A Little Smog and a damn good Blog!

 From my unpenetrable Lair of Quirk, I write to you as one woman with her hat off. I have removed my hat, in this case a flat cap, and have it eschewed against my jumper like a Victorian chimney sweep when Sir Jollington VI walks past. A single tear has left a white track down my blackened young chimney-sweeping face as I think in my head, 'Bravo, London, bravo'. Because, fellows, I have just returned two days ago from the social highlight of my 2013 so far. Not that there has been much competition. But oh, the ball I have had! :D

The scene was set for a good time, with a very jolly and thorough Heathrow delay. After struggling to land for upwards of 20 minutes, we were told upon landing that our steps were broken and we had to stay onboard. For an indefinite time. That was a barrel of laughs. Once I entered the airport, I made my way to the underground station. My dear pal Hannah was coming from the opposite end of Heathrow so I set out to wait. Unfortunately a ridiculous amount of delays happened her end so I was hovering like a lurking lurker for over an hour. Luckily, my 'puppy dog playing a game' face encouraged other arriving tourists to seek my advice about my 'native town' of London. I guess standing next to the arrivals board was a bad idea, I was tempted to hip jut and gesture at it and say 'I know how to commute, ask me how!' Still, I like to think I was able to help the Spanish ladies make the local phone call. And my fizzing coke bottle provided some lively entertainment for a French school group.

Stay at Premiere Inn. They match beds to your PJs.

Eventually Hannah made it, and by chance we had both been looking for each other and opposite ends so turned at the same time and saw each other, while some clanging 80s saxophone chimed. Reunited (phew!) Crannah made their way to the underground and began their journey.

As a tube pro, it was a stress free commute to our delightful Stratford Premiere Inn, with a view of the Olympic Park. We used a self- service check in machine (SELF- SERVICE!!! It printed out our room keys and everything!!) and made our way to the lifts, me jigging with glee for the chance to exploit a hotel room, declaring "This is one of the true pleasures of my life!"

It was delightfully clean and well-laid out and I did the following testing.
1. Bed bounce test
2. Free biscuit check (none :( )
3. Free coffee check (two sachets!)
4. Travel kettle (yes!)
5. Bathroom products (Foamburst shower gel dispenser- score!)
6. TV working (Freeview channels)
7. View (car park and edge of Olympic stadium, and sometimes a lardy builder looking back at me)
8. Trouser press (none)
9. Spare stuff (two pillows, lots of towels.)
10. Reading room service/restaraunt menu (Burgers? Burgers in a meal deal? BURGERS!)
11. The Miranda two moves to kettle from bed dance (Successful in one teddy bear roll and a finger press)

Everything to my satisfaction, we decided to head on down for some dinner. Burgers and (triple-fried) chips- yummy! Summer fruit and jelly sundae for dessert- jolly roger! Returning to our room, we watched almost the entirety of comic relief in our PJs. Well, until David Tennant was trying to guilt trip us and we reached an angry limit!

Saturday morning: the reason we were there. Day One of the Country2Country festival in the 02- that's right, the U.Ks first ever Country Music festival. Stopping for a croissant and coffee breakfast and a Pizza Express lunch (my pizza- gorgonzola and leek- had an ACTUAL HOLE in the middle stuffed full of salad- two meals in one!) we made our way to the arena for an all day American country town explore and music revelation.

Us and a Pilgrim Choice cowboy

The Pilgrim Choice cheddar cowboys were about.So, of course, we had to get our picture taken with him. And we also posed in a photo booth wearing cowboy hats for the chance of winning a month's supply of cheese. Obviously. With a quirky start, we explored the cowboy boot, gingham and hat stalls, and the dozens of international food stalls. Enjoying an incredibly MOIST piece of coconut blondie, we anticipated our actual concert.

It was amazing. We found people like us, of all imaginable generations, crazy for country, wacky for western! As a testament to this: queue back to tube, mass crowds singing along to 'Jolene' and middle aged and elderly women and men wearing cowboy hats and spangly boots.

Festival main stage

The actual acts were all amazing. The atmosphere was intense with anticipation and joy and disbelief for what was actually happening. Actual violins and banjos getting played on a live stage, people rocking out on guitars and singing with their souls. We were satisfied campers.

