Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Not a lot to report today.
I guess that the only thing of note today is that the sun is shining and it is a lovely day out.
The temperatures are in the fifties but the locals all think they are in the teens. Hmmm.
I’d rather be outsides boating on the Thames – but that is not what I was sent here for. The new picture is the view outside the office window for the office I have n my stay here.
I’ve decided that in this area, the riverfront reminds me a bit of the way in South Florida they can sell property as “on the waterfront.” They can do this by constructing the houses in a radiator-fin pattern rather like a comb of land on top of the water with one street on each tooth of the comb so that you have waterfront property on both sides of the street, It would be more appropriate, I guess to say that you have a canal as your property line on one side, but that would not sound as good now, would it? On my walks along the Thames it seems that there are hundreds of little inlets to the river with houses built along them.
Well, I guess I should get back from lunch now. Have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 30 November, 2004
The temperatures are in the fifties but the locals all think they are in the teens. Hmmm.
I’d rather be outsides boating on the Thames – but that is not what I was sent here for. The new picture is the view outside the office window for the office I have n my stay here.
I’ve decided that in this area, the riverfront reminds me a bit of the way in South Florida they can sell property as “on the waterfront.” They can do this by constructing the houses in a radiator-fin pattern rather like a comb of land on top of the water with one street on each tooth of the comb so that you have waterfront property on both sides of the street, It would be more appropriate, I guess to say that you have a canal as your property line on one side, but that would not sound as good now, would it? On my walks along the Thames it seems that there are hundreds of little inlets to the river with houses built along them.
Well, I guess I should get back from lunch now. Have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 30 November, 2004
Monday, November 29, 2004
Douglas Adams Tourism
For those of you who do not know me all that well, you may not be aware that my favorite author was British and that my favorite novel of all times was set right here in the metropolitan London area. For the rest of you, yes! This is a missive describing my attempts to visit the areas that I could find that are immortalized in Douglas Adams’ greatest book: The Long, Dark Tea-Time of the Soul.
The first place that I looked for was St. Pancras station, where Dirk Gently meets the tramp while searching for cigarettes. As described, this is a modern station – lots of steel and glass and straight lines. It would be an appropriate airport concourse. When set beside the older railway terminal that is downstairs, however, it somehow appears to be cold and stark. I next set off for the King’s Cross station which is described in the book as being right around the corner. It is, in fact, right across the road. I guess if they were not in the process of building a terminal for the Chunnel between the two the route that Dirk takes would actually be possible.
The first place that I looked for was St. Pancras station, where Dirk Gently meets the tramp while searching for cigarettes. As described, this is a modern station – lots of steel and glass and straight lines. It would be an appropriate airport concourse. When set beside the older railway terminal that is downstairs, however, it somehow appears to be cold and stark. I next set off for the King’s Cross station which is described in the book as being right around the corner. It is, in fact, right across the road. I guess if they were not in the process of building a terminal for the Chunnel between the two the route that Dirk takes would actually be possible.
King's Cross Station
King's Cross Station
King’s Cross is a lovely, old Victorian building with lots of wrought iron and brick. So much more what I expect from a London train station. This picture does not really do it justice. The scale is amazing. The station consists of two side-by-side train sheds. Both accommodate six trains pulling into the station. You can see the other train shed through the archways in the center. I can agree with Dirk’s assessment of the station. For those of you who haven’t read the novel (shame on you!) but intend to, please note that I haven’t actually given away any of the plot points. For those of you who have, you know the observation I mean… he makes it just before he is swooped upon by the eagles.
The other major landmark of the book was a bit more difficult for me to recognize. The Midlands Grand Hotel is, in fact exactly as Douglas Adams describes it. Its roofline is a confusion of turrets and dormers further confused by the addition of chimneys, gargoyles, and stonework ornamentation. It actually sits at the end of the St. Pancras station, not at the end of the King’s Cross Station as I had thought from my readings of the novel. There is a small (by comparison) hotel in the same block as King’s Cross Station that I, at first must be the place. It was as I was walking past the other (much larger and more interesting (architecturally) building that I noticed the name plate put there by the historical preservation society proclaiming that the building I liked better was, in fact, the Midlands Grand hotel. I had already taken a couple pictures of it thinking that I just liked it enough to want a picture of it.
So, here without any further ado is the Midlands Grand as seen from the entrance to King’s Cross:
The Midlands Grand
The Midlands Grand (seen from King's Cross)
King’s Cross is a lovely, old Victorian building with lots of wrought iron and brick. So much more what I expect from a London train station. This picture does not really do it justice. The scale is amazing. The station consists of two side-by-side train sheds. Both accommodate six trains pulling into the station. You can see the other train shed through the archways in the center. I can agree with Dirk’s assessment of the station. For those of you who haven’t read the novel (shame on you!) but intend to, please note that I haven’t actually given away any of the plot points. For those of you who have, you know the observation I mean… he makes it just before he is swooped upon by the eagles.
The other major landmark of the book was a bit more difficult for me to recognize. The Midlands Grand Hotel is, in fact exactly as Douglas Adams describes it. Its roofline is a confusion of turrets and dormers further confused by the addition of chimneys, gargoyles, and stonework ornamentation. It actually sits at the end of the St. Pancras station, not at the end of the King’s Cross Station as I had thought from my readings of the novel. There is a small (by comparison) hotel in the same block as King’s Cross Station that I, at first must be the place. It was as I was walking past the other (much larger and more interesting (architecturally) building that I noticed the name plate put there by the historical preservation society proclaiming that the building I liked better was, in fact, the Midlands Grand hotel. I had already taken a couple pictures of it thinking that I just liked it enough to want a picture of it.
