7 Random Things

As tagged by Chimera and Dutchcookie

1. I'm not a morning person in the least. Contrary to my disposition, I cannot hit the snooze button on my alarm; unless I tear myself out of bed the second my alarm goes off, I won't at all.

2. I passionately dislike the colour yellow. The lighter it is, the worse it looks.

3. I drink way too much coffee.

4. I am cursed with hangover Russian roulette: I might get hung over from one drink, or I'll be able to drink way too much and be fine the next day. I can never tell which it's going to be until I wake up the next morning.

5. I'm scared of bears. I do like them, but only in nature documentaries. I once ran 2 km faster than I would've thought possible because I came across bear tracks in the snow and couldn't get away

6. I like playing poker, but I'm not very consistent at it: I either strike gold or suck badly. But at least that throws other players off.

7. I don't know enough bloggers to play this tagging properly--or at all, for that matter.

Leiden, Amsterdam, Queensday and WT Pissup

After a week of trying to get over a bout of viral tonsillitis and an ear infection, not to mention my first week of work, we were on our way to Leiden and Amsterdam to spend a leisurely Bank Holiday weekend with Dutchcookie and the Mr, as well as other assorted WTers.


We were truly blessed by awesome weather, not to mention awesome hosts; we literally walked off the plane, took a train to Leiden, and sat down at a barbeque. A good start to a good weekend, and it did definitely set the tone for our entire trip.

On Saturday we headed off to Amsterdam with Dutchcookie, to meet up with Clichy & Splodge, Cheshirekat and Machiruda. After a leisurely day of canalboat touring as well as a very impressive sightseeing walk (courtesy of our hostess), we had dinner at 11, a funky restaurant overlooking Amsterdam on the top floor of the old Post building.


We had a fun day, but as all our previous traveling was starting to catch up, we spent the next day lounging around in Leiden (not to mention sampling fresh stroopwafels and pannekoekjes. Ahh. The Dutch certainly know their food.
As the temperature obediently hovered around +26C, we sat out in the sun, reading newspapers, sipping wine and meticulously recharging our batteries for Queensday, the day when all Dutchies celebrate the birthday of their queen, turn orange, gather on the streets of Amsterdam to both sell things (fleamarket style) and buy, and walk around. Not to mention general merrymaking and fun.

After bravely maneuvering through the mass of orange people, we met up with Clichy and Splodge (bless mobile phones) and headed to a park, along with thousands of other people.
We sat on the grass, ate yummy food from the stalls (ok, I did), had a couple of drinks and listened to various Dutch bands perform on stage. I have been informed that a Queensday tradition almost as inevitable as the orange people is rain, but there was not a single cloud in the sky, and it really felt like summer.

Eventually we had to tear ourselves away from the relaxing masses, and headed for the airport. I had a pink drink (in honour of our hostess) and MrPicky got his last kroketten before we headed home, our suitcase filled to the brim with Dutch breakfast bread (the name of which escapes me), dropjes and other Dutch delicacies.

Despite the fact we’d spent the previous month traveling for various reasons, we had an absolutely fantastic time. It was great to catch up with familiar faces and meet new ones; and again many thanks to Dutchcookie and MrDutchie for putting us up (as well as putting up with us).

I do think we should do something similar again. But perhaps not for, say, another six months, because I refuse to leave Nottingham any time soon.

The Emerald Isle from Top to Bottom

I’ve been meaning to write up a travel post for… well, over a month now, but somehow I just haven’t found the perfect balance of time and energy to get around to it. In other words, I’ve been procrastinating. Again. Bad girl.

Anyhow, after four days of jetlagged existence post-America, we were off to Belfast, somewhat reluctantly to be honest. Not because we didn’t want to go to Northern Ireland, but because we would rather have gone there later. Like in a few months. But the conference wouldn’t wait, so off we went.

We stayed in a cheap but... well… cheap hostel between the university and the centre of Belfast, which didn’t really improve the situation. We didn’t really do much in Belfast as such, apart from visiting a few pubs and walking around, but we did take a bus tour to Giant’s Causeway up the eastern coast, which was absolutely breathtaking.
I don’t know if this is something I should be concerned about, but I’ve always found rugged, raped-by-winds-and-rain type of scenery the most beautiful, magnificent even; razor-sharp cliffs plunging into the waves, dark mountains reaching for the ominous clouds and trees fighting a losing battle for their mere existence against the wind, all exuding somberness. Not to mention the restless sea, washing onto menacing rocks and deserted beaches. In a word: lovely.

In addition to the Giant’s Causeway, another breathtakingly impressive place, our tour took us past castle ruins, a rope bridge (which I wouldn’t have gone on had somebody paid me a million pounds) and to the Bushmill’s distillery in Bushmill. Although I am not much of a whiskey connoisseur, it was definitely fascinating (not to mention fun for MrPicky, who at that point was suffering from a very nasty cold. Call it self-medication.).



