Posts Tagged ‘bus’

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Travel update: Stonebridge Park

December 2, 2012

I completely forgot that the other week, on our way back to London from Peterborough, Toby’s parents drove us via IKEA in Wembley, where we managed to get some much-needed furniture for the flat which I blogged about on HOMME FATAL here. As we had misjudged the size of their large-but-not-quite-large-enough car, Toby and I weren’t actually able to fit in the car along with the furniture for the journey back to Chiswick, and so we decided to meet his parents back at our flat and caught the bus to Stonebridge Park, where we got the overground back to Gunnersbury:

Stonebridge Park

 

I had never really visited this part of London before, and I am very intrigued to go to Warwick Avenue and Wembley Stadium, neither of which are too far away I don’t believe.

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officially moving out and up!

September 27, 2012

ACTUAL LEGITIMATE NEWS: we have signed the contract on the flat and we are moving to Chiswick next weekend! I am extremely excited to finally have my own place with Toby, which will have mirrors and wardrobes and a communal patio / garden, and the potential to have a parking space with a car! It feels terribly grown up to have found our first place as a couple, and somewhat accomplished to have gone from starting a flat-hunt to signing a contract in a week. I think that now I am going to compile a list of ideal housewarming / birthday gifts I need / would like to receive. Fun!

Also, Toby and I attempted to go and see Looper on Wednesday. Unfortunately, it hasn’t come out yet – so that was embarrassing. However, we ended up going to Fulham Broadway and having a lovely meal at Wagamama instead (and I also bought a book from Daunt Books on Fulham Road, Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris, which so far is hilarious). In order to get to Fulham Road from Conway Street, I took the 14 bus from Euston Square:

Short and sweet! Like the 74, the bus took forever to turn up; unlike the 74, it did not get hopelessly stuck in traffic for half an hour as soon as it did. I don’t know if I would necessarily take it again (and after next week, I’m unlikely ever to need to again), but it was a nice excuse to tick off another tube station. Look out for Turnham Green to Ravenscourt Park, likely to be snapped and posted in the near future!

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travelling.

August 14, 2012

I’m currently just over halfway through a well-earned two-week break from work, and I’m back in Bristol at the moment with my family. But over the past week I have bounced up and down the country, from London to Peterborough to Hastings then back to London via Heathrow!  During the car journey with Toby and his parents from Hastings to London, I played “the adjective game” with his mother in the back seat, which involves taking turns in saying the following rhyme:

I love my love with an A because he’s _____ (positive adjective beginning with A, e.g. “amazing”)
I hate my love with an A because he’s _____ (negative adjective beginning with A, e.g. “arrogant”)
His name is _____ (boy’s name beginning with A, e.g. “Aaron”) _____  and he comes from _____ (UK town beginning with A, e.g. Aberystwyth)

The next person does the letter B, then the letter C, and so on. It soon became apparent that while I could think of adjectives and boys’ names fairly quickly, my knowledge of British geography is woefully lacking. Apart from when my dad’s mother was alive and we would visit her for a couple of days in Filey, Yorkshire each summer, and travelling to the outskirts of London to see various members of my father’s family when I was young each Christmas, I didn’t really get to know much of England. School trips stuck mainly to the south west – occasionally Birmingham or Wales, but never any further.  In my late teens, when I was doing my university applications, I visited cities such as Oxford and Cardiff for the first time. I hadn’t even gone to central London and used the underground until I was 19 years old. I only like two cities in England – Bristol (more about that later), and London. I’m certainly not attached to anywhere else. Nevertheless, I feel that it’s important to visit cities in my home country (as well as countries throughout the world – Toby and I spent an hour last week making an exhaustive list of desired holiday destinations that will probably take us through to our seventies) to experience new places and broaden my horizons.