So, here without any further ado is the Midlands Grand as seen from the entrance to King’s Cross:
They are doing a lot of work around it. There is restoration work, but also this is where the Chunnel terminal in London will be.
As you can see, it is quite ornate, but here is the roofline that is being described in the book:
Roofline
Roofline
The crane in the background is being used at King’s Cross. St. Pancras is directly behind the building.
Windows and One Final View
Windows
And one final view – I loved the “church-like” feel of the entrance.
Have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 29 November, 2004
Sunday, November 28, 2004
Being a Tourist
I'm writing from the 17:28 Southwest Trains service to Hampton Court calling on Vauxhall, Clapham Junction, Earlsfeild, Wimbledon, Raynes Park, New Malden, Berrylands, Surbiton, Thames Ditton, and Hampton Court. Or rather, I am writing from the Delayed 17:28 Southwest Trains service to Hampton Court calling on Vauxhall, Clapham Junction, Earlsfeild, Wimbledon, Raynes Park, New Malden, Berrylands, Surbiton, Thames Ditton, and Hampton Court.
I'd probably have been able to call the stops before sitting here for the last fifteen minutes listening to apologies on how the Delayed 17:28 Southwest Trains service to ... (you get the idea)... is continued to be delayed by emergency crews on the tracks at Berrylands. So here we sit and wait.
Today I toured the Tower of London. Our guide ("...Alan if you enjoyed yourselves, George if you didn't...") was quite good. What a riot! Being from the major tourist Mecca of southern Florida, I know that most of it is scripted, but his delivery was great!
I had made plans to head to York for the weekend, but since I haven't really done anything "touristy" in London yet (and since two day passes are a good bit more economical than a round-trip to York) I decided to do that instead today. Yep! That's my story and I'm sticking to it! I did not - repeat did not - cancel my plans because a number of us were drinking beer and discussing politics at The King's Arms Pub Friday night until the publican tossed us out. I mean, yes, that did happen but, no! That is not why I changed my plans.
Two things I’ve noticed about the guys at the pub: 1) They assume that all we lot (US Citizens) are gun-toting nuts, and 2) They are far more willing to surrender their civil rights than I am. But that is a missive for another day. Suffice it to say that I have changed my plans because going to York this weekend would have been a bit of a stretch with the late start I got.
This weekend, instead, I have toured the Tower of London, Gone to London Bridge, taken a walk across London (west to east instead of south to north this time) and had a great time doing the London thing. Next weekend I think I am going to rent a car and go to Stonehenge. But that is a plan I am not about plans – except that I plan to stop at the pub on the way from the train station to the hotel and have a pint.
Yeah! We're moving! Only 20 minutes late. Cool! Have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Waterloo Station, London, United Kingdom – 28 November, 2004
I'd probably have been able to call the stops before sitting here for the last fifteen minutes listening to apologies on how the Delayed 17:28 Southwest Trains service to ... (you get the idea)... is continued to be delayed by emergency crews on the tracks at Berrylands. So here we sit and wait.
Today I toured the Tower of London. Our guide ("...Alan if you enjoyed yourselves, George if you didn't...") was quite good. What a riot! Being from the major tourist Mecca of southern Florida, I know that most of it is scripted, but his delivery was great!
I had made plans to head to York for the weekend, but since I haven't really done anything "touristy" in London yet (and since two day passes are a good bit more economical than a round-trip to York) I decided to do that instead today. Yep! That's my story and I'm sticking to it! I did not - repeat did not - cancel my plans because a number of us were drinking beer and discussing politics at The King's Arms Pub Friday night until the publican tossed us out. I mean, yes, that did happen but, no! That is not why I changed my plans.
Two things I’ve noticed about the guys at the pub: 1) They assume that all we lot (US Citizens) are gun-toting nuts, and 2) They are far more willing to surrender their civil rights than I am. But that is a missive for another day. Suffice it to say that I have changed my plans because going to York this weekend would have been a bit of a stretch with the late start I got.
This weekend, instead, I have toured the Tower of London, Gone to London Bridge, taken a walk across London (west to east instead of south to north this time) and had a great time doing the London thing. Next weekend I think I am going to rent a car and go to Stonehenge. But that is a plan I am not about plans – except that I plan to stop at the pub on the way from the train station to the hotel and have a pint.
Yeah! We're moving! Only 20 minutes late. Cool! Have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Waterloo Station, London, United Kingdom – 28 November, 2004
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Many Lands, One People
I consider myself to be somewhat well traveled, I have been to every state but one (My product line has no clients in Alaska); I've done business in every one of Canada's southern tier provinces; I've been to Mexico, though admittedly, that was only for dinner and I was only "South of the Border, Down Mexico Way" for about two hours' time.
Now, here in the UK, I am once again reminded that despite our differences, we are all the same.
I was in the process of writing my daily missive while riding the Hampton Court line into London. It had started out as a screed on how everything seems so alien here, probably brought-on by the continuing overcast and drizzle, but my mood (and the subject of this entry) changed five minutes ago in Wimbledon.