After four days of Northern Ireland, we were ready to head down to Ireland and on to Cork, our second and last leg of the trip. We collected our rental car and headed south.
Now, here’s the thing: I’d been told the road infrastructure in Ireland was not quite at par with the roads in England, even, but nothing truly prepared me for the major arteries which would suddenly bring you to the high street of a sleepy village, the narrow almost paths, winding their way through the Irish countryside. Again, beautiful, but you will want to reserve quite a bit of time.

On the way to Cork we decided to do a bit of a detour, and instead of driving straight to Cork we stopped in Kilkenny. It turned out to be quite the fluke, considering neither one of us had really done much research on things to see on this trip (call it jetlag induced denial), but we stumbled onto what I daresay must be one of the quaintest places in the world. Well, in our humble opinion anyway. Not to mention the fact that MrPicky could finally get himself a pint of Kilkenny IN Kilkenny.

We drove past Waterford and other assorted places, and eventually ended up in Cork. Again, another beautiful town. Nothing had prepared us for the steep roads in the centre, though, and in many ways Cork reminded me of San Francisco. Well, if you replace the quirky people with… um… Irish people, I suppose.



We did try to take a trip to Killarney (70 km from Cork), but when we had been on the road for two and a half hours (I kid you not) and were approximately 25 kilometres from Cork, we decided to admit defeat and turned back.

On our final day, we had to start heading back to Belfast at 5 am, to catch a flight back home at 1pm. Needless to say we were somewhat eager to get back, and therefore didn’t want to take any chances with potential delays on the roads.

We made it to the airport nicely on time, and after an announcement of having our flight delayed by two hours, they decided to board on a moment’s notice and off we were, heading home.

I do have to say that although I was not in the most optimal state for traveling, and despite the fact we would rather have been at home, it turned out to be a very good trip. The Emerald Isle definitely left a lasting impression on me, and I’m sure we didn’t see the half of it.

Vegas Vacation

This was definitely a trip of firsts: we attended a Presbyterian wedding (MrPicky’s mother’s neighbours’), MrPicky actually won money on Let It Ride, and we spent two nights on the Strip—a holiday on holiday.

As we usually rarely visit the Strip, we figured it was about time we did.

We stayed at the Monte Carlo, and spent an enormous amount of time (and fortunately significantly less money) gambling at the Strip casinos—notorious for very low winning prospects. Oh, I also emptied out the MAC store at Caesar’s Palace. A slight exaggeration, but I swear I heard the Amex let out a cry when the cashier swiped it.

Another first was taking public transportation, something you should otherwise avoid at all costs: we took the Monorail from one end of the Strip to the other. Fine, the Monorail isn’t really proper public transportation (as the staggering ticket prices keep locals off), but close enough. I have to say it wasn’t the most comfortable ride as the cars would sway slightly and I kept thinking it was going to keel over, and the infomercials were so excruciatingly bad I doubt I could’ve handled any more without actually screaming (I’ll spare you the examples I’m trying to erase from my memory as we speak), but it did indeed get us from point A to B (and eventually C) very efficiently.

On the way back to our hotel after three hours of gambling (and we came out $4 ahead, quite the hourly wage I say!) we walked through the MGM Grand (to get off the Monorail), and spotted high-roller slots & video poker. The slots ranged from $500 to, yes, $10,000. And “two coins”. So $1,000 to $20,000 per draw. Oddly enough, we didn’t see anybody playing. But I’m sure people do, why else would they be there.

It was a lot of fun staying on the Strip, and sipping a strawberry daiquiri by the pool taking in the sun was definitely nothing to complain about.

We had a good trip, actually ended up ahead gambling-wise (nice change from last year)--I definitely had better luck than probably ever before--and we did indeed fly direct on the way home, despite visions of spending 30+ hrs on the road. We decided to rent a car for the drive home from Gatwick, as that turned out to cost £0.50 more than taking the bus, and it was well worth it.

Coming to America: MrPicky and Pickychick fly Virgin –and pop their flight transfer cherries

Ok, this is over a week old by now, but dial-up internet is indeed the devil. My apologies for the delay.

So the plan was to go down to London on Monday, take the train to Gatwick, spend the night at a hotel near the airport, and then fly to Vegas Tuesday morning, with a nice nifty direct flight. Sounds simple, right? It does, doesn’t it, but the reality turned out quite differently.

We did indeed spend the night at a hotel near Gatwick, a nice small homely affair, with very good Indian food to our utmost delight, as the March weather had taken a turn for the worse, and the “leisurely stroll” to the nearest town did not seem very appealing in a horizontal sleet storm.

