The Eagle has Landed

Dear Marmite

My first whole day in old Blighty was one where I rolled with the punches and came through smiling. Originally I was so looking forward to rounding the circle by having a couple of cocktails in London with a friend before heading back to Milton Keynes. Plans changed so I set off for a walk through Hyde Park at about 8am. The sun was shining and the grass glistened with diamonds. I had an extra spring in my step. I really felt like I was home. Hello England!

Hyde Park- first stop UK

So off to Marks and Sparks for Breakfast! This was a new era so I ordered a breakfast to remember... Unfortunately, the major ingredients of avocado and sough dough bread weren't available so I just had to make do. Another plan gone awry.

I told the cashier he had disappointed me. His reply - I know. I disappoint lots of people. That is what I do. I also have abandonment issues.  - I am sure that conversations like these only happen in Britain. How do foreigners cope understanding the British?

On a very big plus side, I have got a British number (available if you PM me, Marms) and I have ordered internet for the house! All this done at the Marble Arch end of Oxford Street. Life is clearly shining on me. Settling back in England is going to be easy.

I caught the train to MK from Euston. First stop Milton Keynes - another thing accomplished.  I got quite excited as we whizzed past Leighton Buzzard. I was heading in the right direction and at Milton Keynes the man from the dealership who is sorting out my car for me, picked me up. The sun was shining. My ducks were lining up.

My first blow was trying to organise the insurance. Having been out of the country for so long no one wants to help you because you don't exist on databases. Then I found out my driver's licence had expired - errrr. Worst was yet to come. The finance people won't finance my car. I am a risk obviously. I thought my Singapore dollars would get me accepted into this society but I am to be an outcast. This bit still hasn't been sorted.

At least in the long conversation with the insurance lady who gave the patter at the speed of a TGV, and when I stopped her, she lost her thread and had to retell me again, admitted she worked to a script. I think the plonkers at the finance company have a script but lost the plot! Perhaps they are performing monkeys working for peanuts, who knows?

I couldn't sleep at my little house. The boiler had broken. So I was offered a barn to sleep in. A barn with lots of potential which was really very warm. I had forgotten my charger so by the morning I was almost out of charge. I walked down the muddy lane to the centre of Newport Pagnall to buy a lead and bumped into an old friend.

The Barn

Now, after spending the first night in my little place with warmth I can see a rosy future. I have a week to wait for my shipment and a fortnight to wait for the internet but things are moving forward.

So many parts of my journey would have been so difficult if it wasn't for the kindness of people. I woke up smiling this morning and achieved what I set out to do. I bought a vase from a charity shop for some lovely flowers I had been given. Some shitty things do happen but I do think the world is smiling on me.

My temporary sofa cum suitcase

So Marmite, despite aiming for MK and missing. I ended up in Neport Pagnall for just one night. Even though I didn't get to have the cocktails, I had a lovely glass of red in a very nice Turkish restaurant. Things are looking rosy.

I'll write to you again, I promise.

Hugs all round

Love

XXX

Little Quirks and Niceties

Dear Marmite

I am on English soil. After being homeless since November 14th and being on the road since December 4th, I am almost home at last. My journey started when I walked out of Dairy Farm Estate, said good bye to Melanie at the bus stop and hopped on a 170. The first international crossing cost me just over S$1. My last, on Eurostar, considerably more and was so different in so many ways.

My  Eurostar ticket had a coach number and a seat number. I needn't have worried this time as there were lots of people around to help you board. A Richard Ayoade look-alike pointed me to the right carriage and without any fuss, pushing or stress I got on board and found my seat. So easy!

The trip was smooth and at one point I thought I had actually missed the chunnel bit. I didn't. The underground part is just over 50km and we travelled at 334.7km an hour (this is what the screen said). The only noticable thing was my ears popped. We emerged on the other side and smoothly drifted through the Kent countryside to St Pancras. Again, the disembarkation was very smooth and I hardly noticed going through a customs' check. I wonder how this bit will change. I noticed the signs at passport control in Paris said EU citizens and UK nationals. So there are already little changes in place.

