That's It - We're Going On Strike!

Today some 400 000 teachers went on strike over pay issues.  The National Union of Teachers (NUT) is arguing that the recent recommended pay increase by the Government, which equates to a 2.45% rise this year and 2.3% in 2009 and 2010, is below the rate of inflation and therefore equates to a pay cut.  As a result, the members of the NUT were balloted about strike action and apparently 75% of teachers voted to strike.

With about 65 teaching staff, 50 of which in the NUT, we managed to close our school today, like many other schools across the country.  This has actually been I think my 3rd strike since teaching in the UK - I think the other 2 strikes were about 'London weighting' (an additional sum given to workers in London to help compensate for the high cost of living) and I think about pensions, but I can't be too sure on that one.  Either way, in each strike we formed a picket line outside the school - we didn't actually manage to deter anyone from crossing our line (not that I'm aware of anyway) but we did manage to turn the garbage man around, so the bins weren't emptied today!

After our picket we went to the Lambeth Town Hall for a mini-meeting (plus breakfast) and then we marched through the streets of Brixton, waving our banners, before getting on the bus and heading up for the big march on Westminster.  I have to say, I have never seen anything like it, there were so many teachers there!  In fact, I had to whip off quickly to get some music for my kid's band rehearsal tonight, so I left the march at Trafalgar Square, ran up to Wardour St and went to the music store, came back with the intention of joining my colleagues later for lunch. Now if you know London at all, you'd know it would've taken me at least 40 minutes to get from Trafalgar Square to Wardour Street, buy music, and get back down to Whitehall - and the march was still going...! That's how many teachers took part in the march!

You can read reports about the strike here, or have a look at my little video presentation: One thing's for sure though, this is only the beginning...

An Open Letter To Cedar Road's Finest

Dear Graffiti Artistes of Cedar Road, Sutton,

I just wanted to write and thank you for the lovely new facelift which you gave my car, Ruby, this evening as I was out at the movies.

Think how absolutely delighted I was to return after such a wonderful evening - lovely dinner, clever, funny film, in the company of lovely friends - to discover your glorious workmanship. Such style, such finesse, such elegance - and all for free!  I wish I had your talents...

I know that Ruby only cost me some £700 to purchase, so I am truly grateful for the value your decoration has now given her in the event I need to move her on, especially after the high expenses she has incurred recently in passing her MOT and in the renewal of her registration.

I am so pleased with your work, which was completely unexpected and unrequested, that I feel I must share it with others. In particular, I think of my very good friends at the Sutton Police Station, who were equally impressed with your work. You really have outdone yourself this time!

I hope they are able to catch up with you soon and give you your just rewards for your efforts.

Thank you,

Sincerely

kmuki

PS My only gripe is that I think your work needs a teeny little touch up - but unfortunately the quote I've had to do this is £155 plus VAT.  Reckon you could spot me for it?

The One Where Kylie Pretends She Can Be A Drum Workshop Leader

So today I had to lead a drumming workshop for the Salvation Army at Sunbury Court. Yep.  Me.  African drumming workshop leader.

Yeah right!  More like, Oscar winning actress - if I could pull that one off!

Actually it was alright, we did a few rhythms that I usually teach the kids at school, and most people seemed to sort of get something out of it.  I managed to be a few pages in the book ahead of the participants!

The biggest hassle was getting the drums there - Ruby didn't know what hit her!  Oh and the bruises on my knees and fingers from loading and unloading the 25 drums I took along!  In fact I got my hand caught in some of the ropes on the djembe and my fingers swelled up terribly with like a blood blister...Youch!

When it comes down to it, there's no-one like Ruby to get the job done!

Check out the blood blister forming on my left hand index finger!

So now I have a new feather to my bow - Drum Maestro Kylie.... sounds kind of impressive...shame its a load of you-know-what!

Swannying About In Seville

Well after our long day of travel yesterday the last thing I really wanted to do, if I'm being perfectly honest, was spend a day running around like a headless chook sightseeing in Seville, but hey, that's what we were here for. So we slept in as long as we dared, then hit the streets of Seville...

We spent absolutely ages in the Cathedral, which was absolutely glorious. Apparently it is the largest Roman Catholic Cathedral in the world (St Peter's, Rome, is a Basilica) and also apparently its the largest Medieval Gothic building, but all that aside, it is really very beautiful, both outside and in.  We spent probably the best part of 2 hours wandering around looking at all the statues, paintings, stained glass windows... and the organs were pretty good too... Then we braved the climb up to the bell tower and were treated to a fabulous view of Seville!

After this we needed a spot of lunch, so we stopped off at one of the restaurants nearby.  Replete, we then headed off on a bit of a walking tour of Seville, and found ourselves at Plaza De Toros, doing our best bull fighting impressions...

