Halloween in York

Anna found us an interesting Halloween weekend tour through York, and although the tour itself turned out to be pretty average, we did meet lots of nice girls (I was the only guy, other than the guide). There were about 16 of us in a little minivan, and we had a couple of hours in London traffic to introduce ourselves. We were about half-half Kiwis and Aussies, plus one German and a token English girl thrown in. (We also picked up a couple of Canadians in York.)

Day one, we did a little walking tour of York. First we navigated the slippery remains of the Roman Walls (substantially renovated in the Middle Ages), ambled alongside the River Ouse, admired the squirrels in the York Museum Gardens...

...walked among the ruins of St Mary’s Abbey...

... stopped outside the magnificent (but prohibitively expensive) York Minster cathedral...


...shambled through The Shambles (small cobbled street), and saw Clifford’s Tower (the site of a massacre of Jews in 1190). A lot of history in a small town!

At lunchtime, we drove out to Bolton Castle (part of Elizabeth was filmed here) for a dress-up medieval banquet. I wore some travesty of an outfit, with green leggings and a strategically placed fake boob for padding (a big hit with the ladies). Anna looked rather lovely in her medieval garb.

Our banquet was somewhat lacklustre – mostly coldcuts and foamy beer – but we had a good time afterwards, running around the castle in costume as part of a silly treasure hunt. All of us adults, too!

A few other nice locations from the afternoon were the Wensleydale cheese shop (Wallace and Gromit’s favourite!)...

...and Aysgarth and Haydraw waterfalls (both featured in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves).

Back in York, we went on a very crappy and tedious Ghost Hunt night-walk. Because of Halloween, there was a crowd of a hundred or so people, and it was all pretty slow and painful. Fortunately, beer makes anything fun.

Amsterdam - Day Four

Bagels for breakfast, yummy yummy.

Today we mopped up the last few museums – the Stedelijk’s harbour-front gallery, Nederlands Scheepvaartmuseum (Naval Museum) and Rembrandt House.

The Stedelijk visit was a lot of fun. For starters, finding the damn place was almost like performance art. It’s a temporary gallery in an old post building, in a disused area of the harbour.

There was no clear road or route to get there, and it took us some wandering. The complete lack of other tourists was very off-putting, but we got there in the end, and had the gallery pretty much to ourselves.

There was a strange air travel showpiece, whose purpose we never quite determined. The main collection itself had several wonderfully interactive pieces (one pictured), including an ‘endless’ pile of green candy by Felix Gonzalez-Torres (I ate a couple, apple-flavoured):

Felix Gonzalez-Torres's work is sometimes considered a reflection of his experience with AIDS. Many of Gonzalez-Torres's installations invite the viewer to take a piece of the work with them: a series of works allow viewers to take packaged candies from a pile in the corner of an exhibition space … These installations are replenished by the exhibitor as they diminish. The most pervasive reading of Gonzalez-Torres's work takes the processes his works undergo (…piles of candies dispersing, etc.) as metaphor for the process of dying.

and a person writhing on the floor:

Someone has been writhing, artfully, on the floor of the ICA gallery every day since January 17. A number of people have assumed the role and, changing shifts every three hours, they successively embody a work by Tino Sehgal: Instead of allowing some thing to rise up to your face dancing bruce and dan and other things, 2000.

We had a more traditional experience at the Naval Museum, the highlight of which was the full-sized recreation of a 17th Century trading vessel, and at Rembrandt Huis, where the artist's home and studio is recreated alongside a gallery of his work.

Afterwards we went shoe shopping. No really.

Alas, our time was up, and we returned to the airport for our flight home. In a bizarre twist, our airline had booked us into two completely different rows on the plane. A quick whinge later and we had seats together, thanks to a helpful hostess. The weather was frightful on the return trip, and we didn’t get any free drinks because there was too much turbulence.

Amsterdam - Day Three

Having spent yesterday enjoying ourselves somewhat aimlessly, today was going to be our museum day. Fortified with a crappy breakfast at an overpriced tourist pancake house, we headed off to our first stop, the Rijksmuseum. The national museum of the Netherlands, it has a diverse collection of historical artefacts and art. Large parts of the museum were closed for renovations, but we enjoyed the exquisite doll’s houses, and the Vermeer and Rembrandt galleries.

