, down to 'Barrack X'. The gas chamber.

According to the displays there, the gas chamber was not used like it was at other camps, as a place of mass extermination. But if you do a bit of research on this, there are conflicting reports - some say it was regularly used like this, some say it was only used a few times. Either way, its a very chilling place to be. You go in first to the undressing room, and from there into the main chamber. The main chamber has gas nozzles in the ceiling, which look like ordinary shower heads. The ceiling is quite low. Next to the gas chamber is a crematorium, where the bodies of the dead were disposed of.

Looking at these rooms made me feel even more numb, even more sick than I did before. Couple this feeling with the cold, and the rain, and the oppressive environment, and I knew I had to get out of there. I quickly went around the Catholic, Protestant, Jewish and other memorials and then got the bus back to the S-Bahn.

I was about an hour or so early to meet Agnieszka, but I was cold, wet, and tired - so I decided to call her, see if she was finished and wanted to meet up early. We made arrangements then to meet and I headed back into town. The rain stopped, the sun came out, and life started to return to me after my experiences at Dachau.

We met up and then found a nice little restaurant near the Rathaus where I had traditional Munich white sausages, sauerkraut and mustard to warm me up. I really enjoyed these sausages and it reminded me of a few years ago when I came to Munich for the Christmas markets, with their gingerbread stalls, sugar coated peanuts, chocolate covered fruit (mostly bananas), and the magnificent sausage stalls - yum, yum! Anyway, I enjoyed my lunch, but all too soon it was time to get the S-Bahn back to the airport.

Slight problem at the airport. We couldn't remember where the left luggage office was. At all. So we spent some time wandering around trying to find it. Eventually we did, and then we checked in and went through to departures.

In the duty free shop in departures I found some Munich sausages (tinned) and mustard, and decided to buy that as a souvenir. This would not normally have been a problem, but when we arrived in Berlin and changed planes, they weren't going to let me bring these with me, as we transitted from a domestic flight to an international one - because of the new EU rules regarding carrying liquids on planes. Eventually they allowed it though, on the grounds that the duty free shop in Munich had sealed the bag such that I couldn't open it, so therefore couldn't have put explosives in it.

We flew back to Stansted with no dramas and got the bus back to Victoria. It had taken us about 20 hours to travel back from Tel Aviv, but finally we were back. Got the train at Vic back to Streatham and then walked home.

We'd travelled for 42 days, through some 14 countries, almost as many different currencies, been on planes, trains, automobiles (including cars, minivans and buses), boats... cruised on Lake Bohinj, hiked there too, tried some interesting (and at times, physically volatile) food, met some amazing people (and some whackos too), visited some incredible geographical, historical and even holy sites, swum in the Adriatic Sea, Lake Ohrid, the Black Sea, the Dead Sea, the Sea of Galilee, the Mediterranean Sea and even paddled in the River Jordan, and as exciting, adventurous, amazing the whole trip was - I REALLY NEED A HOLIDAY!

The Tale of the Customs Official, the Turkish Delight and a Pair of Straighteners...

