This the season to be jolly

Very soon I will be flying home (for yet another wedding!) and soon after that trip there will be another trip during the Christmas recess. I know this is utterly profane and wrong, but Christmas immediately brings to mind vast amounts of food, copious volumes of alcohol and a gift here and there. The official opening ceremony of the Christmas season's festivities kicked off this week with an office dinner...

A few weeks ago, at the office, we came up with the idea of organising a Christmas dinner. As always, I immediately took over and was responsible for setting it all up. So one lazy afternoon, I drafted an email (which was well-organised in the form of a scientific paper), set up a Doodle website for the participants to vote as to which date they prefer and in a few days all was done. It was decided to have it midweek in early December in order to make sure that all are still around. And so we headed off for the #223 Christmas dinner on the 2nd day of December.

The venue I proposed and which was unanimously chosen was an Italian restaurant just off Oxford Street. The wine was good, the food excellent and the company great. After antipasto, main course and dessert, we headed off to Carnaby Street to a typical English pub where we downed a couple of pints, until we heard the obnoxious bell ringing at 11.30ish, which meant that we had to vacate the place. One of my mates suggested going to a blues bar, which was a wise decision, for the band playing live was nothing but superb. Extensive photographic evidence suggests that we all had a good time at the blues bar!

Once the gig was all done, it was "still" 1am, so we headed off to a place called "The Bar", in a small alleyway off Oxford Street. This is probably the weirdest place I have seen so far in London. A narrow staircase leads to a 40 square metre room at basement level with walls all covered by mirrors to give a false illusion of space. The crammed space was packed with people who seemed to be there from the 1960s: middle-aged, thin men with long hair and hippie T shirts, scantily clad women clearly having enjoyed the odd heroin shot earlier and normal people, like us. The music was surprisingly good and it was a good way to conclude the night. I was shocked to pay a visit to the loo and, while using the urinal, I heard shuffling and panting in the locked WC cubicle. Unbelievable.

At 3am, I decided it is best to head home and try to get some sleep. One bus ride later and a short walk from High Street Ken, I was at home and after one hot power shower, I was all assembled in bed, where I stayed till 10.30am the next day. Malta in less than 24 hours and Malta again in less than 2 weeks! What a good start to the festive season of 2010!

A week up in the north

After the weekend in Essex, it was time for me to travel up to the north of England, the furthest north I have been so far in the country (and indeed the furthest in the Europe or even in the world!) but this trip was no holiday; I was attending the Simulia UK RUM 2010, or, in layman's terms, a conference...

One thing to immediately comment about: the English love their acronyms! Everything is abbreviated (even the name of their country is reduced to UK). During my first weeks at uni, I was confused by all the jargon involving 2 or 3 letter "words" all over the campus: SCR, JCR, SAF, ICT and all the others related to my work: MOD, DSTL, UD, PUR and what not. Oh, by the way, the RUM signifies "Regional Users' Meeting"; the conference was really a gathering of users from all over the UK of a particular piece of software (ABAQUS, but this is not an abbreviation, as far as I know!)

I was not quite aware of such meetings, until a few weeks back my co-supervisor sent me an email and suggested that I should attend to this 3 day conference. I gladly accepted and, after recovering from a 2 day cold last week, on Monday night, I headed off to the north, precisely to a town called Crewe up in Chesire. I was totally not familiar with the place (except for my knowing of the existence of a Chesire cat, albeit I saw no cats during my stay there) but upon arrival after a 3 hour train journey and reading almost half a novel (which I found quite pleasant - more later), I took a taxi and this took me promptly to my destination: Crewe Hall just outside the town.

Now this conference was being held at the hotel forming part of Crewe Hall and I thought it best to stay at the venue to save on daily commuting time and money. This was probably the best choice made during this week, for the place was simply wonderful. I felt like I was in a set of a Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings movie: an ancient, wonderfully-kept mansion with sculpture, wooden panelling and ceilings, elaborate staircases, low lighting and, of course, excellent hospitality. And the "small single bedroom" I had reserved was absolutely gorgeous: huge, warm, brand new fittings and of modern design. I indulged into the bath and slept like a baby, ready for a week's worth of listening and lobbying and talk.

The next morning, after a power shower, I headed down to the brasserie, where a massive buffet breakfast awaited. And what a breakfast that was! The conference kicked off, with intermittent coffee/tea breaks and lunch, till the evening when the whole group headed off to the main hall for a banquet. The hall was accessed from a labyrinth of high corridors, typical medieval construction, but with elaborate Victorian décor. The hall itself reminded me of that in Windsor (but on a much smaller scale, of course). The food and service were excellent and fruity, Spanish wine was flowing. A good dessert and coffee brought the first day to an end. After dinner, I wandered around the Crewe Hall and took a few shots of the lit façades and the interiors and then headed off to my room for another relaxing bath and a good sleep.