The next morning, Sunday, we woke up to another day of delights to be had. We made our way into the Westfield centre for dinner and had a sudden filling of dread. Were all the shops shut until 12?? Could we not get any breakfast? But alas we went to a crepery and had a crepe and coffee for a few pounds. I had a Canadian crepe- my first ever real taste of bacon and syrup combined. I think, after all, I could easily be Canadian! I also learnt an important lesson: Macchiatto is actually just a really small coffee. Gutted.

Me in Zizzi with my beer

We headed towards London Bridge for some sight seeing: we stopped for a frolic around the Globe theatre, some superb river views, a look at HMS Belfast, which was reverberating with Irish music to celebrate St. Patrick's day, and eventually we managed to find the bridge, though it took a surprising effort! We had lunch in the GORGEOUS Italian restaraunt Zizii- why do we not have it in N.I?? Gorging ourselves on delicious garlic bread with cheese and balsamic onions and a delicious lasagne/chicken, red pepper and goat's cheese pizza, I ordered a beer and was told 'Excellent choice!' It was bliss eating yummy food and watching the river flow past us. That sounds so metaphorical!

An obviously drunk man got on a tube and said "I just need a few pounds so I can get off the streets, guys." We ignored him. We are soooo London!

Heading back to the O2 arena, we stopped for another coffee break in Costa and enjoyed the build up to the next stage of the festival. Now on good speaking terms with the couple next to us who had been there the previous evening, we had a nice chat and awaited our wonderful acts. As a personal show highlight: we saw LeAnn Rimes performing on stage and fulfilled a childhood dream since Coyote Ugly came out in 2000, we got to sing along with 'Can't Fight the Moonlight'. Dreams can come true! LeAnn nearly cried, and we did too. In other news, Brantley Gilbert was delectably good at being both Metal and Country. Carrie Underwood is apparently a performer that triggers multiple girl fights if the number of women being escorted out from the stadium is anything to go by. And Hootie and the Blowfish's own Hootie, Darius Rucker, is an awesome dancer and got us all singing along to 'Family Tradition' by Hank Williams Jr., country royalty himself!

With the festival over there was a sense of sadness but also a real sense of gladness for having gone to it. It's definitely back next year and we can't wait! It was awesomely good.

Monday morning, we packed our bags and checked out, heading into the centre for some more sight seeing. We hit all the main sights, though Buckingham Palace disappeared off the map while we were looking for it, so we didn't make it there! Our dream of becoming Mary Kate and Ashley in 'Winning London' will have to wait until next year, when we've acquired colour lensed sunglasses and tartan trousers.

We went for lunch to a Chinese all you can eat buffet, where the food was nice, but they hid us in a creepy backroom, forced us to drink fizzy water and shouted at us until we paid them extra. Such fun!

Goodbye until next year, London!

We went to King's cross to get our picture at Platform 9 and three quarters, but discovered a line of tourists paying to have their picture and decided that, surprisingly, we were actually too cool for something. Heading back to Heathrow early, there's nothing like an hour and a half squeezed onto a tube where the driver keeps repeating 'We do not have a final destination for this tube yet.' to get you in the mood for going back home.

I give my trip to London a 9 and a half out of 10- only thing that would have made it better would be if Carrie Underwood's promised 'very special guest' had bothered to show up and had bothered to be Brad Paisley.

In other news, last night I fell asleep and weird stuff happened. You've heard of sleep walking? Of sleep talking? I take things to a whole new level of cray-cray. As a child, I woke up multiple times at exactly 12AM to be sick, one time I worried so much about taking a plaster off the next morning that I woke up and it had disappeared, never to be seen again, and last night: for a couple of months, one of my teddy bears has been missing, leaving me just two in my bed. This morning, I woke up and the third bear was back!!!! How??? Why??? Amazing! So, apparently adult sleep walking is a sign of mental instability/psychological problems.

I actually find myself filled with dread as to what sleep Jeremy-Kyling means...

Ain't that a kick in the teeth!

Hello and how are you? Everytime I write a new blog entry I feel more and more like I might be morphing into Miranda Hart...no bad thing, the woman's a living legend...as am I ;)

Hey, rude!

Previously in my life (okay, now I'm doing it deliberately) the legend began of the mythical SonofaPreacherMan. There'll be a small segment on him later on, although unfortunately it is not the story I wanted to be telling you now, and I still want to change the story now, but this is what we are dealing with. And it is the wrong ending. But I know you are almost as fond of him as I am readers so I felt he needed to be mentioned. More on that later.

