Befriending pirates

Don't freak, but I may have finally understood this whole London business. I haven't said the word 'dollar' in four days, I turn door nobs in the right direction and now I am officially a recurrent jaywalking criminal. Well, if I've seen the police do it on more than one occasion, then I think it is safe to say it is not all entirely illegal.

This weekend has been fantastic. Sam has been a little - WAIT - lot a bit spoilt. Jamming out to Phantom of the Opera in the shower or on the bus is a teeny bit different than seeing it live! Although I immensely love making people near me on the way to uni feel uncomfortable with my... um, interesting... rendition of 'past the point of no return', you can't beat sitting in an audience watching every single word in your head sung with real justice.

Again jealous with the quality of the performances, Billy Elliot the Musical made me sob and laugh and sob again. Oh Billy, leap, leap, leap Billy! The cast was comprised of children that had such discipline and could undoubtedly sing and dance better than I could in ten years - but perhaps my singing and dancing ability would have grown in that period and therefore the gap between our talents would not be so embarrassing. Regardless, it was amazing and don't get me started on the set. Any play that has a spiral staircase appearing from the floorboards is a winner for me.

Now big drum roll. Best musical in the world: Les Miserable. My most favouritest (yes that is a word!). So to honor this piece of theater I will attempt to educate all those that don't know the play- through song! Well sort of. At the same time, most probably making a fool of myself to those who do know the musical. Entertaining regardless. I will aim to write the name of every song in Les Mis in a paragraph of slight cohesion. Ready: go!

In my life I look down because the master of the house dreamed a dream about dogs eating dogs. But this, lovely ladies, is the turning from empty chairs at empty table to a heart full of love. So at the end of the day, bring him home and hear the people sing about stars and a little fall of rain in the red and black sky. Drink with me my friends as I am on my own one day more in a castle on a cloud. Teach me a soliloquy about wedding chorale and Thenardier Waltz. Come to me....um... beggars at the feast...um. That's all I got. (p.s There are 23 songs; found them?). Ahem. Again Sam, excellent use of your time.

Oh yes, and I also met Johnny Depp.

 

Moving out

Dearest all, after little thought and single minded deliberation I have made the executive decision to attend Oxford University. "Sam, why on Earth would you go to Oxford?" Well class, I could bore you with words of air, grace and utter historic genius but to put it simply, it gives off the whole 'king of the world' vibe. Oxford itself is the quintessential meaning of beauty. Probably because architect may have had a love affair with his drawings. Therefore the decision has been made. Goodbye QUT hello Oxford. Writing it out does make it sound a bit more ambitious then in my head. But we all have to have goals don't we?

Keeping you up to date, Sam is still struggling and oddly imcompendent when turning door nobs as they seem to be all backwards in this country! I have successfully picked up the lingo of uterlising the phrase 'half five' or 'half eleven' instead of 'half past eight'. Lastly, I have recently discovered I have a rare illness that constantly ensures I say the word dollars after every quantity of money when I mean pounds. Old habits die hard.

P.s Happy Birthday Kc - no 6am Pancake Manor wake up call this year... Not yet anyway ;)

White rabbits in Oxford

Dashing off and expecting to understand the profound complexity of the London public transport system is easier said than done. When the train is called the overground. The underground (train/bus shuttle system) is called the tube. There are both overground and underground tubes. Then there's the London Tube or the Oxford Tube- but they are not apart of the underground tube; they are buses. But buses are called coaches! Please be confused as I am (because I am rather confused).

Other than accidentally spending a few more pounds than originally intended (more like £30) I made it to Oxford. Thank you big puppy dogs eyes and Australian/kiwi accent! Without your help, tackling the London public transport system would have been like being on the tv show Lost. But instead, filmed in a train station. With no challenges. No movie cameras. No elimination round... Just Lost. That sums it up.

So after undergoing my three hour trip, I made it out of London and into Oxford. The place where the Great Hall off Harry Potter was filmed. Unfortunately floating candles don't really exist! Not that I was expecting to see them hovering there, or anything. Aw. So Harry Potter nerds of all ages, let me tell you one thing you probably didn't know. The Great Hall has a secret hidden in its windows. Lewis Carol wrote Alice in Wonderland in Oxford. To commemorate the book, stained glass windows with the white rabbit were created for the hall. But the single white rabbit is hidden in the corner of only one of the 16 stained glass windows. The white rabbit even made it onto the Harry Potter movie! Interesting fact of the day. And who says you don't learn anything from reading this blog.

