Just time in London

Well, last weekend we had some fun and games. We needed to go to the doctors on Saturday morning to pick up a regular prescription. As the doctors here live a life of leisure, I cannot see one without taking time off work - twice! Once to register (if I can find one willing to take me on their books), and one more to see the actual doctor. So, there is a chain of medical centres at train stations around London, and we figured we could see one there easily enough, as you pay money rather than the NHS paying for it.

11am we were there, and I filled in the forms, and waited with Mike in the waiting room. Soon enough, the doctor came asking for Mrs Gilbert. I kept reading my paper. He said it again. I remembered that was me. Got up, spoke to him for five minutes and we left to get my prescription. Easy.

We had to be in Wimbledon for 12:30 lunch with a colleague of Mike's. We thought we'd be running close, but only by five minutes (perfectly fashionable). However, when we got to Parsons Green on the District tube line, we had to switch to a bus replacement service as there were engineering works between there and Wimbledon. An hour later we got to Wimbledon. And it is only a ten minute sort of distance.

We still got lunch anyway. Mike had plans to then join a Monopoly pub crawl - starting at Old Kent Road and ending in Mayfair with half a pint in each pub. His friend from Dunedin, Brent McMillan, was organising it, and Mike had thought about doing it last year some time. I'm more interested in doing some more organised walks. We did a Jack the Ripper one when we first came to London, and it was very enjoyable. I would like to try a Fire of London walk - see where it started, what change it made to buildings and stuff like that. Now, before you all think I'm very morbid (what, with serial killers and huge fires - actually I wonder if there is a Black Death walk????), these are just some historical highlights. I have also seen some historical sites with pleasant associations. Hampton Court, Tower of London. Hmmmm... Perhaps London just has a violent history. It is a huge melting pot of people after all, and has been for some time.

We had a lovely lunch that took us through to around 5pm. We took the train back to Waterloo to try and avoid the bus trip back to Parsons Green. Had a nice chat to an older retired couple in the queue to get me an extension into the Zone 1 of the train system. We chatted about New Zealand (they had noticed either our accents or our T-shirts). As we were passing close to Simon Haley's house, we rang him and I ended up dropping in to say hello. Originally it was just for coffee, but we ended up staying for dinner, and Mike arrived after a visit to two pubs only. The original starters were well on their way to drunken stupor, so Mike felt a bit out of it.

By the time we got home just past midnight, we both felt like a good sleep in the next morning. Unfortunately we had planned to go to Neath in South Wales (and call in on Jennie & Stephen) to watch a trials competition. Which meant a 6am start! Needless to say, that idea was scrapped!

So, a nice slow start to the day, which picked up when we realised it was a Superbike round weekend. So we watched the first round and then switched to the Formula 1 at Monaco. Inbetween, I went to check on the dishes I was washing, and smacked my wee toe on my right foot into the couch near the kitchen door. I writhed around in a bit of agony while Mike spoke to Richard & Theresa, and tried to comfort me at the same time. Then we put ice on it after it did not stop hurting. Two hours Mike insisted I have an icepack on my wee toe.

By evening, I could say that the motor racing was good. (Slight had a good result, and Coulthard won the F1.) The toe was not. Mike kept on saying we should go to A&E. I said it was only bruised.

Next morning it was a real struggle to walk the eight minutes to the tube station. I decided a trip to A&E was not such a silly idea after all. So, Mike & I organised that he would drive der Bus to the tube station after work, and I would hop in and we'd go to our local hospital. I had to go into town to meet with my accountants to be, so I got to Hammersmith tube station just before 6pm. It was peak hour traffic around the 'Roundabout of Dodgems', and we could count the number of times we have driven around this roundabout on two hands (not very much anyway). As the traffic was virtually stationary, it did not pose much of a problem for us. I waited at a convenient place, and hopped into der Bus as Mike pulled up. As we sat waiting to edge slowly into the main roundabout traffic, a brand new BMW 3 series hit our back bumper. He was trying to change lanes from behind us to the next lane, and judged it too fine. Mike jumped out, and we had suffered no damage (well, we do have huge steel bumpers back there, and he did hit us with nice soft door panels). He couldn't see a problem with the Beemer, and that driver (a man in his late fifties I'd say) never even got out to check his car. Incredible! As he drove past, I told him I could see no damage. Unfortunately as he moved further ahead I could see I had been checking the passenger door, and he had rippled the back door. Hopefully he won't be too cross when he sees it later. From his behaviour, I think it was probably a company car, as he didn't seem too concerned.

We got around the roundabout eventually, and travelled about 500m down the next road before we got to the hospital. mike had purposely not told me how close the place was as he knew I would try and walk there. We were in for the long haul, and after an initial check on how urgent my case was (not very- my foot was in no danger of falling off), we settled in for the wait to be seen. Mike was excited (strangely) when I told him the nurse had found a code in the computer for Stubbed Little Toe. Muttered something about some RHA codes or something. Sad. Well, we were prepared for the wait with books and the like. Mike even said at the end of the wait that it was the most relaxing evening he's had in a long time. Three and a half hours after getting there, after a X-ray (the highlight of my visit) they put the equivalent of a Band-Aid on my little toe. Ok, they told me there was a crack in it, but they may have been humouring me after waiting for three and a half hours. They also said the treatment would be the same for a broken toe as well, but I imagine the so called 'strapping' for a broken toe would have been more impressive than the thirty second bandaging I got from the nurse. Judging from the sloppy job, I thought they may have got the cleaner to do a bit of bandaging.