Second stop, Van Gogh Museum. A rather unusual gallery – its design doesn’t match the subject at all, and the layout was completely schizophrenic, jumping to and from various time periods. Taken in toto, and with a bit of interpretation, it provides a fascinating overview of Van Gogh’s work and development. Interestingly, I now realise how modern he was before the so-called modern art movement really began.


The Stedelijk museum, next door, was closed, so we went on another canal cruise (we had free tickets).


Anna was a bit snuffly, so she went back to the hostel for a snooze while I checked out the Jew Museum. This, too, was under renovation (argh!) and largely closed.


We found a decent pancake house for dinner (yum) then went for a big walk through the Jordaan suburb, before meeting Bruce for another beer drinking session. The Dutch do good beer.

Amsterdam - Day Two

Saturday morning. Woke up with absinthe headache. Bought some pastries and hot chocolate for brekky, and had a wander around the lovely little Amsterdam shops.

The Dutch are very well-dressed, and there were lots of excellent clothing shops. (We made a mental note to return, and we did!) Stuck our noses into a few interesting knick-knack shops, and had a most pleasant stroll through flower shop alley - tulip bulbs, anyone?

Of course we knew all about the "Coffee Shops", but it was still surprising to see hallucinogenic mushrooms for sale in a shop window.

We did pop into one such shroom shop, out of curiosity. Alongside tasty psilocybe treats, they also sell a million different pills, herbal uppers and aphrodisiacs. I sniffed a line of "herbal speed", and we bought a high-potent caffeine soft drink. I’m not sure any of this actually helped my headache.

After a little more window shopping, we arrived at Dam Square, Amsterdam's old town centre. There was a small child peeing on a wall, horses and horse poo, a National Monument made of marble but now grey with pigeon shit, and homeless people. I reckon some parts of Amsterdam could use a good waterblasting.

The part of Dam Square between the Royal Palace and Nieuwe Kerk (“New Church” – from the 14th Century!) was filled up with a carnival, so I cajoled Anna into letting me ride on the Ghost Train. It was pretty good - as your near the exit, someone actually chases after you with a chainsaw. Quite a shock after all the animatronic elements!

The church interior was very beautiful. Cavernous ceiling, ornate organ section, intricately carved wooden pulpits, and stained glass windows depicting the coronations of Dutch royalty.

Curiously enough, the church was currently housing an fashion history exhibition. It was a bit strange watching racy ads on the TV screens, surrounded by lacy underwear and corsets, inside a church.

Took a break and went on a canal cruise next, which was nice enough, but boring after a while. Still, we got a good overview of the city and the canals are very pretty.

Had lunch at a fancy restaurant (basil pesto soup with tomatoes, pasta and broadbeans) then sauntered through De Wallen (Amsterdam’s lovely red light district, also known as Walletjes or Rosse Buurt) to the Oude Kerk (“Old Church”).

This beautiful, ancient edifice of worship is flanked by the prostitutes standing in their red-lit display windows, and open-air public urinals. Nice!


The church did have a lovely interior - the floor was entirely paved with large (and often ornate) tombstones. Unfortuantely, we had to pay extra to get in because they were using the space for a crappy art exhibition.



More walking, this time to Anne Frank Huis (House). Deterred by the horrendous queue, we went to a nearby restaurant instead for cheese, Amsterdam meatballs and Bokbier (Anker-Bok). Yummy!

When we left, the queue had dwindled a little, so we joined in and managed to get inside just before closing time. The “Secret Annexe” was much larger than I had imagined (having not read the diary), but it was still a moving experience– especially seeing the original diaries. I bought a copy of the diary to read.

Back to the hostel to see if Bruce was around. No joy. Went to Amsterdam Casino, instead. Grabbed some free drinks and went to watch the Blackjack and Roulette tables. Decided to have a wee play on the slot machines – I was attracted by a genuine Aliens game! Of course I lost spectacularly, but it was worth it. All in all a bit of a laugh, and a nice post-Casino waffle and ice cream helped ease the pain.