The next morning we got to the airport, checked in, and eventually got to our gate. May I take this opportunity to mention I really don’t like Gatwick? It is one of the most chaotic and maze-like airports I’ve ever been to, and getting to one’s gate is always a drawn-out process. Anyhoo, our flight was already boarding, when they put a stop to it. After an hour of sitting at the gate we were informed that there was a technical problem with the plane, another plane would be flown in from Heathrow and it would depart three hours past our original time, but the catch was that it was sixty seats smaller than our scheduled plane.

They then asked for sixty volunteers to stay behind, and fly the next day from Heathrow to either L.A. or San Francisco and then from there to Vegas. When they announced the “attractive package” they’d be offering would include meals, hotel room and transportation to Heathrow as well as 410 pounds per person, we decided to go for it. We figured it would be worth it for a 24-hr delay.

After spending the next five hours at the airport, getting our luggage back and sorting out the tickets and whatnots, we were on our way to the Ibis hotel at Heathrow. I must say that if we’d paid for it, I would’ve probably considered asking for our money back, and the hotel we stayed at near Gatwick definitely beat this one by about 100 to 1. Yes, the first one was somewhat worn out, but it most certainly had character which the airport hotel lacked. Not to mention the fact that the White House Hotel (which is what the Gatwick hotel was called) served the best Indian food south of Warwick, whereas the food at Ibis was suspiciously unidentifiable at worst and edible at best.

The next morning we were bused to Heathrow, and awaited our flight by gorging on a huge breakfast, trying to spend the 20 pounds per person that Virgin gave us (and failed miserably I might add, even at airport prices we ended up barely spending half), and by the time our flight was supposed to start boarding, began to glance anxiously at the departure gates board, where our flight was classified as “please wait”. Now, normally this would’ve hardly seemed out of the ordinary, but due to the previous day we felt slightly uneasy. As flights scheduled for takeoff fifteen minutes after ours began boarding, we made our way to the ticket desk, fearing the worst. The delay turned out to be one hour, which under the circumstances was definitely good news for us.

The flight itself went smoothly, we’d booked exit row seats (which by the way Virgin charges 75 quid for—the window seat was ‘free’ due to slightly less space), and definitely appreciated the extra legroom when we found out just how cramped the seats are. A word of warning: if you find seats on other trans-Atlantic flights narrow, do not consider flying economy with Virgin, because they are definitely a good 15 cm narrower than those on, for instance, Delta, SAS, Air France and BA (and a hell of a lot narrower than those on the cheapo airlines in Europe such as Ryanair and bmibaby, but that’s another story entirely). The in-flight entertainment was a pleasant surprise as they have video-on-demand (something I’ve waited for with other airlines for years now), and you can actually choose when you want to watch something. Comes in quite handy.
The food was surprisingly good, and there was plenty of it. This is the first time we’ve flown across the pond so well-fed.

We landed in San Francisco, cleared immigration in record timing, and made our way to the United Airlines desk. This ended up turning into quite the chaos for the 60 of us, as we’d been split between two different flights, and there were two different terminals to choose on. Fortunately we picked the right one, but a good ten people waited for a half-hour in line before realizing they were in the wrong terminal. Oopsie.

At this point it didn’t come as a surprise that our 6:30pm flight had been delayed by two hours. As much as I like the San Francisco airport, we didn’t quite appreciate our five-hour wait. After a pleasantly short flight, we finally landed in Vegas at 10pm, 46 hours after we began what was supposed to be a pleasant 12-hour flight. But to look on the bright side, we somehow managed to skip jetlag entirely. Bring on the sunshine and warmth.

Oops, My Bad

It's been brought to my attention that it's been almost three months since my last post. Oopsie. I do have an impressive selection of excuses, but maybe I'll save those for a rainy day.

A quick update:

1. I got me a jobby job. Will start sometime in late April, after we come back from our travels (see #2 & #3). Still waiting for the official offer letter with the start dates, but that should get here this week. It better.
2. We're going to Vegas in a week's time. Almost three weeks of sunshine and warmth. I can hardly wait.
3. A whopping 4 days after our return, we will fly to Belfast in the throes of jetlag. From Belfast we'll drive down to Cork, then back up to Belfast and fly home. Just in time to recouperate for 6 days before...
4. Flying to Amsterdam for the WT pissup. I feel so spoiled, all these great trips coming up.
5. I can feel spring coming. Days are getting longer, and the air feels different. Winter is finally over, and I can come out of hibernation.

So there. The past three months can be nicely condensed into five points. Well, almost at least. I've also been working out diligently (5 days a week most weeks) and am actually saddened by the inevitable one month break (I keep telling myself I'll do some basic exercising while we're away but who am I kidding), we've watched Battlestar Galactica from start to present in a matter of weeks (accomplishment of sorts I'm sure), I've learned a foolproof muffin recipe which we're exploiting at alarming pace, and I now have three friends left who aren't in various stages of procreating.