Anyhow, here I am on Friday evening (still at work - running a long tedious process) and my toe is not very swollen anymore, and I have taken the pathetic Band-Aid off. It still twinges from time to time, but I should be able to play squash in another week or so.

So, this weekend I need to come in and work on Sunday. Saturday will be a day of shopping for someone's birthday soon. That'll be nice.

Copenhagen

Friday 18th August, and we were off to Copenhagen, finally. Karen & Mike have lived there for the past 18 months or so, and we still hadn't visited them, despite it being high on our list of things to do. So, when Karen & Mike visited us in June, we booked flights to see them during this weekend. The only weekend they were free, and we were at a loose end.

Soon after they left us in June, they announced their engagement, so we also had to congratulate them, and find out how long Mike knew he was going to pop the question and other details.

Our flight was with SAS (Scandinavian Airline) and we thought it was very good. We arrived in Copenhagen after just over an hour and, being early, we sat and waited for Mike & Karen. After a short while, Mike arrived, minus Karen, who was stranded in the US on a business trip. So, Mike played the perfect host, and guided us back to their apartment on the excellent train service.

Karen & Mike's apartment was great. So spacious compared to our flat. They have a cool Ikea pull-out sofa in the lounge, so we were very comfortable. After chatting for a while, and having a nice cup of tea, we slept around 1am.

Next morning, I ventured into the bathroom for a shower. Little was I to know, that I would have been better off staying dirty for the weekend. I turned the shower on, and noticed the stream of water hitting the end wall where it threatened to trickle down to the floor, so I redirected the nozzle to go straight down. I put my clean clothes down on the ground, and my towel on a shelf, and gaily threw my PJs onto the floor as I got into the shower.

After a very nice shower, where I vaguely noticed a bit of water backing up in the bottom of the bath, I drew back the shower curtain and started to step out. I stopped, as I thought I had water in my eyes because I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I was sure my pyjamas were moving! Rubbed my eyes. Yep - they were floating over a considerably amount of water. My clothes for the day had sunk already. Panic! We were on the 5th floor after all!

I yelled for Mike, and grabbed my towel. He opened the door (the right Mike fortunately) to see what the problem was (he was thinking I had left an item of apparel behind). It didn't take him long to assess the situation. He grabbed a pile of towels from the washing basket and flung them in the water. They were absorbed without a trace. About this time he called for Mike, shouting that there had been a flood.

Mike thought that it was the trickle sometimes caused by the shower hitting the back wall, but was he in for a shock when he stepped in! Out came the cleaning products, out went the carpet. Out I went! The two Mikes mopped and I dried off my underwear and got dressed. A bit sheepish!

Fortunately it wasn't my fault. Mike pulled back the drain grating in the bathroom floor, and stuck a wire clothes hangar down there. Out came a big wad of hair and gunge. Certainly not all from my head, else I'd be bald! I just happened to be in the shower when it blocked. Obviously the bathroom was designed for this time of emergency, as it was a sealed floor, and no complaints were had from the neighbours below. However, the neighbour 2 floors down rang to complain, but it turns out she was complaining about the carpet dripping from the balcony onto her pot plants. Mike assured her it was clean water (!!) but moved the carpet anyway. Everything was hung out to dry on the clothes rack.

Breakfast went a long way to comforting me. Mike had got Danish pastries (real ones!) and a walnut bread loaf from the local bakery and introduced me to the delights of chocolate slices on bread. A delicacy from Denmark. We even bought some from the supermarket to take back to London. Wafer thin chocolate slices plonked on bread. Although Mike did spoil it with putting jam on his piece too. I went for the pure unadulterated chocolate option. Not even butter! Yummo!

Soon after this, Karen arrived. So, we chatted some more, and eventually agreed on meeting for lunch after Karen had showered. So, Mike took us on tour through a castle just opposite their flat, and on to see the Little Mermaid.  It is about ten minutes from their house. Little is very apt. But I was pleased to see it, as I identify it with Copenhagen. I felt I could go home from that point having seen all that I know of Copenhagen (not expecting to go to the Bohr Institute at all on this trip).

Rubber Chicken meets Little Mermaid

We wandered along the harbour and eventually got to Nyhavn where many a cafe and restaurant can be found. No. 17 seemed to be the consensus, and Karen got there soon after us. We ordered, and I ate traditional pickled herring, liver paste and some potato concoction. It was perfectly edible, but I didn't get the recipe. I'm not planning on preparing any Danish evenings for Mike back in London. I'm going to stick to the chocolate slice on bread for breakfast.

The other thing on my list of things to do was to buy another pepper mill. Karen & Mike had given us one as an engagement present back in London last year, but it was one of the things stolen from der Bus in Luton. So I wanted to replace it. We scoured stores to no avail ( I have since got one the same from a shop in Santa Cruz, California - Peugeot mechanism and all) but had fun looking.

An important thing to get done today was to watch the All Blacks play South Africa in the Tri Nations. So we found a pub that had too many South Africans for my liking. It was a very exciting game - one of the best. But, New Zealand lost in the dying seconds and put us in the unusual position of wanting South Africa to beat Australia in the last game. This would give the Tri Nations to the most deserving team - New Zealand. Where all rugby trophies belong. We met some rugby mad Danes (didn't know they existed!), and some pleasant South Africans amid the rabble.

To forget our sorrows we went to Tivoli - an old-fashioned amusement park in the middle of Copenhagen. I thoroughly recommend this as a highlight. Mike and Mike decided they would ride the Big Drop (I don't know what its real name was - you get raised up 50 m or so, and then dropped suddenly. Looked awful!). Karen & I positioned ourselves for a good view of their faces on the way down. It was quite amusing. Their faces screwed up a bit, but the really funny thing was both their legs went straight out from their seats. So, although they both said it was a cruise, Karen & I had seen their bodies belie their bravado. That's our version of events, and we're sticking to it.

