I Need a Hero

Today we took the train to Greenwich, which is the town where Rick stayed in a Hostel when he first arrived in the UK. We heard that there was a great market there, Greenwich Park, the Nautical Museum and, more importantly the Prime Meridian. Rick really wanted to stand on 0 longitude and have his picture taken. Greenwich is a lovely town and it was nice to stroll along the streets and check out the various shops, pubs, and restaurants. We chose a Mexican food restaurant, of all things, to have our lunch. The food was terrific and the sangria filled our bellies for another day of walking. I was optimistic that is wouldn’t be nearly as much travelling on foot as it had been for our tour of London and I prayed to God not at all like our excursion to Bluewater.

In order to reach the area where the Prime Meridian is located, we had to trek through Greenwich Park and up this steep path about 1,500 feet long. I felt sorry for the older folks trying to make their way as even for the three of us that are all in reasonably good shape, it was a workout. As I huffed and puffed up the path, I asked Rick if he thought that people had died of a heart attack trying to get to the top. He agreed that there probably had been a few. Once up there, it was worth the effort as we got a spectacular view of Greenwich, the harbour, and Canary Wharf (the business district in London). Rick stopped in the souvenir shop and picked up a t-shirt and then we waited our turn as so many other tourists snapped photos of friends and family standing on the world renowned site. Chan seemed to be fixated on a Tragically Hip song and wondered where 100 Meridian would be. Neither of us had an answer for him but I think it was more because Rick was so thrilled to be at 0 and wasn’t in the frame of mind to consider 100.

After the photo op, we found another gift shop (probably why all those seniors were almost killing themselves to get up that hill) and Rick got the perfect Science teacher tie with stars and constellations on it. But what made me the most happy was the collection of Dr. Who memorabilia and I couldn’t resist picking something up. Chan got a Dalek poster and I settled on four buttons with different shots from Dr. Who. My favourite was the one with just David Tennant, the actor who currently plays the Doctor. I told the guys that David is most definitely on my “what’s hot” list as I pinned the button on to my right lapel. I thought about starting a collection of crime fighters since I also love Yannick Bisson, the Canadian actor, who plays the lead character of a detective from the late 1800’s, called “Murdoch Mysteries”. The Doctor fights crimes of time and space and Murdoch, those of the past. Chan asked if I had a present day favourite. Nothing came to mind. Well, dry wall guy did but...okay never mind.

When our touring of Greenwich was over and we were on the crowded and noisy train back to Dartford, a group of what I thought were police officers boarded at one of the stops. I had also seen other officers perusing the platform back in Greenwich, and I wondered if they were looking for someone in particular. I kept turning around to see what they were doing as I was hoping to catch them taking someone down and some exciting scene suddenly evolved so I could have a present day crime fighter button. As the train emptied out with each subsequent stop, I was able to change my seat so that I was looking in the direction of where the law makers were standing.

As I shifted in my seat, Rick looked at the guy now sitting next to me (this broad bald fellow who was quietly listening to his MP3) and tapped his nose and mouthed the word, “Nosey”. The big bear of a man laughed then removed his ear buds and explained that they were simply transit officers just doing standard checks. It turns out that he was a Southeastern employee just finishing his shift. Rick saw his ID badge, gestured to him in a steering motion like a five year old boy playing car, and yelled, “Do you drive the train?” I imitated Rick and said sarcastically, “Yeah, Rick, he drives the train.” No, the man said, clearly amused by our antics at this point, he was a shift supervisor.

So I told the guy that I wasn’t being nosey, that I am a writer and I am always looking for a good story. Not only that, but we have to find ways to entertain ourselves since we don’t even own a television. We can’t watch Dr. Who, I explained. I talked about my “what’s hot and what’s not list”, and I pointed to my new button just above my right breast. Rick craned his neck forward as if to get a better look and said, “Oh, that episode’s a rerun anyway. I’ve seen that one before.” After several swats to my moron husband’s shoulder, a good laugh from the man, he pulled out his cell phone to show me something. He said that his son had downloaded this for him. He played the opening theme for Doctor Who and the Dalek saying “Exterminate” for me and then he got off at his stop.

So what I really need to know now is do shift supervisor’s fight crimes?

Coronation Street?

The street we live on is only a 100 metre long dead end street, but the flurry of activity seems to be ongoing. Across from us is the tile shop. In the mornings, and generally more early than I would like, trucks stop by to pick up their shipments. I am always amazed at how these large vehicles manage to manoeuvre their way into and then back out of such a stubby road.