Not much going on, and certainly very little of interest, I'm afraid. But I'm sure once we get back home and I start working that'll change.

Back to your regular programming.

My First Christmas

The first Christmas I can remember is the Christmas of 1982 when I was three years old. This was the first Christmas my parents had bought me gifts, as I was old enough to really start getting the idea of Christmas celebrations.

We spent Christmas Eve at my paternal grandparents' house. I am told that I received a bar of chocolate from them, my first Christmas present ever. I was apparently so happy with my gift, my parents felt a bit silly, as they'd been excited about my first Christmas and had bought me loads of presents that were waiting for me at home (where we'd celebrate Christmas as well).

This I don't remember (although I do remember one of the gifts they did get me, a stuffed toy lioness which I had for well over ten years, so their presents did last longer than the chocolate), but what I do remember is the Christmas tree.

It was big. The silvery star atop reached all the way to the high ceiling, and the branches were massive. I could crawl under the tree, and hide from everything as only a three-year-old can, amazed and keen to take a closer look at this enormous fir.

There were all these colourful decorations, lines of paper flags of all different countries, gingerbread decorations and tinsel. And candles. Not tiny electric fairylights, but real, delicate candles, perching on the branches by brass clasps. This had a lasting effect on me, to the extent I still remember it to this day. The tiny flames illuminating the whole tree, making the decorations come alive in the flickering light.

In this day and age of fire hazard awareness, I eye our electric fairylights with suspicion, but still conjure up images of that very first Christmas, with those incredible little candles.

Merry Christmas Everyone

Megapost: 2 Weekends in 1

Weekend #1: Dutchcookie in Nottingham
We had a wonderful weekend with Dutchcookie visiting. The sightseeing tour naturally included quite a bit of shopping, cafés, restaurants and pubs. We took her to the oldest pub in England, The Old Trip to Jerusalem (it is one of the "oldest pub in England" pubs, there are many, but of course we'll stand by its claim to the title), and made sure to take her for Sunday Roast before her flight departed.

MsCookie didn't seem to be too scared of being in the ever-so-dangerous Nottingham; I got the impression that she quite enjoyed herself, and I believe she did make mention of moving to the M&S and Hotel Chocolat here... But that could've been the cider talking.

We did spend a good amount of time imbibing liquids of all sorts. But we did supplement with a good amount of solid foods as well, so I think we balanced things out quite well.In any case, we had so much fun catching up and showing MsCookie around, and even the weather complied: it was slightly windy but sunny for the entire time she was here. Quite literally so, as a few raindrops fell when we walked her to her airport shuttle.

In the aftermath of her visit, we've been consuming way more chocolate than is necessarily wise. Oh, the woe.

Weekend #2: Bath, Gloucester & the Peak District
Saturday: Bath, Gloucester and the Coventry detour
On Friday we took the cats to the vet for their vaccinations (the "reason" for renting the car in the first place), and then spent some capitalist quality time at stores such as the mega-gigantic-Tesco and Ikea. We are now stocked, and have been reminded of why selecting your groceries online to have them delivered to your doorstep is indeed not such a bad idea after all.

On Saturday we headed south towards Bath. It was definitely well worth the drive, what a gorgeous little town! Saturday was a perfect day for a drive: very cold and windy, but also sunny. We walked around Bath (or tried to, amidst the throngs of Christmas market goers. Yes, we picked the Bath Abbey Christmas Market weekend for our visit (impressively without even minimal googling). We managed to find a lovely pub which served wonderful food--and walked straight to a table for two. Lucky day.

We also found a cheesemonger (which we visited but were pretty much forced to leave as the pungent scents of mature cheese began to infiltrate our nasal passages). As much as I love cheese, that was just way too much--a small shop, chock full of unrefrigerated cheese. The idea was to go visit the Roman Baths, as we were in Bath after all, but our plan was thwarted by a humble £10 entry fee. Per person. For that amount of money I would've required full use of the facilities. Instead, we decided to get back into bumper-to-bumper traffic and head for Gloucester.

We arrived in Gloucester right before six. We were able to find a parking lot in the centre, and proceeded to walk around. It was quite spooky, as all the shops had already closed, and there were a handful of people on the streets (one of which, notably, was having a conversation with her inner voices (or perhaps an invisible friend, we didn't stop to ask), another asked us for a cigarette, and then there was the chick who almost ran us over, but never mind). We decided to head to the beautifully lit Cathedral, and did indeed find it open.