There are some nice restaurants at Tivoli, so we picked an average priced one, and queued for a bit to get in. Mike & I had venison and loved it. Dessert was pretty good too.

Just before midnight on Saturday night, there are fireworks at Tivoli. So, we found a good spot and watched them. The wind was blowing the wrong way, and we all got showered with soot particles and exploded fireworks. Not to mention obscured by the smoke. A few smuts in the eye later, it was all over. We rounded off the evening with a few arcade games of the best sort. A game where you put rubber frogs onto a plate, and whack the end with a huge mallet, sending the frog through the air hopefully to land on a lily pad. Another where a water pistol is used to hit targets which gradually inflate a ballooon - winner is the one that pops it first. Very enjoyable evening.

We got home late, and crashed pretty soon. Although I picked up a book of Karen's to read which was to be our undoing later.

Sunday was relaxing. We toured a bit more of the city, seeing the palace and the marble church. We spent a few hours in the Nation Museum, checking out the Danish section with great interest. There were runes, coffins, skulls with holes drilled in for surgical procedures (and evidence they lived to tell about it too), viking ships, weapons and all sorts of clothes. There were plenty of artefacts from medieval Denmark too, and a good Greenlandic section. A very good museum. I gauge all museums from Dunedin's fantastic museum, and this one rated pretty high. After this, we visited the Round Tower, which was an observatory built for a king.
He was so lazy, the tower had access for a horse and carriage almost to the top. Now there is an art exhibit at the top. Very odd too, it was. Paper shapes at around 20,000 dollars each (some as cheap as 1000, others 100k). Not quite my cup of tea. Kinda hard to imagine it as anyone's cup of tea, really. Imagine it as the kind of thing where if you bought a new house, and this paper contraption was in a room, you'd pull it down thinking the previous owners had some bored kids. That, or an origami master run amok.

Mike and Mike at Round Tower

Back to Karen & Mike's flat for dinner. Mike cooked an awesome salmon and potato dinner and it was fantastic. Mike & I decided to see the Viking boat museum at RossKilde (oops, I can't spell it, and my attempt doesn't look Nordic enough) on Monday. We whiled away the hours chatting some more, before reading the book till the wee hours.

Woke up after Mike & Karen had left for work. Started reading the book. Kept reading the book. Told Mike to have the first shower, but kept reading the book. RossKilde plans vanished as the morning passed - and Mike still hadn't showered! With the book finished, I showered and we reassessed our options for the day. Some shopping was decided upon, along with a photo shoot of the rubber chicken with the Little Mermaid.

We met an old Danish lady in Mike & Karen's lobby, and she muttered some Danish at us and gestured wildly at a dwindling pile of Ikea catalogues. As we crept up quietly to her I'm pleased I did not utter my single word of Danish in greeting ('Hey' was what I thought was Danish for 'Hello', but turns out that was Swedish. Apparently hello in Danish is 'Hi'.). We smiled, and let her ruffle the pile a bit. Maybe she was saying how the Swedes are taking over Denmark and no good will come of it. The Danes being a bit anti-Swedish by all accounts. Lucky I didn't greet her in my flawless Swedish then!

Next stop - dodging the tourists at the Little Mermaid for that rubber chicken photo. I waited for a pause in the frantic posing, and grabbed my chance. I held the rubber chicken aloft in front of the Little Mermaid, and Mike took video footage and photos. Then, a woman started waffling away to me in a Nordic language of some description. It did sound awfully like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets. I wondered if I was offending Danish sensibilities holding a rubber chicken in front of the number one icon of the country. I did not need to worry. She merely wanted to poke the chicken - I think she wondered if it was real. Maybe petrified chicken - a long lost Danish viking recipe. Her friend behind mimicked biting the chickens head off. The Scandinavians have strange eating habits (remember Mike's huge slab of rams testicles in Iceland, and the whiff of petrified shark we got - not for us though - reserved for special festivities. Thank goodness!).

We bought a present for Karen & Mike to celebrate their engagement, and wandered back aimlessly (although Mike swears he knew exactly where he was going) through parks. Mike & Karen arrived to see us off at around 5pm. We promised to see RossKilde next time.

We had nice weather, and we enjoyed seeing how Karen & Mike live in Denmark. We've still got a few Scandinavian countries to explore (with Norway, Sweden and Finland being high on the list), and will no doubt tackle them soon. Denmark was surprisingly un-foreign, with the two old ladies on our last day being the only ones with no English that we encountered (although our stunned mullet expressions might have indicated to them that we only spoke Swahili, and they were fluent in English). If it weren't for pickled herring, we could have been in England. I'm sure living there presents its own unique problems that we were unaware of (Mike touched briefly on a strange tax system), but for English-speaking tourists it is very easy to get around.

Normandy Beaches

This weekend was a trip to Normandy (in French - Normandie). Grant and Greg came along, and we planned to storm the WWII beaches in a frenzy of tourist activity. It did not start well, with a departure from Honda at 4:30pm (Junction 5 of the M4 motorway) on Friday afternoon, planning on arrival at the HoverSpeed terminal in Dover at 6:30pm. Unfortunately, the M25 was bumper to bumper, and we arrived at the terminal around 7:30pm, after touring Folkestone looking for petrol. Turns out we just missed the sailing by ten minutes as it had been delayed. So, we sat in the StandBy queue, chatting to two Germans desperate to get home after a sunless summer holiday in Scotland. We finally got on the final sailing of the evening at 10pm (it was a SeaCat instead of the HoverCraft) and found ourselves in Calais, all ready for a three hour drive to the F1 in Rouen. Yep, we got into Rouen at 3am, found the F1 and crashed.