We headed down to the river and took a boat trip to see the main sights.  Alas, our view of these sights was seriously disturbed by a middle aged couple obviously having a passionate affair, as they were unable to stop literally eating each other - seriously, I was lucky to be able to keep my lunch down!

Then we wandered around one of the main gardens near Prado De San Sebastian or something or other, checked out the times for the bus to the airport, and then spent the rest of the afternoon swannying about, taking silly photos on the way back to the hostel.

We got tidied up and then set off on a quest to find the best tapas in town, which basically required us to go to a few different places - but boy did we have some nice food!  My personal favourite was the croquetas we had at the last place we went to... yummy!

The next morning we had to set off again very early so we could get the 9.15 bus to the airport, but the problem is that Prado De San Sebastian is actually very big, and we were running a bit late (as we stopped off for breakfast) - and then we couldn't find the blinking bus stop!  We asked so many people, and they didn't know where it was either, eventually giving us directions to the old bus stop.  9.15 came and went, and we were still no closer to the stop, walking around in circles, when we saw a statue that looked a bit familiar (quite a feat in Seville as they have heaps of them) and with relief realised we had made it to the bus stop.  Alas, the next bus, 9.45, didn't turn up - and now we were in trouble as the flight was leaving at 11.15, and check-in closes 30 minutes before... so we had to swallow the costs and get a taxi.

Fortunately we made it, with about 4 people to spare as we were at the tail end of the queue!  Ryanair though have started this silly thing, that you have to pay for each bag you check in, and that you can only have 15 kilos max per person - and that your bag can not be more than 15 kilos.  So even though you can pay for your extra kilos, you have to have a second bag for them - thus incurring an additional cost to check that second bag in - geez they are blighters!  Fortunately my luggage was 14.4kg so I only just made it.

The flight back was pretty uneventful...

It had been an absolutely amazing holiday, one which I enjoyed very much!  Oh and by the way, you know how I was on the lookout for Benny's doppelgangers?  Well, I didn't find a Moroccan Benny, but here's Spanish Benny...

From Fes To Tangier And On To Spain...

Alas our time in Morocco was fast coming to an end.  After our wonderful evening the night before, we had to get up very early the next morning to get the train to Tangier, and then the ferry back to Spain.  So we got a petit taxi to the station and then just made the train with a few moments to spare... unfortunately though we had to change stations at one point - but there are no announcements on the train, and there only seems to be one sign - which of course Murphy's law dictates that our carriage would never pull up in front of so we could actually see where we are!  Fortunately the ticket collector checked our ticket just before we had to get off the train, and told us we were to get off at the next stop.

We had an hour or so wait til the train to Tangier, so we had a coffee and then watched Star Wars on the Zen.  We didn't have set seating on this train and everywhere was full!  We ended up in the very last carriage, which was actually quite comfortable - until someone got on at one of the stations with a chicken!  Luckily it only squwarked every now and then... when the train bumped a bit... so it wasn't as annoying as it might've been...

We got to Tangier and then had to get a petit taxi to the ferry port, but the bloke was being very difficult about the fare.  We told him we only had 20 dirhams, and he wasn't going to take us, but he eventually relented - although he drove around looking for another passenger to pick up too, to make up his fare - and then proceeded to chastise us the whole way to the ferry port for ripping him off.  To be honest, I was getting pretty annoyed by it, and thought it ironic that at the end he asked us what we thought of Morocco (my opinion had obviously gone down by this point because of his mini-lecture).  But we paid up and raced off to the ferry ticket office - and luckily made the next (fast) ferry to Tarifa!

This time the weather was good, and the crossing was very smooth.  From there we had to get the bus to Algeciras, but then we missed the bus to Seville and had to wait for quite a while for the next one.

We eventually arrived back in Seville at the hostel at 11pm, absolutely shattered...

Feisty Fes and the Fabulous Feast

In my last post we had just arrived in Fes and checked into the first hotel we found.  This was Hotel Cascade, which surprisingly is mentioned in the Lonely Planet - and which for once had a very accurate description - which was, that the bathrooms and toilets look like they need a much more regular mopping.  I wish we'd actually read that before we decided to stay there... 

We dumped our stuff in our room which was quite small, had a dodgy lock, and a small and narrow view out the window of the main road into the souqs.  We quickly headed off as we were anxious to capitalise on any daylight left to explore the medina, and find some dinner.  The guide book had said that Fes was the place to buy artisan products - pottery, carpets and so on - but to be honest all we could see at first in the market was everyday sort of toiletry type items, some pirated DVDs / CDs, and a load of unfashionable clothes.  It was quite obvious that in this souq, the market was a local one, not one for tourists - it actually wasn't until late the next day that we found that sort of market.