There were only two people there, a staff member of some sort, and a man tuning a harpsichord. I have to say that I've been to many cathedrals, minsters and churches of various sizes, ages and degrees of impressiveness, but the dimly-lit empty cathedral with the monotonous and the melancholy chords of the harpsichord tuner definitely worked together to provide eeriness difficult to put into words. We made it into an even more dimly-lit room (where we relied on MrPicky's mobile phone light to read an engraving), and our expediated pulses shot through the roof when the aforementioned staffmember walked up to us clinking his keys (no, I'm not making this up), and told us to leave, as they were closing. Gloucester Cathedral will go down as the best place of worship I've visited when it comes to setting the mood for some good, old-fashioned god-fearing.

And speaking of god-fearing, as soon as we got out of Gloucester, we decided to divert slightly and visit good ole Coventry, for old times' sake. Ok, fine. We decided to get some of the best Balti in the world.

We had a few nostalgic moments along the lines of "oh god, I can't believe we remembered to turn here; oh, remember this crazy junction, oh wow, that kiosk is still there" until we got to my old street and noticed that not only had the block adjacent to mine been demolished entirely, most of the buildings on the neighbouring block (on the other side) were boarded up. And yes, you guessed it, the Best Balti on the Planet was nowhere to be found. We weren't too surprised, as they did do take out to such high standards that we expected they'd open a restaurant soon. We got to a phone book, but either they changed the name for their restaurant, or they decided to follow a course set by many and leave Coventry behind. Personally I'm rooting for the last option. We did, however, locate our other post-drinking haven for food, Istanbul Kebab, and yes, their kebabs still rank high on the excellence meter. So we didn't leave empty-handed (stomached?) after all.

And it was nice to be reminded that yes, time may have softened some of the memories (as we've been going down the slippery slope of "oh, we were so much younger, it couldn't have been quite as bad". Yes. Yes it was), and definitely needed to be set straight. The M1 sign for NORTH, Nottingham has never been met with greater delight. Even Warwickshire's gift to juvenile humour (oh my god, is that a bear having sexual relations with a log? Yes, it does appear so) paled in comparison.

Sunday: Peak District
On Sunday we pat ourselves on the back for wisely deciding to head further on Saturday and stay closer to home on Sunday. We headed up towards the Peak District, driving through Mansfield, Chesterfield and other not-so-picturesque towns and villages. The Peak District is absolutely humbling. We only saw a minute part of the area, but that was enough to make a lasting impression.We drove through villages each quainter than the next, and saw landscapes more befitting mythical tales than the last.

The day was grim and dreary, blistering winds combined with a drizzle relentless in its consistency, but in my opinion it fit the area quite well.We drove through a tiny village, sat right at the bottom of a rising cliff, tens of meters of stone rising up on one side, and a flowing stream on the other. The landscape immediately brought to mind Lords of the Ring. Sorry New Zealand, THIS is where it should've been filmed.

As daylight rapidly diminished we drove on. We came upon the village of Hathersage, where we stumbled onto a Christmas tree sale. What better way to acquire a Christmas tree than in the Peak District, short of wading in waist-deep snow and felling the damn shrub yourself?I think we may have also stumbled onto a new Christmas Tradition.We headed back, pleased with everything we had managed to see, and satisfied we'd definitely got our money's worth out of the rental.

So ended our weekend, just in time to return the car and begin the epic quest to "Find a Christmas tree stand in a country where real Christmas trees are not the norm without the use of a car" .

Pickychick:1; Monday-to-come: 0

Indeed. But you know what, this time the joke is on you, Monday dearest. Why, you may ask? Because I'm spending the weekend IN, and the fact it's raining makes me enjoy my lazy, pyjama-clad weekend involving the couch, the bed and the fridge even more.
So HA.
You fail.
I'll be taking my cues from MrCat:

and MsCat:

Random Musings

It's mid-November; temperatures are still closer to 10C than 5C. Christmas is little over a month away; December starts next Friday--and what better way to celebrate that than with a visit from the wonderful DutchCookie?! Here's counting days until then.

Remember, remember, the 5th of November...

So we went to Bonfire night yesterday. I have to say, that was a nice bonfire!Although I must say it was quite different from the Midsummer bonfires in Finland: there the point is to keep the bonfire burning all night, whereas here the point seems to be to burn it down, witness the event and then move on. Not surprising, considering the roots of the Finnish bonfires are in warding off witches and the English counterpart originally burnt a bastard down...

There was a fireworks "mini display" before the bonfire was lit, and the show left much to be desired. I wanted to see the big fireworks, and it was well worth it, I have to say.
I have to say, even the NYE fireworks on the Strip in Vegas came second to the climax of this one. Mr Camera decided not to want to play 'capture the fireworks', so this pic is by no means indicative of the greatness of the event. I wonder if last night marked the end of the fireworks that have been going off here for weeks? I do think I'll actually miss the random but steady bangs that have enriched our nightly soundscape.