Next morning we drove to the beaches starting at Sword Beach. Unfortunately we were in a French traffic jam for a good portion of the morning. The weekend continuing as it began. But, the museums kept us entertained and informed when we got there. Hordes of tourists (esp. Americans) were doing the same thing. Sword Beach was packed with lcoals and tourists sunning themselves and swimming. Grant did not get a true feel for the war effort from this pleasant beach. Too hot and too crowded. We tasted icecreams (this was before Grant had become a McFlurry addict) and ate ham and cheese baguettes. Mike drummed up a room for us in Cherbourg (at the tip of the peninsula) after going through most of the accommodation in the town. Lucky last. We drove past several other beaches in the direction of Cherbourg and dinner.

One of the most important sites was at Arromanches. Here we could see the surviving concrete caissons from the hilltop overlooking the area. The Allies had towed huge concrete blocks here from England and set up a temporary harbour to unload soldiers, machines and supplies. This was one of two sites this was tried, but one was destroyed soon afterwards by a big storm in the Channel. Here at Arromanches you can still see the one that survived for a few months. One concrete caisson is washed up on the beach at Arromanches and you can walk to it at low tide. So we did. And it was huge. It still had bollards on the top side for tying ships up alongside, even though they were rusted and seaweed encrusted.

The museum here is one of the best and we spent about an hour looking at many relics from the war. We may have spent more time, but there was a bagpiper playing inside and it was a bit deafening. I love the pipes, but they are best outside (or at least in a huge hall - not a small museum where you can't escape).

The hotel in Cherbourg was one room with a double bed and two single beds. We made a pact not to use the toilet as there was only a shower curtain separating it from the main room. We waited for Grant to shower and get ready, then we went out to find dinner. We found a quiet restaurant just off the main streets, and I had a nice confit of duck (same as Mike). Very yum! The conversation at dinner was deep, and Grant & I wandered back to the room afterwards and left Mike & Greg to continue their discussion over some beers.

Mike & Greg ventured home around 3am after a few drinks. Greg leapt onto Grant's bed to close the curtains, but apart from that everyone was sleeping like babes in a few minutes. Waking was a bit more difficult. We had McDonalds for breakfast, just to check that Cherbourg Maccas was the same standard as other places. Then it was back to attack the beaches from the opposite end. First up - Juno. They had an excellent museum there, and we went down to the beach which was a bit more deserted than Sword Beach.

Next, Point De Hoc where the rangers had to scale the cliffs to get at German gun emplacements. They lost a lot of men in the battle, but won in the end. Only to discover that the Germans had moved the guns already. I appreciated this site, as the holes made by bombardment were still visible and it meant the visual impact of the craters left more of an impression in your mind of the senselessness of war. Perhaps even more so than rows of crisp, clean, white marble crosses at the American cemetery we were about to visit. The reminder of how much damage can be done with a bomb is a necessary part of a war memorial. I'm not sure though, how much of a deterrent it is to those in power, as wars seem to go on regardless. Still, seeing these sorts of places makes me remember my country's sacrifice of its young men.

On to Omaha beach, shown in graphic detail at the start of Saving Private Ryan (although that was filmed on a beach in Ireland). This is where the American cemetery is also located, with the 9000-odd crosses I mentioned above. It is a lovely memorial site, with peaceful gardens and a lookout over the beach. There were many Americans here, no doubt here due to the exposure of an Oscar winning film. However, anything that gets this sort of place in the public mind is worth it. This beach unfortunately cost a lot of lives, as it was not as gently sloping as other beaches, and I believe the general in charge made some miscalculations which lead to a loss of backup tanks.

We decided to stay in Amiens this night, which we thought would be 1.5 hours drive away. This would leave us close to the Somme and the site of the WWI trenches. As New Zealand had been involved in this battle, we hoped to find memorials that would bring all the fighting closer to home, and more personal. We booked into another F1 (the worst one we have stayed at yet), but unfortunately it took us closer to 4 hours to drive there. I was hindered somewhat by not knowing the scale of the map I was using to navigate. It meant we got to the F1 at 1am, and we were all a bit worse for the wear (how we had found it was another surprise). I was surprised to see sheets piled up in the hallways when we trucked our pack up to our floor. It was an omen of poor management.

Next morning, I couldn't get a shower as several were broken on our floor. And then when we went down for our pre-paid breakfast, there was no bread and no jam. So, after complaining bitterly (well, I couldn't in French, but Mike did well, especially with the help of another slightly disgruntled Frenchman) we got our money back and we piled our luggage in der Bus and left. After Mike accosted an innocent Frenchman walking home with his armful of baguettes and got details of where he had bought his bread (Mike had shouted out of der Bus in his best French - "What shop did you get your bread from?" to which the Frenchman replied in perfectly passable English, directions leading back past the village town hall, turn left, turn right...."), we found a supermarket (although I suspect it was not where our innocent Frenchman had come from - but it served us OK). In fact, better than OK, as it cost us 20 F less than a breakfast at the F1, and we had juice, grapes, brie, baguette. Very nice.

Now we were off to look at the Somme. This was the Western Front, and nearly 1 million people died here. We had the New Zealand memorial on our list, but there were a few other points of interest to see along the way. First stop was the 'le Grand Mine' - a huge crater left by tunnelling Allies as they burrowed under German trenches and laid explosives to blow them up. Mike had to ask directions from an old local, who was pleased to have someone to chat to. He asked Mike if he was English, and said Mike spoke very good French when Mike told him we were from New Zealand. Mike had got into the French swing of things by this stage and was able to waffle away quite well to him. With our updated directions, we found the crater. The explosion was heard in London, and the resulting crater is huge. There were less crowds here, and we had the place to ourselves for the first few minutes.

