As Time Ticks On... Like a BOMB!

The months following the previous conversation were spent nailing down dates, or trying to. 

How the hell am I supposed to prepare for this? 

First off...

SPEECH THERAPY!!!

What? You ask. Yeah, no kidding. I tend to hold my stress in my jaws. This is a really bad thing. Especially in my profession. I was clenching so very hard that the muscles in my jaws locked and I started pronouncing my words wrong. I was having a hard time being understood. I'm not blaming the last transcontinental trek on this phenomenon, I'm just saying...

Anyway, 500 smackers. hours of therapy and daily exercises later, I can speak properly again and all is right with the world. My voice world anyway. For now.

Next up: What to do with all the time we'll be there?

I'm a subscriber to various mailing lists. Who isn't? One of my favorites is a site called Living Social. Ever hear of it? If you haven't, it's a site that posts promotions that businesses use to get customers in the door. More often than not, the deals are really worth it. You'll experience a taste of what the establishment has to offer with half the cost. Not that I'm trying to push this particular company, but I have used the services on occasion and have been satisfied. Also, it's world wide. 

From time to time, I'd scan the UK offerings and send links to the most interesting deals to Haggi. 

Things like: 2 for 1 cream teas with champagne, dinner and shows and spa packages. Each of these emails was met with an 'I'll take a look at it' response. If you've ever been a kid, you know what that means.

Okay, fine. Momster isn't interested in discount meals or experiences. I get it.

So what is she interested in? 

Before this idea came up, my mom and dad adopted a new puppy. (I'll post that fluster cluck one of these days, but I digress...)
Meet Beatrix Potter. Yup, she's adorable. We're dog people. And when we're away, we like to see our babies via SKYPE. 

For my birthday, I had asked for the new version of the Nexus 7. Okay, so it wasn't new, it was a year old - 2013 version, but I had the 2012 version and was hoping for an upgrade. I offered my old 7 to my mom so she could SKYPE with the babies.

2012 Nexus 7

 'I don't want it. I'm getting the Nexus 9, and it's going to be better than yours.'

No kidding. That's a quote. Also not true, The Nexus 9 isn't better than the 7. Only bigger. Both have the capability of Lollipop... I'll stop there. Truth be told, I did consider the 9. I found it would be too big for travel and at the time of this posting, still lacks a usable keyboard. So the 7 it was for me. I have two now since the Hag turned her nose up at my generous offer. 

2013 Nexus 7

Nexus 9

I'll stop here for now, while you're hanging on the edge of your seat. Don't worry, this gets more interesting as time goes on.

Egrets, I've had a few...

Have you ever done one of those things that you knew you would regret later? I don't mean eating a creme puff that you know will show up on your ass the next day, or drinking an adult beverage that will exact its revenge in the morning. I mean one of those things that wake you up in a panic? Something to rival the PTSD of soldiers world wide?  

I have...

But maybe I should start at the beginning.

Several months ago it was a regular day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and all seemed right with the world. (Yeah, yeah I know... totally cliche'. Work with me here.)

The phone rings.
Me:  Hello?

LOOOORRRREEEENNNNN...  It was the croak of Momster. Nothing unusual for the most part.

Momster:  I've been thinking...

Oh God! Don't think! Please don't do that...

Momster:  I'm kinda feeling the need.

Don't... don't....

Momster:  I want to go back. I feel like I missed out on a lot last time.

RUN! WTF is wrong with you? RUN NOW!!!!!  

Me: Are you sure?

Momster: Yes. When do you want to go?

Don't do it! Remember last time? It was a disaster! RUN!!!!

Me: Um... 

What the hell are you doing? Stop encouraging this!!!

Me:  Are you sure you're sure you want to do that?

Momster: Why not?

Let me count the ways...

Momster: But later than we went last time, it was too hot.

Too hot. "TOO HOT", SHE SAYS. What the hell are you doing?
     She's my mother, it's not like I can say no.
Yes. Yes, you can. I's easy. It goes like this:  nnnnnnoooooo.....
     I can't! She spent decades mastering the mother-guilt syndrome manipulation triggers. I'm impervious to it. It's my Kryptonite!

Momster: So why don't you look around for a class or something you can take later in the year okay?

Don't do it. I'm warning you... don't do....

