Squirk's Overseas Experience

I want to talk to someone about soybeans.

2009-01-05T01:00:00.009+11:00

Have you ever had a bad day at work? Ever steamed in frustration after talking to an idiot? I'm sure you, gentle reader, are far above such behaviour but I've been spring-cleaning my inbox and I found my friend's little piece of spleen-venting:

I am currently working at the Christchurch City Council in the call centre, its OK, ppl are pretty grumpy, and if they re not grumpy then they are asking the weirdest questions which make you want to say WHY THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING THE COUNCIL!!!?!??!?!
We started writing these down, these are just some of them!
"What's the phone number so can I get a job picking mushrooms?"
"Hi, we are having a function in September and want to know where we can get some Indian music CDs?"
"I'd like to import an exotic cat, can I?"
"What was the background music played at the Art Gallery two Sundays ago?"
"Hi, I want to talk to someone about soybeans..."
"My daughter's boyfriend is being released from prison, can you tell me who to contact about this!"
"I would like a list of all the free doctors there are in Christchurch."
Someone has rung to say he has built a garage. He rang requesting we now remove the street tree that is blocking the vehicle access way to the garage.
"I have a couple of beds, who do I call?"
"Do the service centres do drivers' licences?"
"Do you know the number of the Christchurch Pony Club?"
What are we, Telecom?

The message was dated October 2006, so I guess the list grew quite a bit after that. I wonder if the full list is available online anywhere?

Mo-vember 2008

2008-11-19T01:36:00.004+11:00

It's Mo-vember again. The month formerly known as November when men all over the world (but mostly Australia) grow silly facial hair for giggles. And charity. It's changing the face of men's health, don'tchaknow. (Apparently this year it's doing something about depression at the same time.)

Nobody in Britain knew what I was on about when I became a Mo'Bro three years ago, but times have changed. I've noticed a British disbeliever form his own team this year.

Check out my MoSpace page to track my progress, and be the first to sponsor me.

Saved from the Drafts: Watching films

2008-07-27T19:46:00.003+10:00

This piece was originally written on April 18th, with the intent of posting it some time later that week. Here it is, some three months later.

I've been watching movies. By myself. (This is actually something of a milestone.)

I've seen a couple of good 'uns, and a couple of pretty forgettable films too. The Dendy cinema on Circular Quay has been pretty good to me so far so I think I may have to make it a regular after-work stop. They have "festival"-style films, super-friendly staff and you get beer with your popcorn. What more could you ask for?

I also got around to watching my copy of Graveyard, which I received as part of a package deal with my Hate Song comics about two years ago.

It seems that ridiculously out-of-whack timescales is a common theme in my life.

Bats are awesome

2008-04-14T04:41:00.000+10:00

In the same way that I was excited by seeing actual squirrels when I was in London, I was suprised and intrigued when I noticed actual bats flapping their way overhead. Suprisingly, they did look just like symbol Batman uses.

I don't know if this swarming is a regular occurrence; unless you count Gotham, I'd never heard of bats in the city.

I just wish I had a camera (with batteries) on me at the time.

Housing in Sydney

2008-03-20T11:54:00.000+11:00

Finding accommodation in Sydney is apparently super-easy if you're a female Asian student looking to share a room on a long-term basis.

I'm none of those things, sadly, and that makes my job a lot harder.

I did find a room by myself in Bondi Junction, a conveniently-located transport hub, and almost took it – twice.

I met the people — a British designer and a French "cat-lady" — and got on well enough with them. It seemed a better situation than sharing a room in the industrial back-streets of central Sydney, but I didn't want to jump into anything so I asked for a day or two to think about it.

Actually, I was so impressed by the place that I pretty much took the next day from house-hunting, just glancing over the headlines and thinking how they paled compared to my little winner. Imagine my disappointment, then, when I e-mailed to say that I'd take it and discovered they'd given the room to a Spanish bloke who'd been recommended.

Gutted as I am, I can't do anything about it so I've gone back to searching. I'm disappointed in myself that I don't have anything else lined (and I already let go of the best room-share so far).

Goodbye, laptop "Corse"

2008-03-20T08:00:00.000+11:00

I mentioned that my laptop was broken. Now it's gone. And it's all my fault.

Although I figured that it would cost more to repair than to replace, I figured I'd get a quote on it anyway. I just needed to get the address of some local repair guys so I could get them to take a look at it. (Apparently LaptopTec are pretty good at repairing individual components rather than swapping out entire boards like most folks do.)

I put the laptop in a bag, got the address from the local cybercafé, then got distracted looking for a place to stay. By the time I was done, I'd organised a viewing at a nice place in Bondi Junction -- and left without my bag. The place had signs up saying "thieves are about" and "watch your stuff" so I kept checking it every so often, making sure it was still on the floor under my desk.

I obviously had some kind of brain failure, because I utterly forgot about it until I'd been gone for about ten minutes. Unsuprisingly, it was gone when I got back. I left my details at the desk in case it shows up, but I'd be foolish to expect it back now.

It wasn't much of a computer -- it was three years old, and about the cheapest that was going at the time -- so I'm not as fazed as you might expect. Heck, I'd seen enough posters up saying things like "help I've lost my laptop and my thesis/novel/music collection that I've been working on for years please return the laptop I'll give you money" so I was pretty big on keeping anything important in at least two places.

There's an old saying in IT: No backup, no sympathy.

Sydney: First Impressions

2008-03-15T19:25:00.005+11:00

I fought with ridiculously early flights, broken wrist straps, and angry French girls but I made it to Sydney in one piece.

I thought that we went in for "what you see is what you get" pricing* here Down Under, but I found myself haggling over the price of my hostel here in Chinatown.

I've been here a couple of days now and I've done little more than wander the streets. That's fine by me, though. Wandering is inexpensive (although the cost of aloe vera drinks keeps climbing) and healthy (apart from the skin cancer and traffic fumes), and in the old European capitals it was guaranteed to be interesting.

Here, I've discovered a lot of chain stores, dodgy ethnically-themed eateries, and heritage-plaqued buildings. Much like London, really. The only difference is that the heritage plaques read more like:

This is an early example of Federation Warehouse style of building. The builder and architect are not known.

instead of:

Charles Darwin, noted botanist and biologist, lived here when he was a student.

Oh, and the Oriental food here is actually pretty reasonable, as opposed the excessive blandness most of the middle-Eastern food in London.

I've missed not one but two improvisational comedy shows: the cheap one because I couldn't find the street, the expensive one because I was in an Internet cafe looking for accommodation.

Speaking of accommodation, I'm not having much luck on the Internet front. I might have to start calling the numbers on those little tear-off paper signs that people stick on lamp-posts.

Also, I'm rather disappointed that my laptop is now out of commission. I'm considering buying an Apple Macbook.

*A local shoe-shiner was interviewed in the Time Out, where he complains that people don't tip in this city.

Daily updates

2008-03-13T14:10:00.004+11:00

Since my last post, I've left the UK and gone travelling again. I've passed through Japan and Australia on my way to a wedding in New Zealand, and I've been visiting friends and family around the country while I'm here.

Right now* I'm in Christchurch. It's my home town, and the final stop on my New Zealand tour. It's been very weird being back. I'll shortly be heading to Sydney, Australia. I haven't had such great Internet access on the road, so I'm updating Twitter (and Facebook) from my mobile phone.

You can follow me on Twitter and receive all my updates.

* At the time I wrote this story, I was in Christchurch. By the time I was able to post it, I was actually in Sydney.

Missing person

2007-10-09T21:54:00.000+10:00

I received a worried phone call yesterday. It was my father, who had been desperately trying to get hold of me for some time. Apparently he'd even looked on "the Internet", so things must have been pretty bad. I've still got the same phone number as I've had for about a year, so I'm not sure how that particular confusion occurred.

Anyway, I thought I should probably let the world know that I still alive, still employed, still housed and still a master of uselessness.

Sorted

2007-06-07T08:25:00.000+10:00

London's a big place, but somebody's got to live all over it.

When I arrived, I lived in an ex-council estate in the East (with its mini-gangsters), an actual house with a fake room up North (in the middle of the Jewish community), in a fancy pad with en-suite and clothes dryer out West (where posh people are) and now I've finally taken up residence in the South London.

I've been accused of North-bank centric attitudes in the past, and I've Before this year, I'd been over the river to the South bank only a handful of times (and yes, most of those were so that I could walk along the River Thames looking at the North bank).

Specifically, I've taken up residence above a disused Mexican pizza restaurant in Wandsworth, the brighter borough (although at least two cranky old ladies would disagree).

It's got a good selection of dodgy take-away joints, nearby green parkland and easy bus access to places like Hammersmith and Clapham Common.

Speaking of Clapham Common, the Chinese State Circus have a show this afternoon. I'd quite like to see some Wu-shu Warriors slicing up junk and flying acrobatics.

Homeless again

2007-06-04T04:09:00.000+10:00

I've come to the end of my temporary one-month tenancy at Gunnersbury, and still haven't found anything. Alex and I were looking to find a place together for a while, but that's harder than we thought.

That means that from about 6pm this evening, I'm once again homeless.

It seems to be a common theme...

At least I'm probably going to get paid in a couple of weeks. That'll be well good.

And for those of you keeping track

Thursday's date went terribly. And fantastically. I see complication in the future...

Post now or forever hold your peace

2007-05-06T00:00:00.000+10:00

I am alive, I've just been absolutely terrible at posting. I have a job and a home, although both are short-term affairs.

Living near work hasn't helped my arrival time. I'm actually weirdly pleased to have the pressure of work back again.

I've seen a lot of Kiwis lately. I may even live with one soon. Half of Canterbury appears to have moved into south-west London. I've had a few big phone catch-ups with old friends, but even when the connection is OK, timezone differences get in the way.