Next stop was the memorial to Newfoundland soldiers. The reason we wanted to see this site was that it remained as it was when fighting finished (apart from grass now growing where I suspect only mud could be found during the crucial years). Trenches wound their way all over the place, and I was surprised to see that they zigzagged when I had visions of straight rows. But it makes sense to zigzag them, because you can defend corners, and shrapnel won't go around them.

Next, we found the British memorial. It was a very impressive monument, with 70,000 names of missing Brits written on the walls. 70,000 they couldn't find. Grant found a couple of Holdoms there in the register. I found a S Emmerson on the wall. Quite sobering to see so many names, and know that they had just disappeared in fighting, buried under mud or blown away without a trace.

After that, the plain, simple New Zealand memorial was touching. And we found the name of the cemetery where New Zealanders were buried here in France on the other side of the world, on an information board outlining the New Zealand campaign in the region. So, we went to Caterpillar Valley cemetery, where caterpillars fall out of the trees (and they were huge things, not to be messed with, as evidenced by Grant's yell of surprise when a big juicy one fell on his arm and then twitched violently (the caterpillar not Grant, although perhaps it is an accurate description of them both)). There were names from the Otago and Canterbury regiments on the walls, and headstones to many New Zealand soldiers only identified by their uniform ('Known only to God').

I think we all came away with a certain amount of pride in the way young New Zealanders had fought so far from home. To think that we (the equivalent of great grandchildren in the generations between us and them) could visit beautiful France, talk to locals, eat, drink and stay in the hotels, only because of their sacrifice. Such a notion must have been so far from their minds when they were fighting on the Somme. And so many of them never left. It was so sad standing there, reading their names. Wondering if anyone was left alive that thought about them, or if anyone had visited the place where a loved one was buried. Back then, it wasn't an easy matter to come to France from New Zealand to visit a grave.

Time to get back on the road and head for an hour up to Calais. We made the ferry crossing with only 4 hours to spare (we had learnt our lesson). Enough time to explore Cite Europe (a big shopping mall) and get as much cheap French petrol into der Bus as we could (yes, Mike got ten pounds in at a squash, even though it took us 30 minutes in the petrol station queue).

On home soil by 8:30pm English time (we managed to get a hour earlier ferry crossing), and in bed by midnight (after dropping Greg and Grant off we ran into multiple roadworks in west London!!). A very good weekend indeed.

Brands Hatch SBK 2000

This weekend was a Superbike round at Brands Hatch. This is an awesome track just south of London - by the M25 motorway. The only problem is access, and you can read about fun and games exiting the circuit later. Richard and Theresa arrived on Friday night as their flat had been cleaned out by the movers ready for the shift back to NZ. One-Ear was a bit suss of this new flat. She slinked out of her cage with the lowest belly I have ever seen. I'm surprised she could walk with her legs that bent. She hid behind the table well out of sight. This was her haunt for about a week whenever Theresa and Richard weren't around. But, she came out Friday night when we were all asleep, as I woke up and heard her breathing in my ear. Theresa and Richard returned to their flat Saturday to clean it from top to toe. Sunday, we left quite early, but it was still a long queue to get into the Brands Hatch ground. We stocked up on McDonald's breakfast before joining the car queue, so we had enough sustenance to make it through the crowds.

As it was a gorgeous day, there was a huge crowd, and rumours Fogarty might not race again, but would have a few laps here, meant people were here just in case it was the last time to see him on a Superbike. We found a patch of ground on the opposite side of the track, and settled down to watch a good days racing and munch our way through food (we had a disposable BBQ which was very nice). Aaron Slight didn't have his best day out, and came off in the second race. Bit of a disappointment.

Leaving the circuit afterwards became a bit of a mission. It took us nearly two hours to get out of the paddock and onto local roads. Richard went and got us all an icecream from a Mr. Whippy truck. Needless to say, he didn't have a problem finding us when he returned (we'd moved a car length in that time). A funny thing though. A girl pushed her way through the bushes between us on the road and the campsite she'd just left. She was so occupied with getting out of view of the campsite to go to the toilet that she had neglected to see the hoards of cars idling their way down the road behind her. She found a bush, hidden from the campsite, in plain view of us, and crouched down. Mike wanted to hoot the horn, but I thought that would be cruel. So we all averted our eyes and continued creeping down the road at a snail's pace. In all, when I checked the mileage when we got home, it had taken us 3.5 hours to go just over 50 kms. Brands Hatch just cannot move cars out fast enough.

Elton John in Hyde Park

On the 27th of July, we went to see Elton John playing in Hyde Park. I went thinking it was going to be dreadful (some old has-been croaking out rubbish) and Mike thought it would be OK. However, Elton sang all his golden oldies, and I really enjoyed hearing them. And Mike thought it was a boring old has-been going through the motions. So there you go. Talk to me if you want to hear a reasonable review, talk to our friend Grant if you want to hear that it was the best concert in the world, and talk to Mike if you want to hear that Elton should retire before he damages people's ears. Hyde Park was an outside venue, and we had the best evening for it.

