Monthly Archives: September 2018

On the way down from Inverness I called in to one of my favorite mystical places in the whole world – the unbeatable Castlerigg. Whilst is was constructed as perhaps a megalithic place for the trading of axe heads, some 3,300 to 900 BC, during the Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Ages, to me it is like a hidden Brigadoon where the sheep stand around smiling waiting for the next bed sheet wearing dancing druids. I love William Wordsworth’s description:

“…a Druidical circle [where] the mountains stand one behind the other, in orderly array as if evoked by and attentive to the assembly of white-vested wizards”.

Whilst the population of Edinburgh might be a bit under 500,000 every single one of the half a million population were driving by themselves in the city in 500,000 cars. OMG the traffic. The centre of the city up near the North Bridge has been gutted to make way for a massive new shopping centre and yep what did I do – book the lovely hotel on top of the North Bridge. Whilst the hotel was fabulous (as the Apex’s usually are) getting to Waterloo Place needed a whole packet of Valium washed down with a bottle of neat Scotch. I eventually managed to park the trusty stead down in the depths of a Scottish cliff and there was no damn way I was getting it out until I headed North. Thankfully, the very lovely Brian collected me and he did a brilliant job of dodging cranes, cement trucks and the 500,000 cars. Spent a fabulous day at work and they organised a lovely dinner where pasta was consumed amongst the lovely lilts of my Scottish colleagues.

It was so lovely to see Jan and John at Keele near the twin cities of Newcastle Under Lyme and Stoke on Trent. I don’t know about the new castle bit of ‘Newcastle’, or the Lyme Brook of the Middle Ages, but I did get to stay in the best five star pad ever – the lovely home of Jan and John. It is so nice to hear Aussie voices when visiting Keele and seeing Reggie, dealt with my pooch homesickness. I always get totally spoilt at Keele. Between a short drawing of breath to eat, we went back once again to the gorgeous Hand and Trumpet. Apart from sublime food, the gin menu does your head in. Once you work out which gin you might have (out of pages and pages and pages) then which tonic? I love the oversized wine glasses that the chosen G&T comes in. Of course, Jan and I stopped talking briefly to eat, but then once home, the wonderful John plied us with tea and cake and if I hadn’t have been comatose at that point, we would have sat up all night talking UK and Aus higher education. I was quite sad when I left my lovely friends and left my brand new makeup in their bathroom just so I have an excuse to go back soon to collect it. I swapped the car for a new one (I wish) so the drive across the countryside to the home of that dastardly tryant the Sherriff of Nottingham was super easy. I really enjoyed my time teaching the third year undergrads. North to the lovely city of York for a brief reprieve on my way to the Highlands.

Just for a moment imagine London in drenching rain. When she has her party dress on, London is one of my very favourite places in the world. When it is pouring; it is the very worst. Was Sunday, so took off for a mad dash around Spitalfields, the Tate and shopping in Regent Street. Of course hadn’t processed that Monday was bank holiday. At 2 minutes past 4 checked where to find the hire car that I had booked. Hmmm. What car hire place at a major international train station closes at 4pm? A frantic call to Avis – you will need to go to Heathrow for a car. Climbed on to the train with piles of other drowned rats only to be told that every car at Heathrow was unavailable. Seemed terribly odd with row upon row of cars but car paranoia seemed a wasted effort. Eventually found a lovely little ‘A’ Class that was available at Europcar so amongst the fumes, pouring rain and noise of one of the world’s busiest airports finally headed north about four hours late.

The yellow oolitic Jurassic limestone of Cotswolds villages were somewhere in the darkness and pouring rain but I might has well have been driving across Mars for all that could be seen. It had been a very long time since breakfast and little villages were all in darkness so the best hope of getting anything to eat was most likely to be found in the city of dreaming spires. Not that any spires could be seen, but with thousands of cycling students surely there would be food available at all hours. Stopped at a funny Thai restaurant but the Phad Thai was surprisingly good. I can’t even begin to describe how damn tired I was when I finally pulled in along the canal in the home of the Old Bard.

After a day of literary greats, I went in search of a different type of workplace. Was googling interesting things in Fitrovia and found the aptly titled Attendant Café. I was highly amused working away in the tiniest space ever stuffing my mouth full of great avocado, toast and eggs. I am not sure the Lord of the Manor of Tottenhall, Charles Fitroy, ever imagined that a Victorian tiled underground loo would ever become a trendy café, although maybe so, given Fitzrovia’s bohemian history. A read of the history of Fitzrovia mentions reminiscences of Montparnasse. Not sure that today’s Fitzrovia resembles the left bank but I guess the universities, gorgeous furniture shops and the wonderful mummies of the British Museum do bring a bit of artistic and intellectual colour.

I walked nearly 30km around the neighbourhood of Virginia Woolf, down along Oxford Street for miles and miles as London woke up. I hadn’t stayed in this part of London before but just loved it. My cool little Goodge Street pad was sandwiched between some of my favourite streets – I have always loved Byng Place and the area around the British Library. In the other direction were the lovely streets in behind Oxford Street and right up around Harley Street. I had a stack of work to do so went and set up an office amongst the tomes of great writers. Quite surreal to be banging away on a keyboard with the Magna Carta, Leonardo’s notebooks and a few Beatles manuscripts a few metres away.

Took off on the super cool Dreamliner who was aptly named Waltzing Matilda. It felt like I had my own private room in some swish five star flying hotel. There was stacks of space and I just loved all of the compartments to put things in. It was clear she had been designed by a woman. Not often can you sit cross legged on a plane, recline back, and enjoy sixteen hours of total bliss.

A pilot once told me – if it ain’t boeing I ain’t going. After my amazingly comfortable flight, might just be my new mantra. Almost 15,000 km was covered in a very smart 16 hours. I could really feel the difference with the air on the plane; no headache and felt fantastic when I arrived. Fabulous air must have put the crew in a good mood too as the service was brilliant. Matilda arrived in to London just as she was waking up and Sydney (yes spelt like that), the lovely cabbie who was born on January 26, was a wonderful way to start the morning. Oh I do love a good London cabbie. Twenty minutes in a cab and you get a rundown of the state of the world, the state of young people and of course Trump. The best eight quid of entertainment anyone can have. I had booked in for the first time to one of the new Premier Inn Hub hotels, this time in groovy Fitzrovia. Sydney had a little bit of trouble finding it because of my crap directions and the major changes that have occurred on London roads. Great, wide, completely separate bike lanes through the city, might be a nuisance for cabbies, but are a boon to the thousands of whizzing cyclists.