Not everyone will understand

The curse of Cozzie's cohorts continues. Drinking with her is a risky business, it seems!

Three in a row for Australia. Misunderstandings from the past, sorted. An armless knock-down fight, then only minds.

The case of the very close bus stops and the nocturnal detour to The Mall.

And finally

Happy birthday, Izzy!

Why I'm on the Facebook

2007-04-28T20:29:00.000+10:00

I've long resisted signing up to the massive social networking sites MySpace and Facebook. MySpace, especially, in that its members are often the loud prattish kids that I would not tolerate in real life and the pages look like Geocities homepages from 1998 have come back to haunt us.

I certainly had concerns about future employers looking at my personal history, which I'm not particularly keen on. I already have a blog and I already have a place to share my photos. So why bother?

Mostly, because my address book is always out of date, and I am notorious for not keeping in contact with people. That's one of the main reasons for this blog, by the way. This way, I don't feel so guilty for not spending massive amounts of time sending e-mail to everyone.

A lot of my friends are or were at university, so I've signed up to the Facebook. It's popular enough to count as an epidemic, as far as I can tell. I've long suspected that it's addictive, and I'm now discovering the awful truth.

Discovering old friends. The status updates. The wall-writing. The silly groups. Oh my.

Before long, I'll be a horrible Facebook junkie and I'll be forced to close my account like one chap described in the Guardian.

What have I done?

2007-04-24T19:59:00.000+10:00

The job in Amsterdam looked pretty good, although I had a few concerns. I would have liked to have a few offers on the table before making a decision, but they wanted an answer sharpish. I figured it would be an interesting experience either way, and as an added bonus I'd be able to squeeze in a trip home before I started work.

I'd probably be home right now, in fact, were it not for one or two words.

I verbally accepted the offer, mentioning that the salary was a bit lower than I'd like (despite the wonderful benefits). The recruitment agent, bless him, came back with their answer: (emphasis mine)

Based on his age and experience, we think the offer is reasonable.

That threw me. Blatant age discrimination? It sure sounded like it. I tried to think of alternative explanations: maybe they meant to type based on his range of experience but made a couple of typos? Nothing seemed plausible, except that someone was actually considering my age to be a significant factor for pay.

The recruiter didn't understand, and thought I was being unreasonable. He claimed that if I was really interested in the job, I wouldn't let something as silly as unfair discrimination get in my way. I know my morals have taken a beating from life in the big city, but I hope that I'd do the same thing if an otherwise perfect job came with a 2% bonus for white employees.

The short of it is, I'm not taking the job.

Homelessness update

2007-04-16T00:00:00.000+10:00

The last couple of weeks has seen me bounce from hostel to dusty hostel, so I was overjoyed at the chance to stay at Chez Skarnz while he was out of town visiting the missus. I slept in an actual bed, and I was the only person in the room! It was brilliant!

Massive props to that fellow.

Take the "Whether?" with you

2007-04-15T22:28:00.000+10:00

The Dutch folks must have liked me, because they've made me a job offer. The big question now is whether to take it.

It looks great

The company culture seeemed pretty fantastic — the phrase like one, big happy family came to my mind just after a couple of minutes waiting in the kitchen.

The salary could be better, but the benefits are the best I've seen. Seriously. They have allowances that cover language lessons, sport, travelling to work, buying a computer at home, and even rent. There's plenty of holiday time.

It's for a new project, so I'd be responsible for choosing the technology as well as making it useful for people. The direction they'd like to go is Plone and Python, with which I've had great experience.

But is it for me?

Actually, the role has a certain element of déjà vu. It's more management than development, and there's more than a touch of system administration. Development is a core activity, but it just may not be room to write software every day. In other words, it's just like my last role in New Zealand.

I don't mind a little bit of management, and I certainly don't mind system administration. But I learn the most with development, and I like learning. I even wrote software developer on my immigration card.

Overall opinion

I think I'll have a great time with the organisation, if I take the job. It'll be relaxed, and fun. If I was settling down, it would be close to perfect.

I don't know about challenge or career direction, though.

Welcome to London (Population 7)

2007-04-11T02:52:00.000+10:00

That's right, folks, I'm back in London (at least for this week). But where is everybody else? I've caught up with a few of Londonites, but I've had a hard time getting in touch with some people. It seems half the city is on holiday!

Carly, Jack, Giulia, Kellie... where are you?

The interview in Amsterdam went well so stay tuned for my musings on that subject. (Apparently it's really quite difficult to check references in New Zealand.)

Goodbye Berlin

2007-04-04T10:43:00.000+10:00

I've got a flight in the morning to Amsterdam for a job interview. This Easter weekend, I might be somewhere a bit more familiar...

Good old Blighty.

Is anyone going to be in the London area this weekend?

Tales from the middle of the woods

2007-03-29T09:22:00.000+10:00

I was walking down a path through the dark forest last night when I saw it. A shape in the darkness, on the path ahead of me. Something like a dog, I thought.

I slowed my pace, unsure of myself. The dog-thing glared at me, and I waited.

Suddenly a troop of six or so little piglet-shapes trotted across the path, with the big beasty following suit.

After that, the crunches and snarls from the trees weren't quite so creepy -- after all, wild pigs don't attack people, right? Right?

The two Indonesian dudes that were coming the other way hadn't seen the pig and remained utterly freaked out, however.

Good times.

Homeless

2007-03-25T03:53:00.000+10:00

Without address. No fixed abode. As of midday today, I am officially homeless.

I'm going to find a hostel to check into for a week or so, and see what happens on the job front. I had a bunch of interest from various recruiters on Friday, so that's encouraging. Two roles in particular stand out, but neither one is in Berlin.

Pondering my next move, I realised that I'm actually homeless in a way that I never really appreciated before now. If I ever did need a break, I can't really go home and get back on my feet. I don't even know where I would call home at this stage. London? Auckland? Christchurch?

I'm starting to think that home is more of a state of mind than a place. Like always, it's not where you are, it's who you're with.

The clock keeps ticking

2007-03-22T21:31:00.000+11:00

Living in the student residence has made all the difference. I've had a constant expectation of social interaction, which means that I've spent very little time on personal pursuits like reading or software projects. I've had no convenient Internet or phone access, which means that I've had relatively little contact with the world outside Berlin. It also means that job-seeking is a major chore. To top it all off, the sheer cost of this room has put a big dent in my savings.

My original plan included looking into the work situation here, finding nothing, and returning to London. That might still happen, but it's a bit more complex now.

I've enjoyed learning the language, and going back to an English-speaking country to work seems too comfortable. On the other hand, my German is still at a relatively basic level: it's entirely possible that working in a German office will push straight through enjoyably challenging and right into frustratingly difficult.

To top it off, I'm starting to feel what could be described as homesickness. I'd like to visit good old New Zealand, eat some tasty food and catch up with friends and family. At the same time, I don't think I'm ready to come home for good. If living in an English-speaking country is too comfortable, I think I need a new category for living in the country I grew up in. Then again, challenges come from all kinds of sources – not just work or language.

The Clash understand

2007-03-19T21:25:00.000+11:00

My return flight is scheduled for this Sunday, but I've got to decide whether to take it. I'm currently unemployed, and after school finishes next week I'll be homeless. The choice should be easy, right?

Yeah, it should be. But it isn't.

It's been a fantastic couple of months. Let me tell you, though, it feels like much more. They say time goes faster as we get older; I reckon it's more to do with how we spend our time. Working long hours was certainly rewarding in its own way, but I sometimes found the months flitting by as though they were cars passing on the street.

My life has changed again, pretty drastically, which is always a bit un-nerving. At the same time, I know that I've changed before and I'll change again. In some respects I feel like I'm living life backwards: I've gone from running my own business, to consulting, to working for a big company to working for a small company. Now I'm a poor student, living a relatively care-free life. What comes next? I don't know.

Bon Jovi understands

2007-03-01T23:12:00.000+11:00

I booked an 8-week course, and I'm just past the half-way mark. I've already learnt more here than I expected; not just German, but about myself.

My first couple of weeks were a bit confused, but I knew they would be: I was changing my life pretty drastically. Then I started to wonder if I was too late to learn; I seemed to have a lot of trouble in class. At the same time, I felt like the outsider at home. I wouldn't say there were problems, but I didn't find myself "clicking" with anyone.

Part of it boils down to simply being in a different situation than the other students. Most people in this school are here on a break from University, and they're here on their parents' dime.

A few weeks later and I'm feeling much more comfortable with the people and the situation, not to mention the language.

Where will I be living in two months' time? I can't really say at this stage, but it'll be wherever the work is. As much as I'd love to dedicate the year to studenty life, my savings only last so long before they need a top-up...

Films and understanding

2007-02-28T00:09:00.000+11:00

It's been a pretty filmy weekend for me.

Our little family watched a dubbed German version of Clint Eastwood's award-winning Million Dollar Baby, but nobody's German was good enough to understand much of what happened. We didn't have any subtitles to help us.

I started watching Silence of the Lambs in much the same way, and thought I might have a chance because I'd already seen it. But no.

We also saw the original English version of The Departed, which I enjoyed. Unfortunately, with our mixed-language party, I think I was the only one who really followed it all. DVDs with subtitles are the way to go, I say.

Sachsenhausen

2007-02-26T23:45:00.000+11:00

There's a concentration camp, called Sachsenhausen, an hour or two's train ride from Berlin. It was a "forced labour" camp so the stories (and facilities) weren't as horrific those you'd expect from an "extermination" camp like Auschwitz. More inmates died from exhaustion and malnutrition than from systematic killing, but the kinds of abuse that went on are nothing short of evil.

We saw the yard where men were punished with a "pole hanging": hung from a pole by their wrists, so that they not only dislocated their shoulders but had to support their whole body's weight with only ligaments and sinew. This is the same courtyard in which prisoners were ordered to stand at attention for the entire day without pause, often in rain and freezing cold.