Buying our Lindsay Crooks painting

On 29th July, Shona and Sharon's birthday, I had planned to chat with Shona on Yahoo Chat. Unfortunately, although I now know she was logged on when I got there, it wasn't for another half an hour that I found her. I said one sentence (along the lines of 'Have you been logged on long?') and she replied (roughly 'What do you mean?') and disappeared. I later found out she had an appointment elsewhere. But I was cross I hadn't figured out how to find her sooner. Still, we will find a better way to chat and catch up again. I then tried ringing them both to wish them a happy birthday, but had no luck in that department either.

So, Mike and I pottered around until early afternoon, then headed up the A40 to Balsall Common near Birmingham. I had seen an article in NZ News UK that said this art gallery was displaying pictures from a Dunedin artist until the end of July. As this was our only free weekend, I snapped it up and said we had to visit the exhibition. Well, it had finished by the time we got there, but the pictures were still in the gallery (just not all on display anymore). So the owner fished them out and placed them around.

We had a good old chat with the owner. He had a friend bring back a picture from Dunedin by Lindsay Crooks and had decied to see if Lindsay Crooks would have an exhibition in his gallery. He must have agreed, as the pictures we were seeing was the result of that exchange. The exhibition was all on one theme - beach culture. And we ended up buying a pastel of Lawyers Head, and an oil of the hot salt water pool. In a years time, we have to get the oil varnished (this process probably has a technical term, but I don't know it. When the art gallery owner was saying we needed to do this, he said we could varnish it ourselves. I was pleased to see Mike cringe at the thought too. I had visions of the Mr Bean movie - where, if you've seen it, Mr Bean accidentally wipes the face off Whistler's Mother (a famous American painting) and he paints it back on with a paint-by-numbers set of something. There was no way I was going to wipe anything over any artwork.

So, we have made a note in our diaries to take the painting back at the end of July 2001 to get done professionally. And we will also get a new frame at the same time. The current frame was a freebie for the exhibition. Mike has seen a blue-ish frame he wants to get for it as the most striking thing about the picture is the brilliant blues of a Dunedin summer day (just as I remember the bright days down at the hot salt water pool when I was younger. I especially remember the blue sea in the old pool, over the wall. The kelp would move when the waves broke over the old crumbling concrete walls, the wavetops brilliant white against the deep blue pool. I remember seeing little octopuses in there once. This is where I learned how to snorkel - Moana pool didn't allow snorkelling, but the Salt Water Pool did. Much better place to learn than St Clair surf beach! Snorkelling and surf did not go well together.). The pastel of Lawyers Head is very nice, and hanging in our hallway now. It has brilliant greens in it and a different feel.

Sachsenring MotoGP

Here is the tale of our German GP holiday....

Considering our early departure from the German 500cc GP at Sachsenring 2 years previously, we decided to give ourselves ample time to not only see the end of the race on Sunday (yes! we had to leave that early to catch our flight in Berlin that we missed the end of the race - and a good thing too, as we only met our flight with ten minutes to spare.), but enjoy the driving and meet up with Anja in Leipzig. So, I had my last day at BUPA on Thursday, and I left early (5pm) to catch the bus to Heathrow.

I stood waiting on one side of the street for half an hour before the bus arrived and promptly realised I was on the wrong side of the street. Fortunately I had half an hour contingency which I ended up using. I crossed the road and waited another five minutes before the bus came. I then meandered through the suburbs of outer London until I arrived at Heathrow Terminal 1. I was only about ten minutes later than Mike. And he had to carry both our packs from Hammersmith. Fortunately BA allowed him to check both packs and reserve my seat. So I had an express check-in.

We sat around in the departure lounge for a while, before boarding our pleasant 90 minute flight to Berlin. Berlin Tegel airport seems quite small so I'm not sure how much air traffic it services. But our bags were quick to arrive after our stamp in our passports, and we were heading to the Hertz counter quickly.

My brain had not switched into German as yet, so we got our car (a BMW 520i) in English. Within half an hour we were packed and edging out of the multi story carpark following the 'Ausgang' sign (German for exit). Mike's first attempt at clutch manoeuvres sent the car hurtling forward - it not having a gearbox like a 1983 VW Transporter van. But he was soon making smooth transitions (and in fact had difficulty with der Bus's clutch next time he drove it as it was nothing like a BMW's gearbox!!), and after switching the GPS navigation system into English, we were off down a motorway heading south.

The car was not quite as filled with electronic gadgets as the Mercedes 230 E class we had two years ago, but nevertheless it had:

GPS (Global Positioning System - can tell you where exactly you are, and advise on how you should get to where you want to be) TV (yes, but it would only work when you were stationary) Heated seats Sonar for reversing (it would beep slowly and increase in frequency the closer you got to an obstacle)

But horror or horrors it had no CD player. So our clutch of CDs were relegated to the boot (and that was cavernous! - it could swallow two packs in a single gulp and still have room to chew!).

We quickly drove down the autobahns of the former East German and entered Leipzig's outer suburbs around midnight. We had half an idea to find a hotel of some description for tonight, as the next few days were going to be in a tent. It seemed a good idea to have some trappings of civilisation in the form of a shower most especially. But, as it was so late, and we had no idea where any hotels were, our search ended up fruitless. So, after travelling through quite a lot of suburban Leipzig and fooling the GPS when we encountered temporarily blocked off roads that she (the GPS had a lovely calm English accent and would issue commands like 'Right Turn Ahead' and the dreaded 'Please make a U turn' which meant we were able to confuse her) knew nothing about, we decided to head out of Leipzig and find a pleasant field to kip in.

In the end we thoroughly explored all of Leipzig (not entirely voluntary) and whenever we visited it during the next few days, Mike & I were usually filled with a sense of deja vu. By the time we had found a corn field 20 minutes south of Leipzig, it was around 3am! So, we pulled into a dirt track just off the road, and fell into coma-like sleep.