Not long after the deliveries have been dealt with, the sandwich delivery gal shows up tooting her horn loudly several times as she backs up her truck outside the main entrance. I see her laughing and chatting with the guys and I wonder if she is single and if she has a crush on the bald guy that I see carrying orders out to customers’ cars. Not sure what they order, but she rides away with a smile and I think she seems happy with her work.

Couples stop to embrace; boys scoot by on their bikes and skateboards, and an elderly man with a cane and his shopping basket all pass by our kitchen window. A girl crying in her sock feet, maybe she had a fight with her boyfriend, went by and then oddly minutes later another woman whose barefoot walked by cradling her toddler who is dressed only in pyjamas. I wondered where they were going and why neither woman had shoes. Is she broke and can’t afford shoes or do her feet ache and the earth feels good against her soles?

People sit in their cars and eat the fish and chips they most likely bought at shop around the corner. I am curious if they are on the go and need to eat in a hurry or maybe they’re not in the mood for sharing their chips tonight. Cars occasionally zoom by thinking that they can move onto one of the main roads near our house and then do a “U-ey” when they realize that our street is a dead end. Sometimes a stranger parks in our spot and we have to leave a note and kindly ask them to move.

When I swing our bedroom window wide open and pop my head out, I get a terrific view of the Dartford Bridge. It always seems to be packed and traffic moves slowly over the Thames. It is quite pretty at night, though, when it is lit up. I sometimes like to rest on the large sill for a few minutes and get an entirely different view of our street; the place we now call home.

I know is it closing time at the tile shop when the bald guy yanks the large garage type delivery doors down with a clang, he chucks his cigarette butt into the empty lot, and his wife and son come to fetch him.

What's Hot and What's Not

When it comes to the cost of things, I have found that certain things here are unbelievable cheap and others ridiculously expensive. My job while the guys are in school is to scout out the nearby stores and find what’s hot and what’s not. At the end of the day, we tell each other about our experiences and when it is my turn, I like to play something I call, “Deals and Steals”. I pull out the receipt from my purchases, hold up the item and get them to guess how much it costs. My favourite bargain so far is a 440 gram jar of curry sauce for 7 pence. Now, for you Canadians reading my blog, for ease of conversion, just double the price. Tell me where you can buy a 440 gram jar of curry sauce for 14 cents? Let me know when you find one. I made a terrific chicken curry dish with this sauce, so it is now on my “hot” list.

I also found a tube of toothpaste for 17 pence and I just had to buy it to try it out. This is a purchase I regretted, however, because most of that night while Rick and I (mostly Rick) were sleeping; he was breathing his not so minty breath on me. The next day, I went out and bought “Aquafresh” and dumped the other tube. Obviously, this item is not worthy of my “hot” list.

There are at least five thrift shops in the town centre and the British Heart Foundation operations a really nice store. There is a good turnover of stock, the quality and the price of the items, from what I have experienced with similar shopping at home, is quite good too. I bought a black leather purse for 2 pound 50 (by the way there are literally tons of purses to be found at this place and I always think of my good friend, Debbra, and how she would have a fit over this), a pair of top notch “Next” jeans for 4 pound 30 (perfect fit, too, no need for hemming), and a cute three quarter length sleeve jersey knit shirt with grey stripes for 1 pound 99. So thrift store shopping is most certainly on my “hot” list.

Away from shopping for a second, I have to tell you that the most “hot” item of all is the young dry wall guy that is working on the house next door. I really wish he would stop taking off his damn shirt when he comes out to get tools from his truck. Not looking, not looking.....

To help me stay on topic here, what I find unreasonably expensive is the cost of buying a home. For example, the place that we are renting is about 1,200 square feet, 2 bedroom, 1.5 bathrooms, a fenced yard that is about 50’ by 25’ and it would sell for around 220,000 pounds (don’t forget the double factor). It is in a nice area and is brand new mind you, but $400,000! We really struggle with wrapping our heads around how Brits can afford their own homes. Next time I look through the Peterborough real estate section, I won’t go on about how stupid the prices of homes has gotten. So buying a house in England, unless I was loaded, unfortunately will sit on “what’s not” list.

Because I generally like to end my blogs with a positive note, picture this for a second (this is obviously for all of my female readers so sorry guys)....tattoo on the right shoulder, wash board abs, sandy blonde hair......

Pussy cat, pussy cat what did you there?