I got on the tube to Queensway  - not the Singapore one! What was really funny was the sound of a lion dance at the station entrance  reaching my ears when I passed through the barriers. The heavy drumming bolstered me. Wow - it felt good. Just like home (Singapore) , I thought. Actually, it was Hyde Park.

In my mind, this will be a little problem. I actually still think of Singapore as home. I actively look for things that remind me of my past life. I wonder how long that will go on for. It might take a time to erase nearly 24 years of living in another land. I thought my little jaunt would push Singapore to the recesses of my mind.

I googled my hotel and walked straight past it. It is the largest I have stayed in in all my trip and I didn't notice the neon sign and well-lit frontage. Doing things like that make me feel daft. When I looked back and saw it glowing in the darkness, I laughed aloud. Silly me.

For the trip, I have mostly stuck to my resolve. I have bought very little and my bag must be lighter than when I started out. The one thing I would do differently is pack for the trip and not for all the contigencies I thought I might face. I have travelled through a whole year of seasons and needed a variety of clothing and numerous currencies. I have thrown away clothes that didn't survive tumble driers and used small measures of shampoos all of which will have helped to lighten my load. Ironically, the soap powder from the laundry fiasco in Lyon has given me a rash of my back. I have no other explanation.

All along the way, I have thought of you, Marmite, and how you would have enjoyed the experience with me. I am sure you would have rolled with the punches, squeezed in corners of coaches and trains and made yourself loved by all who came across you.

We could have shared so much.

If only!

Love you

XXX

Of all the gin joints in all the world...

Dear Marmite

Dairy Farm reunited! Yes, unbelievable as it might seem, Arshi and family met up with me last night for a most wonderful meal after we had exhausted all the possibilities of a having kebab in a restaurant and not on the street. That is another little story to be told, isn't it Arshi?

You must remember Arshi if only for the fact that you scared him just by lying on the floor and looking at him. What powers you have!

I decided the Moulin Rouge landmark was an easy place to find and meet so I told Arshi to look for a lady eating gloves and he found me! The area also has a large choice of French restaurants - but I now realise,  no kebab places! So we walked a fair distance before plumping for a rather special little place in Rue de Londres near Saint Lazare.

This wasn't quite a Casablanca moment as we had been planning this meet up but it was nice to be with old familar faces. Amara is an amazing little bundle and considering the weather is so so different from home, I think she took the swaddling in layers and layers of wrapping  to keep out the rain and the cold really well and she was impeccably behaved in the restaurant.

Earlier in the day, I had my hair cut in Pigalle - the weather was too wet to really be wandering and my hair had reached the Coco-the-Clown stage where it freely parted in the middle and stuck out. It seemed to me the ideal moment. Simon S you would be proud of me shedding my "Woolheaded-ness". After that I did Boulevard Haussman - the posh bit  - and with a rather chic haircut I felt well at home here.

Then I wandered onto Place de la Concorde. There were lots of cars there and I thought perhaps I should have plumped for one of these on show rather the white one I have chosen in the UK. Too late now to prevaricate. Deed done.

I had lunch near the Sorbonne and headed back to my hotel to dry out. All in all quite a day. There is plenty left for another visit and on the Casablanca theme - we'll always have Paris!

Eurostar... I'm on my way...

Wish you could have spent the day with m, Marms. You might have got wet but you would have had a lovely long walk. The weather, I must say did nothing to alleviate my cold. My nose is still on champion form.

Still missing you,

Love from half way round the world

XXX

The French Connection

Dear Marmite

Yesterday was a day for meeting old friends and especially nice because it was a real home and an escape. Being in France there is obviously a French connection so naturally the champagne flowed as did the conversation of old times and friends past.