We didn't wake until around 8am due to sleep deprivation; and that was in spite of daylight entering the car from around 5am! The plan for the day was to wander around Leipzig at our leisure, checking out the tourist sites/sights and then leave for Sachsenring in the late afternoon (still another 120kms away) pitch the tent and enjoy the meet.

We got into Leipzig and parked the car. We had fun and games with the ticket vending machines on the road, so we abandoned that idea (although I noticed locals having no problems with getting their tickets - I was sure I could understand the machine and it seemed straightforward, but obviously some quirk evaded my German comprehension) and parked in a Parkhaus (a multi-storey carpark). We had breakfast in a bakery where I tried my first German for the weekend and told the woman serving that Germany had the best bread in Europe. I failed to get much beyond that level unfortunately - English was still trying to creep in. She didn't speak any English, so Mike and I didn't converse much beyond that. Mike asked for a bread roll called an 'Angebot' and learned that that was the German word for 'Special'. But he liked it anyway. And they do coffee how I like it. Not too strong.

Our first stop after taking care of the hunger pangs was the Leipzig ADAC centre( this is the equivalent of the AA, or the RACV, and it's who we have our road coverage with - cheaper than British AA rates) to replace Mike's ADAC membership card. The man serving us was very keen to speak English, so I abandoned my German again.

The rest of the day we wandered around seeing how Leipzig was trying to catch up with West German cities. We aren't really in a position to comment on how well it's doing for the locals. But Mike's observation was that all the shops were western shops, with western prices, and obviously the cheap state-run department stores were long gone. As east Germany still gets paid less on average, it seems that there must be a gap between people that can afford to shop in the big stores, and others that must find it difficult to find goods within their price bracket. Apparently some people think they were better off under the old regime, with cheaper prices and strong community spirit (this from Anja's friend who has lived in Leipzig for two years).

I bought Karen's birthday present for her 30th in a shop here. It was a huge wooden pepper mill, and it was gift wrapped for us. So we carried that around in our backpack. I wish I had got one for myself. Nothing else was bought, but we found various places of interest from our Lonely Planet guidebook.

We visited the Stasi museum. The Stasi being the secret police during the East German regime. They had procedures for reading everyone's mail, and bugs for listening and all sorts of propaganda. It was a shame it was all in German, as Mike & I found it hard to get specifics. There was a huge mound of papier-mâché that was the remainder of documents shredded with the collapse of the wall. You could souvenir some if you wished.

Around 3pm we left for the rest of the journey down to the GP campsite. A glitch in following the GPS woman's instructions (there were road works she knew nothing about on the autobahn) meant we had come off the autobahn, and were wandering around roads trying to get back on. We stopped to get maps out of the boot of the campsite area (still a good 80 kms away), and figure things out, when I looked up and saw a Formula 1 hotel. Now, Mike & I have used these quite a lot in our travels, and we knew what to expect. So, we abandoned the idea of a night in a tent and booked ourselves in the Formula 1 for Friday night. A TV meant we could watch some German television, and I watched The Simpsons in German. This is when my brain finally switched to German. After a nice shower, Mike & I went to track down some dinner. There was a local restaurant called 'The Hut' as it was a small wooden building with a bar and takeaway attached. We ate in - Mike had a steak, and I had a gulash with noodles.

It was a real local hangout. Some people were playing cards in the back table, and were joined at times by others they knew. And the rest were tourists like us.

Afterwards we walked through the village we were in, and found a cute wee cat (Mike played with him and he followed us for a bit), and an awesome cemetery with cryptic German messages on the gate and some headstones. We still have no idea what they were about - fees we now suspect. The churchyard had recently been maintained and still looked like there was work in progress. We walked back to the F1 and had an enjoyable sleep.

Mike pitching the tent at Sachsenring

Next morning, after another shower (to last us till Sunday evening), we were off. We ended up in a 'Stau' - the German word for a traffic jam. It was huge. It took us ages to negotiate about 10 kms (it must have been a good 1.5 hours). But, we arrived safely in Sachsenring, paid DM80 to get a campsite (outrageous price), pitched the tent away from the hustle and bustle, and wandered in to the circuit around 11am.

We found our grandstand seats - it was the same place as two years ago. We were very happy given the difficulty of getting tickets. We met a nice man called Alex who sat close by. I started talking German to him but he said we could switch to English (my German isn't that great obviously). But I was chuffed when he asked if I was Dutch or French. It seems to me that because I was trying to speak German, he assumed I was anything but English. We always get mistaken for English in Europe (and Australian in the UK, English in the States (and at Christmas, English in Australia!!)), so it was nice to be asked something else. Mind you, in saying that, we have been asked on several occasions if we were German when we tried out our French in France! And depending on our level of stupidity at the time (did we cut someone off while driving, have we complained about something etc), we might just say 'Yes'. So, it means that New Zealanders never get blamed for anything wherever they go. Cool, eh?

Around lunchtime, Mike set off to get food. He does this quite well in Germany. He came back with a gulash for me, and a meat sandwich for himself. I had two spoonfuls of gulash and found a dead fly swimming in it. All I can say is, I'm glad I saw it. I showed Mike, and he flicked it out, after showing the Germans sitting behind us. He understood their 'Fliege in dem Gulash' comment well enough. I lost my appetite for it after that, but Mike counted the fly's remaining legs, and safe in the knowledge all six were present, he ate the rest. His meat sandwich was pretty bad too. I chose my own food for the rest of the weekend, so I could inspect the premises.