The rest of the day compiled of climbing up a hill in the poring rain to see a windmill that doesn't exist anymore. Good day.

Signaling the mafia

The daily debate: hot shower with low water pressure, or lukewarm shower with high water pressure? 'tis a serious problem I have waking up in the morning. This austere privilege between two showers may perhaps be a curse in disguise. The battle usually begins the moment I wake. However, in complete and utter laziness I usually select the closest bathroom, only to regret it when cold water appears from the heavens. This has been happening for the last four mornings. Tomorrow I will make the change, I promise. But then again I said that yesterday too and it didn't happen.

My Bed and Breakfast is located a few houses down from a church. Yesterday I was speaking to my cousin Simon and drifting off from the distance came these beautiful sounds of the church bells. I thought it may have been for a special occasion as the bells continued to ring for the next 10 mins. But then they rang for another 20 mins and then another 45mins... They just kept going and going and going and going. So I decided to investigate. My inner Sherlock Homes only took me to my window; I gazed out of it and then resorted back to my warm, humble abode. So much for thinking I had the potential to be a detective. I came to the conclusion that the church had been haunted by a multitude of Gastleys. But that's just my suspicion. The bells rang for exactly one hour beginning at 7:15pm and ending at 8:15pm. I asked Richard from the Bed and Breakfast what the bells were for. According to him it was someone practicing 'the ringing of the bells'. Right.... But who? I think the priest would have had enough practice ringing the bells over his 80 years. And for a whole hour? I highly doubt it. I think it was a signal for the mafia or some odd individual training for the olympics. You don't know.

So alas the mystery lives on.

 

Meet my bosses

In the office. Typing illegally. Maybe it is illegal. Maybe it isn't. But I like to pretend it is. I like being rebellious. Therefore I am participating in illegal activity! But now I live on the wild side of life since my recent experience [evil laugh] . So now I pronounce myself rebellious . I've eaten food on the Brisbane buses and skipped a lecture, so that only adds to my long list of illegal activity. Got to go. I might be deported if they catch me! Just kidding. Oh, don't give me that look. Why are you so serious....

After the scene of the crime.

So as you have probably guessed, my internship started today. It was a mixture of reading music magazines, listening to the next best talent in Europe and watching my two bosses dance to the 300 or so demos they receive everyday. And freeeeeee lunch.

It is 1am on the first day of the job and I have just come home from a band competition that one of the interns organised. Tonight was round two of three with six bands performing in each. Two finalists from each round go into the grand finals next Monday night! And guess who gets to attend all the performances free of charge? Hmmmm? Free alcohol and watching hot musos with English accents? Sounds good to me!

 

Burn the house down

Well I've made it. I am sitting in my new room, in a bed and breakfast that's almost 200 years old! All the houses in the village are old and beautiful. The town is rather quirky, with lots of cafes, pubs and churches. It is a rustic mix between Gothic, old school and warm, cupcake parlor.

There are band performances every second night on the green and on the weekends the pubs rock out with folk music, the spoons and banjo. Last night I was invited by Richard, the owner of the B and B, to come along. He was the lead drummer for their band and somehow they incorporated a version of Marilyn Manson's Tainted Love in their odd assortment of music.

We all knew this day would come: today I will cook. Yes, the stunned silence is really reassuring. Well I don't consider myself to be the best chef in the world, but other than cooking Pizza Capers and toast, think I am pretty hopeless. So I geared up all my strength and walked down to the shops. Tonight I am cooking bacon and mushroom fettuccine with mini garlic prawns for Richard and myself. Oh wish me luck. I will try my hardest not to break anything, burn anything, destroy current walls or kitchen appliances. Ready go! So if you don't hear anymore blogging in the next few days, you know I was kicked out of the B and B and had to sell my iPad to pay for hospital bills and the cremation of Richard's many teddy bears.