So after our relaxing day at the beach it was time to make our way to the airport. Fortunately the strike we'd heard about in Tiberias hadn't seemed to have happened, and didn't seem to be brewing anymore, but just to be safe we headed off quite early to the airport anyway. Just as well we did. If we thought the security measures we'd endured til now at the bus stations were bad, well, the airport was infinitely worse. We got there about 30 minutes before our flight opened for check-in, but we had to wait until the designated time before they would allow us to go to through the security queue PRIOR to checking in at the check in desk. Again, many questions about why we had stamps for Jordan (twice), Egypt and Syria in our passports. Then, all our luggage was scanned in the x-ray machine, a barcode placed on it, and then we had to queue up again at another security counter to wait to be called through individually. Standing in the queue, I was starting to get anxious. It seemed that every person in front of me had been asked to open their bags and in some cases completely remove the contents. This I found a bit alarming as you have to remember, we've been travelling for 42 days and I can't remember the last time my clothes had a proper wash in a proper washing machine! They absolutely honk! Alas, before I could find a way to spray my deodorant on the offending items to minimise the embarrassment, it was my turn to go forward. The barcodes on my bags were scanned and an x-ray picture of each bag's contents appeared on the screen. I don't know how they can make anything out of these pictures, but the next thing I knew, I was told to open my bag, take out all electrical goods (including batteries), and the customs official inspected them one by one, waving the explosive-detecting wand on them. She took away my camera and camcorder for a special scanning, and when she returned, she rifled through the rest of my bag, minging clothes and all. She took out the Turkish Delight I'd bought in Turkey, and because this was already sealed, it had to be placed in a box to be checked in separately to my bag. Go figure. I think they thought the powdered sugar on the pieces might be explosives or something. But the funniest thing was the hair straighteners. Agnieszka had these in her luggage, and the woman took them out and didn't seem to know what they were. So, Aga explained it to her - but the woman wasn't convinced, and because she couldn't test the item to make sure it wasn't some sort of explosive device, she confiscated it and said it had to fly separately on a different flight, with a completely different airline. Okay... slight problem there. The problem was, we had a flight to London alright - via a 12 hour stopover in Munich and also a change in Berlin (strangely this was the cheapest way to fly from Tel Aviv to London). Oh, and the other problem was, we were flying in to Stansted - but there are no Stansted-bound flights from Tel Aviv. You wouldn't believe how long it took to come to a solution to this situation. I said to Agnieszka to forget it, they're £15 straighteners, I'll buy her a pair in London, but she wouldn't have it as a matter of principle. So the solution the Israelis offered was that they would fly them to Heathrow, and she would have to go there and pick them up. Now getting out to Heathrow from Agnieszka's place is no quick little jump on a bus type job - its an hour and a half on the tube... and all this for a cheap pair of straighteners! Anyway, we parted with the straighteners and they were placed on their flight to Heathrow. Finally we could check in and get a boarding card. But again, more security checks - our day bags are scanned YET AGAIN, opened YET AGAIN, and we walk through YET ANOTHER x-ray scanner before we can make it to the departure lounge for a coffee. Alas, all this has taken 2 1/2 hours and we have to go straight to the gate and board the plane (we were cheeky and picked up a quick coffee to go though). And when we arrived at the gate? You guessed it, another x-ray scanner... I tell you, if I get cancer from all the x-rays I've been exposed to, they'll know it...!