Today we took the train to London. The recruiting company that hired Rick was offering a free walking tour of the city. About 20 teachers that were hired from mainly Canada and a couple from Australia also attended. There have been times since I arrived here in Dartford that I have forgotten that I am living in the UK. Apart from the accents, life is not so dramatically different from living in Canada, and it wasn’t until our tour reached the Tower Bridge that it hit home. Between the multitude of tourists passing us speaking languages that I couldn’t identify, the Thames River filled with row boats, cruise ships, and barges, and the beautiful stone towers at either side of the river linked together to form one of the many bridges in the city, I couldn’t help but weep. Unlike Toronto, Vancouver, or Ottawa, London is a web of streets and steeped in history. We couldn’t decide where to look first and I hoped that our cameras would capture was much as possible. How could we begin to share our experience with our friends and family? I would venture to say it was majestic, unique, diverse, magnificent, or wondrous, but I could go on forever and still feel as though I have not done the city justice.

The highlight of the day, though, was the variety of acts that took place in Jubilee Gardens. Anything from musicians, to jugglers, and mimes, and then contortionists, even artists, entertained and amazed us as we made our way through the park situated along the Thames. Of course, they were there to make a pound or two and the better the act, the bigger the crowd, and the possibility of return for them more promising. We stopped and took in some of the acts and at one point when the three of us stopped to check out some freakish routine, what I would like to call a creepy genie dude was waving Channing over. At first, I said to Channing, “Hey, little boy, I have some popsicles in my freezer,” which is our code for he is like the pervert on Family Guy (old man with the walker and Chris delivers the paper to him). Despite this, Chan willingly went over to the guy with the oversized gold coloured turban and a squeaky parrot hand puppet. All of the acts to this point had been fun and entertaining so when Chan stood next to him we waited for the drum roll. Instead, all he got was some weird old man dressed in a pathetic homemade Genie costume squeezing the hand puppet up his arm and saying, “How, how, how, how are you,” until he reached Chan’s shoulder. At this point, I think Chan realized that there was no “act” and he froze with an uncomfortable smirk on his face while we struggled with our cameras to take a photo. And this is when Murphy struck. Rick couldn’t get the darn camera to take a photo. “Now hold on a second, Chan,” Rick said. “Oh, wait, that’s not right.” In the meantime, Chan was blurting out instructions to Rick in a desperate attempt to get him to take the damn photo already. When it was all over and we finally got the photo, Chan said, “OMG, I feel like I need a shower.”

Our day out was exhausting and long and we must have travelled at least 10 kms on foot by the time we returned to the train station. We all felt that we could hardly wait to return to London again because today felt so surreal.
That night when we were all lying in bed with our feet aching and so feeling grateful to finally be resting, Chan piped up, “I hope you realize that I am scarred for life now,” cause he couldn’t get creepy genie man out of his head. Rick replied, “Sure makes me look good now, doesn’t it, Chan.”

Chan: “Love you, Rick.”

Rick: “Grrrrr.”

To market, to market...

Every Thursday and Saturday there is a farmer’s market in the town centre. The market that I visited today (Thursday’s) was a cross between a flea market and a carnival. Two fruit vendors were barking and from what I could gather they were not only trying to encourage shoppers to buy from their stands but criticizing their competition. At one point, a vendor got overly animated and slipped off of his podium (aka empty wooden fruit carton) and a customer had to break his fall. He didn’t miss a beat, however, and he and “I have a grocery cart full of oranges man” kept verbally duking it out.

There were several meat and fish vendors selling their wares out of what looked to me like chip trucks. One fellow was standing on a deck outside his truck and he was hauling out various packages of frozen meats like sausages, chicken burgers, and fish sticks. He had two women assisting him and they would “model” the item for sale while he yelled out a description and a price. When I stopped to watched, a crowd, of at least 30, had gathered. If the shopper was interested in an item, they would put up a hand and the “model” would pass it to them. I hate to admit it, but my initial reaction to this scene was that he was handing out free food because people were almost swarming and the women were tossing things about so quickly.

Although, I passed on the truck load of oranges or a bag of frozen cod fillets, I did manage to spot a deal on super glue for one pound and decided to pick that up. With Rick being such a handy guy, I wondered when the urge to fix something would strike him. Perhaps the glue would pacify his Mr. Fixit tendencies since there is virtually nothing to build, tear down, repair or maintain in our new place. Who knows, maybe he and Chan would take turns blotting super glue on each other and arrive at the school as conjoined twins. Hey, maybe that would save us a bundle on bus fares, too. Between a student and a senior’s discount the bus driver would be stymied.