I'm getting fairly adept at getting around with the Hampton Court Line and the London Underground becoming old hat. The English seem to be a rather staid people, no surprises, nothing to gossip about. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happens; it is a very “nothing to see here…” type of place. So when the doors opened at Wimbledon and two boys exploded onto the train, gasping for breath among uncontrolled fits of laughter, it was something to take note of. I have no idea what it was that they found so funny, all I could gather from their few coherent words was that it had something to do with a teleportation cupboard being on the rumpus such that they had to run to get to the train on time.
Their conversation from that point roved the open range from each accusing the other of being loud and obnoxious, to whether the guy sitting across the aisle playing with his PDA (that would be me) was going to successfully ignore them or would get up and move if they got any more rowdy, to the theory that they were the only real people on the train and l that the rest of us were made of wax. This last theory based on the fact that they are the only people talking loud enough to be heard by the entire car.
I am fairly certain, that they have no idea that I am actually not ignoring them; far from it. I am enjoying their youthful exuberance and living this moment through their eyes. They remind me of my brother Charles and me when we were that age.
I am reminded of two events, both of them when I was their age or younger. The first concerns a game that Charles and I would play when confronted with the prospect of an unsupervised moment. Such moments often occurred when mom had to pop into the store for a thing or two and didn't want to have to deal with our shenanigans while she was in the store. At such times, she would admonish us to "behave!" Please note that there was no modifier to the imperative, so even if (and I'll use one of mom's terms here) we behaved "like wild indians," we would be fulfilling her request. At times like this, we'd pass the time by guessing the stories of the people coming out of the store.
"That woman is a school teacher." One of us would say.
"That man is a bank robber." The other would opine.
The "guessing" would get wilder and the game would get louder the longer it took mom to get back. The game reached its ultimate moment, however, the day my brother discovered a way to "win" it.
On that particular day, mom was in the store for a very long time when Charles, suddenly and without warning, yelled "Oh, my God! That man's a freak!" just as a man was leaving the store. But that didn't win him the game. He won because as he yelled it, he ducked down into the foot well of the seat he was in so that he could not be seen. The man looked directly at the car and, being the only one in it as far as he could see, he assumed that I had been the person yelling. He gave me a stern look and shook a finger at me. Charles dissolved into fits of laughter and, eventually, so did I… I’ll admit it, it was funny. This became a normal part of the game from then on. To this day hearing or saying that phrase brings a chuckle to my throat. Just thinking about it makes me smile.
The other incident of which these two remind me is the time when we were about their age, that Charles and I were allowed to take the bus alone down to the theatre to see a movie. I cannot remember what we saw or where we went, I can only remember that Charles had decided to get a handful of chocolate chips to enjoy at the movie and rather than putting them in a bag or in his pocket or anything sensible like that, he held them in his hand. By the time the bus had come he was loosing them out the cracks between his fingers because they had become liquid in the Florida heat. He kept trying to “share” them with me and with the other passengers and would offer to show them to anyone who wanted to see them. As if they were not sloppy enough, he kept kneading them in his closed fist so that they were thoroughly soupy. As I recall it, the people on the bus acted toward the two of us in much the same way that my fellow passengers and I are reacting to these two. Who by the way have happily changed to a subject that the rest of the passengers, though still outwardly ignoring them may at least be able to follow.
They are talking about the “upended table” we are about to pass. I noticed it the first time that I took the train into London. If this is not the power plant that appears (with a giant flying pig) on the cover of the Pink Floyd album, Animals then at the very least it looks just like it. And yes, it does look like someone has taken a sturdy oak table and laid it top down with the legs sticking up in the air, now that someone comes to mention it.
The guys have gotten philosophical on me. One of them has spotted a cup of coffee on the next train in the station (Clapham Junction – England’s busiest train station – or so the sign proclaims.) it was just an abandoned cup of coffee (though how they knew it was coffee in that paper cup and not tea I do not know) sitting on a table in an empty compartment. They waxed philosophic about how the cup of coffee must feel about being abandoned. On impulse I feel like leaning over and offering the opinion that it is a rather well-to-do beverage that has hired the entire compartment to itself for the trip to London because it is on holiday. It’ll be staying at a coffee house in the West End. (Hey! It could happen!) But I suppress the urge. This is their story; I let it play itself out. The eventually decide that the coffee was ordered before the train reached the station and the steward brought it after the ordering passenger got off the train and it will not be missed until they clean the train.
Okay, so, final check on the guys. As we are approaching the terminus of the trip: for the last five minutes (since we passed “the table”) the one sitting next to the window has been pointing at obvious land marks out the window and screaming “Look MI5!” (Or, “Look, an apartment block!” or “Look, another train.” or whatever happens to have caught his attention.)
To which the other invariably responds “Where? I can’t see it.” Just as loudly.
This last time, the one by the window “spots” The London Eye and points it out to his friend who in great consternation exclaims – what else? – that he cannot see it. The one by the window keeps pointing it out. Apparently this is their destination. By chance, he grabs his friend’s head and points it in the right direction. When the friend still cannot see it, he (the one by the window) cranes his neck to see what his friend can (or cannot) see and realizes that the wall is, in fact, obscuring his friend’s view and until we make the final turn into the station he would not be able to see it without leaning into his space.
I hope the guys have a great weekend. I hope you do too! Have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Waterloo Station, London, United Kingdom – 27 November, 2004
Now, here in the UK, I am once again reminded that despite our differences, we are all the same.
