And the honey is for…?

So I’m having breakfast, intercontinental style, and the waitress asks if I’d like tea or coffee, Tea please. She returns two minutes later with a pot of tea, slice of lemon and a pot of honey? Explain?

Another city another Metro

So I’ve found my way down to the metro – the world’s oldest after London – and getting the right line / train is a doddle, the signage isn’t easy to read, being in Hungarian, but the colours and position of the signs makes it obvious enough. I buy my ticket (320ft single – how do they check that? CCTV looking for rings? Would it have been more if I was still with hubby?…) but 88p isn’t bad, so ticket purchased, punched in the validating machine, and down to the platform.

Again, all the signage is clear, in that i can’t read it! But the map works, so I just need to leave the train at Albatross (or something which sounds like that). The train pulls in, looking as old as the station – in a retro cool kinda way – and Olga comes on the tannoy… I have absolutely no idea what she says! Ok this could be fun, so much for listening out for Albatross! I return to the map and count the stops, 5, and hop on the train. We set off, and sail right through the first stop…? On arrival at the next stop, I don’t see any signage other than advertising. Ok, so does this count as stop one or two? Hmmmm. At the next (second stop / third station) three guys get on clad head to toe in Ferrari gear… Well if it works for Lewis it’ll work for me; so I stick in their slipstream to Albatross station, follow them straight to the F1 shuttle bus, and activate the DRS on the final approach to pass them as we join the queue – Whitmarsh would be proud 🙂

Right, it’s qually baby!
ttfn /Rxx

Sometimes my life feels like one big adventure

And I guess anyone looking at it would probably agree? There are down days, where nothing of particular significance happens, but on those days I don’t say anything, I just keep my head down and get on. But when things do happen, I blog about them, as it’s great to look back in time and it saves hours of telling different people the same story afterwards!

I look at special people in my life right now, and I think how lucky I am to have a heart that lets me be active, two legs that work, unaided, a bank manager who kindly looks the other way (or rubs his hands as I spend my savings!) and the mentality to get involved, have a go, and look for reasons why not, rather than justification to try. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. Cliche perhaps, but recently I’m appreciating all the things I have and can do, they’re far more important that what I haven’t or can’t do. And writing about them lets me share my luck and blessings with those less fortunate.

So how much fun has the past 24 hours been??!!

I’ve started my Olympic excitement, explored a tiny bit of the South Bank, sweltered by butt off in the glorious British summer sun, got my stash and formal introduction to the games, met some equally excited and positive people (and that’s just staff, no athletes yet), been set my challenge (for a photo of me with something representing each country competing in the games) and now I’m on my way to the airport again!

Tonight, I’ll be in another country I’ve never been to before, out with more complete strangers, Anna & Orsi (the latter whose name I continually pronounce wrong, so likelihood of having spelt it right is slim to none, and I think ‘Slim’ just got on a tube towards Uxbridge, on the Picadilly line, where there’s disruption around Rayners lane…)

Anna & Orshi are rarely spoken of individually; they seem to come as a pair, like Marks & Spencer, or Bang & Olufsen, so I’m not sure what to expect really?They’re Hungarian, in their mid-twenties and are friends of a friend. So tonight I’ll get to meet them in person (people?) and find out what life in Budapest is like, from the locals.

But in the meantime, I’ve got Stansted to contend with. I’ve never been to / through Stansted and, given its one of the closest airports to the Olympics, I’m anticipating tightened security and allowing the full 2hours check-in time. Great opportunity for people watching! Might have to sample a cold beverage too…?

ttfn /Rxx

During the London 2012 Olympics, I’ll be working as part of the Technology team on the Olympic Park – and I can’t wait.

In my usual fashion, I’ll  be blogging it!  But like the Australia trip, it’s something of a one-off event, so I’ve set up a specific blog to capture the clicks – to keep updated, follow  theolympicone.wordpress.com/

(Note: in Xerox terminology, a ‘click’ is a page impression or copy. So if you photocopy a single page, that’s counted on the machine as one click. If you copy a double-sided document, that’s two clicks. As I’ll be working for Xerox at the Olympics, the Olympic blog has a click theme).