Dragging Ass to Gym--New Challenges

So I finally decided to go to the gym yesterday.
Monumentous occasion, but I had to make the break from life-on-couch at some point.
There's a gym within a 5-min walk from where we live, so of course I went there. Their membership fees are not extortionate, but still quite a bit (monthly plan £35 vs £19 if you pay for the year in one go) and since there are no cancellations or putting the card on hold, I'm hesitant. I then discovered that I could have a look around for free, but wouldn't get a trial visit for free... I guess I've been spoiled, because I have yet to go to a gym that doesn't do a free (or heftily reduced) trial visit. Well, it turns out they do do a health assessment/nutrition & workout plan for free, and I scheduled to get that today. I still don't know whether I'll sign up with them or someplace else.

It's amazing how uninformative gyms'/healthclubs' websites are. Sure, you'll feel like Ms Fitness after you join and the sun will shine and the birds will sing, but membership costs are guarded like national secrets. There are two gyms that require me to make a visit appointment just to go have a look around... I think I'll grill them on their cost policy first.

So I went to the Living Well gym at the Hilton Hotel. Don't laugh, they actually did a free trial!
It's just a shame that apart from a good selection of treadmills, their "gym" consists of about 5 machines... they do have a pool, steamroom and "sauna" (if you can't throw water it's not a sauna), but for £46 a month (or £35 off-peak) I think I'll pass, thank you very much. For a hotel gym it's pretty good, but for regular excercise, not so much.

In hindsight it wasn't necessarily too good of an idea to go work out the day before the "fitness test", considering I hadn't been to a gym in months, by now. Yikes. I am dreading this test thing today. I already know I'm out of shape and overweight, thank you. I'm just hoping it won't feel like P.E... Fortunately I'm not too sore from yesterday (although I had to severely contain myself when the guy who was showing me around said it was a dry sauna, and when I looked disappointed, said "oh, I don't get the difference" and when I explained, told me to use the steam room... Argh. But I'm sure that equalled a good 5 minutes of working out).

Well, we'll see what happens. Hopefully I'll find a few more places with free trials, and I'll take it from there.

I don't even dare wish for a proper sauna.

Moving, Phase 2

Our stuff arrived from Finland last night. All 9m3 of it. So the flat looks like something exploded again, with boxes and random bags everywhere. It's very nice to have everything here, though, it feels like we're properly 'in' now. And it's nice to get my clothes. Living out of a suitcase for a month is a bit complicated, especially since I had to pack for two different types of weather--summer and autumn, so that effectively halved my 'available' clothing. And my BedHead stuff is finally here, oh bless.

Of course there is still that one trip to Ikea... We're missing a dining table and two chairs (they didn't have them in stock last time), a tv-stand and a lot of storage boxes. The one complaint I do have is that there isn't as much storage space as I would like, so we're really going to have to be inventive about where to put stuff.

I guess there won't be any doubt as to what we'll be doing this weekend, though.

Serendipitous Coincidences

#1 So I was looking for a place near where we live for Ashtanga yoga. Step one of procrastinating: make it seem as though you're just getting information to get going, and that that is the reason you haven't done whatever it is you're not doing. Five minutes into browsing the website I get spam about Ayurvedic treatment and yoga in Kerala, India. I did not give my email address anywhere, nor have I ever gotten spam like this before. Quite funny, really.

#2 Last night we spent our last £10 note and were out of cash. Walking home, I spotted a £10 note on the sidewalk.

#3 On Friday I went to the Pitcher and Piano for a post-workweek drink and to read the newspapers before MrPicky got home. He called me, and I told him where I was. He then told me that two people we were supposed to be meeting up with later in the evening were there as well. I wasn't about to give up my comfy couch, and as I couldn't see anybody fitting their description, I decided to stay put until MrPicky got there. Ten minutes later I see a couple approach my couches (there are two), and they just sit down. They also fit the description. What cinched the deal was they then spoke in German. I figured the chances they wouldn't be the right people were so minimal I could take the risk. I introduced myself and we had a good laugh over the whole thing--they'd wandered over because there were no other sets of couches available, and they figured they'd just smoke me out eventually, LOL!

Life Goes On

I got a beautiful bouquet of flowers from my coworkers today.
Everyone has been very supportive, MrPicky especially. I don't know what I would do if it wasn't for him. I'm glad he and dad got to know one another.

Despite everything I feel very lucky.

Sunday Church

The weekend was absolutely gorgeous here. Warm, sunny, what else can you ask for?
Now, Sundays are all about relaxing. I think we managed quite well by first experimenting with tapas at La Tasca. They have tables outside, and in the bright sunshine (and what seemed to be +25C degrees) it really felt like summer. But that was not enough. Oh no.



We then proceeded to church.















And sat comfortably at the altar.











