I have a great vantage point to work from today as I’m perched by the glass doors of The Tate Modern, on l
London’s South Bank. I have plugged in to the Tate’s electric supply, am wired into the net via my 3uk mobile dongle and have managed to be disciplined enough to do an afternoons work.
Continue reading Exposed
One of the handy things about being a Cyber Gypsy is that I get a chance to watch whatever world cup game I wish. This can be distracting if I’m trying to work at the same time and beer can be very distracting. For days. Caution recommended. Continue reading The World Cup
I can’t believe it’s only 2 months since I arrived back in the UK. So much has happened.
Having arrived back in February I was actually quite pleased to be met by some chilly weather after the heat of India. The first few days back home were the kind of clear blue sky chill that strengthens resolve, the kind of weather that Rocky would have trained in, that captain oats would have taken a cheerful last walk in perhaps. Continue reading Spring in Old Blighty
England was starting to get to that damp time of year that used to be the cause of a fella’s consumption. Not of the alcohol variety, the kind of consumption that ate at the lungs causing people to head somewhere drier, or take a few years off by going on ‘The Grand Tour’.
Continue reading Departure to Nepal
Not the YMCA, I never really understood what Continue reading Cyber YHA
There’s one thing I noticed about Cornwall is that the light is brighter. I thought it was my imagination until I was enlightened by a wonderful German fella called Chris who happens to be a photographer.Â He said it’s because Cornwall is surrounded by sea, the water reflects light back at all angles Continue reading May in a brightly crisp Blighty
What amazes me about the car in this picture is how little of it is left after being burnt out, and how Continue reading Burnt Out
Paris is gloriously sunny this weekend so I updated a few websites this morning, then headed up Continue reading The Perfect Spring Day
When I found my seat on the Eurostar I found a family of four were occupying all of the four seats in a cluster including mine. What happens is that one kid goes free so the train company just doesn’t give them a seat, no wonder people stop breeding. I felt so guilty about turfing a kid out of my seat that I went and sat in one of the corridor seats near the luggage. This inspired people to come and visit their baggage at regular intervals as a loitering fellow in the luggage bays is a sure sign of mischief.
And don’t get me started on the name ‘Eurostar’. Â Due to ego’s that cannot put up with anything that sounds vaguely English or French we have to name everything Â ‘Euro’ around here, like the Eurofighter or even more off the cuff the ‘Euro’. How about the ‘florin’ or for the train the ‘flyer’ in a multiple of languages depending on the day of the week. Or let’s choose another language and name everything in that, that’d make the Vulcans happy now wouldn’t it.
So I arrive and take a saunter in the sun from Le Gare Du Nord up to Stalingrad (now there is an example of naming things in a foreign language) and sat down at the end of Le Basin de Villette to dine on Steak and chips – french style of course with loads of sauce and artichoke salad. Opposite me some North Africans had made a home out of cardboard boxes and looked quite happy milling about dealing drugs and sipping on coffee in the afternoon sun.
So this is springtime in Paris, it’s getting to be a yearly event (coming here in Springtime not springtime itself of course) and so my days on the planet will now be measured in Springtimes as a birds life is measured in migrations with winter spent ambling to Australia and back through S.E.Asia and summer in old blighty. I’m bored already – I might have to try interstellar travel – or did I do that one in my teens, I can’t remember.
I was missing the tropics so much that Streatham decided to chuck in a few parrots and voila, pretty polly here flew up into the branches above my head just by the Drewstead Road entrance to Tooting Common.
Apparently there are oodles of the critters around, I just don’t look up enough.
I arrived back to London on the morning of the 14th of Feb with nothing but a short sleeved shirt to keep the British winter out. I took a few of the blankets from the plane and wrapped myself up on the journey home looking like Clint Eastwood in my Ozzie hat and blankets.
Its not long before I was back into work mode with my head down, raising my head above water to look around and wake for a moment.
I decided to go to Cornwall to shake off this desire to work and frolic in the spring waves.
Then down to the the wye valley where the spring starts.