I like lists. A lot. And the older I get, the more people I meet who also like lists. Does this mean it’s becoming a craze, or is it an age thing? Who knows. But as I see it, people like lists for different reasons.

Take my boss, for example. She hates lists but runs her life by them. She doesn’t religiously tick things off, but she writes lists when her head gets overwhelmed with ‘stuff’ – it helps her feel in control again. So she writes her list… then throws it in a drawer somewhere. I think that’s crazy but, for her, it works a treat.

Then there’s my friend Agnes – she has lists coming out of her ears. But she’s a Green Belt project manager, so it kind of goes with the turf. But if something’s not on her list, she needs to quantify why, question whether it should be on the list at all, and go through change control before it gets a look in.

For me, I write lists because I like to be busy and productive. I need to know exactly what I have to do as I’m prone to distraction – also known as avoidance tactics – I’m one of those people who gets home from an hour in Tesco to find I’ve forgotten the loo roll. I like being extremely busy (no really, I do!) so I get great satisfaction out of crossing things off my lists. I even add things to the bottom, which I’ve already done, then put a line straight through them. Crazy? Probably! But at the end of the day, I’ll look at my list and feel good about how productive I’ve been (rather than feeling like a busy fool who hasn’t stopped all day, but still has a full list of jobs). 

This said, over the past few weeks/months, I’m finding myself less inclined towards lists. I write them, sure, but use them differently. Before, I’d write a list of jobs at home, including some items which needed subsequent lists. For instance, my main list would say “Plan Budapest” then my “Budapest” lists would include things like Logistics, Pack, Currency etc (and yes, packing often has a third level list of its own…) But last night, after having “Plan Budapest” on the list for a few weeks now, I finally decided to tackle it.

This took me 30 minutes and consisted of booking parking at Stansted, checking the weather foreacst and planning a date in my diary for when I’d look at packing.

So does this consitute productivity? Who cares, I’ve finally ticked “Plan Budapest” off my list and am now starting to get a little bit excited about my next Grand Prix!

That’s one light on Charlie Whiting!!

ttfn /Rxx

If something makes you happy – JFDI!

Life’s too short, right? We hear this all the time, and strangely it’s often from those people who are perhaps the least likely to grab life by the balls and follow their dreams, instead sticking to the normal, comfortable, safe option they know inside out. Well this year, in case you hadn’t twigged, I’m walking the walk on this one. Since losing Simon, my parents and I have talked about life being too short so many times, but this year (14 years later) it really feels we’re doing something about it.

So many people have commented that it’s a great thing that we’re doing what we want, and how lucky, brave, crazy we are for doing some of the things we’re doing! But in my view, it’s not about bravery, luck or having a slight mental streak (although I’d probably own up to truth in the latter). It’s about opportunity and, most importantly, not waiting for opportunities to fall into your lap. More often than not, we have to create them for ourselves – not always as hard as it seems.

Take last week, for example. I spent an hour in the company of some friends I’d not seen in over seven years and in that hour, probably smiled and laughed more than I did all week.

Many of my friends live all over the country so I make every effort to travel to see them. I travel a lot with my work, so if I can tie in visits, I do, wherever possible (York’s a long way North for them to come to me, more often than not!) So when I first went to Sutton Courtenay ten years ago, to see PauliePaul at the George & Dragon (the local pub where he was living), I was welcomed into the G&D drinking fold by not just PauliePaul, but NevNev, Ed & Sarah, Live Wire, Sharkey Dave, Pete & Sue, Big Pete, and anyone else who had two parts to their name. (If, like me, they just had one then they simply doubled-up, hence I was BokBok). For a year or so, I drove 3.5 hours each way, most weekends, to socialise with the G&D crew; either in the bar for a standard Saturday night, at Brise Norton at silly am to welcome ‘Sexy RAF’ back from the Falklands, for a garden party at the Crazy Bear, to partake in a black tie casino night on New Year’s Eve, for a cheeky chinky in Abingdon, or a tow at the Ski lake. Whatever the reason, I quickly became good friends with a whole new group and felt wholeheartedly welcomed into the fold. (In honesty, I suspect this was more Paul’s doing than mine; he seemed so respected by them, I think that any friend of his would’ve been a friend of theirs, but don’t tell him that 😉 …)

