I'm currently (as in on a train right now) en route back to Plymouth.
I left Bendigo at about 8pm ish some time yesterday and have been on the road about 32 hours now and have at least another 3 to go. Nowhere near as bad as Helen's 60 hour nightmare, of which I must obtain the details of at some stage, but enough for me.
I was really annoyed too when I left, as I only remembered to check in at about 6pm, and so couldn't get the best seat and had been shifted from my customary window seat to a middle isle. This was admittedly further to the front of the plane than I had been, but I still didn't want to try to sleep in an isle being bumped all the time and so I was very grumpy with the airline... that was up until I actually got onto the plane and realised where they'd put me. Qantas now has four classes of travel. First, Business, Premium Economy and plain cattle; and I'd been upgraded from cattle to premium. I had to triple check this, even almost asking one of the attendants if this was right, but I wasn't quite that stupid. I was very happy.
This is the first time I've ever been upgraded. It was heavenly and I didn't at all mind the isle as the seats were so much better. Spacious and comfy, and I had leg room! And the food was good too and the service excellent. Very, very happy.
Right now, I'm sitting in first class on the train too. I had had a seat reservation for the 6pm train this evening, having no idea how long it would take me to get from the airport, and if I'd be delayed etc. If I'd waited for that train I'd have extended my journey by another 4 hours though, so not fun and really not what I wanted to do. But the plane was in fact early landing and I got out of Heathrow very quickly so I am now waiting to pay for an upgrade on this train as I decided to just get on the first one going my way and pay for it (20 quid, quite reasonable in the state of exhaustion I am currently suffering).
So I am going to finish my journey in the style to which I have become accustomed.
Bliss.
Happy New Year to Melbourne, Canberra and Sydney, which happened two hours ago, and Happy New Year to Adelaide which happened an hour and a half ago.
And Happy New Year to the Uk, in about 8 hours, by which time if I am not asleep I'll be pissed beyond belief and not with the affects of alcohol.
Ok, going now. See you on the other side! :)
Thursday 31 December 2009
Thursday 24 December 2009
'Twas The Night Before Christmas
My favourite Christmas piece. There is some confusion as to the author of the piece, a guy called Clement Clarke Moore claiming authorship after it was initially released anonymously, however, it is believed by some to be the work of Henry Livingston Jnr. Either way, it's a great Christmas poem and one I'd like to share with you here.
A Visit From St. Nicholas ('Twas the night before Christmas)
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
A Visit From St. Nicholas ('Twas the night before Christmas)
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
Thursday 17 December 2009
Off to Oz
I'm going to thaw out over Christmas in the 33 degree heat that is home right at this moment. I'm looking forward to seeing the family very much, but I'm not looking forward to the five days of traveling I have to do to get there, especially as I only get eight days actually in the country. Ah well. Home sweet home it is.
Friday 11 December 2009
Scrooge!
I saw the musical Scrooge at the Theatre Royal in Plymouth. It starred Tommy Steel, who at age 73 doesn't look a day over 50 and is still as spry as a 50 year old. It was a very professional production. Steel is a master at comic timing and so comfortable in his milieu.
The stage was awesome, the characters appeared and disappeared magically and damn fast too! and there were lots of flying sets changing the look and feel instantly.
The dancing was excellent. It was mesmerizing watching the cast, one guy in particular who's name I can't find but who's body was like rubber and just did what he wanted when he wanted it done perfectly.
I didn't actually make the connection to the Albert Finney film of the same name until afterwards, but the music was very familiar in places and I could sing along so the memory was still there.
It was a delightful Christmas romp and I enjoyed it immensely.
Tuesday 8 December 2009
Phrase of the Day: Cloud Cuckoo Land
This phrase turned up in a meeting some time ago but as my hands are only just starting to recover their dexterity, I've only just got around to blogging about it.
The meaning of the phrase is to imply that the person or thing referred to exists only in a realm of fantasy or in the imagination or that the person has their head in the clouds.
We were talking about local property tax ratings and land valuations in the meeting, and how they are calculated, and the presenter quoted a judge who had said the whole system existed only in cloud cuckoo land. Hence my interest.