Amsterdam - Day One

Friday morning. Woke to the realisation that I didn’t know anything about Amsterdam. After some diligent internet research at work, I found myself rushing to meet Anna at Waterloo station, for the express train to Heathrow. To be honest, I’m not sure it was worth the £30 when compared to the Piccadilly line, but you know how travel = panic stations.

Our Netherlands experience began right away, with airline safety instructions in Dutch, and cheese sandwiches with mini Heineken cans for dinner. Mmmm. Well, I enjoyed the cheese sandwich at least.

After a pleasant flight, we stopped to pick up our 3 day tourism and travel tickets, and caught our first tram to the hostel. Stepping inside we were immediately confronted with a ladder-like staircase! Apparently people were taxed according to the width of their house, so everyone built narrow, but very tall, houses. Yikes! Not the greatest to navigate a) when wearing a backpack, or b) after drinking a lot of Dutch beer.

Apparently, our hostel was owned by a kiwi couple – there was a nice painting of a tui on a kowhai plant above the exit – and by coincidence, the first person we met was a fellow Aucklander. Small world. After dumping our gear in our room, we popped out for drinks with our new acquaintance, Bruce, drummer (Xanadu, Cat Cat Cat) and music enthusiast. Our first stop was a nearby absinthe bar, as I was keen to try the famous “green fairy” so favoured of artists and aesthetes.

There are a fair few myths surrounding absinthe, which, alongside its famously ritualised preparation, have considerably built up the drink’s mystique. However, these are mostly just that, myths. Stripped of the nonsense regarding hallucinogenic properties (this was due to methanol contamination in cheap bootleg brands of the 19th Century), absinthe is simply a herbal spirit, derived from the flowers and leaves of the bitter wormwood plant, and flavoured with aniseed.

Anna and I tried a 130 proof Spanish absinthe, which was atypically red. Bruce went for a more authentic green, but 150 proof specimen. After pouring the absinthe, the bargirl placed a slotted spoon over the glass. She then placed a sugarcube on the spoon, and set it on fire. (It is sometimes claimed that this step – i.e. the fiery sugarcube - is old and traditional. However, it was developed by Czech manufacturers in the late 1990s as a marketing tool.) The sugarcube is then dropped into the drink, and water added to taste. This makes the drink very cloudy (called “louching”).

To be honest, it’s a pretty grim drink – oily and very alcoholic – and though I enjoyed the herby taste, I think I’ll stick to Jägermeister.

From here we went to a beer connoisseur bar, and enjoyed several tasty brews (and one not so tasty). Best pick: Bourgogne des Flandres, a nutty brown beer. Worst pick: a glass of vinegar masquerading as a Grand Cru beer.

Hampton Court

Anna’s friend Dorina and her boyfriend Neno came to London for a couple of days, on holiday from New Zealand. It was lovely to see new faces from back home, and we all went to Hampton Court Palace for a nice Saturday outing.

Originally a farm owned by the Knights Hospitaller, King Henry VIII took an interest in the property after being entertained there once. Thomas Wolsey, then Archbishop of York and Chief Minister to the King, took the lease in 1514 and rebuilt the manor house. However, when he was unable to procure the Pope’s consent to Henry’s divorce, he was stripped of his office and property. Henry thereby ‘acquired’ the Palace, where he added the Great Hall and Royal Tennis Court.

Over time, parts of Henry's additions were demolished, and Sir Christopher Wren built new extensions. Kings and Queens lived in and out of the Palace over the following centuries.

It was a nice sunny day, and we all enjoyed exploring the Palace and grounds. There were lots of guides in themed outfits, and we watched several boisterous demonstrations of Tudor music (including a couple of cheeky songs on a hurdy-gurdy) before heading out to conquer the world-famous Hampton Court Palace Hedge Maze, with its 800 m of paths.

Finished the evening with a walk through Notting Hill, and a few beers at a local pub.

Bad Squirrel

My friend Aran sent me these lovely pictures today. I thought I'd do a little investigating. The Guardian has this to say:

Squirrels in south London could have become addicted to crack cocaine, say residents of Brixton, who suggest the rodents have dug up drugs buried by dealers or nibbled residues of crack on pipes and vials discarded by addicts. ... The Guardian began its search for the freebasing fiend near the local cinema. "They used to hang out in the little park in front of the Ritzy, twitching ... dancing to music only they could hear and generally creating a malevolent ambience," Londoner Rik Abel wrote in his blog. Ritzy regulars were less sure. "I've never seen one," said a staff member. "But there might be crack foxes around too."