I was in the process of writing my daily missive while riding the Hampton Court line into London. It had started out as a screed on how everything seems so alien here, probably brought-on by the continuing overcast and drizzle, but my mood (and the subject of this entry) changed five minutes ago in Wimbledon.
I'm getting fairly adept at getting around with the Hampton Court Line and the London Underground becoming old hat. The English seem to be a rather staid people, no surprises, nothing to gossip about. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happens; it is a very “nothing to see here…” type of place. So when the doors opened at Wimbledon and two boys exploded onto the train, gasping for breath among uncontrolled fits of laughter, it was something to take note of. I have no idea what it was that they found so funny, all I could gather from their few coherent words was that it had something to do with a teleportation cupboard being on the rumpus such that they had to run to get to the train on time.
Their conversation from that point roved the open range from each accusing the other of being loud and obnoxious, to whether the guy sitting across the aisle playing with his PDA (that would be me) was going to successfully ignore them or would get up and move if they got any more rowdy, to the theory that they were the only real people on the train and l that the rest of us were made of wax. This last theory based on the fact that they are the only people talking loud enough to be heard by the entire car.
I am fairly certain, that they have no idea that I am actually not ignoring them; far from it. I am enjoying their youthful exuberance and living this moment through their eyes. They remind me of my brother Charles and me when we were that age.
I am reminded of two events, both of them when I was their age or younger. The first concerns a game that Charles and I would play when confronted with the prospect of an unsupervised moment. Such moments often occurred when mom had to pop into the store for a thing or two and didn't want to have to deal with our shenanigans while she was in the store. At such times, she would admonish us to "behave!" Please note that there was no modifier to the imperative, so even if (and I'll use one of mom's terms here) we behaved "like wild indians," we would be fulfilling her request. At times like this, we'd pass the time by guessing the stories of the people coming out of the store.
"That woman is a school teacher." One of us would say.
"That man is a bank robber." The other would opine.
The "guessing" would get wilder and the game would get louder the longer it took mom to get back. The game reached its ultimate moment, however, the day my brother discovered a way to "win" it.
On that particular day, mom was in the store for a very long time when Charles, suddenly and without warning, yelled "Oh, my God! That man's a freak!" just as a man was leaving the store. But that didn't win him the game. He won because as he yelled it, he ducked down into the foot well of the seat he was in so that he could not be seen. The man looked directly at the car and, being the only one in it as far as he could see, he assumed that I had been the person yelling. He gave me a stern look and shook a finger at me. Charles dissolved into fits of laughter and, eventually, so did I… I’ll admit it, it was funny. This became a normal part of the game from then on. To this day hearing or saying that phrase brings a chuckle to my throat. Just thinking about it makes me smile.
The other incident of which these two remind me is the time when we were about their age, that Charles and I were allowed to take the bus alone down to the theatre to see a movie. I cannot remember what we saw or where we went, I can only remember that Charles had decided to get a handful of chocolate chips to enjoy at the movie and rather than putting them in a bag or in his pocket or anything sensible like that, he held them in his hand. By the time the bus had come he was loosing them out the cracks between his fingers because they had become liquid in the Florida heat. He kept trying to “share” them with me and with the other passengers and would offer to show them to anyone who wanted to see them. As if they were not sloppy enough, he kept kneading them in his closed fist so that they were thoroughly soupy. As I recall it, the people on the bus acted toward the two of us in much the same way that my fellow passengers and I are reacting to these two. Who by the way have happily changed to a subject that the rest of the passengers, though still outwardly ignoring them may at least be able to follow.
They are talking about the “upended table” we are about to pass. I noticed it the first time that I took the train into London. If this is not the power plant that appears (with a giant flying pig) on the cover of the Pink Floyd album, Animals then at the very least it looks just like it. And yes, it does look like someone has taken a sturdy oak table and laid it top down with the legs sticking up in the air, now that someone comes to mention it.
The guys have gotten philosophical on me. One of them has spotted a cup of coffee on the next train in the station (Clapham Junction – England’s busiest train station – or so the sign proclaims.) it was just an abandoned cup of coffee (though how they knew it was coffee in that paper cup and not tea I do not know) sitting on a table in an empty compartment. They waxed philosophic about how the cup of coffee must feel about being abandoned. On impulse I feel like leaning over and offering the opinion that it is a rather well-to-do beverage that has hired the entire compartment to itself for the trip to London because it is on holiday. It’ll be staying at a coffee house in the West End. (Hey! It could happen!) But I suppress the urge. This is their story; I let it play itself out. The eventually decide that the coffee was ordered before the train reached the station and the steward brought it after the ordering passenger got off the train and it will not be missed until they clean the train.
Okay, so, final check on the guys. As we are approaching the terminus of the trip: for the last five minutes (since we passed “the table”) the one sitting next to the window has been pointing at obvious land marks out the window and screaming “Look MI5!” (Or, “Look, an apartment block!” or “Look, another train.” or whatever happens to have caught his attention.)
To which the other invariably responds “Where? I can’t see it.” Just as loudly.
This last time, the one by the window “spots” The London Eye and points it out to his friend who in great consternation exclaims – what else? – that he cannot see it. The one by the window keeps pointing it out. Apparently this is their destination. By chance, he grabs his friend’s head and points it in the right direction. When the friend still cannot see it, he (the one by the window) cranes his neck to see what his friend can (or cannot) see and realizes that the wall is, in fact, obscuring his friend’s view and until we make the final turn into the station he would not be able to see it without leaning into his space.