In all fairness to the rating system, it began life in the 1600's and has grown organically ever since, so it's hardly surprising that it makes very little sense these days.
Anyway, the phrase finder has a lovely explanation of the origin of this phrase which I am going to re-post in full here as it's very clear:
Origin
It is nice for once to have a definite and unambiguous origin for an expression. Cloud-cuckoo-land was coined in Aristophanes' whimsical and extravagant play, The Birds
Chorus leader: So what name shall we give our city?
Pisthetairos: Well, do you want to use that mighty name from Lacedaimon - shall we call it Sparta?
Euelpides: By Hercules, would I use that name Sparta for my city? No. I wouldn't even try esparto grass to make my bed, not if I could use cords of linen.
Pisthetairos: All right then, what name shall we provide?
Chorus leader: Some name from around here - to do with clouds, with high places full of air, something really extra grand.
Pisthetairos: Well, then, how do you like this: Cloudcuckooland?
The play was first translated into English by the poet and translator Henry F. Cary, in 1824, which is the date of the entry of 'cloud-cuckoo-land' into the language.
So there you have it.
The meaning of the phrase is to imply that the person or thing referred to exists only in a realm of fantasy or in the imagination or that the person has their head in the clouds.
We were talking about local property tax ratings and land valuations in the meeting, and how they are calculated, and the presenter quoted a judge who had said the whole system existed only in cloud cuckoo land. Hence my interest.
In all fairness to the rating system, it began life in the 1600's and has grown organically ever since, so it's hardly surprising that it makes very little sense these days.
Anyway, the phrase finder has a lovely explanation of the origin of this phrase which I am going to re-post in full here as it's very clear:
Origin
It is nice for once to have a definite and unambiguous origin for an expression. Cloud-cuckoo-land was coined in Aristophanes' whimsical and extravagant play, The Birds
Chorus leader: So what name shall we give our city?
Pisthetairos: Well, do you want to use that mighty name from Lacedaimon - shall we call it Sparta?
Euelpides: By Hercules, would I use that name Sparta for my city? No. I wouldn't even try esparto grass to make my bed, not if I could use cords of linen.
Pisthetairos: All right then, what name shall we provide?
Chorus leader: Some name from around here - to do with clouds, with high places full of air, something really extra grand.
Pisthetairos: Well, then, how do you like this: Cloudcuckooland?
The play was first translated into English by the poet and translator Henry F. Cary, in 1824, which is the date of the entry of 'cloud-cuckoo-land' into the language.
So there you have it.
Tuesday 1 December 2009
Great Weather for Ducks
That's what the lady in the pub I passed this evening said to me anyway.
This morning I had my first Plymouth frost of the all-cars-are-now-white-cars kind. A glorious red sunrise on the way into work didn't actually make me feel any better as it made me realise that I actually start my walk to work 20 minutes BEFORE dawn... :S
And then this evening it rained. It doesn't take a very heavy rain to soak me if it's persistent rain, and this was rain was bloody minded. My thought-to-be-waterproof-shoes, were not, and I had to wring my socks out when I got home. I now have the lovely bath-wrinkled-toe look. :) It's not yet sleeting though, so a little saturation I don't mind so much. The cold utterly sucks, but the wet is bearable. I'm not looking forward to the snow though. That'll be here sometime. Ich Ach Och.
This morning I had my first Plymouth frost of the all-cars-are-now-white-cars kind. A glorious red sunrise on the way into work didn't actually make me feel any better as it made me realise that I actually start my walk to work 20 minutes BEFORE dawn... :S
And then this evening it rained. It doesn't take a very heavy rain to soak me if it's persistent rain, and this was rain was bloody minded. My thought-to-be-waterproof-shoes, were not, and I had to wring my socks out when I got home. I now have the lovely bath-wrinkled-toe look. :) It's not yet sleeting though, so a little saturation I don't mind so much. The cold utterly sucks, but the wet is bearable. I'm not looking forward to the snow though. That'll be here sometime. Ich Ach Och.
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