The medical unit was used for supremely unethical medical experiments and the pathology staff were only allowed to use one of seven "approved" causes of death for the medical records.

We saw the toilets that men were drowned in, and the unventilated storage room in which groups of men suffocated, but we also saw videos of how the SS (those who ran the camp, and also used it for training) presented themselves to the people in the local town. It seems that the townsfolk were quite happy to have the garrison there, and the SS seemed just like any other military unit; their football team played in the local leagues, their brass band played concerts in the town hall and they even held open days with balloons and sweets for the children.

My Italian friend asked me, as a New Zealand boy, what I learnt in school of WW2 and the Nazis. Despite several of my school friends' extensive knowledge on the topic, I came through with only a passing familiarity.

I'm slowly remedying that.

Mixed messages

2007-02-25T07:10:00.000+11:00

The famous gap between "he says" and "she says" has opened again. Actually he's not saying much (and I'm not asking) but from what she's said and what I've seen, he thinks it's the beginning of a wonderful courtship. She's just got a fresh start in a new country and doesn't want to get into any relationship right now. As some readers will know, that's a position I can completely understand.

It seems like they need to talk out their differences, but there's going to be a delay. Until then, I guess she'll keep putting her hands in her pockets to avoid holding his. Poor folks. Mediterranean people are famously emotional so I really hope that things work out nicely.

Friday night party

2007-02-22T23:37:00.000+11:00

The student residence has a lot of rules. Some are just plain retarded, like "absolute silence after 10pm". Some are slightly more reasonable, like "clean your dishes immediately after use". We're equal-opportunity, though, so we ignore them all.

Isabel, one of the "old family" here, was leaving Germany behind and returning to Spain. Her flight was Saturday morning, so we needed to celebrate on Friday. All the old family came back and ate a Cuban rice dinner with the new family (thus breaking the "no guests" rule) and then we all hung around playing a famous drinking game for a couple of hours (thus breaking the "no parties" rule, probably).

By the way, did you know that there is a drink called "martini" that is not a martini cocktail? It's apparently spirit by itself, and it tastes great with a slice of lemon. But don't mix it with vodka, red wine, white wine and multivitamin fruit cordial unless you're sure that you won't draw the "horrible cocktail" card when it's your turn.

Later, in the pub, we had our own little scandal; an "old family" Italian getting smoochy with a "new family" Spaniette.

The Italian slept over (on the couch, I might add), thus breaking the "only paying residents may sleep here" rule.

How I speak

2007-02-12T23:10:00.000+11:00

I'd been living and studying here in Berlin for just a couple of weeks before I noticed that it felt weird to write in pure English. At home, I've started speaking German pretty much exclusively. It's a great, because it's visible progress.

In my first week, I could barely function in spoken German. The second week, I could understand most of what my flatmates said but only speak in the simplest possible terms (no past tense, for example; everything happens now!). As my fourth week begins, I'm feeling far more comfortable. I'm even starting to understand television.

It's suprisingly hard to resist dropping a whole bunch of German words into this post, but I'll try. I find myself thinking in German a lot of the time, or thinking in English with German grammar. I must now to my next class go.

Movies and TV

2007-02-12T22:37:00.000+11:00

Berlin is mad about film right now thanks to the Berlinale film festival. I'd never heard of it, but they say it's the next biggest film event after Cannes. There's a boatload of stars including Matt Damon and Angelina Jolie (who just bought a house around the corner from me), Robert DeNiro and Cate Blanchett. I watched the red carpet outside the Palast Berlinale just one night but only recognised Jeff Goldblum and William Dafoe.

I watched a game show called Quiz Taxi on German TV last night. I could only understand parts of it, but it's a brilliant concept: Who Wants To Be A Millionaire on wheels.

Contestants get into what they think is an ordinary taxi cab, but they soon discover the truth. They earn money by answering questions until they reach their destination. Three questions wrong and they lose everything (and also have to get out of the taxi wherever they happen to be!).

The best part is the wildcards: they can phone a friend, or they can pull over and ask some random pedestrians. It's sad but funny to see old men in hats shuffle away slowly from the screaming girls in the back of a taxi.

More old-school TV

2007-02-10T00:27:00.000+11:00

I'm still without convenient internet access, so this is a post I prepared earlier, just like on those cooking shows.

The copyright-infringing intertubes runneth over! Someone's been going through their VHS tapes and uploading choice clips to YouTube:

What Now with Simon Barnett, from about 1990
An interview with Waverley. (About 2:00 in, you can see Nick Harrison running up the stairs looking just like my compatriot Barnes.)
The famous You're not in Guatemala now, Dr Ropata
Back when TV used to stop broadcasting overnight, there was the Goodnight Kiwi.

I'd be interested if anyone finds the early-morning clips from way back, like TV One's national anthem thing or TV3's original one with Russell Rooster and Kerry Kea.

Minor progress

2007-02-07T00:15:00.000+11:00

I'm into my second week in Berlin and I think I'm settling in OK. My German is definitely improving: I can usually understand my flatmates when they speak German amongst themselves, although when I talk it's usually pretty simple stuff. I still get completely lost when a real German speaks, though; too many words, way too fast. I think it'll be a while before I understand television.

Berlin is an interesting city with some amazing buildings, old and new. Actually, the contrasts are evident everywhere, especially between the former East and West sides — even though the Berlin Wall fell some 15 years ago. Looking over the city from the roof of the Reichstag was a memorable experience — I'll post pictures if I can.

I still have only limited Internet access, so my e-mail backlog is growing (along with the number of photos I have yet to share).

I wouldn't want to leave you with nothing to read, though, so I might start posting from my secret archives.

Tchüss!

Wilkommen

2007-01-29T21:15:00.000+11:00

I'm here, I'm alive, and my German is awful.

I had something of a mission trimming down my possessions to a level that I could take on the plane. Big thanks to Barnes and Kellie — I couldn't have done it without them.

Even so, I'm pretty sure I chose the wrong things to take, the wrong accommodation and probably the wrong direction in life. Oh well.

The people I'm staying with are great. There's an amazing mix of people there, and in fact the course itself is the same. I think that everybody comes from a different country, and nobody is American.

It's pretty cold here!

Winter already?

2007-01-27T10:53:00.000+11:00

From my window 2
Originally uploaded by Squirk.

Guess what I saw when I looked out my window the other day...

In other news, this is my last night in London. It's been swell.

The countdown continues

2007-01-24T07:34:00.000+11:00

Four more sleeps until I leave England.

I've packed most of the essentials, organised my books into labelled piles. It's sad to see how many books are in the I bought them but I haven't read them yet pile. There's a fair number of unseen DVD movies, too, including Flash Gordon and the original Wicker Man.

I'm still considering an additional suitcase (for a grand total of two) to carry books and clothes. I'd much rather travel light, though. I arrived in London with just one backpack; I'd like to leave it the same way. (Sadly, the backpack was separated from its handy zip-off daypack in the Great Drunken Theft of '05. It shall be sorely missed.)

Good afterble constanoon

2007-01-19T17:10:00.000+11:00

YouTube is hosting a montage of road safety commercials since New Zealand introduced its hard-hitting advertising campaign in 1995. The ads over here seem positively tame compared to most of those!

The soft music and nostalgia factor makes it more sad than horrifying, I find. Actually, I think The Cars' song Drive is a brilliantly emotive song and probably a perfect choice for this advert's message.

Except for Danny on the porch, I think I remember every single one of them. It's got most of the classics, including the ever-quotable same day, David and she was only four singer. I couldn't see Mark your car's on fire nor the turn it off vampire, though.

Sadly, it's harder to find the individual ads themselves; the LTSA does provide some archived material along with their explanation on how the campaign works, but none of the good 'uns.

Good afterble constanoon!

Reasonable force

2007-01-10T13:05:00.000+11:00

The police in Atlanta, Georgia, apparently attacked a historian over the horrific crime of jaywalking.

From the notes:

After being thrown on the ground and handcuffed, the former Oxford don was formally arrested, his hands cuffed behind his back. Several policemen pressed hard on his neck and chest, leaving the mild-mannered scholar, who's never gotten so much as a parking ticket, bruised and in pain.

I dearly hope this was the result of a single, non-representative officer on a power-trip (and not an indication of wide-spread, systematic problems with the US police force).

Sleep like the dead

2007-01-08T05:34:00.000+11:00

As it so often happens when I'm left to my own devices, my sleeping habits have become those of a late shift-worker.

One unfortunate side-effect of bedding down at around 6:00 am (and not rising again for almost twelve hours) is that I missed out on Lars von Trier's film The Idiots:

A group of perfectly intelligent young people decide to react to society's cult of an aimless, non-creative and non-responsible form of intelligence by living together in a community of "idiots". Their main activity becomes going out into the world of "normal" people and pretending to be mentally retarded. They take advantage of this situation to create anarchy everywhere they go and try by every possible means to make people annoyed, disturbed, miserable, ridiculous, angered, and shocked...

It was running as part of the Prince Charles Cinema's Greatest Hits Sundays, another of their programmes which I have left severely underutilised.

I only have a couple more weekends before I leave the country!

Nostalgia and, er, new-stalgia?

2007-01-07T13:31:00.000+11:00

Lucky Mr Bob is able to visit the Chur-Chur but I've had to make do with flying over my old haunts using Google Maps Mobile — boy, does it take me back!

I traced around the maps, finding a bunch of the houses I used to live in. (Anyone who's driven around Christchurch with me will remember my almost constant cries of I used to live down there!)

The whole thing brought back so many memories. Like swordfighting with flax-sticks on Marine Parade; crawling through secret hedge corridors in Keyes Road; reading the news from the clouds in Blake Street; building snowmen in Weston Road; recording parody mix-tapes in Rayburn Ave.