The Beaches of Tel Aviv

Our bus from Nazareth to Tel Aviv was the slowest bus on the planet, and instead of taking some 2 or so hours to get to Tel Aviv, it was more like 3 and a half. No matter, we had for once booked accommodation in advance, complete with instructions on how to get there from the bus station. However before we could figure out how to get there, we had to figure out how to get INTO the bus station. Again, more security checks, more explosive-detecting wand waving thingys, more scanners... But finally we did it, we were in. Then we had to figure out how to get the number 4 bus - which leaves from level 5 or something from this humungous bus station / shopping centre. Finally we made it, and we were on our way to the lovely (a-hem!) Sky Hostel, which I had booked using that invaluable traveller's tool, the hostelworld website. I am sure that the Sky Hostel has many redeeming qualities - its close to the beach, easy to get to by bus, is close to the beach, serves breakfast, did I mention its close to the beach? I just can't think what other redeeming qualities there are. The dorm room was absolutely the worst room I've ever tried to sleep in. Ok, it was sort of clean enough (certainly cleaner than the Al Arab in Jerusalem - not that that's hard...), but it was on the 4th floor or something, and there was no lift. Agnieszka therefore could not face even one more night of lumping that suitcase up the stairs, so she took out some things and left the bag in reception (well in the hostel's left luggage room). I on the other hand dragged my blasted bag up those stairs, chest heaving by the time I got to the top, nearly falling back down from exhaustion, dragging myself and my stuff to the room, to find that it had 5 beds in it, 1 had someone sleeping in it (in the middle of the day) and another was commandeered by someone who had taken over practically all the free space in the room. The room had one dingy little ceiling fan that was pitifully beating out the tiniest little puff of wind, and letting out an almighty yelp whilst doing so. We dumped our stuff, got changed into our togs and headed straight for the water - I mean, what else was there to do? Stay in that grotty hot hovel? No way, Jose! It's time for some swimming! Now what picture comes to mind when you hear the words "Mediterranean Sea"? Azure waters, golden beaches, gloriously tanned, slim, lithe bodies playing beach volleyball by the water's edge? Expensive yachts cruising lazily along, sails flapping in the gentle breeze, gulls soaring around them, calling softly to each other? Sounds kind of nice, doesn't it? A first, cursory glance from afar may reveal a similar scene in Tel Aviv. Yes, there were gloriously tanned, slim, lithe (and quite good looking) bodies playing beach volleyball by the water's edge. Golden sand, gulls calling softly to each other, children laughing, playing and swimming amongst the... floaties. Not the yellow waterwings, no - you know what I mean, floaties - plastic bags, empty bottles, cigarette butts, empty chip packets... and even things more sinister. If you are easily grossed out, look away now. Agnieszka actually spotted floating sano's in the water. Ick. Suffice to say when we discovered this, you couldn't see us for dust, we got out of that water so quick. Ian Thorpe eat your heart out. Closer inspection of the sand revealed a myriad of rubbish too. Same sort of thing, plastic bags, empty cans, chip packets, bits of cardboard, half-masticated bread rolls - and a complete plague of cigarette butts. So, we packed up that idea pretty quick, and went and sat in a relatively cleaner spot of the beach to watch the sunset. After this, we headed off to one of the beachside restaurants - and were again subjected to scans and explosive-detecting wand thingys. The meal was actually quite nice, but what spoiled it was how it all finished. Alas, we'd been going through cash like it was going out of fashion, so we decided to put this meal on the credit card. I went up to pay (you never let your credit card out of your sight) and the guy painstakingly pointed out that service was not included. 'Oh yes,' I said, and went back to the table. But you see, the meal actually was quite expensive (like all things in Israel) and actually, the service, whilst not bad, wasn't all that. So, not having any little coins either, we decided not to leave a tip, packed up and headed off. The waiter actually had the hide to come running after us, demanding his tip! That was like a red rag to a bull for Agnieszka, who gave him a small but succinct piece of her mind on this point, and off we went. Back at the hostel we discovered our second room-mate, the one who had taken over much of the room - a Ukrainian-Polish-but lived a long time in America-Israeli woman who was just a bit too much of a chatterbox. Seriously, this woman could talk the hind leg off a mule! Oh boy, what a life story she had too! She was born to Jewish parents in the Ukraine but in the bit where it originally was Poland or something, so she doesn't speak Ukrainian or Russian but Polish, then she lived in the US for a while and then came to Israel, didn't want her son to be given Israeli citizenship but unfortunately he was, so now he has to do military service or something if he comes to Israel again, then she went to India for a bit, then moved to Mali... it just went on and on. I think my eyes must've glazed over though when she told me about her affair with a Malian sex god, because she asked me if I was going to sleep. Bear in mind this is now past midnight, so I said yes, but she then told me it was no good, I wouldn't get any sleep, as it was still too hot. Well, I won't get any sleep NOW, she's put the idea in my head that its too hot, and it really was, and the fan wasn't doing any good, so I was tossing and turning, sweat pouring off my body... I got up and poured water all over my feet, which were just too hot, and when I returned to the room I saw her mosquito coil - so now I get intense paranoia that I'm going to get bitten (remember: I am the chosen one), so I can't sleep because I can feel things crawling on me, biting me, and I keep getting up to spray the useless mosquito repellent spray I bought in Croatia on me... feet are still too hot, off to the shower again, now its 3am - and that's when I discover that during one of my trips to the shower, Agnieszka has brought her mattress down off her bunk and parked herself outside the room on the balcony. I don't think I got any sleep that night at all, you know. I got up the next morning feeling more tired than I did when I went to bed - but at least today we had nothing to do, no sights to go see - just the beach. We wandered about the beach until we found a relatively cigarette butt / junk free / floatie free section, and basically parked ourselves there all day. It actually was quite pleasant, because the beach has some fresh water showers, so if you got too hot, and didn't want to brave the floaties, you could go have a shower to cool off. At one stage, when the current seemed to have taken away a fair few floaties, I managed to brave it and swim out to the rocks that were forming a kind of swimmer's harbour by the beach, just for a bit of exercise. All too soon though it was time to pack up, have a shower (disinfectant, anyone?), get dressed, collect our luggage and make our way to the airport - bye bye, Tel Aviv!