We were again trying to decipher the Lonely Planet mud map in the quest for food, and eventually we found a place that we wanted to try but some dodgy Aussie bird offered in her unwanted two cents worth and told us (like we'd never travelled anywhere before!) that we shouldn't go down that particular alleyway because it was too dark... whatever... but we turned back anyway as the restaurant actually looked closed.

So we made our way back towards the hotel, hoping to find food there, and we found a couple of little restaurants at the very start of the souqs, where we enjoyed the delights of lamb tajine, the funny little sausage things, and more mint tea.  Then it was off to the hotel for a shower and bed.  

This was the point that I wished we had read the Lonely Planet beforehand, because the showers, although nice and warm, were actually quite minging, and also, there was a dodgy triangular window in the door right at head height, so you could look into the shower and see what was going on!  Fortunately I managed to maneouvre my towel into a gap in the wooden frame around the window so I could wash my hair without the whole of the hotel enjoying the entertainment.

I then went back to the room and found Jessie, mouth agape in sheer horror - she'd found a pube on her bed!  Clearly the sheets hadn't been properly cleaned... so I grabbed my tweezers and Operation Pube Extraction commenced... once over I got into my bed and discovered that the mattress was as flat as a pancake and as hard as rock!  The pillow, a very long, cylindrical type thing, was also rock hard.  Oh boy, not going to get a good night's sleep here then!

And boy was I right, for about 10 minutes later, I was suddenly aware of a commotion outside the window, and looked out - only to see about 4 or 5 builders working on the verandah below - which they did for much of the night!

The next morning we checked out of that hotel and went and found somewhere much better.  Then, we 

headed off for one of the many museums in Fes.  This one has a glorious garden, it was really quite magnificent, and lots of beautiful tiles and painted wood.  A real little oasis!

We then went off in search of the fruit and vege market, as Jessie needed to buy a pickled lemon for her Mum.  It took quite some time to find, which wasn't so bad on account of the fact that we really did get to see quite a lot in Fes, but we were very lucky as we only just made it before the market closed.

After this we went in search of the fixed price Ensemble Artisans.  Do you think we could find it?  First of all, chuck away the Lonely Planet, as you're more likely to end up in another country using that, and second of all, don't bother to ask for directions because the locals can't read the crappy Lonely Planet or read the names of the few streets it actually shows named.  We asked so many people where this place and went up and down, up and down, up and down various streets until by sheer dumb luck we actually found it.

There were some very lovely objects there, well crafted - and the advantage of it all was that there was no bargaining - it's all fixed price.

After this, we were so shattered that we had to succomb to the joys of the petit taxi to get back to the hotel to chill out for a bit, before heading out in search of a nice restaurant - Le Medina - which had got a good review in the Lonely Planet - but which of course we couldn't find because of the crappy map.  Eventually we got there, getting directions from locals - but the last person we asked for directions, a policeman, said "I hope you have a reservation" - which got us a bit panicky as of course we hadn't.  Turns out this restaurant is one of those that put on Moroccan entertainment - for a hefty price (in Moroccan terms) - so they always have lots of large tour groups and so on - but fortunately we were able to get in.  I have to tell you, the food was just glorious.  The price was about £30 each including the show, and for that you got huge dishes of gorgeous starters - a broadbean and garlic concoction that was simply divine, a ratatouille, olives, cauliflower and peppers... oh it was divine.  Then the second course, well.  Jessie had a lamb tagine and I had a chicken pastilla - this pastry thing with chicken and fruit mince - so you got, as our waiter described, a taste of 'sad and sweet' all at once.  Then the desserts - Moroccan pastries - oh yum!  Plus mint tea...

Then there was the floor show.  There were 4 musicians - a violinist (with an octave doubler), a oud player, a guy on tambourine and a guy on darabouka - they were incredible.  Especially the guy on darabouka... Then out came the drummers, who played like a tambour I guess but they were incredible, they were dancing around with it, spinning the drum over their heads - then the oldest bloke, who was playing an instrument like the scissors - he obviously wasn't as agile as the others but he did hop on one foot whilst playing!  Then there was the belly dancer (who was as old as the lady from Driving Miss Daisy - well not quite... but her idea of dancing was to get all the fellas up one at a time and make idiots of them - and herself!).  They had a magician, another belly dancer (but she was much younger and much better than the old bird) - and then some wierd dressing up thing where they dressed up 3 people from the audience and then these old ladies put them in a round tray thing and lifted them up over their heads - very odd...