Wasn't childhood awesome? I mean, why should playing imagination games with friends be exclusive to kids?

Sick

2007-01-05T04:40:00.000+11:00

I've been feeling pretty rotten over the last couple of days. I'm talking shakes and jitters, befuddling headaches, near-hallucinatory dreams; all that lovely stuff. Thankfully, my condition has improved to the point where I'm just regular old grotty, and I can keep myself entertained with reading and stuff.

Oh, and in other health news, I just received my European Health Insurance Card. This means that if I need treatment while outside the UK, it's all right that can happen.

Prosit Neujahr! Happy New Year!

2007-01-01T14:24:00.000+11:00

Warning: very long post ahead.

Wahey! It's 2007 already. We all live in The Future now.

I remember thinking about the future. I remember realising that we couldn't just keep using years beginning with 19; we had to run out sometime. I worked out how old I would be when the time came, and thought to myself: I can't imagine being that old. I'll almost be a proper adult!

These days, it's those 19— years that seem so far away.

What does 2007 hold for me?

I proclaim this year to be The Year Of Doing Stuff Properly, No Seriously For Real. I've done a lot of things in my life; I've seen what's out there. I don't think I'll stop Exploring and Discovering, but it might be time to ramp up the Building side.

I won't go listing my whole goal catalogue (especially with so many of them being technical or geeky), but in 2007 I expect to achieve goals like:

Learn a language well enough to chat at the bar (or the bus stop)
Cook decent meals on a regular basis (groceries not restaurants)
Learn some kind of structured dance (more than adlib monkey-flapping)
Live somewhere long enough to really talk about it
Work as a contractor or freelance
Develop software in a truly agile team

I'd still like to fit some poetry, acting or a musical instrument in there somewhere, but that's not really going to be in-theme.

Romance

No full-time relationships for me, hopefully. Like sushi from the sushi-man, I've had enough of that to do me for a good while to come.

Of course, I suppose the dancing and the cooking would work much better with company. I'll probably wind up accidentally falling into another relationship. Gah.

Work

I expect to spend a good chunk of the year out of the workforce. Study will be a big change for me, but it'll be a refreshing experience.

I expect work to be challenging when I am gainfully employed, and I'll love almost every minute of it because it'll the good kind of challenging.

Travel

Quiet and solid, compared with the whirlwind of 2005 and the lightning storm of 2006.

I think I'll appreciate my own back-yard, and see more of Britain. (I'd like to say the same about Germany while I'm there, but I think time and money will keep that on a leash).

Friends

I've been running low on super-close mega-friends. That's mostly my fault for keeping myself to myself (and for being in a different country).

I'm not going to deliberately work on this, but I wouldn't be suprised if taking classes gives me good opportunities to bond with my fellows. Theatre and film was brilliant for that.

Sports

As if.

Life management

I'll put a bunch of techniques to use in the hopes of improving my personal productivity. Some will work for a while, some will keep working, and one will radically change my life.

Wow, I just spent several hours trying to respond to GodAwfulPoet's wonderful greeting. I might split up this post into a series when I wake up.

Update: I did actually split the posts but never published them like that.

Update March 2007: Almost a quarter through the year and the predictions are going all right. Now they're serving as excellent encouragement.

My seductive style is...

2006-12-31T09:41:00.000+11:00

Via GodAwfulPoet, another silly quiz:

It seems Mel has also beat me to posting.

Sun-shiny dreams, concrete reality

2006-12-30T08:33:00.000+11:00

Many of you know that I'm moving to Germany in a few weeks. My general plan was to move to Berlin, study for a few months and see if I could find a job. A bit of research has shown that plan to be hopeful at best, and I'll probably be back in London by April.

It all boils down to work and income, effectively. My savings won't stretch that far if I'm not earning, and there is pretty much zero chance of me getting a job in Germany before my money runs out. Actually, the chance of me getting a job in Germany at all — especially Berlin — is pretty much zero. They seem to care even more deeply about paper qualifications than the British, and unemployment is rife. (About 17% of Berlin is out of work compared to London's 7%.)

(According to an article in the Telegraph, turning down a job in any industry is grounds for cutting someone's unemployment benefit — even the sex industry.)

The courses I'm looking at are offered in both Berlin and Munich, at much the same prices.

Joyous week

2006-12-28T08:38:00.000+11:00

It's Christmas time again, and I wish you all a wonderful week. Several friends, old and new, have put in the effort to send season's greetings and I appreciate each one.

Their messages contrast sharply with my own seasonal efforts. I have sent no postcards and no greeting cards, sent no text messages. I've made just one family phone call, and that was more for my sister's birthday than for Christmas. I sent but a single e-mail message with explicitly Christmas content.

I did enjoy the relaxed company of friends in South East Nowhere. We all brought food so that we could cook together, we raised a glass or two in good cheer, and won £51 on scratch cards.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

Interesting times

2006-12-23T02:44:00.000+11:00

Is it weird to have a pint with a tourist when the only connection you have is that you used to date that person's daughter?

Hypothetically.

Search and you will find?

2006-12-21T23:45:00.000+11:00

It's always entertaining to see other people's searches out of context. I even get a chuckle looking through my own history, sometimes — I can't always remember the story behind a particular search term. For instance, flaccid meat might confuse me until I remembered that was the production team behind the film Puppy Love.

In stark contrast, I can think of no reasonable explanation for some of the search terms that The General Public use to find my blog. Here are some of the more disturbing:

christmas party "secret squirrel"
"burger fuel" cocaine (Where a combo comes with fries and coke?)
Scandinavian boys comics
Dehumanisation in rhinoceros
kellogs tiger power places sold
secret santa verses (Jolly laughter, recorded backwards)
Hunter - Sexy photos

I suppose that last one might be looking for Rachael Hunter. I hope so; otherwise, I may have a stalker. I still don't have any chloroform videos. You'll have to go to the Wildebeest Asylum for those. (Right, Jon?)

Sense of smell and taste

2006-12-21T04:30:00.000+11:00

New Scientist magazine (and a bunch of others) report that blindfolded students can follow their nose and track a chocolate rope through the grass. Not as good as a dog, but they improved with training. (Dogs have had their whole lives to practice.)

I seriously think that London has damaged my senses. I think that's one reason the food never really excites me here. There are tastes and scents I used to find delicious, but now I now can barely notice the flavour.

It's probably a coping technique, a dampening filter so that I don't go choke on the bad smells. There's the smoke in pubs, which sticks to your clothes. There's the exhaust fumes from underground trains which stick to the station walls and the inside of your nose. The traffic probably doesn't help either, but it's not as noticeable.

It's good to see evidence that I'll probably get it back, though — one guy found that boot camp sorted out his nose to the point where he could locate women by smell. Creepy, but reassuring.

Is it too early for New Year's Resolutions?

2006-12-20T14:01:00.000+11:00

I've been home for two days and spent most of that time Not Writing. I've noticed that I haven't been in the mental state called flow very much, and I've not really started appreciating my newfound freedom. (I have, however, read a lot of interesting-but-useless material on the internet.)

I think the main reason for this pattern of reading instead of doing is that I've lapsed into the problem of Continuous Partial Attention. I don't want to miss anything, so I never concentrate on anything too in-depth.

Tomorrow, I'm not going to check my e-mail, or my blog monitor, or even my cellphone — except at specific times of the day. Break times, if you will.

You'll know it worked if there's more to read here this time tomorrow.

Art, language, society, weather

2006-12-08T11:27:00.000+11:00

There's a wonderful new place on Oxford Street, opposite the enormous Freddie Mercury. I'm not sure my new discovery has a name, or even what it is — it's like a gang of street artists broke into an unused retail space and covered it with subversive creations like Santa's Ghetto and the Heinz Beans Looter.

If you're in the area, do check it out (before they get busted?).

Also in the area, I had my first language swap with some friends I met through work (one German, one Polish). We managed to thoroughly disturb the whole coffee shop practicing the difference between the shh sound of of Polish s and the ssh sound of Polish ś. Slavic languages sure have a whole lot of different whooshing and hissing noises; my poor English ears can only begin to discern them!

Some fellow tube passengers noticed my copy of GQ Magazine in German and we actually struck up a friendly conversation. This may not seem noteworthy unless you're familiar with the mandatory surliness rules for London transport. To be fair, the conversation did take a turn for the worse when they discovered my vegetarian tendencies. They seemed to consider it a kind of frightening disability, on par with losing one's legs or waking up deaf.

Also, a tornado caused some grief a couple of kilometers from my house. My own roof appears to be intact!

I wanted to play the piano accordion

2006-12-05T10:18:00.000+11:00

If you don't have a song stuck in your head at the moment, it's probably best not to watch a quirky music video from Jason Webley. It'll only end in tears.

Update: Apparently that site has pop-ups that I can't see, but the direct YouTube link doesn't.

Countries I've visited

2006-11-21T12:34:00.000+11:00

There's still a lot more world to go:

Actually, make that Western European countries:

You can create your own visited countries map (or just look at the hilarious comments on that page).

Update: I've included a close-up of Europe thanks to World66.

Consolation prizes

2006-11-21T08:11:00.000+11:00

I didn't make it to Poland, but I did get a dashing hat.

I also had one of the most interesting nights I've ever had in Golders Green; I especially liked the crazy punk smashing rubbish bins and kicking doors. The all-honking, all-flashing train station alerts were entertaining, too.

200th post!

2006-11-17T11:54:00.000+11:00

To celebrate my bicenteniall entry, I'm flying to Poland.

See you Monday!

Update: I missed the flight. I'll still try to get somewhere this weekend.

As a side effect, the sharks got smarter

2006-11-12T15:01:00.000+11:00

Many of you are familiar with my, er, talent for transport and punctuality. This evening I was particularly on-form: it took me six hours to arrive, and I somehow managed to switch transports no less than five times (as well as ending up on the other side of the river).