I hope the guys have a great weekend. I hope you do too! Have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Waterloo Station, London, United Kingdom – 27 November, 2004
Friday, November 26, 2004
Walking Tour of London
Oh, boy! Am I sore!
I have been on a walking tour of London. London has proven to be both like and unlike what I expected. (No pictures - sorry; it was an after dark excursion.) Last night I got out of the office at a reasonable hour. It was already dark out, but that just means it was after 16:00 GMT! So, after returning to my room to drop off my computer, I changed into something warm, put on my comfy shoes, and took the train into London.
Getting off at Waterloo and headed off in a roughly northern direction wending my way through the streets looking for something interesting to do or see. I say that it was both like and unlike my expectations because I had expected it to be a big city full of cramped streets and small living spaces, but some of these door yards are no bigger than my dining room (which is pretty small to begin with…) and some of the streets are narrow enough for me to reach-out and pass the salt across to someone standing on the opposite curb. (Get the running theme?)
There was a real assortment of housing styles. The houses range from old townhouses to boxy apartment blocks to ultra modern constructions of steel and glass. I took a winding path across the town with my ultimate goal of hitting a tube station at some point and heading back. Little did I know it would take well over two hours to find the tube stop and that I would easily cover five miles (as the crow flies) between the point I left and the place I turned back. I have no idea how far I must have walked but all that pounding on the pavement left my feet and my back incredibly sore.
Well, I went to the underground and discussed with the attendant how to get back to Waterloo and made it back to the Southwest Rail terminal in just time to run and catch the train back to Hampton Court. I alighted from the train at 22:05, went back to the hotel and slept soundly.
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 26 November, 2004
I have been on a walking tour of London. London has proven to be both like and unlike what I expected. (No pictures - sorry; it was an after dark excursion.) Last night I got out of the office at a reasonable hour. It was already dark out, but that just means it was after 16:00 GMT! So, after returning to my room to drop off my computer, I changed into something warm, put on my comfy shoes, and took the train into London.
Getting off at Waterloo and headed off in a roughly northern direction wending my way through the streets looking for something interesting to do or see. I say that it was both like and unlike my expectations because I had expected it to be a big city full of cramped streets and small living spaces, but some of these door yards are no bigger than my dining room (which is pretty small to begin with…) and some of the streets are narrow enough for me to reach-out and pass the salt across to someone standing on the opposite curb. (Get the running theme?)
There was a real assortment of housing styles. The houses range from old townhouses to boxy apartment blocks to ultra modern constructions of steel and glass. I took a winding path across the town with my ultimate goal of hitting a tube station at some point and heading back. Little did I know it would take well over two hours to find the tube stop and that I would easily cover five miles (as the crow flies) between the point I left and the place I turned back. I have no idea how far I must have walked but all that pounding on the pavement left my feet and my back incredibly sore.
Well, I went to the underground and discussed with the attendant how to get back to Waterloo and made it back to the Southwest Rail terminal in just time to run and catch the train back to Hampton Court. I alighted from the train at 22:05, went back to the hotel and slept soundly.
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 26 November, 2004
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Culinary Excursions
If there is a Hell for people who break diets, I know where my eternity has been booked! I am fairly certain that the god Weight Watchers would frown down upon "The Full English Breakfast."
I have no idea what the fat, fiber and calories are in "The Full English Breakfast" but consisting of fried eggs, broiled tomato, baked beans, sautéed mushrooms, toast with clotted cream and marmalade, sausage and bacon, I'll bet that the news would not be good. Can't you just hear your arteries hardening?
"The Full English Breakfast" aside, I have had some wonderful dishes here. The Steak & Ale pie was wonderful. It is like a steak pot pie with a wonderful rich beer-based brown gravy and a flaky crust. Then there was (and I know how this will sound to people who haven't had it) "Mushy Peas." It truly is what the name implies... mushy peas! The taste and texture is similar to really thick Split-Pea Soup.
In my culinary pursuit, I will stop at nothing, dear friends, not even my diet, to tell you of the wonders I see and taste on my travels.
Oh, by the way, my waitress at the pub this afternoon asked me if I was aware what a wanker my president was. I informed her that so I had been told and thank you very much!
Until tomorrow, have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 25 November, 2004
I have no idea what the fat, fiber and calories are in "The Full English Breakfast" but consisting of fried eggs, broiled tomato, baked beans, sautéed mushrooms, toast with clotted cream and marmalade, sausage and bacon, I'll bet that the news would not be good. Can't you just hear your arteries hardening?
"The Full English Breakfast" aside, I have had some wonderful dishes here. The Steak & Ale pie was wonderful. It is like a steak pot pie with a wonderful rich beer-based brown gravy and a flaky crust. Then there was (and I know how this will sound to people who haven't had it) "Mushy Peas." It truly is what the name implies... mushy peas! The taste and texture is similar to really thick Split-Pea Soup.
In my culinary pursuit, I will stop at nothing, dear friends, not even my diet, to tell you of the wonders I see and taste on my travels.
Oh, by the way, my waitress at the pub this afternoon asked me if I was aware what a wanker my president was. I informed her that so I had been told and thank you very much!
Until tomorrow, have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 25 November, 2004
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
What Kind of a Country is This?
