Updating

I spent the best part of my evening sorting out pictures of places I visited while in the UK and uploading them to my Facebook. I realised that I didn't take full advantage of being there for such a long time. I have by no means finished sorting, but I'm a good way through.

In between the sorting I interviewed two housemate candiates. There is the 6'4 Dutch bloke with a name I can't pronunce who has a girlfriend and went a little wide eyed when I mentioned my writing of Erotica. Then there's the 5'8 bloke who sky dive on the weekends is an outdoor smoker and freely informed me he used to go to Fetish clubs at the mention of rudey nudey stories.

Anyway...a few pictures...

- Tintern Abbey in South Wales

- Chepstow Castle on the border of Wales and England

- Caerphilly Castle near Cardiff

Job Hunting

There's been little excitement lately except trying to sort out the Housesitter fallout. I've been spending my days looking at Seek and MyCareer then going into the city to visit agents. Ohh yeah and I've caught up on my movie watching and ironing.

A Moment

After a rather rotten day of visiting Recruitment agents being told my CV was too long, I was too experienced or not experienced enough for the role I applied for, I was too expensive or too cheap I got on the train home. I was listening to my iPod when I had a Muv moment. It may have been the music I was listening too that set it off, but I figure this is one in a long line of moments were water spontaneously leaks from my eyes and strangers avoid eye contact.

This memory was one from when I about 7. We were walking up Guildford high street and I said to her ‘you can never do anything to embarrass me.’

She promptly stuck her finger up her nose and I melted into a embarrassed pile that was begging her to stop.

The moment passed and I changed my tunes to something more upbeat…something in the form of The Offspring.

Air Travel

I changed my header quote today in direct response to my journey back to Aussie from the UK. Flying was always pain, but these days it’s a bitch.

I’ve never liked flying. I don’t like the small confined space you can call your own for the duration of the flight. I don’t like the boredom I always experience, even with a really good book. I don’t like the other passengers because they only think of themselves (seat back anyone?). I don’t like the pain I get in my ears when landing, ok it’s not as pain as it was before I had my wisdom teeth out, but it’s still there. Mostly, however, I don’t like the noises a plane makes. The subtle creeks and moans that wings make after take off and during landing and the time between. The noises the wheels makes as they clunk down and then clank and shudder back into their housing for in-flight stowage.

And of course now, thanks to a few religious zealots we have the process of getting on the plane. If you will indulge me for a moment I would like to talk you through my trip back from the UK from a purely flight focused point of view.

First it took 30 minutes to get into the car park at Terminal 3 at Heathrow. Then a further 10 minutes to get a lift down one level (stairs emergency only). Then I waited 25minutes to check in where I was allocated a middle seat. I checked my suitcase and showed my carry on luggage to the lady (a wheelie mini suitcase and an umbrella). I walked up to security, said my goodbyes to my sister and her hubby before queuing again to have my luggage scanned. I put the suitcase on the belt but was told I would have to surrender the brolly or check it (incidentally I took this brolley on a flight from the US to UK as hand luggage). I was escorted back downstairs to check the brolley. Back upstairs I had to queue again. When I got to the x-ray part again I had to remove my watch, my belt, my coat and shoes. After collecting my bags and getting dressed I had to have my shoes scanned again. I then walked for 20 minutes to get to my gate.

10 hours of flying between two Korean gents who didn’t speak English was not at all entertaining but Kung Fu Panda and The Bank Job was. The Korean lady in front of me (who didn’t speak English) thought I was causing trouble when I pushed her seat back up when she put it back the second the tyres left the tarmac. I spent the first twenty minutes after the seatbelt sign had gone off trying to explain that I really didn’t have an issue with her seat being back, just the timing.

Got off plane and walked to Transit area of Inchon Airport. Three hours to kill. No problem, the first 30 minutes was taken up by getting through a security check. Once again the belt, watch and shoes removed. Did a little shopping for gifts then went to gate lounge. Fell asleep, nearly missed flight call. Gave boarding pass to lady, went down escalators only the have to have carefully and precision packed bags opened, riffled through and checked before boarding plane.

11 hours of flying stretched out across three seats made the second leg pass very quickly.

Passport Control was good, Welcome Home.

Baggage pick up carousel 5, brolley at the big stuff pick up bay at the other end of the baggage hall. Picked up suitcase, then copped attitude for baggage bloke for waiting for an umbrella ‘when you could just buy one at a two dollar shop’. Joined queue to get out of baggage hall through the green channel. But you don’t just walk through a green or red channel anymore, you have to have ALL your bags scanned unless a nice lady/gent green stamps your entry card. A nice lady green stamped my card and I was out.

The food was good.

Hmmm...I wonder?

I was in a lift yesterday travelling to the 27th floor of a building in the heart of Sydney. Is it just me that thinks the when OTIS, the manufactures of the lift I was travelling in (and I'm sure hundreds of thousands around the world) should have given a little more thought to the locality of their Sydney operations?

Ricketty Street

Coming Home

I'm leaving the UK on Wednesday.

As soon as I changed my flights and decided to stop trying to make thing work here, my eye stopped leaking. Weird, but I suppose, I call Australia home.