Me:  Uh... okay, I guess.

What. Have. You. Done?
     I'm not quite sure.....

So yeah... it's like that.

Homeward Bound!

Once again, I awake to having to leave England. I was rather sad to be honest. And not just because I was leaving too early to get my doggone full English breakfast.

I had to be at the tube by 7 to be at the airport by 8. Ah well. 

I crept out of The Penn Club, putting my key behind the 'Closed' sign on the reception desk. I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't have to deal with the Harpie. Still annoyed that I paid a good deal for a full brekki and won't get it.

There was no rain to enjoy as I walked the short way to the Russell Square tube line. Just a quiet Sunday morning. I was hoping to hear church bells in the distance, but I suppose it was a bit too early for that as well.

I got down into the tube station and was greeted with a surreal site:

The station was eerily empty. 
It was a little creepy in a way, but I thought it made an interesting visual.

 I sat and waited for the next train totally expecting it to be void of any other human inhabitants.  I couldn't have been more wrong.



About five seconds after the photo was taken, HORDES of people piled into the station. 

Hordes of people. HORDES!

The next train arrived and it was packed to the gills. Who the hell travels around London at 7 am on a Sunday? Answer: EVERYONE! Wow! What the hell was going on? It was so annoying.

Whatever the case, I took my roller bag and my lazy butt into the train. There were no seats so I posted myself up against the wall and had a seat on my hard case. (One of the few advantages to having a nice hard case I suppose. I don't think my big soft one would hold my weight.) 
Eventually I made it Heathrow.

Guess I know where everyone was going.

There was a line to check into my flight. I don't usually pay attention to mergers and whatnot, but I have since found out that VA has merged with Delta. GAG!!!! Maybe that's what was up. I don't know. I didn't want that doggone early flight, but I was using points, so I had to take what I got. BLAH!

I finally got through check in and security with, thankfully, an aisle seat in the extra legroom section. At least there's that.

This time, I tried the cheapest of the buy-in lounges at Heathrow. This one is called Servicair Executive Lounge.

It wasn't bad. It was cheap - about 30 bucks, so it was more like a United Lounge states side. At this time in the morning there was no hot meal option. I later found out that the hot meals are put out around 11. In this case it was to be soup. 


It didn't matter. They had liquor, (for me, wine) and coffee or tea and muesli. I'm good to go.

My first serving. After this I had more wine. Then more. DON'T JUDGE ME!

Liquor Bar

A couple of hours later, I trudged through the economy 'scum' line to get on the plane.

I know, I know... You already know what I'm going to say. And yet, I must.

YES, there were screaming children on this plane. About 5 feet from me.

Now hang on a second. It has come to my attention that some people in this day and age think that it's ridiculous to complain about 'a kid being a kid', and 'kids will just do what they want.'  This has caused such angst and annoyance in me that I will defend my position. Pardon me whilst I retrieve my soapbox.

Retrieved.

I have, and will continue to maintain that in spite of all of the God given talent in certain facets, I am still a person. A person, person. A human person. Nothing different. Nothing 'special'. I was one of these toddlers on a plane. Did I squawk and screech and, yes BARK in the face of other passengers? No! Did I scream for no reason? No! Did I run down the aisle of the plane bapping every armrest on the way? NO! 

Why didn't I do these things? Because my MOTHER, a.k.a. Edie Baby, a.k.a. Momster, a.k.a. The Hag, would purse her lips and squish up her face, give me 'the look' and threaten to pinch or inflict some other type of bodily harm upon my person. Did she do it? No. Why? Because I sat the hell down and behaved. Again, why? BECAUSE I FEAR THE WRATH OF EDIE!

So if your kid barks in my face, it's your fault! You are the one who should be stabbed repeatedly in the throat, hung upside down, bled dry and your lifeless body fed to feral pigs! You are the one who should be eviscerated with a butter knife. YOU are the one who should have your teeth drilled down to the nerve. YOU!

And if your kid has some medical issue and can't relax and for some ungodly reason you don't want to treat this through chemistry, there are herbal alternatives. Melatonin, Valerian Root and in some cases Belladonna. LOOK IT UP!  And for @#$%^! sake, DISCIPLINE YOUR KIDS! And get off my lawn!

But I digress...