I didn't mind missing the entire rugby game (France vs the All Blacks), but I wasn't so pleased to find that I had missed pub licensing hours. Yes, by the time I arrived I wasn't allowed inside. Cozzie laughed as I stood at the door, making sad faces.

Ally Mead is in London for the week, and she was looking forward to catching up with another — only I honestly couldn't remember meeting her before. I felt awful for entirely forgetting a person, and I'm sure she wasn't exactly thrilled at being forgotten.

It reminds me of one year in high school, where I shared the exact same timetable with a particular girl. That is, every time I went to class, she was there too. Every period of every day for the whole school year. It took me until September to realise this fact.

School would have started in February or March, so that's around seven months.

Teamwork begins with shooting people

2006-11-03T10:45:00.000+11:00

Hello everybody!

I always feel weird posting after a big gap. It seems like I should backfill in the gaps before spouting new gibberish. There's certainly been plenty to talk about — men in chicken suits in Prague, incriminating photographs from Bob's leaving 'do and his subsequent departure. Not to mention all the news from work.

Nevertheless, if I don't post soon then I never will, so here's to breaking the seal. If my good man Skarnz can do it then so can I.

Also: This weekend is 401st anniversary of Guy Fawkes' botched attempt to blow up Parliament. England calls it bonfire night and has remarkably few restrictions on fireworks. Alexandra Palace is on a hill and has a great view of the burning city.

Bohemian Rhapsody

2006-10-17T08:20:00.000+10:00

I like Prague. I only took a few photographs on my dinky mobile phone camera, but I can say that I'll definitely going back to Prague. I'll stay longer, too.

Videos of the week

2006-10-04T08:39:00.000+10:00

When educational videos meet teen splatter films:

Forklift Driver Klaus: The first day at work

It's brilliant even if you don't sprechen any Deutsch. (although you might want to skip the first minute or two to get to the good bits)

If you prefer Spanish or dancing kids that look like evil monkeys, perhaps these are for you:

Little Superstar, ~~a Mexican kid from the seventies~~an Indian midget from the 90s gets his mad groove on.
Little Superstar climbing someone like a rock face just to smack them upside the head.

OK, so he's not Mexican. Wikipedia has background information about the orginal film and even translation of the clip's dialogue from Tamil.

Farts for fivers

2006-09-25T08:11:00.000+10:00

Too many glass jars, not enough cash? Make money from home. Sell your emmisions.

(Found in the Gumtree classified site's Gumtastic Ads section. Go the Internet!)

Those who woo me

2006-09-24T09:12:00.000+10:00

Hey, all recovered now? How would you feel about moving to Bournemouth for the fall and winter?

So ran the message from my friend Geoff. I know I'm looking for a little change in my life right now but Bournemouth? I mean, I had to use a map to find what part of the country it lay in.

I'll give it to the man, he did try hard to sell the idea. Apparently there are plenty of reasons that I might want to go:

It's cheaper!
There's good shopping!
They have a beach!
Nicer people!
And no chuggers!

I try to allow serendipity into my life. I like doing big things for small reasons. I probably would have jumped on it if he'd asked me to move to Edinburgh, or Berlin, or even Bangkok. I just don't think it'll work with Bournemouth.

England just doesn't excite me that much. London has enough entertainment, history, opportunities to make up for it all (for now, at least). Besides, I've long maintained that London isn't quite England — it's another country with its own language and people.

Misses and messes

2006-09-21T07:54:00.000+10:00

Thanks to a suprise tip-hoff from my friend Geoff, I almost caught David Hasselhoff on my day hoff. Unfortunately, I seriously underestimated the difficulty of finding anything quickly in Harrod's. Seriously, that place is vast. I know I've been in London for more than a year, and I should have been before now. (Even if only to buy an expensive plastic bag.)

Sunday was the infamous drinking event known as The Church. Yes, there was sawdust on the floor. Yes, the queue was huge and thirsty. Yes, there was an unusual drinks policy at the bar. (Customers trying to order a single drink would be out of luck -- all drinks are served in plastic bags, three or four cans' worth at a time.)

Yes, I drank far too much and my poor friends had to carry me home, while I subjected them to my incoherent groaning and beltlessness.

I'm sorry, guys!

Apparently they all managed to venture out to some kind of live music venue while I slept it off. Let me tell you, I'm glad I didn't have work the next day.

Dates for the calendar

2006-09-12T09:06:00.000+10:00

A bunch of us have Monday off work so we plan to attend The Church in all its infamy. All I'd heard about it before I came over here was printed in The Big OE Companion:

The most notorious of all antipodean drinking attractions is The Church, so named not for its beliefs but because it's held every Sunday afternoon. It's fun but it's not pretty, and the heavy drinking culture has led many a Kiwi into disgrace. If you find yourself there for the fourth weekend in a row, head out the door immediately, take a tube to Heathrow and catch the first flight home. For your poor mother's sake.

Every Antipodean has to go at least once, they reckon. I've been here for well over a year now, so I suppose it's time I did my duty.

Still Kiwi, but much quieter

I've been listening to Bic Runga quite a bit lately (you can spy on my listening habits with Last FM) and I foolishly missed the pre-tour mini-gigs she had with Neil Finn in the background, on piano. She's back again, now, but her final London show sold out but there's a phone number for standing room. I think I might try ordering a ticket or two.

Anyone feel like coming with me next Tuesday night?

Bonus level

This sounded interesting: Music from classic video games played by a symphony orchestra with a live stage show and lasers. Oh, and light-cycles. Sometime in November.

Update: The Church was indeed fun but also very messy. I had to buy a new belt after what happened. Bic Runga's show sold out and I didn't go. I felt a bit out of place in Video Games Live! but I'm glad I went.

The bouncer had a teddy bear

2006-09-12T06:25:00.000+10:00

So I didn't actually call anyone or organise anything for this weekend, but I did expose myself to the chill London air two-and-a-half nights running. I also discovered that free Portugese bakery treats, as scrumptious as they are, simply don't have the grease power to satisfy the drunken cravings of someone who replaced dinner with goodbye drinks.

Is it OK to have one leaving 'do on Thursday and another on Friday? Discuss.

I've lately become somewhat enamoured of Weston's Strong Organic Cider, served over ice or straight from the bottle while watching the dead rise in Leicester Square before heading off to the theatre.

Whether it was those warm-up drinks or just a good show, I heartily enjoyed The Vegemite Tales' eerily accurate depiction of Antipodeans in London. Except for Eddie, the mullet who sleeps on a surfboard and wears the same flourescent pink singlet every day. I don't know if there have been any Aussies like him in London since 1992, but it wouldn't have been the same without him.

Four cans of Fosters out of five.

Quarter century celebrations

2006-09-06T09:15:00.000+10:00

OK, so I didn't do much on Freddie Tuesday. My workmates suprised me with a catepillar cake and a couple of perfectly-selected DVDs — Flash Gordon (the office knows me as Ming) and Kevin Smith's film Clerks (the 10th anniversary edition).

Anyone want to see the stage adaptation of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales on Saturday? How about the even lower-brow Vegemite Tales?

Lynndie appears on Slide 33

2006-09-05T08:30:00.000+10:00

Skarnz wrote about the Milgram experiment which showed that when ordinary people are told to hurt others by an authority figure, they generally go along with it.

Man, psychology has the best emperical examples, by the way. Especially the old school ones that are super-unethical.

Well then, Mr Skarnz, the Stanford Prison Experiment will be right up your alley. The short version: A bunch of ordinary dudes get locked up in a university building made to look like a prison. Some other ordinary dudes are assigned guard duty. Things get really ugly, really fast. Dehumanisation and abuse of power escalate to shocking levels in a matter of days — and everyone plays along.

The slide show on the site tells the whole sordid tale. Recommended reading.

Nonsense illustrated

2006-09-02T09:59:00.000+10:00

The ridiculous bed of sleep
never bludgeons the Eiffel tower
until an apple made more silly.

In other news, September is Jack Daniels Birthday Month. As it turns out, your host appears to share a birthday with both Freddie Mercury and Mr Daniels.

Your host also has the planning talents of a retarded mongoose, so hasn't planned a single thing.

Top tip for London

2006-08-30T06:21:00.000+10:00

Don't leave your bag unattended while you go inside to get drinks. Especially when there are signs saying things like:

Bag thieves in the area.
Don't leave your bags unattended.

I know, I'm a fool and I've got nobody to blame but myself. Luckily, it only had a couple of valuables inside (and only one was irreplacable).

My camera and memory card
Asthma-style inhalers
A new electric shaver
A notebook with some journal notes, most of which had been typed in here.
A collection of Edgar Allan Poe-try
A souvinir pen or two from my travels
A box of Space Man candy sticks (mostly eaten)
An expensive-ish software engineering book

...and a partridge in a pear tree. The journal is a bit of a loss, everything else is just a bit inconvenient.

Actually, the bag itself was pretty useful — it was the rugged zip-off daypack from a Macpac backpacker's backpack. Much sturdier than the Secret Santa bag I use for weekend trips away.

The ridiculous bed of sleep

2006-08-30T06:18:00.000+10:00

This Monday was Let's Have A Holiday In August Day here in Britain, so it was time for the famous Notting Hill Carnival. It's apparently the biggest street festival of its kind in Europe, and seemed to be something like the Mardi Gras in New Orleans except it was complete rubbish and only the muddy men were topless.

I celebrated Carribean culture in my own way and downed a can of Red Stripe Jamaican lager as well as a Brazilian soft drink that seemed to be guarana flavoured. Also, feijoada is not lemonade made with feijoa juice. Not at all.