Okay, we may have won the war and have had our own way of running the country for over two hundred years, but I mean really, what is the big deal? Has nobody in this country heard of customer service? I asked for change at the hotel the other day and was told that I could get it at the news agent’s in the train station a half-a-mile away. I went to a store last night to buy an umbrella (an item that, if I own one, I do not know the whereabouts of.) only to be told rudely at the first store that I went to that they were closing in five minutes and “no, you can’t come in an purchase just that one item you need, thank you very much, but call again tomorrow.”
I went down to another store a block away and they were bound to close in a few minutes but I slipped in, got my umbrella and popped out in two minutes. Taking the public transport was a trip… in both senses of the word. The customs apparently call for more than just standing at a bus stop and waiting for the bus. Apparently you have to flag him down. (In the places I am used to public transport, you need to wave them off if you do not want to take the bus that is approaching.)
But this morning was the culmination of the process that convinced me that there is something just not quite right with Great Brittain. Or at least, with this section of it. I can live with the fact that the shops close early, I can live with the fact that some of the so-called “Breakfast” places do not open until 10:00. What I am having a hard time with is knowing how I am expected to know the local customs. On the way in, unable to find the local bakery for a quick roll or something for breakfast, I popped into a greengrocers to buy an apple and a grapefruit to snack on for breakfast. The door was open, the lights were on, there were all the indications that the store was open so I walked in and made my selection. I could not understand the lukewarm treatment I was receiving from the greengrocer, then. It was not until I left and he pointedly closed the door behind me that I decided he must have, in fact, been closed and that somehow I was supposed to have known this. He did know I was from the states because he commented on my accent and when I was selecting the grapefruit (having asked it was Florida grown) he asked if the sniffing, scratching and study was how people picked their citrus in Florida.
It wasn’t until I was relating the story to my coworkers later today that I discovered the other reason for the greengrocer’s response to my patronage. Apparently not only had I barged in before he was actually open, in this area of the world you do not select your own fruit. You tell the grocer what you want and you get handed it. You have no say in what he hands you. I have decided I will not be buying a lot of fruit at the greengrocer. I will find a proper store.
I had lunch today at the pub up the road from here. It’s really quite a nice place. One of my coworkers and I strolled down to have lunch and discuss the project. I do not know what prompted it (because I do not tend to actively eavesdrop) but the two women at the next table were discussing politics when we came in. They are going to have an election soon and discussions have started on who is likely to be ousted from the parliament. A while after we had sat down, I distinctly heard one of the women say that Bush was a wanker. Apparently I am going to hear that almost every day I am here.
Oh well. I guess I had best post this and get off to the hotel. I have some writing (for business, alas not for pleasure)to do before I retire for the evening and want to get on with it.
Until tomorrow, have a great day! (More pictures soon – I promise!)
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 24 November, 2004
I went down to another store a block away and they were bound to close in a few minutes but I slipped in, got my umbrella and popped out in two minutes. Taking the public transport was a trip… in both senses of the word. The customs apparently call for more than just standing at a bus stop and waiting for the bus. Apparently you have to flag him down. (In the places I am used to public transport, you need to wave them off if you do not want to take the bus that is approaching.)
But this morning was the culmination of the process that convinced me that there is something just not quite right with Great Brittain. Or at least, with this section of it. I can live with the fact that the shops close early, I can live with the fact that some of the so-called “Breakfast” places do not open until 10:00. What I am having a hard time with is knowing how I am expected to know the local customs. On the way in, unable to find the local bakery for a quick roll or something for breakfast, I popped into a greengrocers to buy an apple and a grapefruit to snack on for breakfast. The door was open, the lights were on, there were all the indications that the store was open so I walked in and made my selection. I could not understand the lukewarm treatment I was receiving from the greengrocer, then. It was not until I left and he pointedly closed the door behind me that I decided he must have, in fact, been closed and that somehow I was supposed to have known this. He did know I was from the states because he commented on my accent and when I was selecting the grapefruit (having asked it was Florida grown) he asked if the sniffing, scratching and study was how people picked their citrus in Florida.
It wasn’t until I was relating the story to my coworkers later today that I discovered the other reason for the greengrocer’s response to my patronage. Apparently not only had I barged in before he was actually open, in this area of the world you do not select your own fruit. You tell the grocer what you want and you get handed it. You have no say in what he hands you. I have decided I will not be buying a lot of fruit at the greengrocer. I will find a proper store.
I had lunch today at the pub up the road from here. It’s really quite a nice place. One of my coworkers and I strolled down to have lunch and discuss the project. I do not know what prompted it (because I do not tend to actively eavesdrop) but the two women at the next table were discussing politics when we came in. They are going to have an election soon and discussions have started on who is likely to be ousted from the parliament. A while after we had sat down, I distinctly heard one of the women say that Bush was a wanker. Apparently I am going to hear that almost every day I am here.
Oh well. I guess I had best post this and get off to the hotel. I have some writing (for business, alas not for pleasure)to do before I retire for the evening and want to get on with it.
Until tomorrow, have a great day! (More pictures soon – I promise!)
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 24 November, 2004
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
British beer is not a sedative!
It was either the jet lag or it was the beer but I tossed and turned all night. By 06:00 I just got up. It was time for my walk anyway.
This morning I walked toward Kingston to see the goats, lambs and sheep in the greens owned as part of the Hampton Court estate. What a beautiful area! They keep saying that it will be getting cold here but I have not seen evidence of it. Today was overcast and cool but not really cold. I’d have to guess that it was in the 50’s.