The second day was very much like the first, except that the sessions ended at 4.30pm, which gave me a good afternoon's worth of reading, during which I finished the novel I mentioned earlier. The Botticelli Secret went down quite well, especially since I like historical novels and especially when they overlap fact with fiction in a seamless fashion. After finishing Dan Brown's The lost symbol a few weeks ago, this next book I read was very fitting. In the evening, I headed down to the main restaurant and had a wonderful dinner - warm soup and grilled salmon and vegetables cooked in the most tasty way. I finished the day in the same way as before, but my new read was my revisiting of Huxley's classic Brave new world (though I only managed a few chapters, I must say that the first 1 or 2 are my absolute favourite).

The third day was a day-long seminar which included good lecturing and very practical hands-on sessions. The day came to an end around 5pm (and, by the way, in addition to the buffet breakfast, also had a buffet lunch!) and then I started my long journey back to London. During the trip, I completed Brave new world, which I found, even after having read it again, totally dramatic and was keeping me off my seat with adrenalin. My reflective moods were triggered by Huxley's fictional vision into the future (well, his future is really our present) and this made me start writing down a few ideas of my own. Nothing socio-political, for that is not my cup of tea, but more on these writings will come up in this blog for sure in the future...

Back to London, I was almost shocked to find that in a few days, my "home" city had turned into a wintry scene: all the trees in Lexham Gardens were naked and all the streets were covered in a crunching carpet of autumn colours: gold and yellow leaves all over the place. The light drizzle and quite strong wind helped, but I must say that is far "warmer" here that it was up in Crewe! I was back in the office on Friday and (almost) concluded my transfer report, which will be the official stepping up from 1st year to 2nd year of my Ph.D., which I hope to do before Christmas...

The land of the East Saxons

I never understood why there are areas in England called Wessex, Sussex, Essex and Middlesex. Not to mention failing to understand why there is no Northsex? Ever since I was a child, whenever we sent Christmas card to my uncle who lives in Middlesex, I was mystified by the notion of combining terms for geographical bearings with the 3 letter word at their ends. The meaning was undisclosed upon my arrival to the UK a few years ago (the names are remnants of the old English names for the various kingdoms of the Anglo Saxons). Last weekend, my wife and I headed off for the eastern part of the country - Essex - and this trip included "firsts" on many levels.

It was the first time out of London for October. It is always welcome to flee from the capital and its busy life and spend a few days away from the laptop and not think about work and Uni work.

It was the first time I was on a "HOST" visit. By some serendipitous accident, I found out about this scheme a few months ago, whereby one can apply to go and spend a weekend with a host family, whom the organisation locates for you according to your likings and travel limitations. Once there, the hosts will show around the local area and be introduced to English customs and food. So after the application, all arrangements were done and off we were to Chelmsford, the main town of Essex.

Upon arrival, we were picked up by our hostess (her husband was still at work). We drove to their cosy home outside Chelmsford in Bicknacre and started chatting about our studies and work, Malta, their travels across all over the world and plans for the weekend. The husband arrived soon after and then we had a lovely cottage pie for dinner and after a warm shower headed off to sleep to recharge for a day out tomorrow.

On the Saturday, the weather was absolutely wonderful. Sunny and crisply fresh. We got into the car and headed off to Thaxted in the north of Essex. We walked around the quiet village, its church (more of a cathedral, really) and up to the windmill, which reminded me of the windmill in the cartoon adaptation of Orwell's Animal Farm. Back on the motorway, we headed to another tiny village, Finchingfield, where another first occurred: having English cream tea. A very tasty and anything but low calorie meal of fruit scones, Tiptree jam and clotted cream, all washed down with English tea (or coffee). It was really wonderful but the cholesterol intake made me feel guilty for the rest of the day! A "quick" stop at a massive shopping village forced us to buy a new pair of shoes each and a jacket for me too at great prices, and the day's travels were concluded by a visit to Maldon along the River Blackwater, where we saw a number of barges, which looked very pretty under the setting sun. A drive back home and we had a lovely dinner of chicken and another first (eating swede), accompanied by endless talk and a glass of good red wine. The day was finished off by a good sleep, including an extra hour due to the end of summer time!