All in all though it was an absolutely amazing evening, such wonderful food, glorious entertainment - and then we had a lovely surprise.  We asked our waiter for the bill, and he took absolutely forever - but when he came back, he'd managed to convince the manager to give us a discount - and instead of paying some £70 for the two of us, it cost only £40 - a pretty good saving, eh?

We went back to the hotel very happy and very contented...what a lovely evening! 

From Marrakech to Fes

We stayed two days in Marrakech and then on Saturday morning we intended to get up at 7.00 / 7.15 am so we could pack up, wolf down a bit of brekky in the hotel and rush off to get the 9.00 train to Fes. We wanted to be on that train because it takes some 8 hours or so to get there, and the next one was at 11.00, which would put us in far too late - and there's no overnight train so we have to travel in the day (who really wants to spend all day on a Morroccan train, anyway?). However, two things happened. First, the Mosque went off again like a frog in a sock at 4am (obviously an everyday occurrence), thus waking me from a deep and restful slumber, and rendering me incapable of returning to said peaceful state until (as Murphy's law would have it) just before the alarm was due to go off. So that was a bit of a problem. Second, we've been using my mobile phone's alarm to wake us up - which has been working fine as long as I don't switch the phone off during the night. Now that really shouldn't have been a problem - except that it didn't go off. It couldn't. I hadn't set it right - being on holiday you forget what day of the week it is, and my alarm is dependent upon you setting the day - so I hadn't set it to wake me on a Saturday (who does?) - so it didn't go off...

Anyway, I open my eyes blurrily at - 8.00am! Aaaaagghhhh! And we've got to shower, pack, have brekky, check out, get to the station, get a ticket, get food / drink for the journey and get the train... all in an hour...

Cue the Yakety Sax music. You've never seen anyone go as fast as we did that morning. Whooshka, quick shower, shove clothes in bag, drink in a croissant in literally one gulp, get the next bus, get off, and... queue for a ticket...time ticking away...

Fortunately we made it, although we didn't really get the chance to get any supplies for the journey. On this train ride we didn't have set seating, so we had to find whatever seats we could in whatever carriage we could. This meant ultimately that we were at some point crammed in with the locals, which was quite interesting, particularly when a mother and her young children (well young toddler, the other girl would've been 10 or 11 I guess) joined us, another woman, and the Mark Phillippoussis look-alike in our carriage. The little girl took a real fascination to Jessie's bracelet...

The funny thing about Moroccans on trains is that they share. We were quite happily sitting there, minding our business, watching Star Wars on the Zen, when this woman gets out half a salad roll and then proceeds to offer it around to everyone else in the carriage. Hm? Strange. Then she offers a sip of her coke around, including to the toddler, who happily had some (with the mother watching!). Then someone else offers around something, and (up until now no-one had accepted any of it) then the Poo accepted some of it. Crikey, I was thinking, and all we've got to offer is two, very badly squished patty cakes from Spain... and I really want it for myself as we're only 5 hours into the journey with 3 still to go, and I'm hungry... Next thing, out comes the squished cakes, and in true Moroccan style we offered our measly morsel - which was fortunately rejected...

Eventually we arrived in Fes and managed to negotiate a fair deal in a Petit Taxi (blue and yellow in Marrakesh, red in Fes) of I think 20 dirhams to get to the old town.  We were so exhausted once we arrived that we pulled up to the nearest cafe, ordered 2 lattes and then just sat, like zombies, wondering if we still had the will to live... and pondering our next move (which was to find a hotel) when up comes a young girl, Suecaina her name was, who bizarrely asked us if, as native English speakers, we could explain to her the difference between "can" and "could"!  Blimey, I might be a teacher, but hey - (1) I don't teach English and (2) I'M ON HOLIDAYS FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!!  But we gave it our best shot, and to be fair, she was very sweet and actually quite nice.  Fortunately she didn't have a cousin or a brother who owned a nice hotel...

After we said goodbye to Suecaina we headed off into Bab Jaloud, the old gateway to the Medina, and basically pulled into the first hotel we saw, checked in, and crashed....

Don't Forget Your Earplugs!

The overnight train ride to Marrakech was suprisingly very good. We were in a compartment of 2 sets of bunk beds, and it was very clean and quite comfy. Our travel companions were a British bloke and an Irish woman (she was a teacher too) and they were also spending the school holidays travelling around to see what they could see of Morocco. Their plans were a little more adventurous than ours as they were intending to hopefully get into the Atlas mountains, maybe do some hiking, but if not, then just to experience Moroccan culture outside of the big cities. If we had more time, perhaps we could also do this, but alas, we don't.

