Big Weekend in London

I apologise for the lack of pictures in this post, but the photos taken this weekend are not fit for public consumption :-)
~The Management

After Friday's upset at work I was really glad to be going to London for the weekend. We were staying with a mate of ours from our Big Bad Biking days in SA - last year he was over in Dublin visiting us and now it was our turn to visit. He picked us up from the airport in his taxi, which he then wisely parked for the remainder of the weekend. After a quick supper of KFC (which I have to tell you is TONS better than the stale, soggy variety we are subjected to in Dublin, but still nowhere near as nice as it is in SA) we caught a bus from Hackney into central London. Now, I know these stories about our trips can get a bit long-winded sometimes, but there's just so much to tell and if I don't do it properly it would just turn into a "we went here, we went there" boring old list. So bear with me. You might wanna get comfortable.

Let me start with where we were staying. I was a little apprehensive when we pulled up outside his flat, firstly because we were probably the only white people in sight. It's not a racist thing (I would HATE to be thought of as one) but it was a little unnerving, coming as we do from SA - kind of like landing up in the middle of Hillbrow or something. We followed our mate, Rip (I could tell you the history behind his nickname but I'll leave that for now) down a little alley from the main street, through a grossly overgrown garden up some metal stairs and into the back of a slightly dingy building. I was imagining yellowed, peeling walls, grimy windows and cockroaches to be honest, so was pleasantly surprised when we arrived at the top floor to find ourselves in a newly renovated, neat one bedroomed flat with open-plan kitchen, brand new white carpets and skylights in both lounge and bedroom.
He promptly poured us a cocktail in a pint glass - couldn't tell you what it was because I couldn't even pronounce it, never mind spell it, but it consisted of a Brazilian rum, honey, lemon, sugar and goodness knows what else. (The Brazilian link is his girlfriend, by the way. We'll get to her in a while.)
Well it was very, very sweet. That's all I have to say.

By then we were starting to run a little late but I eventually managed to get us out the flat and on a bus. Yes, this is genuine - I was the only woman there and I was not the reason we were running late. Rip is a faffer of note and has no concept of time or punctuality.

So we arrived in town & ordered a taxi, and while we were waiting we popped into a Polish Vodka bar, filled with academic types all wearing black and white, & had a shot of Sambuca. Then Rip ordered another drink.
By this time it was already 9pm and I was beginning to stress because we'd arranged to meet my sister across town... at 9pm! Eventually the taxi arrived, around about the time my sister was ringing my hubby's phone again to find out where we were, and after a small incident involving hubby's phone flying out of my bag onto the pavement and me scaring the living daylights out of a large, and coincidentally South African, doorman outside a posh hotel by stamping my foot in frustration and throwing a good tantrum, we got into the taxi which took us to the appointed pub - did I mention it is the one run by my cousin, Del?

After a huge apology for being so late and lots of digs from everyone ("everyone" being my sister, Del, and his brother) we were finally almost forgiven, and started drinking. Which is what we continued to do until somewhere around 2am, I think. Yes, I know pubs in the UK close at 11:30. But we were special so we sat at the back with the lights down low and had a great old time - a little family reunion, if you will.
Rip's Brazilian girlfriend, Lau, eventually joined us too after finishing her shift at a restaurant nearby. So when we had completely worn out our welcome (I'm sure Del will think twice about issuing the next invitation, hehe!) we left. I thought we were going home, but it was not to be. I found myself in a smoky club next, which to my relief had already served the last round so we went instead to guzzle a kebab (not the same as a South African kebab, or sosatie - these are Doner Kebabs which are more like what we call Schwarma's.)
We finally got to bed around 4:30am.

Only to be up again at 6am. Aaaargh!!!!!!

But you see, it was the big rugby game between the Bokke and the All Blacks, so we dragged ourselves back into town to an Aussie pub called The Walkabout, which was hopping with people in Springbok and All Black jerseys.
What can I say about the game? From the special Haka to start with it was a really good game, despite the fact that victory was snatched from us right at the end. If we'd had another 5 minutes, who knows..? Anyway, needless to say there was yet more alcohol involved and lots of back-slapping and making friends (the Kiwis were really gracious about the whole thing, saying how much they enjoyed playing the Bokke and South Africans are such nice people etc).
But then we decided that if we were going to be in any shape to go out again that night, we should go home & get some sleep.