So knowing I’d be in the area, and having thought about calling in soooooo many times before, I spotted an opportunity on Facebook and pounced. NevNev (who now lives with wife Lisa Poos and son George in Spain) is coming over, I’m sure I’ve read that somewhere? Meanwhile, as I’m heading down to the Crazy Bear for dinner, I’m thinking there’s a meet-up brewing here, I can feel it! So en route to dinner, NevNev (who’s staying at Ed & Sarah’s) gets a call consisting muchly of giggling and shouts of “NevNev!!!!!!” and “BokBok!!!!!” and we call in for a quick hello. Seeing them again was just lovely. They haven’t changed a bit – maybe Ed’s hair is a little thinner / more blonde, and with the addition of some gorgeous small people, they’re just as happy and welcoming as always – goodness knows why I haven’t called in to see them before now, probably because I didn’t take or make th opportunity. But I’m so glad that this time I did. Peroni? ooh don’t mind if I do…

Ttfn /Rxx

Having had little sleep as other Wombles arrive throughout the morning, we venture out of our tent to the sound of tssssszzzz from next door. It’s 9.25am and the words ‘beverage o’clock’ are heard from the chaps next door – this is going to be a long day!

Hi-di hi!

I’d forgotten what a giggle camping is – for people watching there’s no better sport, and for amusement, it’s a laugh a minute!

During the early hours, the row we’re in has extended down the common and a new row has started opposite us. As we sit outside our mansion, a family of three arrive. Parents with son (about 16, wearing a baseball cap backwards, Kevin & Perry style) and proceed to erect three tents? We can’t decide why mum and dad have separate tents? It can’t be down to snoring, we’re under canvas! Even more strange, given that when it rains, they all huddle into the smallest tent? So what’s in the 4-man job at the end? Did they secretly stash in some entertainment? Or perhaps that’s mum’s bathroom? Who knows.

As their final tent goes up, they start on the guy ropes. They clearly weren’t guides or scouts. Guy ropes are designed to be flexed and tightened, that’s what the black gadgets are for? Instead Mrs Pa”isun and Kevin pull the gadgets right down so the guys are at full length… and proceed to tie them to the pegs (which are angled towards the tent?!) as the wind picks up and the ground softens later, this could prove entertaining!

Doing it the Aussie way

Beside Team Pa”isun are Gillette and Razor (their real names sound something like that but are totally forgettable). Sitting back to back, huddling to keep warm, they don’t say much. We assume they’re waiting for their mates ‘Soap & Glory’ to show up with their tent.

The hours pass. No suds arrive. Then as the steward wanders round, it comes to light that they’re here, this is it. Tent? Na, we’re just here for the tennis. No, have you got a tent? It’s going to rain and get cold, you’ll need shelter… Oh. We’re flying home tomorrow and figured we couldn’t take it back on the plane, so we didn’t bother with a tent. Deeeeeerrrrrrr!!

Mr Pa”isun ironically remarks that his clan has 3 2-man tents between three (!?!) and subsequently offers them a blanket! Sarah and I spot the skies turning grey and, as Gillette & Razor make no effort to seek out shelter, we clear space in our porch and invite them in. Just as the heavens open.

More later Wombles! /Rxx

Drive Louise, drive!

Sarah and I are, one again, carpeing the diem and doing a Thelma & Louise. It’s hubby Simon’s birthday and my card reads : Happy Birthday Simon, have a great day. Ps I’m kidnapping the wife at midnight!

So at 23.45, having left home undecided on what to bring (and therefore bringing all 3 outfits, an extra charger for my phone and Vesper to charge the extra charger…) I arrive in Knaresborough a tiny bit excited. It seems strange being here without small people jumping on me, clinging to me leg saying “don’t gooo” or begging me to play jump on the trampoline, although Sarah assures me she’s had suitable heart-wrenching tears from Lottie, saying “you don’t have to go mummy, you can watch it on tv!”