The view from the train

Now with a title like "Don't Forget Your Earplugs" you may be thinking that this post is about my inability to sleep on this train journey due to the man's snoring, or something similar. This is partly correct - I didn't get any sleep on the train - but it wasn't because of the man's snoring or anything - he amazingly didn't snore! I suspect my lack of sleep may either have been from the general noise of people getting on / off the train at all hours, or the noise in the stations as we pulled in and waited indeterminable yet excruciating lengths of time for incomprehendable reasons before the train would move on again (surprisingly, that didn't affect our arrival time - we arrived in Marrakech bang on time!). No, I don't know why I didn't get much sleep, but for whatever reason, I arrived in Marrakech feeling like I'd just gone several rounds in the ring with Lennox Lewis, or something! Eeech...

Anyway, we arrived in Marrakech and set off for the Djaama El Fna, the main square, where we hoped to find a hotel. We tried to get the bus into town but the drivers in Marrakech are like the ones in London - if they think the bus is too full, they won't let you on - so we had to walk, with all our luggage, for the best part of 30 minutes or so. We could've got a taxi, but we'd been ripped off the day before by a bloke in Tangier, with whom we'd negotiated the price beforehand (as you are supposed to do) but because we didn't have the correct coins, he said he didn't have the correct change - and as he already had our note, we ended up paying way more than we should have. Seeing as we still didn't have any coins, there wasn't really any point.So we hoofed it. It wasn't a bad walk, it was actually quite nice to see a bit of the city - but as I've said before, whoever is the cartographer for Lonely Planet should be ashamed of themselves. Or at the very least, sacked. That book has the most ridiculous maps, incapable of actually showing you where you should be going - and that's in the main section, you should see what drivel they dish up for wandering the souqs!Eventually we found Hotel Foucard (or something like that, I forget the name) which was mentioned in the Lonely Planet as one of the cheaper ones near to the square. The room was pretty dingy but we had our own ensuite and the price was good - 350dirhams for the room per night, that's like £15 each or something. So we dumped our stuff, got cleaned up and headed off in search of that Moroccan staple: a cup of mint tea..

We had a lovely day in Marrakech, exploring the souqs, the square, the Medina. It was really good. Surprisingly, unlike in other Middle Eastern / Arabic countries, if you walk through the souqs the stall owners pretty much leave you alone. I don't remember it being like that before - usually it was "pretty lady, look my shop" - and then they would harrass you til the cows came home if you tried to walk away from the stall. This was so bad (particularly last year in Damascus) that you didn't actually dare to look to the left or right in case it looked like you were looking at their shop. But there was none of that here in Marrakech. About the only hazard in walking through the souqs were the guys on their motorbikes, whizzing up and down - or the guys with the donkeys carrying supplies.

And the souqs were pretty varied too, not just your usual spices or pottery, but everyday toiletries and items like that - and in one we saw carpenters actually making the stuff, or engravers working on a tile or something, and even in one place we saw like a motorbike mechanic type stall. Everywhere you went there was something different to see. The place is like a maze though, and the Lonely Planet map being a pile of rubbish, well, we got lost several times. Particularly the next day, when we went looking for the Ben Yousef Medersa - and you don't dare ask anyone for directions because they'll take you there and then expect payment. Although we did eventually ask one woman who was just so sweet, she took us as close to it as she could and didn't demand any money.
I have to say though that my favourite place in Marrakech is the Djaama El Fna - the main square. The sights, sounds and smells of the Djaama change throughout the day, and it really livens up by the evening, with snake charmers, musicians, dancers, food stalls (we had a lovely tagine at one of them), ladies wanting to do henna and so on. The only problem here is if you show an interest in something, pretty soon the performer gets up with a basket and demands money of you (and occasionally the locals standing around watching, but usually the westerners are targeted first). We spent a lovely evening in the square just enjoying the food and the atmosphere, it was fabulous.

The square by dayThe square by night

So, tired but happy, we made our way back to the hotel and headed off to bed. My dreams were filled with snake charmers, dancers, drummers - and then rudely interrupted by an ear-shrieking, intensely piercing, wailing siren-like noise at something like 4 or 5am. What on earth is going on?

Aaaalllllllaaaaaahhhhhhhh - the thing droned on like a man being strangled! It was the mosque next door, summonsing people to early morning prayer - the thing wailed on for what seemed an absolute eternity!  At the crack of dawn too!  What kind of place is this?

I later found out that's its not just on Fridays (apparently a Muslim holy day) this awful racket at the crack of dawn happens - its EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK!!!! 

All I can say is, if you're thinking of going to Morocco - DON'T FORGET YOUR EARPLUGS!

The Ferry From Hell

Today I took a ferry ride that made the Picton ferry in New Zealand look like a lazy Sunday afternoon stroll.