Drinks were a bit pricier than elsewhere, but one gladly pays the difference. We must try their food out at some point too, it looked quite good.
This city never ceases to amaze me.

What Have I Done To Deserve This?

I may have mentioned the fact that Nottingham has an endless amount of good, cheap restaurants. On Monday we were convinced we were pretty much through all the places worth going to (with an impressive list of at least 25 different places visited), and then we found it. A buffet that does incredible Indian food (I didn't even get to the Chinese or Thai...), Red Hot. And, to make matters worse, it's less than a two-minute walk from where we live.

It seems I'm going to have to start going to the gym three times a day just to keep my weight static. Losing any, at this point, is probably beyond possible.

Did I mention this place is near the best Chinese Buffet I've ever been to? That place is actually better than many Chinese restaurants I've been to.

And we live right by Scruffy's. Their mashed potatoes are honestly the best I've ever had--MrPicky held the record for the best mashed potatoes on the planet, and I was almost scared to find that one broken. Believe it or not.

I'm now relinquishing all hope of getting to 4550 Miles from Delhi ever again. Sigh.

I could start listing all the restaurants here, but there would be too many...

So there. I just look forward to taking fellow food-appreciator visitors around town, and watch their eyes pop out of their heads. Or buttons pop off their trousers, more likely.

Beat Me While I’m Still Down, Not Right When I’ve Managed to Get Up, OK?

Oh boy was I wrong last night. This morning I went to the wonderful café with free wireless only to find a notice on the door saying “Closed until further notice”.
I was there at 8am, right when I was supposed to start working. I then proceeded to trek over to the centre, trying to frantically locate another café with wireless. I managed to find a Café Nero eventually (great day for wearing not-so-comfortable-to-walk-in heels, it was supposed to be a 2min walk after all), and forked over £5 for 24-hr internet access. Well, it turns out they had no sockets for me to charge my laptop, and as I’d drained half of the battery last night expecting to plug it right in this morning at the previously mentioned wonderful café, I was in for another trek to yet another Nero (as my £5 investment is only good at Café Neros). I did find one, and was able to convince some people to move from the only table close enough for my battery cable’s reach.

Somebody threw MrPicky’s borrowed bike into the trash, and now that’s gone. Will be fun explaining that to the wonderful Samaritan who lent it to us out of the goodness of their heart. We still haven’t got our electricity bill (proof of address for our bank account), and it was supposed to arrive by yesterday. There’s no knowing when we’ll get internet either. The sporadic internet we get at the flat? That’s somebody else’s unprotected network, which they (understandably) switch off when they’re offline. Unfortunately for us (in this emergency state, you see) they do not seem to be internet addicts. They clearly aren’t WTers either.

But at least the sun is shining beautifully, and the birds are singing. Well, now that the throng of 20+ loud (words fail, and so does the decibel scale) teenagers have gone back to school or wherever they escaped from, I can imagine the birds singing outside.

Although I must say I’m now kind of nervous about what will happen next. Three Café Neros are not going to simultaneously close “until further notice”, are they? Are they?

It is worth mentioning that we must really love this place. Even though we’re getting shit shovelled on us at record-breaking speed, we still love it here. And that’s quite the achievement, all things considered.

Back from Oblivion--Megapost

We finally moved to Nottingham a week ago, and here’s how it’s going so far:

#1 Two hair-raising days at Ikea and a week of more hair-raising activities of furniture assembly later our new home is starting to take shape. If only someone had the energy to carry the roomful of cardboard boxes out. But our flat is really nice, our cats are settling in (I swear they were less harrowed after the flight than I was, and we got them out in record time), and we’ll have a nice, three-week breather before we have to carry a vanful of stuff all the way to the 2nd floor when our stuff from Finland arrives. How much would it cost to hire somebody to carry the boxes for us, I wonder? In the meantime I will proceed to increase my stamina (How many non-Brits does it take to change an innocent-looking ceiling lamp? Apparently two, armed to the teeth with all sorts of sharp and blunt don’t-run-with-these-or-somebody’s-going-to-get-hurt instruments) and bury my head in… well… alcohol? to ignore the coming dread.

#2 Despite all sorts of acrobatic maneuvers, we still have failed to secure a bank account or an internet connection at home. We’re living in hope day-by-day, waiting for the postman to arrive. Is postman-watching a national sport yet?

#3 My detailed account of our NY-LV-LA holiday is still nowhere to be seen. I can blame a multitude of things on this, including two weeks of pack-sleep-pack and fly-drive-shop-shop-sleep-unpack-assemble ad nauseam. But of course what it boils down is the fact that I haven’t had enough time to surf WT, let alone post on it, or update my blog. Must spend more work time on TT. And on the blog. Less time working. Gotta remember that one.