Highlights of the weekend:

Following random Icelanders to a goth/metal club in Camden Town complete with dancing cage girls
My first meal from the famous Brick Lane (Britain's curry capital)
Drinking at The Ten Bells, once frequented by Jack the Ripper's victims

Also notable was the three-in-a-bed romp with Bob and Barnesy, in which our collective heterosexuality faced its toughest challenge yet: proximity. It all ended in tears and cruel words, of course. Or awful poetry and French Scrabble. I get those confused. I'm sure I got to use the word camwhore either way.

Top tip for Bristol

2006-08-21T07:41:00.000+10:00

If want to hail a taxi in Bristol, be female.

I think at least a dozen empty cabs passed by our man-party without stopping.

Rolling black-outs

2006-08-02T08:32:00.000+10:00

What happens if you're at work and the power goes out? If you work at my company, you grab a cab with senior management to play table football and drink beer for a couple of hours at Café Kick.

Stare into space

2006-08-01T09:10:00.000+10:00

Bored?

Try the wonderful DrawBall, where everyone paints pictures on the same giant ball. You only get a certain amount of paint each day (to prevent retards from rubbishing masterpieces all by themselves) and you have to solve a little puzzle before you start (I'm not sure what that's in aid of).

Drawing not your thing? Check some of the wonderful pictures from their hall of fame.

If you're more of a video person, here's a few videos that amused me recently:

the biggest little-girl doll you'll ever see (Google Video, thanks to Ghastly for the tip-off)
How can you resist The Hoff's latest music video? (Google Video, thanks to Anil)
Ancient evidence of my possession (YouTube, thanks to Knee-high)

Today's filler post brought to you by swimming Cambridge cows and underweight Poles.

Annie Get Your Popcorn

2006-07-30T09:08:00.000+10:00

On a whim, I saw Australian film Little Fish at the Curzon cinema in Soho. It's a cute cinema, with comfortably decadent décor and a lovely bar and restaurant arrangement. (New Zealanders, think Regent on Worcester or Academy Cinema.)

The movie itself was very much an off-Hollywood character drama, despite the big name actors. Cate Blanchett, Hugo Weaving, Sam Neill and, er, Martin Henderson(!) lead the cast in this sad tale of drugs in the suburbs.

Go if:

You've got nothing better to do.
You need an incentive to leave home before you're 30.

Don't go if:

You want compelling pace and a big finish.
You like your drug films graphic.

Three off-Hollywood stars out of five. Four Hollywood stars.

(Oh, the singer who looks like Bic Runga actually is Bic Runga.)

Back in the saddle

2006-07-25T10:11:00.000+10:00

I went into the office today for the first time in about a month, and it was brilliant to be back. I love the environment I work in — it's a great mix of people, and always a laugh.

I'm telling myself to take it easy for the first few weeks, but old habits die hard.

Also, pirate party pictures.

Roskilde, day 7 - sick

2006-07-14T21:44:00.000+10:00

In the real world of here and now, I've been steadily recovering. I've left the house three times this week; although each time has left me exhausted, I'm able to concentrate for longer periods without getting a headache. Mentally, I'm almost ready for work again (though the doctor advises against public transport and air conditioning).

Meanwhile, back in Roskilde, things were a lot more exciting...

This is part 7 of a series. If you haven't been following along, you could start from my problematic arrival in Denmark or when the gigs began.

I'm feeling pretty disgusting today. I think I have three diseases all stacked on top of one another, and they're fighting each other for control of my body. It hurts my chest to cough, and it seems I launch into a new coughing fit with each minute that ticks by. Still, I'm at a major European music festival; I can't let the fun be ruined by something as trifling as multiple organ failure.

I had heard about the famous naked race that Roskilde hosts each year. Sadly, we were misled by incorrigible Danes and showed up an hour after the whole thing was over. Mostly over, anyway. Several racers evidently decided that putting their clothes back on afterwards would be a waste in such good weather, so throughout the day we saw a few nudies with big blue racing details painted on their backs.

After a three-hour recovery nap

Armed with some cough pills, ear plugs and a good selection of the walking pharmacy that is my camp mate Sunny, I managed to pull myself together enough to see Tool. I'd heard people back home gush for weeks after going to a Tool concert, so I was expecting an interesting performance.

Instead, I got a burned-out Maynard muttering incomprehensibly about computer faults and frankly dull visuals made from music videos and screen saver wobblies. There were certainly no spider-people walking about on tightropes!

The thousands of screaming fans vibe was missing, too.

On the upside, they chose the song list well. I was concerned that it would all be new material from their current album, and that I wouldn't recognize any of it. I needn't have worried — we heard a comfortable mix of old favourites and new experiments.

Two phallic bottle-openers out of five.

It takes all sorts

I also had words with a creepy Briton dressed in leather and chains with dirty heroin-addict teeth. He came up and started feeling my furry Scotland jacket and making weird comments like I like your garment; it has a zip and everything!.

He told me how a woman he'd once loved had given him the boot cuff he was wearing, and I noticed that his whole outfit seemed to be made of variously sized chunks of hard leather tied together with whatever was available at the time.

When I explained that I was waiting for a couple of my friends to show up, he angrily explained that I should value my family over my friends.

He told me all about when he used to play in a big-time punk band, and mentioned playing with Henry Rollins and a bunch of dirty names I'd never heard of. Apparently everyone called him Smee.

He asked me how much money I'd made today, and explained that he'd racked up £50 so far. I wasn't sure if he meant from dealing drugs or from collecting bottles, but I didn't ask. He hinted enigmatically at things he'd done to customers while they were indisposed.

He wasn't on the bill, but I rate Phil the Crazy Old Mad Max Junkie four mysterious chuckles out of five.

Missing in action

I would have liked to see the Deftones show, but resting in my tent was more important. Of course, trying to sleep that night was more difficult than usual because Kanye West was clearly audible over the whole campground (which is quite impressive, considering that there's around 80 hectares of it). I can't even pronounce that guy's name, but apparently the show was a hit.

Also, there's been no sign of my cellphone since Jack lost it the same night the security guards switched our phones. It's a pity to see it go. I'd only had it for a couple of weeks, but I've still got my regular one sitting safely at home so I'm not too ripped.

And tomorrow, as they say, is another day.

In fact, tomorrow was the last day of the actual festival, so tune in next time for tales of profane deck-chairs and vicious assault smooches. There'll be some music in there, too, from the likes of Placebo, Pink Floyd, the Strokes and maybe the Kaizer Chiefs.

Roskilde, day 6 - summer again

2006-07-11T03:09:00.000+10:00

Today, I made my way out of the house for the first time since coming back from hospital. I tried registering with a local GP, and it seemed to go OK; I may be back at work this week after all! Meanwhile, back in Roskilde, I was only starting to think something was wrong...

This is part 6 of a series. If you haven't been following along, you could start from the beginning of the the whole trip or just the actual gigs.

Golly, the Danish weather seems to be going out of its way to be extreme. My Danish flatmates told me that it's customary for each Roskilde Festival to be a wash-out, and it was easy to believe after Monday night's veritable monsoon. But the sun has been pushing on through since then, and today it's more than hot enough to convince everyone (except the Danes) to go swimming.

This is the first year they've had a swimming lake on offer; apparently the locals took a lot of persuading that a lake could even be used for swimming, and that eels would not eat the punters.

I didn't see any wildlife (unless you count the floating lettuce-like weed that occasionally wandered into anyone foolish enough to swim forwards) but the Swedish girls accompanying us insisted there was a frog in the reeds. There was definitely a frog on Jack's belly (and one on his bum as well, I think) but that was some kind of kinky rite of passage which involved a novelty fly-swat and a grinning blonde man with no top on.

Actually, given the heat, I was suprised at the number of Scandinavians who were wearing clothes. I think I only saw a couple of naked Vikings in the hour or so I had by the lake, and not one was a lady.

Bob missed out on pretty much all of this, however, as he'd managed to cut himself on awesomeness (or something) and was in search of the first aid tent for most of our lake time.

Lunchtime concerts

I'd heard of Matisyahu before, but never heard his work. He's an Orthodox Jew (beard, hat and all the rest) who raps in Hebrew and English with reggae and roots music. His act attracted a huge crowd — big enough that I couldn't get close, so just bought a plate of greenish pasta instead. (No rating given, out of fairness)

The main stage then filled with fans of the quirky locals, the Kaizers Orchestra. Their mixed-up sound involves them hitting oil cans with crowbars, playing pipe organs, one wears a gas mask and they have names like Mr Kill-Master Kaizer. Very interesting indeed. If you like The Avalanches or the soundtrack to Ravenous, give these guys a shot. If you can see them live, all the better; they earned their place on the headline stage with their frantic stage presence. Four industrial steam-pipes out of five.

In the afternoon

Fat Freddy's Drop were fantastic. There was a small but strong NZ contingent with flags and everything, but the whole crowd was truly getting into the swing of things. Even the back row seats were waving their hands about to the music like windscreen wipers on power mode.

The band recovered beautifully from a couple of technical hiccups earlier in the set, and didn't even make a fuss when some nong from the crowd started draping his Australian flag over the brass section. Top class performers, each one of them. The vocalists even threw in a few altered lyrics to make mention of Roskilde and other acts like Bob Dylan. Five crayfish out of five.

Nightfall

I didn't see Bob Dylan. I'm sorry, but he just doesn't interest me. I did plan on listening to the start of his set anyway, but I was conked out in my tent feeling sorry for myself. I blamed the cough I caught from Jack and my singlet-shaped sunburn.

By the time I pulled myself together enough to go back to the festival area, I'd long missed Dylan — luckily, I did catch the end of German indie pop-rock act Wir Sind Helden. They had a brilliant crowd response and a very accessible sound even if you don't speak German. The front-woman speaks English with what sounds like an Irish accent. I'm ordering an album from these guys. Five tiny German eagles out of five (they're so very small because I only heard a tiny fraction of the show).