During my time in Peterborough, Toby’s mother suggested to us that we might like to go for a picnic at Rutland Water, which is a giant man-made lake / reservoir in the middle of the countryside.  Within that sentence, there are two words which unnerve me deeply: “picnic” and “countryside”. I don’t like picnics because they conjure up images of sitting on grass and mud, eating miserable sandwiches and constantly warding off bugs and insects. My preferred way of experiencing the countryside is through Google Earth or iPhoto – that way, you don’t have to smell it or get hot and sweaty walking through it, and you can turn it off once you get bored. I realise this sounds bratty, and I’m poking fun at myself a little bit – but I’m truly not one for gazing out over endless fields. I see it, my mind takes a picture, let’s move on – the fields do not do anything entertaining to hold my attention, and there’s no focal point. However, I tried to be up for something new, and I didn’t want to outwardly reject Toby’s offer of an outing, so we went along. The first hour of walking along a cycle path through clouds of midges, lumps of poo and flocks of sheep with the sun beating down on me and cyclists weaving all around us did not do much to endear me to Rutland Water, and I felt really bad. While my worst fears had indeed been confirmed, Toby had tried to do something nice for me and I wasn’t being very appreciative – he got a bit upset, I apologised and made more of an effort at conversation, we ate our nice sandwiches on a bench (at first he did come close to breaking his promise that we wouldn’t sit on the grass, but I firmly put the kibosh on that one), and soon it was a much more pleasant experience. We then drove round to the other side of the lake, which was far prettier and felt a lot more like a park.  For the record, I really like parks – we visited Battersea Park on Tuesday and it was lovely, plus we fell in love with nearly every dog that we saw (one of which, a bichon frisé, fell in love with me and followed me for about 5 minutes much to the chagrin of his owner). My mood had lifted a lot and I was actually enjoying myself, and Toby was too – as guilty as I felt for my initial ungratefulness, I am proud that I was mature enough to get over myself, enjoy myself and thank Toby for his thoughtfulness in the process. We skimmed stones (I discovered that I am really bad at this), looked at a very strange metal sculpture (apparently created purely to be aesthetically capitivating):

and walked along a dam made of piles of stones, which was very romantic. I ended up having a lovely time and after my initial disquiet, I appreciated the fresh air and open space.  Would I go again? I probably wouldn’t be the one to suggest it as a destination, but neither would I feel anxious about going. I still majorly dislike the countryside – that’s just me, I’m afraid – but I think I can learn to get along with it.

A couple of days later, we went a long drive from Peterborough down to Hastings for Toby’s brother’s engagement party (his brother’s fiancée is from there). I would personally never choose to live in Hastings, as it’s extremely tiny (I do not cope with tiny towns) and feels underdeveloped and a bit tacky, but – walking along the waterfront at night, and then picking my way down to the shore the following lunchtime, I could see that living by the seaside does have its charms:

Walking along the waterfront with Toby’s dad and Katie’s father as the sun set was truly lovely – people were playing crazy golf, a live band was playing, and there were stalls selling confectionery and ice cream. On Sunday we had lunch at a restaurant on the shore, and we went down to the water’s edge after finishing our meal and being that close to the water did feel a little bit magical. It did help that the weather was wonderful, but the venue just possessed a holiday atmosphere which I was able to appreciate. We drove back up to London and Toby’s parents dropped us off at Heathrow airport, which did feel exciting – we joked about just getting on a plane and leaving the country (and there were certainly plenty of appealing destinations on the departures board), but Toby had to be well-behaved as he is back at work this week. We each had a lemon San Pellegrino at the Caffé Nero there, and then got the tube back to Earls Court – and I ticked another underground station off my list:

And now I am back in Bristol. I am having a lovely time seeing my family and friends, and it is good to be home… but at the same time, I really feel that London is also my home now. I’ve lived there for a year (which has flown by!), and every time I return to Bristol, I notice how small the city feels, how tiny the buildings are, and how a considerable amount of the people look a bit… idiosyncratic. Obviously, you get dodgy-looking people everywhere, but I guess that until I started to see more of the world, I didn’t notice it in my own city as much. I always knew that the public transport in Bristol was a joke, but today I paid £2.90 for half an hour’s bus journey. The bus driver was on his mobile phone at the bus stop and I had to wait for him to finish his conversation before I could buy a ticket; I then asked how much it cost (as he didn’t tell me the price of the ticket – he just assumed I would know), and upon paying the driver, he practically threw my change at me, slamming it into the little money tray. I know that Bristol is a very friendly city, and that London is notorious for its rudeness and impatience, but the London public transport is far superior not only price-wise (a bus journey is less than half the price, and even the tube is considerably cheaper), but attitude-wise too – I’ve never been sassed by a London bus driver to date. So sort it out, Bristol! It’s sad that unless something major happens, we’d never be able to afford to buy somewhere in central London, because that would be a dream – but I’m looking forward to Toby and I moving into our own place (we are renting our own flat together in the next couple of months – I’m so excited!) in the next couple of months.  My sense of exploration is blossoming.

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Tube update: Finchley Road & Frognal and Hampstead

July 15, 2012

Today, Toby and I had a long lie-in and I finished watching Veronika Decides To Die (excellent, thought-provoking film; Sarah Michelle Gellar is captivating). We didn’t really know what to do with ourselves – we were debating whether to go to Westfield but decided that a Sunday trip would be better as it will hopefully be a little less busy. So after breakfast, I tempted Toby with the idea of going to Hampstead. I go up there for work sometimes, and the leafy, suburban feel is different to the London that we normally inhabit. We got the Overground from West Brompton to Finchley Road & Frognal:

Then, we walked up to see Sigmund Freud’s house on Maresfield Gardens. It’s £6 to go in and have a look, and I’d heard that the museum inside was fairly tiny, so we left that for another time when we were more in the mood, but from the outside the house was very quaint:

We then decided to explore Hampstead High Street, since I had heard that it was a lovely area, but had never been there myself.  On the walk there, the heavens opened and so we took shelter in Caffe Nero, where we had lunch. The rain passed, and we looked around the Oxfam Bookshop and Zara Home. I also saw Hampstead tube station:

We then walked back to West Hampstead to get the 328 back to Earls Court, which was a long journey! In my previous London Underground post on West Hampstead, I had just posted a picture of the Overground station, and as the bus was going past, I managed to snap a quick picture of the underground station across the road, so I thought I would add that one here too:

Oh the glamour! But it was lovely to explore parts of London we don’t see, and that have such a different feel to the Royal Borough and Fulham. I look forward to doing some more before the summer is over!

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Tube update: Richmond, Kew Gardens and Hammersmith

January 22, 2012

Today Toby and I decided, to start our healthier lifestyle (all my clothes still fit but I was disconcerted to realise how snug my suit jacket felt when I put it on yesterday at work), that we would have a long walk. We got on the bus to Richmond (which takes a lot longer than 30 minutes – don’t believe the bus timetables!) and had a lovely lunch at Starbucks! The station however is not what I have been used to. Witness their underground sign:

Underwhelming, n’est-ce pas? So after fruitlessly searching the station, I decided that this shot would have to do:

After speaking to the barista at Starbucks (and finding out that you have to pay to get into Kew Gardens proper), we decided that the best thing to do would be to walk round Old Deer Park and then along the Thames – which was a two mile walk! We did well! It was very pretty and we took some pictures along the way:

We saw a rainbow!

Toby was pleased by our walk and decided to look stately.