After some 5 hours or so of rest (yay!) we once again headed into town, had another shot of Sambuca in the same Polish Vodka bar (after a generous helping of Red Bull) and then headed once again for Notting Hill - this time to the restaurant where Lau works. Lovely place - comfortable leather chairs, heavy wooden tables, intimite setting and great Italian food. My sis met us there as well and we had a nice, easy, amusing evening.
And then the restaurant closed and Lau was finished working and it was time to party seriously again. (I know, I'm a sucker for punishment! I swear I'm NEVER drinking again!!!)

So Lau took us to this club in town, quite a larny joint that she wanted to show us as she knows the people there through where she works.
Well there was I in my black jeans, boots and t-shirt (it's black with a blue & silver "S" for Supergirl on the front) and I have never felt so underdressed so suddenly in my life before. I felt so 80's!!! It was like stepping into a Cosmo magazine! All the women wore shiny, strappy tops, with silky smooth and uber-trendy hairdo's, like clones of Kate Moss or something. Let me explain - Lau is one of those beautiful, vibrant people who would be equally at ease in a pub in the middle of the back-of-beyond as in a club like... well, this one. I'm sure she was a lot more comfortable there than I was anyway. The decor was kind of cave-like, with low, squishy chairs and somehow it reminded me of a sheik's tent.
Oh, and the men were equally trendy - except for one short bloke with glasses in a white shirt & tie who was doing the whole frog-in-a-blender dance.
Now, I don't like going to places where I feel like they're doing me a favour letting me in, to start with... but at £50 for a round of drinks my opinion of the place took a dive in a hurry. Fortunately I wasn't alone in this opinion so after finishing our drinks we fled to a place nearby called Cheers.

This was much more my scene - better music (call me a pleb if you like, but good ol' club or rock is much more my cup of tea) and much more normal looking people. Except for the couple shagging in the corner where they thought nobody could see what they were doing (aren't there laws against that kind of thing?!).
And then it just got weird. There we were, happily dancing away, when this tall dude suddenly rushed over to me and asked me if I was American.
Er, no.
British?
No.
German?
Well, sort of but I didn't want to get into all that so I said no.
Well, it's just that you speak such good English, where are you from?
(I should bloody hope so since it's my home language...) I'm South African, and have you met my husband? (yanking hubby towards me)
Oh don't worry, I'm not hitting on you, relax, he says with a smile & promptly strikes up a conversation about cricket with hubby.
Turns out he was just bored so he came over to chat - besides, he was gay and already involved with someone.
Sorry, I still thought it was weird!

But that's not all, oh no! Next thing I know this really tall blonde girl was dancing in our little group.
"Hi, I'm Angela, and I just started freaking out a bit so my friend told me to come over and dance with you guys."
Well... okay then! The more the merrier.
I then found out that she's an Aussie who's been in London for 5 weeks, and the swarthy chap in the white outfit is her best friend, and the short dark guy (who I'd been keeping an eye on since he was standing a little too close to our handbags for comfort) was her boyfriend's best friend. So where was her boyfriend?
Australia. Of course.
Being her new best friend, when Rip came over & started messing about, she suddenly grabbed me away from him & gave me a, er, hug, for want of a better description. I was very confused but then she said something about "saving me" from this potential pervert... whereupon I had to explain that he was actually a friend of mine.

Fortunately before the evening could get any weirder, 3am arrived and suddenly the music was switched off, the lights were switched on, and there was general mayhem as everyone charged outside to find taxi's home.

I won't go into detail about the emotional farewells that followed, or my frustration at trying to get a taxi, because all that is left to tell is that we slept until midday on Sunday and then, at last, it was time to go home.

We had a great time but omigosh I think it will be a long, long time before I'm up to another weekend like it!

Let Down

Well the unexpected but welcome happy mood that I've been in for the last few weeks was shattered rudely this morning.
I went in to work, sat down & started doing the morning checks, as I've been doing for the past 5 weeks or so. I've been feeling good about myself because I'm slowly but surely mastering the new work that I've been doing.
And then I was reminded what it is like to feel really, really, shitty.
Let me explain.
In the entire company of over 500 employees, there is ONE person who I consider a friend. We don't confide in each other on a personal level at all, but we get along well, share a sense of humour and often gossip confidentially among ourselves about stuff that's going on in the company.
And I suppose this is why my mother warned me about gossiping.

Something I told him, confidentially AND tongue-in-cheek, has apparently been spreading as dangerously distorted fact through the entire department. And if it reaches the ears of one particular person (M), it will really hurt the only person who has really been good to me and helped me in possibly furthering my career. Of course, it reached M, who then confronted me with the distorted 'fact' and I was utterly devastated because the last thing I want to do is hurt this person. Why would I?
All this has served to do is:
a) Destroy any trust M might have in me, and
b) show me once again that trusting anyone will only lead to disappointment somewhere down the line when I am once again betrayed.