 

Eating a muffin

Best feeling all day: eating food. I was so hungry. I haven't eaten anything since my 6am flight. It is now 1pm. I was in captivity for 5 hours. Shortly after my last blog post they took my iPad because I said it had contact numbers for people they could call. You know how I am normally hungry all the time? Like all the time? Well in my defense in customs, the lady offered me breakfast then morning tea then lunch. She was freaking out because she kept offering me more and more food and water but because I kept saying no, I think that worried her. I was taking a hunger strike. My unbrushed hair for two days and stubbornness added to the moment, I'm sure.

To enlighten you, somehow my crying and hunger strike paid off. I was free after 5 hours! (slow, dramatic leap into the air). I am currently waiting for my lift outside the airport. I just want a shower. Glad to finally be in London and not on a plane going home. Maybe I wasn't good enough to be a terrorist. Oh well, I'm not complaining!

 

Don't read mum and dad

I want to go home.

Dear blog, I am currently being detained at the London airport. Currently being detained at the London airport. Detained at airport. Supposedly I'm not allowed to enter the UK if I am undertaking paid/unpaid work if I don't have a visa. So who was the smart little birds who told me I didn't need a visa.

They took my passport and travel documents. Currently I've been sitting in the room for two hours. Lots of people have come to question me. I've had a pat down, drug test and all my baggage searched. During the two days of flying I managed to loose the key for my luggage, so that only added to the appeal and shifty eyes. They searched through everything I had and I was half expecting them to find a gun or someone's decapitated head wrapped up in my towel. They all shared a participially suspicious look when they uncovered my old pokemon games I had in my hand luggage (What? I was playing them on the plane... No judging!). I carry the games around with some paper with cheats on them. All the airport people surrounded around the list of scrap paper and murmured with nodding heads like they had just found my weed stash. If I wasn't wetting myself at the time I would have just been plain hilarious. After some more grumbles I passed the suitcase test and was returned into the room.

It has been three hours. They took my suitcase and all the important bits of hand luggage but I still have my iPad. Blogging is the only thing keeping me sane. I only really started crying when the lady showed me the highlighted section of the 'sending people back home' manuel and it hit me that they can actually send me back. I never liked Channel 9's Boarder Security anyway.

End of transmission.


 

Bird song

After three plane trips over two days, minimum sleep and befriending strangers, I think I may have this traveling thing down pat. I am currently on my last flight from Amsterdam to London on Air France and they fed me chocolate! Best thing ever as Sam misses chocolate oh so much. First flight, 9 hours to Guangzhou, I sat next to an eighty year old chinese lady who spoke no English and managed work out she had two cats and she hated her husband.


Arriving at Guangzhou, I had a four hour stop over and decided I wanted to make some friends! So after 10mins of chatting to people in the terminal, I had complied a group of 7 people from all over the world heading to London. Most were backpackers that were rather attractive - they had that exotic appeal going on. It's not my fault if my friends were a Brazilian personal trainer and a Spanish swimmer. My French friend managed to get through customs with a lighter in her pocket which was pretty funny since that's illegal.

Traveling from Guangzhou to Amsterdam on a 12 hour flight was painful. They had no movies. But all my friends that I met at the airport were in a playful mood so we made bird sounds in the plane attempting to cause some sort of confusion. We had a good spread of birds between the rows of 34 to 58; all in all, mission successful.

 

A brisvagas morning

Well I thought today would be the best day to start a blog as I am sitting in brisvagas international airport with nothing else to do! People watching and pretending to be interested in overpriced books served as entertainment for an hour or so. With a delayed plane to Guangzhou and a pretty, new iPad - let the new blog begin! (que fireworks).

So my fellow readers, if you indeed decide to follow this blog be prepared for verbal illustrations of falling pianos, hungry rodents and the occasional angry mob. Do not fret my fine felons, I have taken all the necessary precautions to protect you from any risk of danger. Please locate all four fire exits on this page incase of emergency departure. Your inflatable life vest is directly under your seat. For those unfortunate individuals who have been banned in Queensland from owning a chair, feel free to compile something out of paper clips instead.

As you can probably tell, boredom has the potential to turn into big things. Things more impressive than a plane wearing a suit. Genius. Now that could have been a good transit ad in my uni portfolio.
Copy platform
Product: Air New Zealand
Copy: Classy passengers on board.

Well I'd like to bid you adieu. My flight willl be bording in 20 mins and all I want to do is sleep. Perhaps going out last night wasn't the best idea.....

P.s I love you little shmee x