Slightly reassured to see Sarah has as many bags as me (one full of essential food & drink), we pack the car and we head off – her last words to Simon are “be nice to Lottie, she thinks I’m leaving home” and her first to me are “please don’t make me drive in London!” So she takes the first stint and I’m quickly reminiscing of days 18 years ago, when Sarah drove me about in her blue 1.0 Talbot Samba named ‘Jarv’ (after Jarvis Cocker) – I’m immediately at ease. We chat, a bit, and I doze off around Loughborough. I wake at Northampton as Sarah pulls in feeling tired. I take the wheel and we plough on.

Wild animals – look out!

With the M1 shut from j13-11, we take a detour around Woburn and wonder what is behind the 3-mile wall beside us… A leaping tiger? A giraffe about to peer over the wall at us? Or Ben
Fogle talking us every mile of the way? Scenic as this is (at 2.45am) we drive on, into the delight that is, Dunstable. All I know of this place, is that my estranged husband was born here. And after seeing the revellers falling out of the clubs at 3am and some interesting seating manoeuvres on a bench off the high street, I’m not keen to know anything more! So we find our way back to the M1 and are on our way.

Navigating the North & South circular with ease (they’re empty) we’re on Wimbledon Park Rd in no time. The plus side of arriving at 4am, apart from being 529th in the queue, is that you can park right by the gates to the common. So we have minimal distance to carry out multiple bags, camping gear, electrical equipment, food & drink. (Sarah opts to wear her Panama hat, one less thing to carry).

So at 4.15 this morning, as the sun rises over SW19, we pop up our Khyam 2-man with consummate ease and get our heads down to catch up on some zzzzzzzs.

ttfn /Rxx

The old town

Whenever I go to a Grand Prix… Hang on, does that sound complacent? *self awareness kicking in* I know how privileged I am to be doing so many, but I’m also a realist, for which I make no apologies! …so whenever I go to a Grand Prix, it’s like an excuse for a mini break to another new city; Melbourne, Barcelona, Monaco, Valencia, Budapest… But because I’m at the track much of the daytime, the city tours generally happen at night. And last night was no exception.

Valencia apparently has two distinct parts to it: the old town around Colõn and the Bullring, and the new town, recognisable for its distinctive architecture. Well the Grand Prix track, despite being a ‘street circuit’ is in neither of these areas (it’s down by the harbour). So last night was an opportunity to see the old town.

Pose, and… doh!

A few of the Merc team and Signõr Bean are keen to watch the footie, but having followed little or none of Euro 2012 so far, I figure the old town is a more appealing option, so Mr P takes me across town to see it.

AN: Signõr Bean is Mr P’s Italian colleague, who bears a frightening resemblance to Rowan Atkinson’s character with his many “Beanerisms”.

So we hail a cab and fly across town, fly being the operative word. I’m sure the driver jumps at least two red lights and is clearly an Alonso fan (loving that iPhone predictive text thinks ‘Alonso’ should read ‘Aliens’!) as he’s leaving his breaking to the absolute last metre. As the sound of horns grows ever louder, I’m starting to think he could be on the run from the mafia? However, the cheers from those outside the cafes we pass, soon gives away the football score, Spain are thrashing someone?!

Anyway, we get to the Old town; v impressed (and embarrassingly uneducated) I drop a clanger and remark that I didn’t know Valencia had a coliseum… On realising the impressively-illuminated circular structure is, obviously, the bullring, I quickly move the subject on to the need for beer and tapas, and we head off in the opposite direction.

Having taken the necessary and sensible action to avoid dehydration (ie we order a bottle of water with our cerveza e patatas bravado con allioli), we move on again and discover a beautiful square, surrounded on all sides by some of the nicest architecture I’ve seen here.

