Canning Town Has A Flying Rat Problem
I photographed this mess at Canning Town station.
Canning Town Has A Flying Rat Problem
They need to get the eagle out to deal with the flying rats. A wash and brush-up would be helpful too!
Sex On The Underground
What would Mary Whitehouse have thought about these two posters at Angel station?
On the other hand, who’s to know what Mr. and Mrs. Whitehouse got up to in the privacy of their own home.
I’m a bit surprised that the web site sexytimesRus.com is using that URL. Perhaps, they are expecting to be sued, so they get a lot of free publicity.
Avoiding The Rain
I went to the football at Ipswich yesterday and the rain was so bad, I didn’t feel like walking to the bus stop to get a 141 bus to Liverpool Street station.
So I walked to the closest stop and got a 56 bus to the Angel. It wasn’t any better there.
A Very Wet Angel
But at least I got there in the dry and was able to walk into the Underground, to get a train to Liverpool Street with one change at Moorgate station. Normally, I’d have walked from Moorgate, but it was just that wet.
Coming back, the weather was just as bad, so I used an unusual route to keep dry. I took a Metropolitan line train to Barbican station and caught another 56 back to my house.
At least the rain seemed to have abated slightly in Ipswich, but the game wasn’t a good one. There were so many mistakes and I suspect precise control was difficult. So many simple passes were missed by both sides. Perhaps football yesterday was summed up by the result at Peterborough, where the home side beat Bolton by five goals to four.
The Kids Are Alright
I was travelling home on a bus last night at about seven, sitting minding my own business, when a seventeen-year-old or so kid in front, turned to me and asked very politely if he could borrow a pen. As I always carry two for my Sudoku solving, I handed him one.
A couple of minutes later he returned it and moved himself and his bags to the four empty seats next to me. We chatted about the ephemera of life like football and phones, for the rest of my journey home and he politely wished me a good evening.
If this had been an unusual occurrence, it wouldn’t be worth reporting, but it seems that hardly a day goes buy without a similar experience. As an example, I’ve lost count of the number of times, I’ve had a reverse argument with kids, be they black or white, male or female, about who gets on the bus first.
It does seem that the Polite Society is alive and well! Certainly on the buses of East London.
Football On Christmas Day
Danny Baker on his program today, asked if anybody had been into a football ground on Christmas Day.
I phoned up and said that I’d been to a match at White Hart Lane on Christmas Day morning. Danny was rather sceptical, to say the least!
I remember that we went to do an hour or so’s work in my father’s print works, as he was rather a workaholic to say the least. We then drove to the ground from Wood Green. I’m not certain, who we played, but it was somewhere in the mid-1950s and it could have been Luton Town.
We then went home for a late Christmas lunch.
I did find a bit of history about Christmas Day football here.
One thing that they must have had in those days was a decent public transport system over the holidays. And ASLEF wouldn’t have been on strike.
What Disaster Will We Get This Year?
I can’t say I’m looking forward to Christmas.
Usually, C and I used to go away on Boxing Day or soon after to somewhere nice and warm. But this year, both my son and myself, have the builders in, which makes things difficult. At least, I can get through the door of my house and live comfortably. So we’re going to a Christmas lunch at one of his friend’s houses. It should be a good party, but I don’t like relying on the hospitality of others.
Why can’t Christmas, be like it was in my childhood?
In those days, the Christmas Day tradition was to go to White Hart Lane to see the football and then come home to Christmas lunch. I could skip the lunch and the awful Christmas television, but at least it’s reliable these days. I can remember watching High Noon one Christmas and the power was fading, so just before the gunfight we lost all the pictures. Those were the days. I think one year, life was so boring, that I took my father’s car out of the garage, put mine in there and then washed and painted the wheels a fetching shade of blue. In fact, it is the same colour, that I’ve chosen for my new carpets.
I’ve just noticed the date on the carpets post. Have my builders taken nearly three months to get virtually nowhere? Such is life! Or should it be such is builders?
But what worries me about Christmas is it’s always a time for disaster. If I look back on my life, I can remember invasions, tsunamis, earthquakes, sto,rs, floods and probably even some pestilence. With me, the worse disaster was that awful year, the AGA went AWOL on Christmas morning. And mother-in-law was here. I seem to remember one of the biggest rows between C and her mother. But we survived, as we always did.
Personally, my worse Christmas could have been 2007, the year that C died just two weeks before. I helped out at the old peoples Christmas lunch in Bury St. Edmunds and had a good time considering. Then I ate my own Christmas lunch alone on Boxing Day. That is something, I’ve not done since.
I will though follow those who believe that the year will end this Christmas and make sure I have some food in.
After all, my son and I have no transport between us, So I’ll be relying on a taxi on Christmas Day. And if it doesn’t come, I’ve got to make sure I don’t starve. As to drink, I do live bext door to a pub.
Walking Towards The Airport Bus
I effectively finished my break, by walking along the front to get the airport bus.
In some ways, I felt rather sad to leave, but then I had to get back to check on the builders.
I shall certainly return, when I need some sun. After all, Majorca is probably the closest place, where sun is fairly guaranteed at some point in a break.
But I’ll choose a better hotel.
Exploring Majorca By Rail
I had deliberately wanted to be by the station, so that I could take the odd trip out.
I went to Inca and Manacor, as the beautiful old railway to Soller was closed due to engineering works. It was December and although it was quite sunny, the towns were rather dead. I just had a nice coffee and moved on.
It does seem though, that these trains are not the easiest to use, as what information there is, is rather poor. To get to Manacor, the birthplace of Rafael Nadal incidentally, the train reverses direction at one point and you need to change at another, for which there is no announcement. Stations generally, aren’t signed, so you could get dumped at a place in the middle of nowhere. I nearly did.
The Intermodal station in Palma is a bit of a nightmare. It may be an interchange, but don’t ask at the bus information for details on the trains. They’ll tell you politely, that the trains are another company. And the only ticket machines there, don’t seem to sell tickets to Inca and Mancor. Or at least, it appeared so to me. I’ve had no experience of Spanish trains elsewhere, but compared to Italy, where I’ve used trains a lot, they weren’t the easiest to use.
If these countries want to make trains easy to use for tourists, they should look at their maps and ticketing systems.
My Hotel In Palma, Majorca
I stayed in the Palacio Avenida In Palma
Palacio Avenida In Palma
I took this picture from the bus stop, where I got off the bus from the air-port. The closeness of the two, is the best thing about the hotel.
In the three days and two nights, I spent in the hotel, I didn’t manage to have a decent shower, as the taps were rather tired. I did get to sit in warm water, which might have helped my dry skin, but I had to keep my foot on the plug to stop the water running out.
One thing I didn’t like was the tiling on the floor.
A Bathroom With A Skating Rink
It is clean and shiny in the picture, but with wet feet, it was like a skating rink. Now I have had a stroke, but my balance is good. Thank goodness it was, as if I hadn’t I’d have been on the floor several times in my short stay.
It is supposed to be a 4 star hotel, but I’ve had better facilities and service in B & B’s in places like Accrington. It could just be that Spain is in such a state, that everything is being done to cut costs.
I didn’t eat much in the hotel, just sampling one very poor cold breakfast, where I wasn’t even offered coffee or any hot food.
I certainly won’t be staying there again.
Revenue And Customs Are Watching You!
This advert was on the Stansted Express.
Revenue And Customs Are Watching You!
Do people take note?
The Anonymous Widower 