I walk to work each morning, it is a mile and a half from my current hotel and affords me a great chance to take in the local scenery and think. I really dig the architecture here. People have tight little houses with postage-stamp sized door yards and park in a manner that transcends haphazard. It seems that they park where the car stops rolling. Not that the streets leave much space for orderly parking, some seem more like sidewalks than roads.
My crew and I spent all day talking about data models and how we need to define the objects in the data that we are discussing. My head started swimming around 14:00 and really was ready to leave by the time my 16:00 conference call started. Now that it has completed, it is time for me to move on. I’m about to pack my computer and take the long stroll home. I still cannot believe that I made it through with a whole day without having anyone inform me that the president is a wanker!
It gets dark early here so I suppose it will be a nice moonlit walk back through the neighborhood of Queens Lane, and Hampton Court road back to the hotel. Christmas decorations are sprouting everywhere here so shortly it should be a very festive walk.
Well, that is it for the evening. Have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 23 November, 2004
This morning I walked toward Kingston to see the goats, lambs and sheep in the greens owned as part of the Hampton Court estate. What a beautiful area! They keep saying that it will be getting cold here but I have not seen evidence of it. Today was overcast and cool but not really cold. I’d have to guess that it was in the 50’s.
I walk to work each morning, it is a mile and a half from my current hotel and affords me a great chance to take in the local scenery and think. I really dig the architecture here. People have tight little houses with postage-stamp sized door yards and park in a manner that transcends haphazard. It seems that they park where the car stops rolling. Not that the streets leave much space for orderly parking, some seem more like sidewalks than roads.
My crew and I spent all day talking about data models and how we need to define the objects in the data that we are discussing. My head started swimming around 14:00 and really was ready to leave by the time my 16:00 conference call started. Now that it has completed, it is time for me to move on. I’m about to pack my computer and take the long stroll home. I still cannot believe that I made it through with a whole day without having anyone inform me that the president is a wanker!
It gets dark early here so I suppose it will be a nice moonlit walk back through the neighborhood of Queens Lane, and Hampton Court road back to the hotel. Christmas decorations are sprouting everywhere here so shortly it should be a very festive walk.
Well, that is it for the evening. Have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 23 November, 2004
Monday, November 22, 2004
A Night at the King's Arms
So, I guess that by standards of the last message this may seem like a short entry but I have been informed that I have a very British outlook on life. Apparently, the people of the village I am staying in do not prefer the restaurant at the hotel that I am staying at either. I showed-up at the pub for a beer and some dinner and the barman and his wife and I sat up chatting until late in the night. I sampled about a half-dozen kinds of British beers and they were all excellent.
We discussed the state of world affairs, the recently completed elections, literature, music and comedians. They informed me that the president is a “Wanker.” I am quite certain that unless I miss my guess, this is not a complimentary term. They introduced me to a comedian that was from Austin, Texas who, apparently, nobody from the US had ever heard of. I will be listening to the CD tonight and returning it to the pub when I go for dinner tomorrow.
The time in Thames Ditton is busy. I was in the office at 07:45 this morning and worked on my project work with the staff here until 17:00. The staff I am working with is great. We have gone to lunch at a couple of the local pubs and will be heading off for a couple beers after work on Thursday. They have decided to celebrate my holiday with me. And, as they are helping me celebrate the fact that my country successfully broke away from an oppressive regime (the country which housed the regime will remain nameless for the moment), survived the voyage, the savage indigenous peoples, and the harsh winter by allowing me to buy a round for the oppressive regimes!
I was informed that there was a lack of pictures on the blog… this is true, I hadn’t downloaded from my camera yet. I have now added the pictures from the weekend. The one of the London Eye is a bit dark on the web, it was much lighter and showed details on my pc. I may have to touch it up in photo shop.
Well, that’s it. I am off to bed. I hope you have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 22 November, 2004
We discussed the state of world affairs, the recently completed elections, literature, music and comedians. They informed me that the president is a “Wanker.” I am quite certain that unless I miss my guess, this is not a complimentary term. They introduced me to a comedian that was from Austin, Texas who, apparently, nobody from the US had ever heard of. I will be listening to the CD tonight and returning it to the pub when I go for dinner tomorrow.
The time in Thames Ditton is busy. I was in the office at 07:45 this morning and worked on my project work with the staff here until 17:00. The staff I am working with is great. We have gone to lunch at a couple of the local pubs and will be heading off for a couple beers after work on Thursday. They have decided to celebrate my holiday with me. And, as they are helping me celebrate the fact that my country successfully broke away from an oppressive regime (the country which housed the regime will remain nameless for the moment), survived the voyage, the savage indigenous peoples, and the harsh winter by allowing me to buy a round for the oppressive regimes!
I was informed that there was a lack of pictures on the blog… this is true, I hadn’t downloaded from my camera yet. I have now added the pictures from the weekend. The one of the London Eye is a bit dark on the web, it was much lighter and showed details on my pc. I may have to touch it up in photo shop.
Well, that’s it. I am off to bed. I hope you have a great day!
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 22 November, 2004
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Sunday, 21-November-2004
As if I hadn't thought of it myself, Dad reminded me I should journal my trip to the UK. That however would be boring! My trip to London consisted of a nine-hour flight from Minneapolis next to a guy who was completely introverted in a seat which had obviously been designed for and by the members of The Lollypop League.
I guess, to be fair, I should accurately report what Dad had said. In a telephone conversation a couple days ago he reminded me of when my brother had traveled to India on business. He suggested that I do what Denis had done on his trip. I imagine that this is what he meant since the cab fare from Hampton Court to the Taj Mahal is likely to be extreme.