Some other interesting things about my last few days first. I went to a very cool farm with the children the other day. It had bison, goats, ostriches and llamas all roaming together. Anyway, on first arriving, a white blonde llama sidled over to me and we had an instant connection. I swear in my head I could here this playing: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zB2gPZRsz0Q. We had the most lovely conversations and she was desperate to lick my face, she kept sidling right up as close as I would let her, but I couldn't quite face a slimey llama kiss. Two rough looking male goats, who were so fat they seemed pregnant, had a massive fight over my affection as well. It was about the most exciting moment of my life so far. Well, certainly the first time two males have been vying for my attention.Ohhhh, my life, who'd have it, eh?

Yesterday, after a gorgeous morning of getting given cuddles at the top of the really cool slide in the nearby playground (seriously, it's a rush to go down that slide!) in the afternoon, we made our way into Basel city centre as I wanted to see where my language course is held, and it was goooorgeous weather! We went down to the shore of the River Rhine for some paddling and there were some very lovely and very frightening things which happened. I had a nice cool beer on the shore, got to dip my feet into what has to be the nicest cleanest river ever, and got to go collecting shells with the children. The one frightening thing: the nearly poo incident. While both parents were absent, the little girl decides she can't hold in her poo anymore. She's screaming 'It's Coming!' in front of crowds of people. I'm shouting 'Hold it in!' and everybody is staring at me like I'm a terrible mother. It's just that she was meant to be doing it discretely in the water to be immediately caught by her dad once they returned so I was waiting for that and I wasn't dressed in my swimsuit so couldn't do it myself. But, my goodness, that was a tense few minutes! Particularly as she was starkers as usual...

After Basel, we went out for dinner at a restaraunt, where I managed to eat a ginormous ham and pineapple pizza alone. Uh oh, I'm a right greedy pig! The children got given these ice creams for dessert in the shape of Pingu's head, I was super jealous!

When we got home late at night, I watched 'The Italian Job' for the first time with the parents from a perch of a car seat, eating ice cream with chocolate sauce and drowsing until nearly one in the morning.


 Another funny thing that happened yesterday, just proving that you never know what's going to happen next. The door bell rang. We all went to answer it in mass form. It was a random student from London trying to sell home made cards for an extortionate rate. We all have a nice chat with him, and of course I'm urged to tag along with him and his other friends who he is travelling with. So he is told to write down his email address for me, and I can't help but see an echo of SOTPM (come on, we all know what that stands for!) except I was never able to email number one. I give him a plum while he waits, and we have a nice chat, he seems like a nice guy. He says as a parting comment 'Drop Me An Email'. So I did. He never replied. Hmm...I'm no genius but this seems like another case of boys being absolute liars, to me anyway. It gets a bit annoying!

This morning I decided, after a night's sleep of only four hours, so my decision might have been a bit misjudged, to go to church. THE church. Where THE preacher man preaches. Now, bearing in mind, it's in a different village, it's a long walk, and church started at 9.30. I headed off with my Sunday Best on, two plums to eat on the way, and a plucky can do attitude that was thinking, 'Yes! I'm doing something great and independent! And yes, this is when I'm going to talk to SOTPM and ensure he does want to hang out, because I'm a CATCH!! And also apparently...an IMBECILE!

I arrived at the church a little early, but thought 'Ah well, I made it here, I'll just wander the grave stones and wait for other people to show up!' I saw a lovely grave stone which said 'Der Herr war meine Herte' which means 'The man was my heart' and I just thought that was the sweetest thing ever! Plus, I was in such  close vincinity to his house and this was his church, that I thought 'Surely, I'll get my chance now to chat to SOTPM! But no, nobody showed up. Not one person. Not one soul. I checked my watch at 9.30 and then thought 'What the frig??? Are they all inside?? I ferreted around to each and every door. Not one sound.There was however a sign saying 'No Entry' (I think) and a map directing people towards a random old school house instead. Missing my chance, I hung my head and went home.

If that wasn't a sign that I'm not meant to SOTPM again then I don't know what is! So, there were my grand plans ruined. No nice cosy chat. No friendly greeting. No sighting. All that's left is my ability to stalk him on Facebook and the loss of my plucky can do attitude- so THAT'S why I'm not a natural optimist! 

In the wilderness (literally) of my wild mind (figuratively) I meandered home through corn fields, feeling hot tears of frustration and anger. That's what happens when I try to be independent! Singing 'All By Myself' to the nearby fields of horses is probably not one of the highlights of my life. Neither is getting my hopes up about someone that never really showed an inkling of interest.