#4 I have successfully began my new job today. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. My morning began with a sluggish walk to the nearest Starbucks. Yes, I was prepared to pay the £10 for a day’s worth of internet, but when in a tight spot, squeeze yer already thin wallet. And what happened? I was unable to get intenet access of any kind, let alone one you pay for. At that point I was starting to worry, considering my options were pretty limited. My second option was a place that offers 30 mins of free internet to customers. I went there, trying to figure out how to arrange my work life according to perhaps two or three half-hour intenet slots. I was able to get online, but my joy was shortlived as I then proceeded to drop my mobile on the floor. Yes, you guessed correctly, it cracked, and for a grueling five minutes I thought it had gone the way of the dodo bird. Apparently there really is nothing tape can’t fix, as it now works perfectly well again. It was just the thought of being there, with no secure work access (which at that point was still not working and I really need that for work) and no phone, and no way of contacting MrPicky to come help me out. He did arrive, no armour or horse, but at that point I was more interested in his IT magic skills anyhow. And in a very knightly manner he did indeed relieve my distress (which, I might mention, was somewhat acute at that point) and provided much needed moral support.

I have saved the most horrendous part of this gruesome tale for last: all of this happened before 8:30 in the morning. Also before I’d had a drop of coffee.

But all is well, and I’m happy to have started my qualified-for-one’s-job-no-longer-temping life. Despite the fact I have to spend the next week (well, hopefully less but please, really, no longer, right?) working from a café –but they do have FREE WIRELESS (yes, you read correctly. I have free wireless for a month at the café now). Good? I don’t have to make coffee or food. I don’t have to pay the violently expensive £10 per day that I would’ve had the connection worked at Starbucks. Talk about a massive case of lucking out.Bad? Chairs are some kind of ancient torture devices (yes, they look gorgeous, but try sitting on furnishing-meant-to-be-eye-candy for 8 hrs), I have to dash out for a cigarette, keeping a watchful (and nervous which kind of defeats the point but anyway) eye on my laptop, and spending full workdays at a café will get expensive even if I do really only get two cups of coffee and a sandwich in the course of the day. Which I’ve gathered is pretty much the minimum if I don’t want my ass hauled out of here in the middle of important wo… oopsie, did I almost say work? Surfing, I mean.

#5 We’re more confident than ever that we made the right move moving here. So the clubs are death traps where you’ll either get shot or stabbed? We prefer being blissfully passed out from early drinking at that time anyhow. And, besides, the rumours are wildly exaggerated. The restaurant-café-bar scene here is truly amazing. Counting the 4-day trip in June, I have spent a total of 14 days in Nottingham, we’ve eaten out every day (we figured last week was the last week of “holiday” (although who was the sick fuck who thought that furnishing a flat from scratch by means of spending 20 hrs at Ikea and then countless days trying to assemble the mess would count as a holiday, inverted commas or not?), twice on some days, and we still haven’t gone to the same restaurant/pub/bar twice. I’m now starting to fear it may well be April before we’re done trying the new places and get to go to 4550 Miles from Delhi, the Best Indian Restaurant Ever.

#6 We finally saw Snakes on a Plane. Yes it was campy. Yes it was good. The fact that we have two movie theatres within a 5-min walk from the flat is blissful, especially since one is one of those colossal, megalomaniacal attempts at Hollywood barrage, and the other one shows independent movies we’ve been downloading till now. Of course the fact that our desktop computer (the mothership, in other words) is somewhere en route between here and Finland and the fact we have no internet to download with have absolutely nothing to do with this newfound love for movie theatres. Or should I say cinemas.

#7 Post-script: When I dragged my feet home, I found my wonderful MrPicky at home, no cardboard boxes in sight, and even wardrobe lights connected (a task I suspected would be completed in the gentle spring sunlight). Oh, and he craved chocolate. Which was a first (men just don't crave chocolate, ever. MrPicky normally rarely even wants any). So we went to the Hotel Chocolat, a chocolate shop in the center. Also known as Heaven On Earth. We even have internet access at home for the moment (sporadic but hey, gift horses, mouths and so on). I think I’ll now take a bath, then read the day’s papers while conducting scientific research into the benefits of chocolate.

Nottingham Part 3

Here's the hotel we stayed at. I can heartily recommend this to anybody going to N'ham --very nice

owners, clean rooms, free Internet and close to the center.
Here's their website: Park Hotel
I'd say Nottingham is excellent pissup material (for you WT people reading this),
amongst other things there's the best Indian restaurant I've been to (and I've been to many), 4550 Miles from Delhi
There's also a really great Turkish restaurant Antalya which is definitely worth visiting.

Not to mention the countless cafes, pubs, bars and clubs.
I'd say one would be very hard pressed to be bored in Nottingham. Or starve.

Can you tell I want to go back already?