First hand reports here and here.

James Bond, Pinewood Studios

Just a quick post to make Frank jealous. Pinewood have been celebrating their 70th Anniversary with a series of screenings of films that were shot at the studio. I took Anna out there after work one night to watch The Spy Who Loved Me, the best of the Roger Moore Bond films. It was clearly an original print (scratchy in places), but still a lot of fun. The free beer certainly didn't hurt.

Weekly roundup

Let's see, what have we been up to. No London walks or big trips recently...

We've actually had a pretty administrative week or so. We finally got a phoneline and an internet connection. Then we registered with our local doctor's clinic (takes two separate visits - of course during business hours). Then there was a mains burst and we lost water one morning. (I had a bath in about 3 inches of boiling water. Yikes!) Then the water came back, but we couldn't get hot water in the kitchen. (Fortunately, our shower has a separate heater.) So I had to stay in, again, for a plumber visit. Turns out the water failure had allowed air to get into the pipes. Wasn't hard to fix - the plumber just held his hand over the faucet and ran the cold tap. This forced water back into the other pipes. Easy peasy, two minutes, and £115 thank you very much.

The news keeps telling us that it's going to get colder - and it did, briefly. One week the temperatures dropped to about 14 - 16 degrees and it rained a lot. But now it's hot and sunny again. Looks like the famous London winter is greatly delayed this year. Hooray!

We've started planning our holidays for the next couple of years. I booked the tickets for our triumphal return to New Zealand next year - will be nice to see veryone, if only for a week or two. We will stop in Singapore on the way back, to break up that awful 24 hour flight to the northern hemisphere. However, our next holiday is a long weekend in Amsterdam a fortnight from now. We have bought a travel guide, and are reading up. Otherwise we're still trying to decide where to go for Christmas. All the nice hot places are very expensive... We've already given up on the Caribbean, but Morocco or Tunisia might be in the works.

Finally did our big "Squirrel Hunt" on Sunday. Hyde's Park (probably the best hunting grounds) was full up with marathon runners, so we went to Regent's Park instead. Very pretty grounds, grass, trees, a big pond. We found some squirrels, but I have to say they were'nt very bold. I think there are not so many tourists here, so they're not trained to take food from people. When we approached they would nip up a tree, and then hang there and regard us with suspicion.

They have a neat trick where they actually face down, and poke their head out. They then freeze in this position, as though you can't see them. (This is very similar to what I've seen lizards in Australia and Fiji do.) The best thing is, this means they're sitting still and you can take pictures of them. Plus it looks cute.

When they're on the ground, however, they're grey lightning. I have lots of photos of grass, with what looks a zig-zag streak of grey through the middle. Grr. I'm posting the best of my efforts - even these are still reasonable blurry. They are gorgeous when they move, though. They don't run, they bound, like an animated slinky. Every now and then they would burst into a little fit as they tried to bury or unearth an acorn - apparently by bouncing up and down on the spot. Enjoy!

Lunch with Gordon Ramsay

Well, not really. I did however spend all of my lunchtime standing around in the cold waiting to meet Gordon at a book signing for his autobiography Humble Pie. Fortunately I bought my copy beforehand, and could at least read it in the queue. It’s very interesting so far – he certainly had a crappy upbringing.

Sadly, I was wearing a sleeveless shirt, and the temperature has dropped sharply here in London. In my defence, it’s still hot in the sun. It’s just that Piccadilly Circus doesn’t get any sun because the enclosing buildings are too high. Oh well. At least I was commended on my bravery by staff and fellow devotees. (Although Gordon later asked me why I couldn’t afford sleeves.)

Anyway, we got let in eventually, only to join another queue (VIPs? Bookclub members?) for another half hour. Finally Gordon appeared in a puff of smoke and whiff of sulphur, and the journos proceeded to fire off about one googolplex photos in the space of a few minutes.

At last it was our turn. He was very friendly, cracking jokes (mostly with the girls, but who can blame him) and allowing lots of photos. He asked me whether 'that horrible Paul Holmes' was still in New Zealand. I replied that he was, and that he is a little goblin (though I suppose I should have mentioned how his career vanished overnight in 2005).