I will skip over the part where I'm sitting next to an old Russian couple which ended up being a nightmare because for some reason they thought I'd be a wonderful interpreter. I'll pass over that, and give you this:

These two girls were sitting in front of me. I've seen a lot of things on a plane, but never this. Gotta give them props for not 'frontin'.'

I'm not sure if it's because of the merger with above listed domestic hot mess, but it felt like years and years and years before we got served 'dinner'. I even had to dig in my bag and get out one of my emergency bars. Granted, I may have been feeling the cheap wine hit my stomach, but whatever. Then about a year and a half after that, after trying to mimic 'chicken' and 'mooo' for the Russians next to me, I got my dinner. I think it was lasagna. And 10 pasta shells with ranch dressing on it. Nothing like something nutritious! 

The Russians both got the chicken.

And hours and hours and hours, child screaming hours later, I was offered a vegetarian or pepperoni thingy. I chose veggie. I got pepperoni. Pretty much par for the course as far as things are going during this flight.


And then an hour or so before we landed, tea time. Egg salad finger sandwiches and coffee. Mmmm... not really. I pretty much dumped the whole doggone thing.


We did indeed land safely. And again, LAX and VA evidently were at odds as it took about an hour and half to get the luggage. However I was entertained by the Border Patrol going after the couple with the barking kid for smuggling fruit into the US. The fruit sniffing doggy came around about three times while I was waiting for my one whole bag. I guess if you check in early on a point ticket your bag gets stuffed into the remote nether regions of the bowels of the plane. That image made me laugh as I pulled the germ jelly out of my bag and liberally squirted myself and said bag.

They say you get what you pay for. I'm not certain that is always the case, but in this instance... I may have gotten what I deserved.Will it cause me to run away and swear off airline travel for the rest of eternity? No. It just sucked. It happens. 

I passed through immigration without much ado. My ride showed up and I rode all the way home. When I got there, this was waiting for me:

And all was right with the world.

School Daze!

Evidently I have an odd (some may say neurotic) need to learn stuff. This isn't a bad thing, right? Except for my bank account... but I digress.

Now don't worry, I'm not going to drag you into my class. That would be wildly boring. And no one really cares.

Now for the goods. 

Breakfast at The Penn Club.  A selection of juices, cereals, muesli and fruit then a hot cooked breakfast of the full English variety. Yummy. 

I started off with some fresh-ish fruit. Canned pears can be forgiven I suppose. And the thimble of orange juice was a little tinny, but that's okay too. 

I didn't eat any of the cereal selection because it was still cold outside and there was a wonderful light rain. Instead I opted for hot porridge. I like oatmeal, so all was fine with me. While that was cooking, I got some apricots, grapefruit and pears. As most of The Penn Club's clientele are in their golden years, there was an entire bowl dedicated to prunes. This amused me to no end. Does that make me a bitch? Yeah, probably.

The cute little waiter guy came around and asked how I wanted my egg or eggs. I didn't know the British term for sunny side up, so I asked.

"Sunny side up? Do you say that here?"

"Fried egg." 

Well, I felt stupid. But that's what I ordered.

So here was my plan: Eat the sausage, the weird potato thing and veggies then with some toast make an egg and ham sandwich to bring with me for lunch.

Which I did. Yay! In theory anyway.

Here's the hot breakfast.

Off to school! It was drizzling and cold-ish but I wasn't complaining.
I get inside and wait for the class to start.
The class starts and I really enjoy it. We worked for 1/2 a day. Then lunch time. Seems I'd forgotten my egg and ham sammie back in the room. Looking back now I realize there was a chance I had time to go back and get it. Well crap! I was cramming for the stuff at the end of the day after having gotten my replacement books the day before, so I was more than pre-occupied.

I went to:

and had

and

It was gooooood too!

So back to class for the last half of the day. It was fun, but of course I have an insatiable need to know stuff and I didn't feel like I learned enough. But that's my fault not the class's.

I get back and it's still drizzling. I ring the doorbell for the door. 

Evidently this was an egregious mistake. The Harpie was behind the desk again. Oh for the love of God!

"Are you staying with us?" Because she forgot that she screeched at me the day before.

"Yes, I am."

"Then you need to use the key!"

Huh... well the little dude the day before neglected to mention that little tidbit. He told me to use the key after hours. 