Yes, I am feeling very sorry for myself right now. I sobbed for 10 minutes in the loo, and then went for a long walk to try & get rid of the evidence of my tears. I managed to compose myself by turning the hurt into anger.
What hurts the most is that I feel I've come such a long way in becoming happier in myself, and have been feeling proud of myself for actually starting to interact with people again after... well never mind the details... but in one foul swoop some careless words have sent me plummeting back into a place where the temptation to just clam up and not say anything to anyone about anything, no matter how mundane; to just stop talking to everyone completely, is almost overwhelming.
I don't want to do that. It's not healthy.
And I am pissed off as hell about it.

Anyway, on that note, fortunately I am home now, having taken the afternoon off because we're going to visit friends in London this weekend.
So have a good weekend people.
I hope your day is going better than mine.

All aboard!

Y'know what one of the best things about Blogging is? The amount of times I have seen, in black and white, on the Internet, for all the world to see, statements such as, "I agree with Terri", in response to something I have said. I love being right, hehe! I mean, I know that I am always right, it is just seldom that other people admit it willingly.
Right, so, I'll just swap my tongue to the other cheek quickly.

Now, having said all that I also think I may be losing my mind [Insert witty comments here... there ya go, feel better now? Can I continue?]
I seem to have a block in my brain that sometimes prevents me from being able to think. I desperately try & remember something and it's just blank, it won't come out. This is a relatively new experience for me and I find it extremely disturbing. Especially at the moment, at work, when I'm trying to learn as much as I can in my 'temporary' new position, because basically I am trying to change my career. So you see, it's actually quite important that my brain is working right now. But every now & then it just seems to grind to a halt. Th-th-th-th-that's all folks! I get this blank, glazed look, and people are talking to me but I can't hear what they're saying. Fortunately they all think I have a problem still with understanding the Irish accent, so I'm forgiven for not hearing them the first time around. Which doesn't really let me off the hook when they repeat themselves and I'm still clueless.
So I just smile pleasantly and hope they weren't expecting an insightful answer. An accepting nod of the head in the right place also seems to get me out of some sticky situations, but occasionally it comes back to bite me in the ass when someone will mention something, and I'll sort of go, "Huh?"
Then they look at me as if to say, "Where have you been, Mars?"

This might be closer to the truth than they imagine, hehe.
Not that I've actually been to Mars, of course - in fact I've never physically left Earth's atmosphere (I know, it's a shock) - but I do spend an awful lot of time in what my hubby calls "TerriLand". It's a wonderful place, a place where my mind goes when it's tired of reality. Which, frankly, is quite often.
I kind of drift off and allow things to kind of float through my mind at will, often with confusing results. By that I mean I will be in conversation with someone about something, and they'll carry on talking (or not, as the case may be), and my mind will go on from that topic and just follow whatever linked thoughts happen to pass by, until eventually the next thing I say will have absolutely nothing to do with what we were talking about. When I realised this was causing hubby to think I was completely insane, I became concerned that he might come at me with one of those comfy white jackets with the really long sleeves, so I actually started working backwards through my chain of thoughts, out loud, so he could see where my latest one had come from. He understands now and I'm pleased to report that the white coat is on ice for the moment.
You see, it all makes sense in my head! Why can't the rest of the world keep up?

And that's another thing I love about Blogging: I have come to realise that I AM NOT ALONE. It turns out there are dozens, possibly hundreds of people of similar disposition out there, with busy heads filled with deep thoughts and nonsense, and this is just such a great way of airing one's head, don'tcha think? Ha ha, does that make us air-heads? [Sorry, sometimes my corny-ness overwhelms me!]

sigh! I think in my next life I definitely want to come back as a sock. Aha! Gotcha there, don't I?! You're just dying to know how I went from air-heads to socks, aren't you?! Well okay then: I was thinking about the whole airing-my-head thing, and it made me think about being out in the open, and where better to be for that than on a desert island? Which reminded me of a comment I left on Kyknoord's Blog earlier this week, where he told us that according to an advert currently running on SA television, all those missing socks apparently end up on a desert island somewhere having a whale of a time.
So I repeat: I want to come back as a sock.
Just not a pink one. I hate pink. I know - you'd never guess considering the template I chose for my blog, eh? It irks me only occasionally, but it is actually quite tasteful, even if it IS pink. Actually I chose it 'cos of the picture/banner thing across the top - it kind of reminds me of some of the stuff I've seen in European cities during my travels, and since I write a lot about my travelling... well you get the idea. Starting to get the hang of my train-of-thought thing yet?