I'm sure I've heard of US emo whiners Death Cab for Cutie somewhere before, but I honestly don't know where. They seemed to be well-known here, with many people in the huge crowd singing along to the incomprehensible lyrics, but by the time I'd bought a milkshake it was all over. Two trendy blue sleeping pills out of five.

I looked in briefly at the Scissor Sisters who were famous for misbehaving at concerts. They were certainly playing up the crude American image with talk of tea-bagging and what-have-you, but I was suprised to see how much they also played up their country music image. I hadn't even realised that there were country influences in the singles until I caught it live.

I tried to stick around but I was still feeling generally yucky and I didn't really want to cough all over the crowd like I kept doing at Fat Freddy's Drop (I swear, I couldn't help it!).

These reports sure are getting large! The next installment will be a lot smaller, I promise. It's only going to talk about spider-people that aren't there and leatherbound Mad Max types who probably shouldn't be.

Roskilde, day 5 - the festival really begins

2006-07-09T23:46:00.000+10:00

Although there's camping and entertainment for over a week, the actual music festival proper only starts about half-way through the eight-day party.

This is part 5 of a series. If you haven't been following along, you may want to know what I did with the first half of the festival.

Resurrected 80's glam rockers Guns N' Roses filled the main stage area with a crowd of something like 70 000 people. The whole festival only has about a hundred thousand guests, so they're obviously holding onto popularity! The only problem? The band didn't show up.

I gave them about twenty or thirty minutes before I left for another band, by which time the crowd had moved from excitment to uneasiness to agitation. There was a banner waving in the audience that read:

W. Axl Rose
You were my hero.

Of course, there were also people holding pirate flags and aliens doing naughty things to sheep.

Indie favourites Clap Your Hands Say Yeah were disappointing in a different way — I guess you just have to be familiar with the album material before the stage show is fun.

In strong contrast, the haunting peace of Icelandic soundscapists Sigur Rós was captivating even without being in the dark inner circle that served as a sort of anti-moshpit. I want to drive around the countryside at night listening to those angelic sounds.

In the next episode, we get burnt swimming with frogs and drop in on acts from across the world.

There's no place like home

2006-07-09T02:24:00.000+10:00

Boy, am I glad to be back. Even though there's nobody here to talk to, it's been two weeks since I slept in my own bed and I've been looking forward to it for about two most of that time.

As most of you know, I've spent the week in hospital. I would have told you more, but it was a huge effort simply posting the two single-sentence articles that you saw. That's not just because I was drained and delerious; I did have long periods of competence and lucidity. It was more of a technological hurdle.

Still, I did manage to catch up on a few chapters of Scary-go-round. That's a sexy and exciting comic for everyone (that is girls as well as dudes). It's a student-age comedy that's a little bit England, a little bit gothic horror, and a whole lot of sass. Adventurous ladies, consider the SGR archives next time you run out of television recaps to read but still need procrastination fuel.

I'm feeling much better every day that goes by; thanks for all your support, folks! Your comments, e-mail and phone calls have all been remarkably heartening.

So what happened?

I know that some of you are still wondering how I wound up in hospital. Well, stay tuned and I'll explain. I'm in the middle of a festival report that's been running chronologically so far; the story follows on quite naturally from that report since it's all been one epic holiday adventure.

See you all tomorrow!

De-hospital'd!

2006-07-08T01:21:00.000+10:00

I'm feeling better, and they're sending me home. Woo!

Hospital'd

2006-07-04T23:02:00.000+10:00

I'm in hospital, being treated for pneumonia.

Roskilde, day 4 - hygiene on the streets

2006-06-29T02:27:00.000+10:00

I've seen a lot of Scandinavian boy-parts in the last few days.

This is part 4 of a series. If you haven't been following, you might like to read about my Danish adventures from the beginning.

When nature calls, it seems to be a strong festival tradition to just find a nearby fence to aim at... even if it's a see-through chain-link fence with crowds of people on the other side. This isn't limited to the boys, actually, and squatting Scandinavian woman is not an uncommon sight. The practice seems to be enshrined enough to feature on a board in the History Tent but those kinds of photographs would not go down well in Britain!

My Danish flatmates tell me that it's also a festival tradition to avoid bathing for the duration of the event. Well, I'm a rule-breaker sometimes. I used the communal showers outside the campground perimeter, and felt all the better for it.

The four of us native English speakers decided to sample some street culture and expressed ourselves in aerosol on the graffiti wall and watched some crazy skaters nearly wreck themselves pulling vert tricks.

Photos to follow!

Roskilde, day 3 - a relaxing adventure

2006-06-29T02:16:00.000+10:00

I did my first spot of rock climbing and Bob got his picture in the festival newspaper for stacking 15-odd big plastic drink crates on top of each other.

This is part 3 of a series. You can read part one and part two as well.

There's not a whole lot more to report, apart from maybe...

the couple suspended from a light pole with only masking tape to hold them
the guy playing in mud puddles on an inflatable jet-ski
the misunderstanding that saw me consume two Mexican dinners and one Brazilian

There were also a bunch of messy drinking games but I can't tell you much about those!

Oh, and it seems that Kiwi dub/soul/whatever legends Fat Freddy's Drop are playing at the festival (although Bob and I seem to be the only Kiwis around).

Roskilde day 2 - entrance at last

2006-06-28T05:31:00.000+10:00

After a catastrophic beginning, things started to look up for the Two Roberts.

This is part 2 of a series. You can read part one if you like.

Thanks to a heroic effort on the part of the fabulous Mr Gwynn, we are finally inside!

He went to my house, knocked on the door and introduced himself to my flatmates, waited there for two and a half hours for the landlord to come around and unlock my bedroom door, and send photos of my tickets to a bunch of people.

That man deserves a DB.

The evening was spent listening to Swedish "grime" music, eating Mexican food and drinking with Swedes. Jack's lovely sister Sunny studies in Glasgow, Scotland, but wasn't prepared for the kilt-wearing Swedish man who decided to expose his root vegetables at close range. There were people wearing kilts and flying kites around high-voltage power pylons, though, so maybe nature will take its course.

Stay tuned!

Roskilde, day 1 - mea culpa

2006-06-28T05:14:00.000+10:00

If you were taking more than a week off work to go to a festival in a foreign country (and paying a fair chunk of money for the privilege), what would you bring with you?

This is part 1 of a series of updates.

You'll need your passport, for sure, a sleeping bag, some clothes, maybe something to read. If it were you, instead of me, maybe you'd also bring your tickets.

That's right, I was in Denmark but I left my festival tickets on the desk in my room in England. They told me and my innocent companion that they would only let us in if someone in England took a photo of the tickets and send the photo to them by e-mail. Of course, it couldn't possibly be that simple...

Our bags went inside the campsite where we couldn't get at them, my phone was missing all the useful numbers and burned through its credit with sky-high roaming charges anyway.

Luckily there was a couple of no-shows at the local youth hostel, so we did get a bed for the night. I will owe many people many favours before this is over!

Nine days of madness

2006-06-25T08:50:00.000+10:00

I'm going to Denmark in the morning. Apparently there's some kind of music festival with some pretty big international names playing including Deftones, Franz Ferdiand, and Guns'n'Roses. A bunch of UK and Scandinavian acts are on the list, but I've been very poor in keeping up with the music scene so I'm relying on luck and advice to find the good ones.

I'm looking at the full line-up and see Icelandic favourite Sigur Rós who's apparently pretty fabulous, according to the Man Who Knows.

And I never even went to The Big Day Out...

Draw a pig

2006-06-23T08:38:00.000+10:00

I have updated the sidebar. Now, hopefully the people who don't know what Flickr is can stop bugging me for photos.

Also, I took cues from Carly and the little one: I drew a pig.

I couldn't do one properly the first time because I already read what drawing the pig sideways says about your sexual orientation (or something) but it's been long enough that I forgot. Now I can truly be judged on my miniature farm animal!

Sleep is for the weak

2006-06-22T05:50:00.000+10:00

Anyone who's worked with me knows that I'm not always on time. Okay, that's perhaps a little mild. Sometimes, when I was aiming for a 9 am start time, I lay in bed for so long that I didn't get to work until after midday. It was too hard to get up.

I didn't dread my job or anything -- it was just incredibly difficult to physically sit up. I would just lie awake in bed for hours, willing myself to get up; watching the clock tick past nine, past ten... I would curse myself out loud but still only manage to roll onto my side.

I'm much better now, thankfully -- it's difficult to pin down exactly why. Steve Pavlina, in his article How to become an early riser offers some straightforward tips on getting sorted.

Where has Rob been?

2006-06-19T01:46:00.000+10:00

I've been doing a fair bit of Interesting Stuff, but none of it has been going in here. Why not?

It's not as if my holiday in Italy was a Super Secret Treasures. Seeing A Midsummer Night's Dream in the open air of Regent's Park wasn't an everyday occurance that may as well go unsaid. It's not even my notorious slackerism this time!

What's really plugged the flow is The Girl.

More precisely, time spent with her is time not spent by myself. I find that writing is like walking around in your underwear -- it's best when nobody else is around. I'm a pretty solitary person, and need my "alone time". Time to read, time to write, time to work on personal projects.

Although that "alone time" dwindled down to almost nothing, it was for a good cause -- and now I'm getting a whole lot more of it, since I'm no longer in a full-time relationship.

She's been gone a week.

It don't matter to Jacko

2006-04-27T09:14:00.000+10:00

We've had the show where people switch jobs, one where people switch wives and mothers—now there's a reality TV show where families swap races.

Whites tend to underestimate racism, while blacks tend to overestimate it.

It's quite interesting to see the different kinds of discrimation that occur in Europe. It's probably an artifact of war and immigration over the centuries, but it's not uncommon to see fairly open attacks between ethnic groups that look the same (to me). I always used to think that racism had a strong visual component—a subconscious observation that he doesn't look like me on the outside, he must be different on the inside too.