"Okay... Um, sorry. Oh, and I tried to log on to the internet last night and the code wouldn't work, I was wondering if I could get another one? The message said the code was already used?"

"Well, there isn't anything wrong with the code! I can tell you that. There may be something wrong with the internet or your stuff, but the code is fine. I'll give you another one though, but the code is fine!"

OKAY THE CODE IS FINE!!! WTF is this broad's issue? Seriously?

Now let's think about this for a minute... If you've read this blog you know that I've put up with a lot. No less than rats, blood spatter and bed bugs, but I have never written a bad review. Until now. Yes, this broad ruined this place for me so badly that I had to let the world know that to stay here was to put one's self into the path of a mythological bitch. But I  yet again digress. Apologies.

(If you want to read my review, you can find it here: Trip Advisor Review Scroll down to TravelDoggie9997 from Baltimore Maryland. I wasn't about to leave my real name an location.God forbid The Harpie have super powers.)

My friend Joey (We'll call him Terracotta Distribution TD for short) had his film festival that week and I promised I would attend a show. 

I bought a ticket for A Thief a Kid and a Killer. 

I don't know what's going on between Youtube and Blogger, but if you're interested, you can see the trailer at this post:

A Thief a Kid and a Killer trailer

I found the venue online, because the code was working (hurrah) and made a note of the way to get there.

I was in a little bit of a panic because I had to get to the Mall. Of course the designated tube station was closed, so I had to get off at a different one. I left the tube and was met with a plain street with no signs. I was at a loss.

There was a guy standing there smoking so I asked him how to get to the Mall?  Seems like a logical question, right?

He tilted his head and looked at me, "Do you mean The Mall?" 

He pronounced it 'maal' as in malware, where I pronounced it Mall as in shopping center.

"Oh... MAAAL. Yes, please, how to get to the Maaaaal?"

He gave me a general direction to take. Now I was familiar with what The Mall (as in malware) was because I'd recently seen an episode of Top Gear where they lined up all the vehicles made in the UK along The Mall as a tribute to the motor industry. So I knew more or less what I was looking for.

It looks like this:

And I had to go through or around Trafalgar Square to get there.

I remember playing with the pigeons in the square as a kid so I was rather happy to be able to check it out, even for a nano second.  As I walked by, I noticed that there was a GIANT BLUE CHICKEN in the square.

Why? Why was there a giant blue chicken in Trafalgar Square? No idea, but I took a picture.

SBG was there when I arrived to introduce me to her friend she refers to as 'the old man'. Not 'her' old man, per se, but a good friend of hers she teases about being a home body. 

He was very nice. I was glad to meet him. :)

SBG and OM opted out of the film. But not I.

It wasn't bad. In fact, it was surprisingly entertaining. Not surprising really because TD has good taste.

After the film, as usual when it comes to TD's superpower of persuasion, I was poked, prodded and cajoled into joining them for a drink. A DRINK!  I was very adamant on that point. 

After trying a couple of places we ended up at a place called The Pheonix Club.

This is a members only club for artists. Yeah, I'd probably join if I lived there. I'm not quite sure what that means but 'members only club' sounds spiffy.

It was nice. I got to catch up with some friends from the UK and, interestingly, France. I told my Parisian friends about my fiasco in Cannes and they too had horrid experiences there. I was quite happy it wasn't only me.

I met the sister of a friend of mine. Her name is Laurence and she is lovely. We found that we had to band together to defeat TD's superpower of persuasion and left around midnight. Laurence walked me to a bus stop with a night bus and sent me in the right directions. I was feeling rather Blance DuBois-esque at the moment, but it was fine. I found my way back to the Penn.

It was after midnight and I was crazy tired, but I had to be on the tube by 7 so bathing that night was not an issue.

I dragged my butt up the 65 stairs and got my bathing stuff from my room. I opened the door to the bathroom and nearly passed out!

There was old man clothes hanging on the door stinking up the place. Just the clothes, not the old man himself. This concerned me for several reasons. 

1) Did he forget his clothes here after a shower?

2)  Did he think hanging his clothes on the back of the door to a closed bathroom was going to clean them?

3) Was there a naked old man creeping around this level of The Penn club doing God Only Knows What?