We had gotten up very early in the morning to get the bus from Seville to Algerciras, from where we would get a bus to Tarifa and the fast ferry to Tangier, Morocco. From there we would get the overnight train to Marrakech, arriving around 8am the next day. Good times. Easy.

And to be fair it was fairly easy, but for one thing: the weather. It was absolutely hammering it down when we left Seville, and although the weather seemed to have improved markedly when we arrived in Algerciras, we were informed that either the bus to Tarifa no longer runs, or for some reason the fast ferry wasn't running, but either way, we weren't going to Morocco that way. Instead, we had to get the 2 hour slow ferry from Algerciras. No problem - or so we thought.

We headed out to the little supermarket in the ferry terminal and got some supplies for the journey - I mean, once we arrived in Tangier we would need something for the overnight train, probably better to get it in Spain than in some dodgy little market stall, right, where the hygiene might be a little dubious? So we armed ourselves with some bottles of water and some boccadillos, then set off to board the ferry.

The journey started off alright, we left the port, the sun was sort of shining, wind blowing a little - but nothing major, our hair flowing gently in the breeze (when we sat outside). It was all good - until we rounded the headland and left the relative calm of the bay...

Seriously, this crossing made the Bass Strait (during the Sydney to Hobart) look like Lake Windermere on a lazy summer's afternoon! The ship was literally bouncing up and down on the waves, up, up, up - then crashing down, down, down... at one point I timed it - 4 or 5 seconds of climbing up the waves then 3 or more seconds of crashing down- it was like a rollercoaster ride at Dreamworld or something. Suffice to say after about half an hour of this it wasn't long before the first splashes of vom occurred - and then the blokes came around with little vom bags for everyone!

I don't normally feel seasick, having been brought up in Brisbane and having been around boats ever since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, but with the weather like this it didn't take all that long for me to feel somewhat queasy and then it was a fight to the death not to succomb - good old Aussie pride was at stake here!

I thus contemplated my failsafe method of dealing with seasickness; which is to go outside, breathe in deep gulps of fresh sea air whilst firmly fixing my eyes on the horizon - unfortunately with the strong winds and the huge waves I practically ended up overboard in the drink, so I had no choice but to return inside. Alas, by this point, the inside of the cabin smelt like an explosion at a parmesan festival, which only made it worse. In the end, it was only by focussing, zen-like, on being 'at one with the boat' that I managed to avoid the dreaded vom and come through the whole experience relatively unscathed and with good ole Aussie pride in tact...

Now I just have to survive the smells and bells of the Tangier market before boarding our overnight train to Marrakech - as long as there is no hint of parmesan I should make it... fingers crossed...

Easter Holidays In Spain And Morocco

So just a quick one to announce that Im currently on a trip to Spain and Morocco with Jessie, a friend from school.

We flew into Seville late on Tuesday night and then after checking into our hostel we set off in search of a meal. Just as well in Spain there is nothing at all ridiculous about eating dinner at midnight, so we were able to find quite a nice restaurant.

The plan though is to try and get a bus to Algeciras, then a ferry to Tangier, Morocco - tomorrow, if at all possible, as the weather in Seville is rubbish - absolutely tipping it down!

Watch this space for updates!

Benny's Doppelgangers

Yesterday I popped into a Tesco Express on my way home and did a double take when I saw who was at the door:

Now isn't he just the spitting image of Benny?  I know, it's a dog, you don't get much variation there - but the mannerisms were all the same (except he didn't bark incessantly like Benny does!). 

Reminded me of the many Benny doppelgangers I saw last Summer on the BEAMET:

Romanian Benny

Albanian Benny

Bosnian Benny

Croatian Benny

I think Croatian Benny looks the most like him.  Wonder if I'll see Benny in Spain and Morocco this week?

What A Difference A Day Makes

On any given day, should you pop into a pub and start chatting with the locals, it won't be long before someone is bound to say "Weird weather we've been having lately, innit?".  The Brits just love to talk about their weather.

Me, until recently I just didn't get it.  I mean, what is there to say about the weather in Britain - its usually more of the same - grey, dull, overcast and raining.  But this week I got it - the reason the Brits talk so much about the weather is that when it does change, it really DOES CHANGE.

Take for example this week.  Here we are at the start of April, the beginning of Spring, and we've had 3 different seasons' weather in the past 3 days!  On Thursday, the temperature reached 18 or so degrees, a lovely English summer's day according to the Poms - complete with shirtless blokes out in the park (why? It's only 18 degrees - I guess that's what they mean by 'Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun').  Then yesterday, this is the scene that greeted me in the morning from my bedroom window:

Looks like a lovely summer's day, doesn't it - alas there was a nip in the air, much more in line with Autumn, to be fair.  And then, only 24 hours later, this is the scene from my bedroom window (you can see I forgot to take the laundry in):

Huge, fluffy white snowflakes falling fast!  Fortunately it wasn't all that heavy, and by lunchtime much of it had started to melt - because as everyone who has lived in London knows, you don't want it to snow here because of the infrastructure - everything stops, the public transport system simply cannot cope with a bit of snow, or heavy rain, or even the wrong type of leaves falling on the train track!