Eventually we got to Kew Bridge, walked through Kew (and decided that living there might be a bit too out of the way, but all in all wouldn’t be too shabby) and made our way to the Kew Gardens tube stop, which was again somewhat underwhelming but at least an improvement on Richmond:

It was a lovely day and we both felt tired but healthy after our walk! We got the bus back and although this is sort of cheating, during the journey I managed to get a good picture of Hammersmith tube station:

Good times! Shame that as I post this blog, I have just come back from the pub and sneaked a couple of profiteroles… A well, every day is a new day! Goodnight folks x

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Tube update: Parsons Green, Putney Bridge and East Putney

January 7, 2012

The first London tube photo post of 2012! Today I had an epic lie-in and was watching the Channel 4 Sarah Palin documentary until 12:30pm, when I decided I really should get up and do something with my day. As I have been feeling a bit podgy post-Christmas, and Toby was planning on baking bread, I decided to go for a walk to give myself some exercise and rid myself of cabin fever. I walked to Parsons Green (and the green itself is lovely and small):

Emboldened by my success (and the fact that Parsons Green really isn’t that far away from Toby’s flat), I walked on to Putney. When I got to Putney Bridge station, I found out that Fulham were playing Chelsea in the football today (I am generally oblivious to footballing events and mainly find out about them from the amount of Chelsea or Fulham fans amassed in my vicinity) and was surrounded by lairy individuals wearing football kits and drinking cans of beer. Police were on horseback and guarding the tube stations, but that didn’t stop me from getting my picture!

Again, since I’d come this far, I decided to walk to Putney and have a look at the shops on the High Street. Eventually I got to East Putney station…

…realised I hadn’t brought my house keys with me (so I couldn’t go back to my flat and have lunch, which was my bright idea at the time), so walked back to Putney High Street, picked up some sandwiches for me and Toby to eat for lunch, and then got the bus back to Fulham! A good day with healthy walking and a new-found appreciation for Putney.

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shame.

June 2, 2011

In pursuit of trying to attain a carefree, happy state, I need to try and unburden myself of the baggage that I carry. I think that we all do, and we all have stupid things buried in our past that become a part of us and that resonate as mistakes we are embarrassed by. I generally try and move on and learn from my mistakes, and luckily I can say that each of the following things that I am ashamed of, I have only done once! As long as we learn from our mistakes, that is the important thing. But I want to share 5 of my biggest, most embarrassing mistakes with you so that I can relieve myself of the chips on my shoulder (or try and wipe away the grease these chips have left behind!), and so that we can all see that we ALL do stupid things and we’re only human – unless we fixate on them and don’t move past, we are not defined by our mistakes.

1. Car accident

A month and a half ago, I had become much more confident with my driving, and I had found myself caught behind cars which were driving very slowly and being quite impressive. I never drive aggressively, but I was becoming impatient. It was the Easter holidays, and I was leaving for work on a Wednesday morning. My mother told me to drive carefully, and I brushed it off with a “yeah, yeah”because I thought she was worrying unduly and just doing what mothers do. You know what’s coming next.

Not 10 minutes away from my house, I can’t remember why but I looked down at my phone on the seat next to me for a second. In that second, my hands must have moved on the wheel, I veered into the other lane of oncoming traffic, and I looked up to see my wing mirror being knocked off the car by a van, and although it had swerved to avoid me, the back of the van hit the front wing of my car. Now everyone was fine, the damage was not major, and I just needed to pay for some polish to remove the worst of the scratches, some touch up paint, and a new wing mirror glass to replace the one that had been shattered (the rest of the wing mirror luckily just popped back onto the car in the same way it had popped off).

But I just felt so embarrassed at a) making such a stupid mistake, especially when my phone hadn’t even done anything! My phone stays on silent in my pocket from now on, and I put a playlist on my ipod of what music I will listen to on my journeys prior to setting off!

b) That I could have done much more serious damage, and injured myself or another person. It was bad enough that I had ruined my pretty car (that’s how I felt – now that it’s all touched up, the dent is barely noticeable – especially compared to a lot of cars’ scratches and war wounds) and damaged another person’s vehicle.

c) What would other people think of me having an accident only 3 and a half months after getting a car? Would my friends, my partner, my family risk getting in a car with me again? I was clearly careless, and I was afraid of being judged. Slowly but surely, I have told some of my friends and I was surprised to know that they have nearly all been in a similar position. The most common expression is “oh, you’ve had your first prang!” This makes me feel a little better, because I am not alone. I certainly drive more carefully as a result – I just wish that it hadn’t taken a car accident to make me wake up and be less complacent.