I quickly closed the door, drew in fresh air, cleared my head and went to find another bathroom. 

Success!

It wasn't much, but the water was hot. 
I took my shower. I then headed back to the room to pack up what I could and get a very few hours of sleep.

Ahhh... 

TFEFF14: Thief a Kid and a Killer trailer

Training Day!

There wasn't any way in the world I was sleeping that night so I passed the time watching the news.

In the morning, the sun came up and the pudgy guy across the way was enjoying a cigarette on his balcony and wearing an orange vest. It could have been his flat or part of the hotel or anything really, but I wasn't that interested. Yes, okay, I was being voyeuristic, but too bad! I was bitchy and tired and had to wait till after 5 to get back to Gatwick to catch a train.

Okay, I admit it, I was being nosey.

I caught the first train out. It was a nice ride for the most part. All filled up, but a nice quiet ride.

I got to the exit and I was trapped. The doggone turnstile wouldn't let me out. WTF????
I was then accosted by a turnstile nazi - because there is such a thing. Turns out I took the wrong train. Of course I did because I didn't have the info of the right train due to all of my crap being stolen. Fine, whatever. I had to cough up an extra 12 pound before I was released. Whatever, it's just money, right?

I hopped the Piccadilly line and made my way to my next port of call, The Penn Club.

I'd heard really good things about this place and it was recommended by the Pastor of my now defunct church. (In all honesty, I've closed down 2 churches - DON'T JUDGE ME!)

I arrived at 8:30 knowing full well it was way too early to check in. I figured they would have some type of baggage hold so it should be fine.

I wheeled my case up to the door and tried to open it. I had to ring the bell. Okay, they're security conscious. No problem. I wheeled inside. 

There was an attractive woman at the desk. I smiled as I approached.

"Hi. I know it's early, but I have a reservation..."

"You can't check in now. Go away and come back after 3:00. If you come back after 8:30 pm, you can't check in." This was spat at me with an Eastern European accent.

"Um... okay. Can I leave my bag?"

"In the common room. Just put it there." At which point she walked away. Not the best of first impressions, let me tell you.

Pretty close, actually.

With a little bit of trial and error, I found the common room. I took out all valuables, (not that I was worried since it was a Quaker place - or had any valuables for that matter.) and left my bag in the corner. Okee doke... now what?

I was to have a meeting at 10:00, but I still had to replace the stuff I needed for my class the next day. I set out for Waterstone's.

I knew it was around there somewhere and without too much of a hassle, I found it. 

Three items and fifty pound later, I left the establishment to go to my meeting.

I sat and waited for the guy who never showed up. Reception kept calling his office, but he never answered. I didn't really have that much of a pressing time matter, so I waited around a while. Oh well, not meant to be. The world won't end. 

*It turns out that we were both there, but for some reason the wires were crossed. Too bad.

I had some travelling to do, so I took the tube to King's Cross station to hop the train to Hertfordshire.

The confirmation code was one that I had to re-print in Cannes. I dug it out of my new zipper portfolio - the one I just purchased - and typed it into the machine. The machine spit out a ticket. 

I'm not an idiot, I swear, but I had no idea at all what this ticket said.

I made the mistake of asking an attendant. He told me that my ticket may be incorrect and to go to the Customer Service and check.

I DID NOT SEE THIS!!!!!!  DAMN!

I stood in line at the Customer Service desk for a little bit. The guy finally told me to go to Platform 5. So, I go to platform 5.

I get onboard, and the train takes off. Exciting!

One or two stops later, the dude comes around checking the tickets. He gets to me, looks at the ticket, looks at me, looks at the ticket and informs me: I'M ON THE WRONG TRAIN!

What to do?  Get off at the next stop and get the next train back to the station. Fine.

I get off the train at the station and of course, can't get through the turnstile to find out where to go. A nice lady attendant opened the thing for me. I found out that I needed to be on Platform 9. Now the original guy may have said Platform 9, but maybe I didn't hear him right or his accent messed me up. It happens. Whatever the case, I get to Platform 9, ask about 7 other people if I was in the right place, was assured 7 other times that I was in the right place and got on the doggone train.