So we've had Summer, Autumn and Winter in the last 3 days - any chance of an actual Spring tomorrow?  

Ruby In Prison

Friday was the last day of the school term before 2 weeks of Spring break, so we decided to go into town to see a musical.  The problem with going into town after a day at school is, what to do with Ruby?  I could drive her into town, pay the exorbitant £8 "congestion charge" and then spend a small fortune paying for parking, I could leave her at school and have a horrible walk back from the tube late in the night in one of the dodgiest areas of the city (lots of shootings around here) as I go to collect my car, or I can drive her as close as I can to the tube and try to find somewhere free to park.

This is no small feat, there really are only 2 streets you can park in that do not have paid parking, and it's very rare actually to get a park there.  Next to one of the streets is a largish 'business' park - but there are signs up everywhere about not parking there or you'll get a fine.  I've parked there before and unfortunately scored a £60 parking ticket.  The other problem with that place is that there are 3 entrances to the car park, and they close off 2 of them at 6pm, locking the gates.  But there is always one gate that's open - because the National Theatre use a building in that business park for their costumes, and they're always coming and going at strange times of the day or night.

We were running out of time so in the end, having exhausted all options, I had no choice but to risk it and park in the Business Park.  Locking up the car, we headed off for the tube and went in to Leceister Square, to the half price ticket booths.

The cheapest deal we could get was Avenue Q, and although I've seen it before, it now has a new cast, so I didn't mind seeing it again.  We had a spot of dinner and then went to the show.

It was about 10.45pm that I arrived back at the car park ready to pick Ruby up.  Big problem.  They've now put in an electronic entry system complete with fob, and just as I arrived the gates were closing.  I didn't know whether to quickly run in between the closing gates or not - because what if I got in but then couldn't get out without a fob?  And if I didn't run in now, I'd have to press the buzzer and talk to the security guard, who would want to know which company I worked for, and why I didn't have a fob - and I didn't know the names of any of the companies there - so it would be painfully obvious I shouldn't have parked there and should get a ticket.... What to do, what to do?

So I phoned Jean, poor thing, who didn't know what to suggest really.  I could just go home on the tube and bus and then come back the next day, hope I got in before any parking attendants, and pick Ruby up.  But at that time of night the tube is really minging, and also the bus journey from the tube is really unpleasant - and the whole thing would take me an hour and a half...

So I stood outside the gate, debating with myself whether to press the call button - when suddenly a car came out.  I watched the car but I couldn't see where the sensor might be to open the gate as the car approached, so I wasn't sure if the driver was opening the gate himself.  I let the gates close.  Then, another car came up, and this time, I decided to just go for it.  So I sneak in.

As I'm walking down to my car, suddenly the security guard starts yelling out at me - "Stop, stop!"  Oh crap, I've been caught on CCTV!  "Excuse me," he calls, "but the car park is closed!  You have to leave!".  "But my car is just parked down there, I need to get it out" I called back.  "Do you work here?" he asked, and I evaded the question, answering with, "My car is just around the back!".  "Do you work here?"  he insisted. "My car is just round the back, I need to get it!"  "The park is closed, do you work here?" He called out again.  "Yeah look, my car is round the back!"  "Oh ok, if you work here, that's ok" was the response!  Phew! Lucky the guy didn't really speak very good English!  So I raced off, heart pounding, got Ruby and prayed like the blazes that the gate would open automatically as I approached - because how was I going to explain it to the security bloke otherwise?

Fortunately it did, and I put pedal to the metal and burned out of there!  Hopefully my licence plate hasn't been recorded somewhere, to be checked against some database or something... hopefully in a few days I won't get some sort of ticket in the post...

Suffice to say, I learned my lesson, I won't be parking there again!

The Signs Of The Times

Have a look at these signs which have just recently started appearing on the Underground:

I mean, have you seen anything more ridiculous?  Where are we, that we need reminding of manners?  Oops, yes, we're in London...

Once upon a time the British were known for their impeccable manners.  But in today's society, where everything is about 'number one' as opposed to being courteous to others, they've forgotten how to do it.  So everyone is rude to each other, road rage is becoming more and more prominent, people are becoming less and less tolerant of each other, and less and less respectful for each other or even the environment.