Gordon put some swears in the dedication for me. Nice one!

The Old Bull & Bush

There's a little nook
down in old Hampstead Town,
You know the place it does one great renown,
Often with my sweetheart on a bright Summers day,
To the little pub my footsteps will stray,
If she hesitates when she looks at the sign,
Promptly I whisper, "Now do not decline."
"Down at the Old Bull and Bush"
- sung by Florrie Forde (1920s).

We popped into this pub last night for a drink with Jan. Originally a farmhouse built in 1645, it was first licensed in 1721 and became a music hall in 1867 (hence the song). I understand that the interior was recently redecorated, much to the vocal complaints of pub fanciers. (The internet is full of less than glowing reviews.)

For our own part, we thought it was pleasant (if a bit Ikea) and it did have a great beer selection (though European, not English). Food was rubbish, but the bargirls were pretty. Not bad – certainly the best pub within Golders Green – but it’s probably worth making the extra effort to nip over to Hampstead.

Come, come, come and make eyes at me
down at the Old Bull and Bush,
Da, da, da, da, da,
Just let me hold your hand dear,
Do, do, do, do, do have a drink or two
down at the Old Bull and Bush

Avebury and Lacock

Went on another London Walks daytrip, this time with Jan and Rebecca. First stop, Avebury. The site of a large henge and several stone circles dating back to 3400 BC – older, and four times larger, than Stonehenge.

Surrounded by huge circular henge – 21m wide, 11m deep, 1.35 km in circumference – was an Outer Circle of 98 sarsen standing stones, some weighing in excess of 40 tons. Nearer the middle of the monument were two other, separate stone circles. A single large monolith, 5.5m high, stood in the centre along with an alignment of smaller stones.

Although it is one of the finest and largest Neolithic monuments in Europe, it’s ‘wow’ value has been severely diminished by the village and roading built right through the middle during the intervening centuries.

In fact, there was a concerted effort in the 16th century to destroy the site, as it was believed to be evil due to its pagan origin. Many of the original stones were broken up and used for building materials, or toppled and buried at the site. Famously, the henge got its own back when one stone fell on and killed a barber. His body wasn’t exhumed until 1938.

Nowadays, among the sheep-laden pasture only 27 stones of the Outer Circle survive, many of which were dug up and re-erected by an enthusiast, Alexander Keiller, in the 1930s. Concrete pylons mark the former locations of the missing stones and it is likely that more stones are buried on the site.

I should add, however, that visiting during a lightning storm and torrential rain really adds some impact!

After a thorough soaking, we sought shelter and hot victuals at the Red Lion. The only pub in Avebury, it is also a famous haunting ground!

The story goes that during the 17th century, the inn was run by Florrie and her soldier husband. When he was called away to war, Florrie subsequently took a lover. One night her husband returned unexpectedly from battle and discovered his wife's infidelity. In a fit of rage he shot dead his rival and slit his wife's throat. He then threw her body down the inn's well and sealed it with a huge boulder.

We had a look in the well (it has now been converted into just another table – albeit with a glass lid) but didn’t see anything spooky.

However, I did find this photograph on the net. Taken by a local journalist in 2004 (while accompanying a group of “Paranormal Site Investigators”), it apparently depicts a bald man with a bloody face. It looks to me like Maynard Keenan with marker pen scribbles. Was Tool visiting Avebury that weekend?

After an exerting morning, we had better luck with the weather at Lacock village (pronounced Lay-cock). Owned almost in its entirety by the National Trust, its unspoiled appearance has made it a preferred filming location – notably for the excellent 1995 BBC Pride & Prejudice and the Harry Potter films (as Hogsmeade). I bought some terrible fudge from the National Trust shop, and Anna picked up another fridge magnet.

We also visited the Lacock Abbey, where the classroom and cloister scenes of Potter were also filmed. Currently The Other Boleyn Sister is being filmed there. We saw some sets and film equipment, but no sign of Scarlett Johansson, Natalie Portman or Eric Bana (damn!).

Extra pics: [1] The girls in Lacock Abbey cloister [2] Hogsmeade