Off the train goes!  I don't know how long of a ride it was, but finally I got to Hertfordshire Station. A really cute, tiny little place. I get off the train and go in search of a taxi. There was construction going on everywhere. I mean everywhere. It seemed like a big money injection was shot into the town and they were doing their best to use it. Good for them! I took a taxi to the back exit of  University of Hertfordshire.

I won't bore you with the details, but here are two pics.

Now of course by this time it was mid afternoon and instead of heating up like it does at home, the temperature decided to drop. A lot. I mean it must have dropped about 10 degrees in 10 minutes. I asked a guy (who gave the impression of being a Big Man On Campus- pompus ass that he was) where I could buy a sweatshirt and he directed me to the Student Forum. I go in, find a nice soft sweatshirt and a Chicken and Mushroom Ice (because it sounded gross) with a diet coke and tried to pay.

DENIED! Yes, once again my credit card was denied. This time it was because it wasn't a chip and pin variety, and just a stupid card. Crap. I had to go around the corner to the cash machine and pull out cash. Again, only money, right?

So I did that. Paid for my purchases, donned the sweatshirt and found a place to sit and enjoy my fat filled, over processed and really, really not good for you lunch. Notice I took no pics of the nutrition information on the back.

The thing was just a pasty and not too disgusting at all. Why it was called an 'ice', I still don't know.

Throughout this whole day I had been trying to get in touch with Heather and Thomas, the most perfect couple in the world. The plan was that I was to go up and see them. 

This sounds perfectly reasonable, doesn't it? Of course I kept trying to email them and let them know of my progress- be that as it may. Why wasn't my phone emailing? I don't know. Did I have a number for them? Of course I did, but it was STOLEN! So, no, not at this moment in. I continued to try to contact them via email to no success. My plan was to get to their train station and try to find a phone book. As if anyone knows what those are anymore.

I found the right bus to the train station after asking several people on the campus - none who's first language was English, not that it matters - and shivered waiting for the bus.

I got to the station without incident. I bought a cocoa since it was freezing and I had a 20 minute wait. Eventually it came, so I got on the train.

Of course I didn't know what station to de-train, because that was in my portfolio too. So what do I do? Ask of course.

"Hurry, go across there and catch that train." Was the answer so  I did that.  There was a cute sign in the train.

So now what? You guessed it, I was on the wrong train! Again! I don't know if the guy didn't understand me or if he was just having fun screwing with a tourist, but either way, I ended up at a station with what looked like a Gaelic name I couldn't pronounce. CRAP!

I sent one more frantic email explaining to H and T the situation and begging forgiveness. I was freezing, had no idea what time it was and I was lost. I got off that train, crossed over to the platform with trains going the other way and found one that said 'Kings Cross'. Ah. I'm familiar with that. I waited for the train.

Turns out there was a soccer/football game/concert/something in the city that night so the station was filled with drunken revelers. I usually don't mind this, but I was cold and upset so I went to hide in a corner by an old lady and wait.

About two hours later I arrive and King's Cross. I decided I better get back to The Penn Club and check in.  I go into the tube station and tap my card at the thingy. I make a tube station change and get off at Russell square and tap the thingy again.

I walk back to the Penn and check in. THANK GOD there was a cute little guy behind the desk this time and not The Harpie. I get my key, retrieve my bag and huff it up the 65, yes 65 stairs up to my room. I'm not out of shape. I'm really not, but this had me winded.

The room was small but clean and it had it's own heater. I couldn't complain. There was a common bathroom on the floor, but it was only a few feet away. 

SBG invited me to join her for dinner. After the day I had, I was thankful. She gave me directions to the place and I followed them to the T.

I found it. The dinner was delicious! Ahhh, blessed lean protein. Blessed vegetables. So happy to see these old friends. I was beginning to think I would never see a 'clean' meal again. Thank you SBG!

After dinner, SBG sent me off with specific instructions including:

"Get off at Victoria. Walk directly across the way. Directly. Do not talk to anyone, do not ask questions. Get right on the Piccadilly line."  I did just that lo and behold I made it back in once piece. 

I tapped my Oyster card on the thingy and out I came. Walked to the Penn, up the 65 stairs, a quick shower and into bed.  I used the code that I got at check in to go online. No dice. It told me the code was already used and pretty much to go F myself.

I had every intention of studying, I really did. What I did was set every alarm and timer on all of my devices and quickly fell asleep.

Thank God that day was over!