There is a famous film of this name. I don't think we watched this film together and to be honest, my French connection was more of a Singaporean one. There were no American cops involved and certainly no heroin. Our conversation did veer to heroines and flawed men who we probably would still floor given the chance, but that is the only tenuous link and there certainly wasn't any FCUK.

After lunch, I went to Sainte Chapelle and the Conciegerie, a Rayonnant style church and living quarters of the Kings of France. The stained glass windows of the chapel are magnificent but the assmbled throng of tourists - mostly from Asia were far too pre-occupied taking selfies and posing in front of things they obscured with their pouting lips. They certainly weren't there for the experience. This was all the more annoying as signs clearly show the things you can't do in this place and one of them is take selfies.

My visit was spoiled by my ire more than anything. I grouchily walked around Ile de la Cite and then around Saint Michel. Again the street were crowded with tourists on a damp, dank Sunday afternoon. The remains of Notre Dame was another selfie spot so I swiftly moved on and groused to myself.

While I am on a roll, Marms, and you know how you used to listen when I wanted to vent; I don't like the way my path is blocked by young African men menacing me to buy tat. They don't take non for an answer and they follow you until they spot their next prey. They do seem to be in most places - especially tourist ones. These people give decent Africans a bad name. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I do see their plight  and Iempathise but encouraging them in this activity doesn't solve the underlying problems. They feel menacing.

A morning visit to Sacre Coeur

a wintery Seine

I could go on with a long list of everything in the world that annoys me. This letter would turn into something the length of War and Peace if I did. In fact, despite my moans triggered by selfie obsessed tourists, I had a really super day. Sandra, it really was a lovely interlude on my journey back to England. We should do this more often so my place next time!

Maybe Marms, when they let dogs sit on seats in aircraft, you too could join me. I am sure you would relish the boxed meal and watch a movie or two to pass the time. I know you would be the perfect companion on any long haul flight.

What do you think?

Love you as always

XXX

Mortal me

Dear Marmite

I am in Paris after a very eventful journey on a really nice train. Most of what happened to me came about as a misunderstanding. The seats on the train are allotted but I didn't realise this. Added to the issues afoot were my bags and about 5000 other passengers all trying to board at the same time.

I got on said train. I stowed my bags along with scooters, cellos and unimaginable other stuff. Sat down and then realised that other passengers were checking their tickets for the seat numbers. At this point I should have kept quiet. I didn't. A rather authorative lady took charge and told me my carriage was about four down.

Whoops, I panicked, the whistle went, people were still surging forward into the carraige, I couldn't untangle my luggage and gave up. If I got off the train, it would have gone without me - a very reasonable assumption, I am sure. I sat in a free seat and look guilty.

Added to this, I have a cold. The coronavirus is also here in France and everytime I snuffled, sneezed or coughed the people around visibly shrank away from me. I was the pariah - the harbinger of germs.

I did it all

Dear Marmite

This is not a boast. Yesterday on the Hop on Bus I saw all of Lyon and learnt loads. Unlike One Republic no bones broken. Also, unlike Penang in Malaysia this one was where it was supposed to be and it was on time. The lady, Emilie, in the information centre spoke perfect English and could answer all my questions and told me more besides. Even before I got on the bus I knew it was going to be a good trip.

Lyon is a World Heritage City that was originally built by the Romans from BC 43. There is a massive great amphitheatre and lots of rocks lying around - surprise, surprise on the hill to the west above the Soane River. The area is called Fouviere and it looks down on the rest of the city. More recently a church was built on this same hill to celebrate the Prussians not attacking the city in 1870. That is called Notre Dame de Fourviere and on a clear day I expect you could see the entire city. This is a particularly nice area with small streets and very steep alleys.

To the south of Lyon is the Confluence. This is the newest part of the city and the housing has been built to be environmentally friendly and 20% of this is social housing. The whole area was once marsh land but now it is a very impressive place with some very clever buildings. This is a city in itself. It is also well connected with public transport.