On The Buses

I took the bus to Gravesend today which is about 10 kms north east of Dartford. Chan and I met a woman and her daughter at a bus stop in Longfield yesterday and when I asked her where the best place to get groceries was, she told me, “Asda’s”. Apparently, it is like Walmart. Later, when I checked out the bus route, it turned out that I could catch a bus to Gravesend at our usual place (about 2 minutes from our doorstep) and it would take me right to Asda’s. Cool!

Since Chan started school today, I flew solo and I did have a wee case of the nerves when I hopped on the bus without him. I don’t take public transit much at home – the odd Greyhound or Go Train to Toronto or Niagara. And my experience with city buses from my teenage years was pretty mixed up. The bus I rode from school always stopped at the Psychiatric Hospital to pick up the day patients. There was the young guy that loved the pantyhose ads. He would say, “Sexy legs, sexy legs,” and he would tip his head back and press it against the window and think that he could look up the model’s skirt. Then there was the man with the hole in his face. Since my dad worked nearby at the Correctional Centre he had heard about him. Apparently, he tried to commit suicide by putting a gun up his nose. He successfully blew his nose off. I tried not to stare at him when he got on the bus, but it was so bizarre. Like something out of a horror movie. Probably the most interesting passenger was the extra large teenage looking man that was a skilled nose picker. Fingers went in, booger came out, he sniffed it, then he popped it back into his mouth and the process continued. Many times over, I would like to add.

Once I was seated, I tried to distract myself from the butterflies by observing the scenery but I was drawn to the passengers. Perhaps I was looking for “Sexy Legs” or “Nose Picker Boy”. In front of me, a group of kids, probably 12 or 13 years of age, joked about with each other and I barely caught what they were saying. It was without a doubt, British teenage gibber. Next stop an elderly lady with two canes got on and one of the boys in the group gave up his seat for her. I thought that showed character on his behalf and I appreciated that. I would expect my boys to do the same. Two stops later another elderly lady shuffled on with the assistance of her daughter (I heard her say “Mum” as she directed her to a seat). Another one of the group of teen boys got up and offered his seat which meant that the two seniors were seated facing each other. The second lady recognized the first and the two broke into chatter like old chums. The talkative teens exited at the Bluewater shopping centre which is where I thought they would be heading.

We wove and ambled our way around the narrow streets of Swansombe and then back onto Thames Way past the Ebbsfleet International train station (England’s Gateway), then along a chalk valley (seems to be an abundance of that here), and new housing developments on the River Thames with glass balconies, views, and a hefty price tag too. Not sure if it was the rocking of the bus, the friendly chatter of the elderly ladies, or how every exiting passenger would say, “thank yewwww” or “Cheers” to the driver, but my case of the gitters was gone.

Gravesend stop was next. And off I went with my grocery trolley in tow and all I had to do was follow the signs.

Who's Bad?

It is interesting how we have managed to find ways to entertain ourselves in the evenings due to the lack of a home phone, tv, or internet. For example, tonight when we finished our supper and before we headed out for our nightly walk (we use our map and try to explore somewhere that we haven’t already been), I popped in my newly acquired copy of “Michael Jackson King of Pop” CD which I signed out of the Dartford Library. We discovered that Channing is not built for break dancing. His attempts at spinning on his back reminded me of a drunken 100 year old sea turtle desperately trying to right itself back onto its legs. When the song, “Beat It” came on, I shooed Chan aside and took over our dance floor (aka living room or as they say in England “lounge”).

In high school, I was pretty proud of the fact that I had managed to master a particular dance move that was very popular as a result of the release of Michael’s video “Thriller”. It wasn’t the zombie boogie move or the thrush your hip to the right and grab your crotch pose (Seriously, how many times did Michael do that?). Pretty sure it wasn’t done in this particular video but it didn’t stop my high school class mates from sliding across the floor, shoes kicked off, and feverishly imitating the King of Pop. Yep, I impressed my son and my husband tonight (translation – Channing “Hey, mom. That is pretty cool.” – Rick – slap to the forehead and took another sip of wine). Not only can I do the moonwalk backwards, but forwards too and then change directions mid way and alternate between the two. Once I put socks on, I was really cruising. “Hey, look guys I am doing it backwards.” I slid by the two of them seated at the table. “Now I am moon walking forward.” Then I repeated the moves at least 10 more times. I topped it off with a flip of my heel towards my butt and then kicked forward, thrust my hip to the right and did the crotch pose.

Rick: “Ohkaayy, where’s that map?”

Bev: “We really need to get internet.”