I lost my confidence with driving, and I am only now getting it back. I felt disappointed in myself and doubted my own ability. Mike was absolutely brilliant – he told me to just get in the car, drive to work, and then we went to Halfords and sorted out the door hinge, polished and painted up the dents and scratches, and ordered a new wing mirror glass. And this is the attitude I need to maintain – no matter how disappointed in myself I felt (and I felt pretty low in the days following the accident), I got back on the horse and kept going. Even when I didn’t want to. So that (along with the not looking at my phone while driving) is what I am taking away from this experience.

2. Walking on the motorway in Spain

My friend Jen from LA had come to visit me for a few days during my placement year as an English Language Assistant in San Roque (southern Spain). On the way back from Algeciras on the bus, it seemed like it suddenly got dark and I ended up getting us off the bus at the wrong stop. We didn’t have much change, so rather than wait for the next bus to come along, I decided that we should just walk up to a clearer area and then I would call my flatmate Juan and hope that he would pick us up (which he ultimately did). This involved walking up alongside the motorway – it was unsafe, and Jen was shaking and crying all the way to the roundabout where we met Juan. Although at the time I was scared myself, I felt that we had no option other than to walk – in retrospect, we should have waited at the bus stop for the next bus to come and explained our predicament to the driver. It would have been much safer, and I am ashamed that I put both of our lives in danger, just because I had not enough money and too much pride. I would never make that mistake again, and I was lucky that Jen forgave me easily.

3. Writing ‘SEX’ on my classmate’s art overalls

When I was in year 4 at school, I was fascinated by sex because at that age, it was naughty and forbidden and I was just gathering an awareness of what it was. Because it was naughty and provocative, and my classmate Nick was pissing me off in an Art lesson, I scrawled the word “SEX” in green paint on his overalls. Looking back, this is obviously not a big deal and sort of hilarious – at the time, Nick went to tell our art teacher, who told me I was “evil” and my punishment was to take the overalls home and wash them. Which meant my mother saw, and she asked me why I had written it. I had no real answer, she didn’t talk to me for a day, I returned the clean overalls, my art teacher forgot that I was “evil”, and everything was ultimately fine. But I was ashamed at the time because it was such a shocking thing for a child to write and to do, and being told I was “evil” only made me feel that sex was dirty and naughty, giving me some issues to work through in my teenage years.

4. Mentioning 9/11 to a new student from New York.

When I was in for an induction day for 6th form, we were introduced to a new student who had come over from New York. Her name was Alex, she looked nervous and I decided, in my utmost wisdom, to be friendly and warm towards her. We made polite conversation, and then I decided to put my foot in my mouth and mention 9/11 (which had happened nearly a year ago, by this point), and ask how her family and everyone had coped with it. What possessed me? The poor girl just smiled and flabbergasted, said that everyone was coping and that it hadn’t really affected her overly much. I learned from this that I should think before I speak and that if something seems like it might be a faux pas, then it’s best not to say it. Needless to say, we did not end up being friends.

5. Overreaction at the QCG 2009 Christmas party.

I wrote about this here, so I won’t rewrite it. All I can say is that but a few weeks later, I met Toby (the real love of my life) and I can now look back and see how neurotic I was, and how much I have chilled out. And I can still be pretty neurotic now, to be honest – so when I was younger, I was probably quite crazy!  I have learned to try and keep my composure, to just keep moving in life, and that love is just around the corner, even when it seems most unlikely. And a year and a half on, Mike and I are still close friends and that is the most important thing.