The new old part of the city was where the silk workers did their stuff and on the island area where the main shopping area is, there is space and loads of plants set out in planters where people once parked their cars. I could go on at length about how these little touches make the city a good place to be. I won't and there is a downside. On the East bank of the Rhone there is a large area mostly inhabited by Africans and Arabs. Here there are loads of restaurants selling kebabs and the such, and barbers outnumber hairdressers on every street. Despite the cold, lots of men hang around on street corners making it feel a bit edgy.

I said I did it all. This isn't exactly true. On my way back to the hotel from the bus trip, I walked past the outdoor swimming pool. I had preiously noticed that the leisure pool with slides has lumps of ice floating on it but the training pool next to it was full of people swimming in the dark in sub zero temperatures. Part of me thought wow, I'd like to do that but the heavy cold in my head told me to keep walking and dream on. I have to admit it did look fun though. One day...

That is enough of me waxing lyrical about this city. I am off to Paris. A short hop..
Nearly home.

Love you loads

Love

XXX

My Mr Bean moment

Dear Marmite

Early this morning, when the temperature was worse than nippy, I braved the cold and took my dirties to the laundry. I was heading for a fiasco. First of all, I gave up French at 16 and my comprehension when reading is pretty slow. That is my first excuse.

Secondly, the laundry had far too many machines to choose from- 6kg, 7kg, 9kg, 18kg. Also the instructions were complicated and in French. Pouquoi? I asked myself. I plumped for a 7kg. Easy. I just forgot which 7kg machine I had selected and put my washing powder in the wrong one. Once I had remedied this mistake, I emptied the first machine and put my clothes in the one next to it. No problem!  I closed the door and it started without me putting in the powder. It wouldn't stop.  So I bought some more powder in a real hurry but forgot to put the cup under the dispenser so I lost most of the second lot. You get the picture!

Fortunately, at that time I was the only person in the shop. My performance was purely for the CCTV. Diane and Marmite, you remember previous CNY performances for the benefit of CCTV - Keppel? That performance involved a drain, a reluctant dog and a bus of onlookers.  I think it must be just CNY that engenders the need to provide entertainment for security cameras.

Later, while I was engrossed in watching my underwear go round and round, a lady came into the shop and asked me some questions in French. Aha..  I thought, I can't help there! Surprisingly, I did. I knew the ropes by that time and could guide her through loading up the 18kg machine with her duvet and showing her how to get the powder. I found some French words from the rusty recesses of my brain.

Yesterday I explored the city and liked what I saw. I visited the cathedral of St. Jean yet another gothic masterpiece and walked the streets of the island in the middle of the Rhone. Today, as it is sooooo cold I am hoping to find the Hop-On city bus to learn about the city from the warmth of a bus.

My head is full of cold and my nose has turned into an Olympic runner. Anything that warms me up is good. I know that you can even begin to imagine how cold it is. It is even colder than when we used to shave you and you hid under rugs and cushions to keep yourself warm. Believe me - it is freezing-  literally freezing. Over here you'd need all your fur and a jacket, trust me!

Missing you loads,

Love

XXX

In a pickle

Dear Marmite

I ended up in a pickle this morning. I missed the stop and went onto Dijon on my overnight trip. So it was more mustard than pickle but I kicked myself nonetheless, turned around a few times to get my bearings and caught a train back to Lyon. This time I looked out at the white landscape shrouded in heavy fog, determined not to miss my stop a second time.

Suffice to say, I am here safe and sound in Lyon which is a pretty remarkable place on first encounter and another city dedicated to cyclists and scooter riders; none of whom wear helmets. Everything is quite orderly and once again the buildings are evidence of a very wealthy history and good town planning. Nice as it is, it is so different from Bologna. The Rhone is central to this city and the main part is on an island in the middle of the river. The Romans got here too.