I still can't find the gay Spider-Man comic

2006-04-16T04:40:00.000+10:00

Everyone has seen the dirty episode of the Rainbow children's show, but apparently Zippy, George and Bungle have also been known to poo in one another's bed. I didn't even know they had a life outside the TV series!

(Thanks, NTK newsletter)

Beware, people

2006-04-13T09:48:00.000+10:00

I bought a headset today, so now I can use the internet to yell at everyone back home. I can't make international calls from my cellphone, and we don't actually have a shared house phone.

The Brain Drain strikes again

2006-04-08T22:11:00.000+10:00

The fabulous Cozzie from Canterbury has arrived in Blighty! I'm beginning to wonder if there'll be anyone left in New Zealand by the time I make my way back for a visit.

And now, I'm off to Amsterdam!

Hamiltron, transform and roll out

2006-04-05T09:05:00.000+10:00

Rumour has it that Jon described Hamburg as the Hamilton of Europe. Now that I've spent almost a week there, I think I can comfortably say that the pot-smoking smalltown boy racer culture that defines Hamiltron was sadly lacking. The university dorm building I stayed in did have a vending machine for beer, though.

Come to think of it, there was beer everywhere. More often than not, it was tasty German beer, served in special glasses. With the bratwurst croissants, currywurst, baconed potatoes and pork schnitzel, I also think I ate more meat this weekend than the past three months combined.

My 12-holidays-in-12-months scheme is panning out pretty well! Sadly, my travels have been during a time where blog posting opportunities have been scarce. However, I had news from the landlord today: now I have one of those modern internet connection things you hear the kids talk about.

Or maybe they were just books

2006-03-20T06:36:00.000+11:00

London has tested my virtue and found me wanting.

Pausing before the counter of a local bookstore, I weighed up the £100 in my pocket against the five books in my hands: two computing textbooks for work, an introduction to Marx, a screenwriting journal and the mathematics of everyday life. Five into one hundred, it just wouldn't go. I'd have to pick one to leave behind.

The textbooks were a given; they were the reason I came to the bookstore in the first place*. That left me to choose where my loyalty lay:

society
science or
art

Am I the only one who imagines these situations have symbolic importance?

What made it all hollow, though, was the way I was (substantially) undercharged at the till — and chose not to say anything. This might sound like a bit of a non-event to many people, but it's a big thing for me.

I am betraying the values I once placed above my life.

Maybe it's just continuing the over-dramatisation, but that's the best I can do to explain it right now. I'm more noticing this as something to mull over, rather than throw myself off the Tower Bridge.

Either way, it seems that London has changed me. Or is it simply living that has changed me?

* Even though I own copies of them already, I need at least one of them for work and shipping them from the other side of the globe is just not practical.

And you thought Lee Tamahore was creepy...

2006-03-19T23:46:00.000+11:00

Good old Uncle Ghastly has given us another reason to never trust Mark Hammill.

If you see him on the street, do not approach him. Remain calm, walk away and call the police as soon as you can.

Still breathing

2006-03-19T02:12:00.000+11:00

Ooh, look! A post!

Since Christian moved out and took his Internet connection with him, I've been somewhat disconnected at home. I really need to be alone to post properly, so Emily's place is usually a no posting zone. Blogging from work is a bad idea, too, so that's why you haven't heard from me in more than a month.

I'm house-sitting this weekend, though, so I finally have some private Internet time. Well, not house-sitting, exactly—more like room occupancy and Internet stealing while Emily and her friends have a suprise girls' night out in Ireland for St Patricks Day.

That's all for now. I might post again soon and tell you all about Edinburgh and Lock Ness, or about the fancy Brussels hotel. I'll try to dig up some photos!

Our heritage indeed

2006-01-29T03:17:00.000+11:00

To celebrate New Zealand's national day in London, it's traditional to attend the biggest pub crawl in London—the informally-organised Waitangi Day Circle Line pub crawl. I got some very confused looks from The Monkey when I brought her to Kiwifruits (the New Zealand shop) so I think I'll need to look elsewhere for support—anyone interested?

I think I'm more interested in the massive 4pm street haka in Parliament Square, which needed special dispensation from the Police this year now that gathering for protest action there has been criminalised.

Update 30 Jan: I've fixed the link to Kiwifruits. (thanks Bob)

Sweden, part 4: The awesomeness

2006-01-28T23:57:00.000+11:00

So, the trip didn't work out according to plan. Who cares? I wasn't going to let a little thing like being in the wrong place spoil my trip.

(Continuing from part 1, part 2 and part 3)

It turns out I hadn't written down the name or address of the hostel, so we had to use my vague memories combined with tourist maps and dumb luck. (My vague memories consisted of a hostel beginning with Slottss, on a street called Vegetarian.)

We walked for hours in the sub-zero temperatures, past frozen rivers and stinky trams, stopping only for an awesome pizza each.

When I spotted Slottskogen on the corner of Vegagatan, my heart swelled with joy and I announced that we had arrived. Bob eyed the shiny building suspiciously and asked, Does that really look like a hostel to you?

The place looked so much like a fancy hotel/apartment block or casino complex that we continued searching up and down the street, desperately trying to contact someone who could look up the details. Of course, it turned out that Slottskogen is just one of those clean and modern hostels that charge half of the going London rate.

Other memorable parts of the trip:

The creepy Californian paedophile who told us all about his S&M sex fetishes, blood rituals and 16-year-old Norwegian girls before he told us his name. He thought Peter Jackson should be raped and killed for making good movies that were too long.
Trekking through the snow-covered hills, following animal tracks and a barbecue.We saw a moose!
The curry-pineapple-banana-peanut pizza. Beat that, Filedelfio's!
Using ferry-boats and trams on the same 90-minute ticket as a public bus. Cheaper than a 2-zone Tube journey, too!
Attempting to learn Swedish by looking at newspaper adverts, kebab-shop menus and MTV.
The enormous statue of the town founder or a Norse fish god or something—wearing a fuzzy red Santa hat.

I've put up some photos of the trip if you're into that sort of thing.

How was your weekend?

2006-01-25T12:47:00.000+11:00

I spent the weekend in Paris. It cost me about a week's rent, or twenty lunches, or a dozen pub dinners. It only took about three hours on a train, and I was back in time for work on Monday.

I love living in London.

Pub culture?

2006-01-17T09:13:00.000+11:00

Today is Monday. I haven't been into a pub today. I didn't go to the pub last Monday either. Neither of these absences have arisen from particular anti-pub decisions. I just didn't go.

For those not living in Britain, it may seem a little confusing (or even concerning) that I make note of days without visits to the pub. Such frequent patronage of public houses would be highly unusual in New Zealand, but here in Blighty the pub far more than a place to go every week or so to get wrecked. In fact, with the dearth of decent takeaways (or even casual restaurants) that plagues the London I live in, the humble pub is a good bet for lunch or dinner any day of the week. It doesn't hurt to down a lager or two while you're there, of course, but it's a very relaxing way to pass the time if you have some good company (or even a good read).

Pub food varies quite a bit in quality as well as selection. The good old bangers & mash can be found everywhere, and most pubs have a meatless version as well. I can't comment on the carnivorous ones, but it's interesting to compare the interpretation of vege sausage at different places. The Old Bank of England on Fleet Street will give you a large plate of delicious Glamorgan sausages with soft mash, delicious gravy and a salad including rings of red onion; The Court on TCR serves a swimming pool of gravy surrounded by walls made of something dry and fairly plain called Quorn.

I'm tempted to start taking a notepad to the pub with me and doing little mini-reviews, actually. Not on Mondays, of course...

Sweden, part 3: Everyone else

2006-01-11T10:57:00.000+11:00

There was some confusion as to what was going on with this whole Scandinavian trip. My friends would be in it for the long haul, and I'd join up with them on two brief occasions in two separate countries.

(Continuing from part 1 and part 2)

Despite what Flight of the Reindeer might say, it takes more than belief to make it true.

What Alex thought

Alex was spending a nice, quiet Christmas with his girlfriend Smurfette and her family.

After Christmas sometime, the two of them would take a train to Copenhagen (meeting Vader along the way). Bob and Rob would show up somewhere about here, and we'd play in the fun-snow at Legoland.

What Smurfette thought

Alex was coming to visit her for Christmas. He'd suggested a trip to Legoland some time ago, so perhaps they could organise it sometime before she leaves the Northern hemisphere. Not too soon, though, because she's all booked up with work after the New Year.

What Bob thought

Rob doesn't know what he's doing, but a random holiday sounds good.

(Continued in part 4.)

Empty homes

2006-01-08T09:56:00.000+11:00

The other night, a mystery guest arrived at the door to look at a room for rent. I was confused, and told her she might have the wrong house. She didn't. I just have no idea what happens in my own house.

I share a place with six other people, but I barely ever see any of them. If it weren't for the magical cleaning and dirtying that goes on in the kitchen, or the occasional locked bathroom, it often feels like I live alone!

The maintenance guy tells me that Matt the gym salesman is taking a contract somewhere overseas. And apparently Christian's parents are migrating to England so he's moving in with them when he gets back from Geneva.

The naked Polish couple that moved in a month or two ago don't speak English.

I may need a new place to live.

Dates for the calendar

2006-01-08T08:57:00.001+11:00

Landmark events, irate shopkeepers and dodgy phonecards made for an interesting weekend.

6 Jan: My favourite flatmate of all time, Neil, celebrated a birthday. I tried to wish him a happy birthday but he was busy playing Thai Xbox Sushi or something.
7 Jan: My favourite phone-buddy of all time, DJ, celebrated as well. I even got to talk to her for the first time in ages!
8 Jan: My favourite Detective Inspector Monkey Pirate Queen of all time, Emily, returns to London in under 12 hours.

Hooray for all of you!