I began to prepare for my trip a week ago. Getting up earlier than usual and checking the office email by 04:30 each morning was the routine. then, after my morning walk with Saga it was off to the office (for me, not the dog…) where I worked for a few hours alone and in the dark before anyone else started to show-up.
So, my preparations completed, I packed, headed to the airport and flew to the UK. As I have said, the flight was uneventful. It was mostly sitting and being uncomfortable, sleeping and being uncomfortable, or walking around to try and be comfortable. The plane landed at 08:55 GMT and I departed into the main terminal at Gatwick. It was a lot like debarking at any major airport – lots and lots of waiting at the terminal to get through customs. Unlike Canada (the customs office with which I am most familiar, however, the bored customs official did not seem to want to hassle me. He just asked if I was here on business and then waved me through.
It is cold and rainy here. Actually, it’s a bit like Seattle without the coffee. The driver had a lot to say about politics and what is wrong in the world. Apparently, a goodly portion of that is driven by my being an American. I got to the hotel where it was more waiting for a room to be readied. Now that I have the room the first thing that I do is take a shower… what bliss! After fourteen hours of travel to be clean and warm again. So of course the second thing I do is don my jeans and sweatshirt and go out for a hike along the Thames. The hotel I am at for the first week is right on the grounds of the Hampstead Castle. Apparently it was the court of King Henry VIII. It is a lovely place and has a lovely path that runs along the river that people hike and bicycle along. I walk all the way into Kingston, the next little hamlet along the Thames from Thames Ditton and it is a great day, apart form the dismalness of the weather, that is... For the last mile-or-so I begin to wonder if I will be crossing another road or not and when I finally find one I ask one of the locals if the road will take me back to Hampton Court. “Yeah. Bit of a walk, though.” The kid responds. “You’re an American, aren’t you then?” he adds.
I confirm that I am and he commiserates about the outcome of the election. “Sorry to hear about Bush being re-elected, then, are you?” he asks. “I mean, he is really a wanker, isn’t he?” I thank him for the directions and set off for the Hotel. After the walk I take the train from Hampton Court into Waterloo and take a walking tour of London that begins at Trafalgar Square and wends back down to Waterloo station by way of the London Eye where, as luck would have it, I share a capsule with two couples who have just this morning arrived in the country from Colorado. They are over on vacation and have decided to site-see until bedtime so that they can get into this time zone. What a small world.
So I guess I am going to take Dad’s advice and do what Denis did… I’m just going to take a more high-tech approach to it!
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 21 November, 2004
I guess, to be fair, I should accurately report what Dad had said. In a telephone conversation a couple days ago he reminded me of when my brother had traveled to India on business. He suggested that I do what Denis had done on his trip. I imagine that this is what he meant since the cab fare from Hampton Court to the Taj Mahal is likely to be extreme.
I began to prepare for my trip a week ago. Getting up earlier than usual and checking the office email by 04:30 each morning was the routine. then, after my morning walk with Saga it was off to the office (for me, not the dog…) where I worked for a few hours alone and in the dark before anyone else started to show-up.
So, my preparations completed, I packed, headed to the airport and flew to the UK. As I have said, the flight was uneventful. It was mostly sitting and being uncomfortable, sleeping and being uncomfortable, or walking around to try and be comfortable. The plane landed at 08:55 GMT and I departed into the main terminal at Gatwick. It was a lot like debarking at any major airport – lots and lots of waiting at the terminal to get through customs. Unlike Canada (the customs office with which I am most familiar, however, the bored customs official did not seem to want to hassle me. He just asked if I was here on business and then waved me through.
It is cold and rainy here. Actually, it’s a bit like Seattle without the coffee. The driver had a lot to say about politics and what is wrong in the world. Apparently, a goodly portion of that is driven by my being an American. I got to the hotel where it was more waiting for a room to be readied. Now that I have the room the first thing that I do is take a shower… what bliss! After fourteen hours of travel to be clean and warm again. So of course the second thing I do is don my jeans and sweatshirt and go out for a hike along the Thames. The hotel I am at for the first week is right on the grounds of the Hampstead Castle. Apparently it was the court of King Henry VIII. It is a lovely place and has a lovely path that runs along the river that people hike and bicycle along. I walk all the way into Kingston, the next little hamlet along the Thames from Thames Ditton and it is a great day, apart form the dismalness of the weather, that is... For the last mile-or-so I begin to wonder if I will be crossing another road or not and when I finally find one I ask one of the locals if the road will take me back to Hampton Court. “Yeah. Bit of a walk, though.” The kid responds. “You’re an American, aren’t you then?” he adds.
I confirm that I am and he commiserates about the outcome of the election. “Sorry to hear about Bush being re-elected, then, are you?” he asks. “I mean, he is really a wanker, isn’t he?” I thank him for the directions and set off for the Hotel. After the walk I take the train from Hampton Court into Waterloo and take a walking tour of London that begins at Trafalgar Square and wends back down to Waterloo station by way of the London Eye where, as luck would have it, I share a capsule with two couples who have just this morning arrived in the country from Colorado. They are over on vacation and have decided to site-see until bedtime so that they can get into this time zone. What a small world.
So I guess I am going to take Dad’s advice and do what Denis did… I’m just going to take a more high-tech approach to it!
Don Bergquist – Thames Ditton, United Kingdom – 21 November, 2004
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