Speaking of trains-of-thought [you're gonna love this...] I had a thought on the train on the way home [Yes, I know it's lame, but I was compelled to do it!] but it seems to have disappeared again although doubtless it will hit me again at a later stage like a [er, dare I say it?] express train. [Ok, I'll stop with the locomotive references now.]
Which brings me back to my first (or was it my second?) thought earlier and that is that I fear my mind is departing in pieces.
Although some would say it's been coming for a while now.
Or perhaps it was never really all there in the first place.
Ooh, I feel a heavy thinking session coming on.... whooosh..... nope, there it goes - didn't even stop at the station. [That's the last one, I promise!]




Yes people, I'm afraid this sort of stuff does go on inside my head pretty much all the time. Scary, huh? Fortunately it only occasionally falls out of my mouth, although I do have a tendency to think out loud sometimes, when I am particularly deep in thought. Whenever I sit next to a new person at work I find they'll often say, "Did you say something?" and I'll have to say, "Er, no, sorry, just talking to myself." After a while they get used to it and just ignore it, so it will get to a point where I will have to physically tap them or call their name when I want to speak to them, otherwise I just become background noise.
[Eesh, talk about opening yourself up to witty sarcasm!]

So, like, whatever, enjoy my little insane ramblings or move on. The choice is yours. Me, I'll just retire back to TerriLand now for a while. Maybe I'll see you there sometime...

Weekend with Friends

And so it's Monday again. Did everyone have a good weekend? I did. Our houseguests left yesterday morning at the crack of dawn, while I was still snoring. We really made the most of our time with our old friends from PE, taking them out pubbing in Temple Bar on Friday night, and to see Riverdance on Saturday night.

Temple Bar is an amazing place. It consists of a few blocks of ancient cobbled brick streets in Dublin's city centre, just South of the river. On Friday and Saturday nights you can be guaranteed of a great night out no matter what the weather. It consists of probably 90% pubs and clubs, with a few shops in between that are open during the day. But it is at night that the place truly comes alive, brightly lit from streetlights and neon signs and just general decoration, with people and music spilling out of the pubs and into the crowded streets.


Temple Bar at night

Visitors to Dublin inevitibly end up spending at least one evening in Temple Bar, and it is a favourite destination for travelling Hen parties, as confirmed by the number of groups of girls waltzing around in matching outfits or bunny ears, mostly British, and mostly smashed. The noise both inside the pubs and outside in the street is phenomenal - people from all over the world joining together in one massive continuous street party, everyone getting along with everyone else and making friends at every stop.
A young American guy was kind enough to take a photograph of the four of us (which I'm NOT posting because there's a good chance my mother will see this!); we made friends with two Italian guys, from Rome, because one of them was wearing a Springbok rugby jersey (good choice this weekend!) and spent a good 15 minutes laughing our asses off with an African dude who was dressed in a 'traditional' outfit to make some money on the streets. He told us he walked all the way from Kenya to Dublin in 3 days and he was a great warrior... and then we told him we were South African and he almost laughed his head off cos he knew he'd been bust! But hey, the Irish will believe anything an African says (go figure!) and he seemed to be making a good enough living anyway.


The Great Masai Warrior with D & Big D

It was a good pub crawl, all in all, which we ended in a pub called Oliver St John Gogherty's, which was crammed with foreigners singing along to favourites like "American Pie", watching the desperate singles playing tonsil-tennis like mad. Hubby could no longer contain himself and ended up dancing with us gals and Big D looked on in amazement at the chaotic revelry of Temple Bar on a Saturday night.
It is courtesy of Big D, by the way, that I have these photos to show you.

In contrast, Saturday night was an evening of quiet culture. Okay, maybe not quiet, since a large part of the Riverdance show consists of lots of dancers in tap shoes. Fortunately our hangovers had subsided somewhat by then so we all enjoyed the show immensely - even the guys. There's an awful lot of talent in there and you can't help but be moved by the haunting Irish music.


Riverdance

Best of the weekend, of course, was watching the Boks beat the Aussies - woo hoo!!! I've been looking all over for an Aussie to rag today, but they all seem to have disappeared.

And finally, I have to leave you with an image that disproves my theory that Irish sunsets are boring. This was taken by Bex last week when the two of us went for a walk along the Estuary here in Malahide.


Sunset over Malahide Estuary - Thanx Bex!

So I can't take credit for any of the photos this week, unfortunately, but I figured all this writing needed some brightening up.