My friend Ira the other day was on a train and watched a very well dressed woman proceed to eat a sandwich, then drop the wrapper on the floor - doing the same with her empty cigarette packet and chewing gum.  So Ira said to her "Excuse me, but I believe you dropped something" and the woman went right off about it.  Ira remained calm but pressed her point.  Then, the bloke sitting opposite, had a go at Ira, accusing her of being rude - all because she asked someone to stop chucking their rubbish all over the floor!  What is the world coming to?

And last night, when I was on the tube coming home from seeing a show in town, I took a seat on one of those pull down seats - you know the ones, those that are designed for wheelchairs or prams and the like.  Anyway, a Muslim guy gets on with his wife (who actually I think must've been a recent convert as she was whiter than me) and their baby in a pram.  Now, there are a few spare seats on the tube, including one of the pull down ones opposite me - but the bloke comes up to me and asks if I would please give up my chair for the 'buggy'.  Ok, fair enough, I think, I should do the considerate thing and let him park his pram there.  So, not realising there's a seat opposite they could've had, I get up - and what does he do?  Parks the pram in the aisle. blocking the doors, and sits ON THE CHAIR I JUST GAVE UP!!!  And he doesn't even offer his wife a seat!

I fair did a double take when I saw this - how dare he ask me to give up my seat for his pram and then just sit there himself - WHEN THERE'S A FREE SEAT OPPOSITE HE COULD'VE TAKEN!!! The chauvenistic you-know-what!  And obviously the expression on my face must've reflected my thoughts, because the next thing I know, the wife, who is still standing, upon seeing me staring incredulously at the arrogant git, suggests I might like to sit in the seat opposite!

Honestly, how ballsy can some people get?!

The type of seats I'm talking about...

Ruby Takes A Test

One of the things peculiar to the UK, and which the Brits love to moan about, is the dreaded MOT.  This is basically a certificate of roadworthiness which all vehicles over 3 years old must have in order to be registered and taxed so you can drive it.  This is the stuff they test:

Basically, you can't renew your vehicle's registration if you do not have a valid MOT - the MOT certificate lasts for 12 months.   There is a bit of a way around, perfectly legal, which is to do this:  get your MOT and pay only 6 months road tax, then, when the road tax expires, renew it - but this time for 12 months.  This way you will get an extra 6 months before you have to do your MOT again.

Ruby, my car, being some 13 years old, having achieved mileage of some 117000 miles, is becoming a bit of a grand old dame, so I decided last year to have a go at doing this extendable MOT type idea.  The problem was, when I came to renew the road tax after 6 months, the silly government put the 12 months fee up so much that there was just no way I could afford to pay it - so I only renewed for 6 months again.  The long and short of all of this is, Ruby needed a new MOT and road tax by 31st March or she has to come off road.

Now the MOT test usually costs £50 something, and if you fail it first time, you have to pay something like £27 to have it re-tested - but most garages don't really bother with the retest fee.  At least, that's what I was told.

Knowing Ruby was going for her test (and a service) on Monday, I went round to Ken's on Sunday to get him to have a bit of check through, just to make sure she wasn't going to fail on something stupid - so he checked all the bulbs and so on, and did a quick repair of the headlight cover which had fallen off.  So, if she was going to fail, it was going to be for something major, like something structural, or brake pads, or something.

In she goes on Monday, Ken's number given to the mechanic (as my 'husband' - so they won't try to rip me off with something unnecessary, as they are wont to do with females) - and off I went to school, trying not to worry too much about it.

Alas, she failed.  On something stupid too - they said that Ken's repair on the headlights, which he knows was legal, wasn't - so they failed her immediately.  They quoted £70 to repair it - seriously, £70? to repair a headlight cover?  What a rort!  But I need the car, and £70 is better than £700, so I went for it. 

It took them TWO WHOLE DAYS to repair the car.  TWO!!!  Which meant buses and tubes for me to get to school, smelly armpits and stinky people, loud headphones and so on... ick.

I kept phoning the garage to find out when she would be ready for pick up - because by now, she's no longer legal, her rego has expired - and the way you renew it is by taking your MOT, insurance and renewal notice to the post office (which closes at 5.30pm!).  4.30 comes and goes - still not ready.  5.00 - not ready.  5.15 and finally I could get her, pay their exorbitant fee - the blighters went and charged me for the retest even though they carried out the repairs themselves, and what with the cost of the MOT's, repairs and labour - the whole thing came to £240!!!!  What a joke!!!  And then the road tax was £185!!!  

I guess I wouldn't mind so much, except for when I got home later I took a closer look at my MOT certificate and saw these wonderful words - "Warning:  A test certificate is not evidence that the vehicle is in a satisfactory condition."

Well what on earth is it evidence of then, huh?!!