Besides the ironically-named Intelligent bank, the other buildings are definitely worthy of a picture. Out comes the camera. I eventually remember how to use it, I think; I frame my shot, wonder why it’s still whirring? I find the switch to turn it from movie back to still shot, frame my shot again, switch the flash off and… the building’s floodlights go out. Dammit. Right, after watching me faff around long enough to miss that opportunity, Mr P takes the camera and just casually snaps the adjacent building, looking very smug (clearly, I did the hard work setting the settings correctly…)

By this time, as a result of either stupidity and/or alcohol, we start to get a bit silly… Swiping my card to gain entry to an unlocked ATM facility, getting chased down by a road sweeper polishing the marble pavements, and taking photos of people peeping out from behind palm trees… I suspect the CCTV from last night’s cameras could prove quite entertaining! 

Eventually struggling to keep eyes open, we call it a night around 2 or 3. Tomorrow is race day so sleep would be a prudent idea! Night.

ttfn /Rx

Today was one of those cool yet a bit surreal days. Waking up at 04:50 as a message came in from Tom in America, I pounced on this and replied whilst he was still online (for Tom this is a rarity atm; he and girlfriend Amy are in the Desert somewhere in Arizona so chat is occasional).

Tom tells me he’s not texting as it’s expensive, but is grabbing WiFi opportunities when they arise, like now. Given he’s on WiFi, I’m somewhat bemused why he’s using ltd txt spk? He’s on Facebook chat?! It’s not more expensive to write in full?! Ah well, it’s stupidly early, so I just go with it. We talk about America, he shows little surprise but some envy that I’m off to Valencia, and signs off by saying “Cheer Bruno on for me!” #sennafan

I then drift back to sleep for my alarm to wake me at 6am to go to the airport. You guessed it. I wake up leisurely and have that second of calm, where you feel pleased to have woken naturally, rather by an alarm. Then that second of confusion sets in, where you’re sure you should’ve been woken up early for something important today. Then all hell lets loose (that’s loose, not lose 😉 !) Oh crap, the alarm didn’t go off, it’s 06.20 and mum’s picking me up in 10 to take me to the airport! Luckily, as she and dad are known for their lateness, I asked her to get to mine for 06.30 knowing we didn’t really need to leave before 7am. So I dive in the shower… and the doorbell goes. Oh pants, she’s on time for once! I buzz her in, she helps herself to breakfast, I get ready and we’re away before 7 – cool bananas.

I won’t go into detail of the flight – see Yorkshire Airlines – but on landing in Spain, I’m met by my Godmother, Suzy Q, who gives me the biggest hug in the world and takes me up to Denia for lunch – bar Helios, bliss! A tiny tapas bar on the rocks at Denia, watching the ferries sailing into the harbour from Majorca, Menorca and Ibiza. The sun is baking, there’s a lovely breeze and the sound of the sea rippling on the rocks is just calming. A beer and calamari later, I’m in seventh heaven.

After lunch we head up to Casa de Suzy; my Spanish retreat! This place is my little haven, my escape from the UK where I’m guaranteed a cuddle, a hot tub and a glass of something cold, all surrounded by orange groves and the addition (since my last visit) of more beautiful white flowers outside my bedroom balcony. By now it’s after 5, it’s clouded over a little and is a little cooler, so factor 15 will suffice. I change into my bikini, leave my phone inside, grab a sun lounger and fall asleep by the pool…

Around 7, I think it’s about time I was sociable so I head indoors. After the world’s best shower, I wander through to the kitchen, grab a sarnie and Suzy and I head up to Valencia.

So this is where I am now; sitting in a little cafe bar on a side street, sipping cerveza pondering just how many different things, scenarios, places and people I’ve interacted with today… Mum in York, Tom in Arizona, the Stags & Hens of Leeds Bradford / Alicante / Benidorm, Suzy in Denia, and now here I am, waiting to meet Mr P for a beer in Valencia.

Someone recently told me I’m getting around a lot lately – my response was that in 2012 I’m grabbing every opportunity life throws at me. Sometimes you have to create these opportunities, as they won’t just land in your lap, but I’m doing that wholeheartedly and, right now, it’s making for a fun-filled, varied, exciting and happy life!

In the words of @whc4s #liveyourbestlife

ttfn /Rxx