I was very cautious as I left the station. So cautious of getting on the wrong transport was I, that I walked to my rather down at heel hotel which is well situated for sightseeing.

Famous me in Bologna

I have said goodbye to Bologna. My last day there was spent looking at art. I went to the Pinacoteca Nazionale. It contains a large amount of medieval religious art painted with gold on wood, a large collection of overlarge paintings from the 15th to 18th century mostly depicting bible stories. Apparently these were paintings to make the bible accessible to the non-reader. They contained lots of contorted, semi-nude bodies often surrounded by little cherubs. I could see a theme here, regardless of the painter. It definitely made the bible appear an interesting read, I must say.

In each room in the gallery is a man with a surly expression who is surgically attached to a mobile phone. Each man barely twitches when you walk into the room. I didn't realise I had gone into a temporarily out-of-bounds room when I walked past one such man until he came after me. If he had been in a race to reach me, a tortoise could have won hands down. All this leads me to wonder whether this is a paid job or an opportunity to stay off the streets. Interesting.

The Rhone on a dull day

The Rhone

It is Chinese New Year so Gong Xi Fa Cai to all my Chinese friends. This year I won't be going on a long walk with friends of Marmite. I will miss that greatly. I wonder if you are smugly sitting watching the world go by, Marms and thanking your luck stars that you have beem spared a CNY trek. I remember the stress you bore trying to make sure the group stayed together. That in itself must have been a bit tiring for you.

I'll be thinking of you. Don't indulge in too many CNY treats. Welcome to the Year of the Rat.

I love you!

XXX

Jaw dropping, eye popping, heart throbbing...

Dear Marmite

I must tell you about the place I am at right now. Words do not quite describe and I had to stop myself taking photos of buildings. They are all beautiful in their own way. Even the dull light of January doesn't detract from their beauty.

On first impressions I thought Bologna was a bit like Cambridge but with loads more Italians. It is a bit like Cambridge. There are obviously a lot more Italians here as well. The shops are very individual like in Cambridge and there is an grandeur in the air too.

It is home to the oldest universtiy in the world and at the Medieval Museum there are lots of carvings for tombs to venerate teachers and scholars.  This is a tradition I advocate bringing back! Both Bologna and Cambridge are university towns with a long tradition but Bologna seems so much larger.

I stared in awe at the buildings and started to click. Each time I turned a corner there was another wonderful ancient building or quaint alley. I actually think I could have just wondered around looking at buildings but the cold got the better of me so I visited a museum where I thought the Romans wouldn't get a look in. I was wrong. Part of the old palace where the museum is is an old Roman wall and the foundations are exposed to boot. It cannot be denied. The Romans really did get everywhere.

The artifacts come from all over the world, porcelain from China, weapons and tableware from the Middle East, a tapestry cloak from England, ridiculously high stack shoes from Venice - all immaculate and so beautifully made. It is a testament to the great wealth of the region as well as how connected it was to the greater world.

There are actually palaces almost in every street and a number of  Roman Catholic churches dotted around the old city. I visited the Basilica di San Petronio which sells itself as a minor church built in the 15th century. Photography is not allowed so you will have to take my word for how the columns support a high vaulted ceiling miles up in the air. The height alone is mind-blowing. There is a meridien line across the floor showing how the locals were also interested in science as well as religion. The front of the church was never completed but the open brickwork doesn't look out of place. Take my word. It is wonderful in all its aspects.

I had lunch at the mercato delle herbe - an indoor vegetable market with eateries on its flanks. Another beautiful building - and just for selling veggies. These people have style in abundance.

People walk around attached to dogs so you would definitely feel at home here, Marms. You would probably need some traction booties to cope with the marble walkways and that would stop your paws feeling the cold. I could see you fitting in.

Tonight I am moving on.. another town, another bed and another step closer to England.

Miss you so mucho....

Love

XXX