We watched qualifying, and then wandered around the circuit. I decided a fish sandwich place looked good - and it was! We ate it next to a display of old bikes behind a fence. We met up with this man who spoke next to no English, as he had spoken to us about 30 minutes before when we were wandering around. He was from the local Sachsenring area. He had access to a private area, and got us invited in. Mike got a book from a South African motorcycle rider from the early 70s who was present signing and selling his book. We also got a closer look at some older racing bikes from about 1964 to 1974.

This German fellow was a bit of a laugh, and my German was pushed quite a lot. He said that in a hundred years everyone will be speaking English. He also said that Russian was not a language, but it was a sore throat. I was pleased with myself for understanding that. He also said that the East Germans never had any money under the Russians, and that they all wanted what the English had (I'm wasn't 100% sure exactly what they wanted - whether it was just money or the language or what?).

After leaving there, we hopped on the Ferris wheel. It was virtually empty, but they put another older couple in with us, and I was a bit disappointed (looking forward to a romantic Ferris wheel ride with Mike - nice weather, great view, lots of cuddles). However, I started talking to them in German, and they spoke a little English. So we had a conversation mixing the two languages. They too were locals, and just coming in for the evening to see the festivities. They said they had no problem with the event being held there, which was encouraging (the other man had also said the same thing). When we got off the ride, we chatted a bit more, and they invited us to come and stay with them in two years time for the GP there (they were going to be away next year). We exchanged addresses, and we will write to them (perhaps I should practise my German a bit more).

We slowly wandered back to the tent and I was quite pleased we were snuggling down by 11pm. Mike would have preferred staying up and socialising, but I had just the right amount of time out and about. It would just start to get messy after that. Our site was actually in the carpark(others had camped here too), but that meant it was really quiet there. We could hardly hear the stereos of the main campsite, and we fell asleep very quickly.

As we were in the carpark, people began arriving early for Sunday's racing. 6:30am, and it was filling up around our tent. I got up around 7am, and slowly convinced Mike to get up. He was so cute with his tousled hair. Being in the carpark meant we had no facilities (and we still had to pay the full amount!) so I was keen for Mike to get a move on so I could avail myself of the flushing toilets at the circuit rather than the dodgey Portaloos in the main campsite.

Breakfast was the next priority, and we bought a couple of cheese pretzels and a cup of coffee. Unfortunately when a wasp came within 2 metres of me, I spilled most of my coffee all over the table we were at, and some dribbled onto someone's leathers. I wiped it off with my tissues and fled. How embarrassing. Mike wants to lock me in a room with a whole bunch of wasps to try and cure my fear of them. I'm not sure if that would work. Anyhow, I just think it's a healthy respect. They can't sting me if they're not allowed within a certain exclusion zone. It's just that my exclusion zone is bigger than most people's.

Anyhow, it was time to take our seat and watch the warm-up rounds. The weather was gorgeous and I was pleased I had put my shorts on, as the clouds had burned off. We even got a bit of sunburn during the day. Out came my Otago cap. A good day of racing was had by all. I was pleased as one of my favourite riders came second in the 500cc race. We spied the grandstand we want to try and sit in next year (tickets are available from November).

Racing finished, we wandered back to the tent, and packed up. Next stop - Leipzig to meet up with Anja. We hadn't seen her since she left London at the end of April. She has a friend called Katja living in Leipzig, so thought to kill two birds with one stone so to speak. See us and Katja in one trip. To avoid the Stau on the way back (it was due to roadworks, so we knew it would still be a problem), we hurtled off the autobahn into German countryside and had a very pleasant drive back to Leipzig. We could enter the exact address and the GPS took us to Katja's door.

We caught up with Anja, and met her friend Katja. We even got to stay in our own flat with Anja, as one of Katja's friends was away and had left the keys with Katja to hand out to people dropping in. All Katja's friends (and Katja) were studying theology and the bookshelves were filled with impressive Bibles in Hebrew and Greek. First up, we had a shower. Then we ate in a great pub/restaurant in the beer garden. The food was really nice.

The taste test

Back to the borrowed flat for a long-awaited Becks taste test. Becks is a beer brewed in Bremen (Anja's home town) and she insisted it tasted different in London. Scrutiny of the bottle showed both were brewed in Bremen, so Mike didn't believe there would be a different taste. So, Mike brought 6 stubbies with him from London, and Anja brought 6 from Bremen. And in a Leipzig flat, the taste test took place. I poured two glasses of German Becks, and two of English Becks and presented them to Mike & Anja. After much smacking of lips and discussion, they were spot on with their decision. Apparently the English Becks was a good bit sweeter than its Bremen counterpart. Anja won a bottle of champagne for her discerning tastebuds.

Next morning (Monday) we all wandered around Leipzig. We had an awesome breakfast in a cafe that also doubled (or should that be dabbled?) as a laundrette. Then we took a look at various bits and pieces. One urn was cool - from the Chinese dynasty of Ming (well, one fo them anyway). It was filled with water, and had bronze handles that you rubbed with wet hands. It would set up a standing wave in the water and the water would come alive in a multitude of droplets. A local took great pleasure in demonstrating it for us after finding us looking perplexed.

We left for our flight back to London from Berlin. It was about 4 hours drive, and after the close call two years back, we didn't want to risk missing it. It was sad to say goodbye to Anja, but she will be in London briefly in a few weeks and then we will see her next at Theresa and Richards wedding in Dunedin in November.

At Berlin, we talked to a guy from the KR Modenas bike team. He had designed the engine on the new bike and talked about the ups and downs. He invited us to visit up near Banbury so we will take him up on that.

Arrived in London, sad to see another German GP gone, but we hope to be back next year.