The weather on Sunday was less attractive; it was drizzling in the morning. After breakfast, we went off to church and then drove down to Southend-on-sea. Except for the varying tide (which I always find very fascinating and beautiful to photograph), this seaside town reminded me of home but had a particular characteristic: it has the longest pier in the world! A mile and a third to be precise (2158 m if you happen to decipher metric measurements more easily, like me). We walked down the pier, had a quick lunch at the cafe at the end, walked back the pier (in the hope of burning off some of the previous day's cream tea!) and then visited the many amusement outlets along the promenade. It was a pleasant visit indeed! Back home, we had a great Sunday roast cooked nothing short of perfection: pork, crackling (mmm), stuffing, potatoes, parsnips (mmm!!), courgettes and gravy, followed by rhubarb crumble (another first) and coffee.

It was time to head back to London and so our kind hosts drove us to Chelmsford station and after bidding goodbye, started our journey back to London. It was a welcome break amidst the scholastic year and I am sure that "HOST" will be getting another application from us for sure!

Here comes the bride...

It had been more than 2 months since I last was home but now it was time to go back, mostly not by choice but by default: 2 of my good friends were getting married! Of course, necessity is the mother of invention and the idea of travelling back (albeit for only a weekend) was more than welcome!

This time round, the flight was somewhat of a patriotic act, since the chosen carrier was AirMalta rather than one of the low-cost ones, and this had the "luxury" of travelling at a relatively decent time and from an airport of easy reach (though this was from Gatwick which is far less convenient than Heathrow but always better than Luton or Stansted). The night of arrival implied very little sleep, probably a mix of adrenaline, change of sleeping location and eagerness to start the new day on the following morning! As always, it was great to be home, enjoy the endless supply of Kinnie, savour the irreplaceable pastizzi and of course just being home. But let me go straight to the Sunday morning, the day of Oriana's and Matthew's wedding...

One must keep in mind that during the previous week and also on the eve of the wedding, it virtually did not stop pouring almost all day long. I was dreading the fact that the religious celebration was taking place at Mdina (implying a walk from the car park outside the Silent City to the church at the tip of the city's winding main street...in the rain) and the reception was taking place at Sliema (implying a walk from some lucky parking slot hundreds of metres away from the venue...in the rain). However, the Sunday morning was almost like summer, with ample sun and a big sigh of relief from my part...and definitely a bigger one from the bride's!

The drive from home to Mdina was pleasant - sunny, smooth and in time. It was good to catch up with all of my mates and former work colleagues who turned up at the church. The mass was scheduled for 11am; we were there at 10.30am...but the groom only arrived at 10.55 and the bride...well, a few minutes late! I always heard stories of how one would feel at weddings after his/her own wedding, but I always thought such tales to be quite soppy. However, the wedding did bring back memories of our own wedding and, in the elliptical Baroque church of the Carmelites, the setting was perfect to recall that fateful evening back in March...I did my "prayer of the faithful" along some of my other mates and am proud to say that it was all done with no hints of London-ese accents!

When all was done (pun intended!) we headed off to Sliema, after I was delighted to hear that we could park within the hotel's car park, which took away all the dreaded "Sliema parking" experience. I had never been to the venue but, up on the 9th floor terrace of the modern hotel, the venue was nothing short of breathtaking. The Mediterranean sun, sea views and panoramic views of the capital and beyond, it was a good place to catch up with friends and old friends and also to enjoy my short time at home. Sunglasses constantly on, the hand permanently occupying a glass and endless banter, the day went by, with the compulsory consumption of G+T and Negronis and the usual exhibit of wedding dancing and the traditional lifting of the bride on the shoulders on the way out to the hotel suite...

Now that I am back in London, I look forward to the next Malta trip which will be, yet again, another wedding! And that will mean another post...

Whole lotta writin' - Sleeping

I have been writing now for over an hour and I think I need to recap and endorse on that magical activity which is the highlight of my day (if you consider 11.37pm as day)...I mean, I need to sleep.

Just to conclude, I have just finished my first year of my Ph.D., which means some 30% done. I will soon need to officially transfer to my second year, but that is another story...

Last week, another buddy of ours, who just moved to the UK to start his own M.Sc. at Bath, came down for a 30 hour visit to London, which was as hilarious as much as he is and once more spoilt my jogging efforts of an entire week by a single trip to China Town for a massive dinner and a couple of pints at our local pub...

At the same time, another good friend who is working in China flew over to the capital on vacation, primarily to visit his new-born nephew and also to catch up since the last time we met a couple of months ago. In fairness, we did not have much to catch up on, since we chat online almost daily and are always up-to-date, but at least we were for a few days in the same time-zone and could greet each other "Good morning/afternoon/night" with the same ending in each case!

All the visitors are now back to their workplaces, be it 2 hours away or 15 hours away, and we are back to work too. Actually this week we are off to Malta for one of our frantic 50 hour trips, which will surely be the subject of my next post!

Whole lotta writin' - Nottingham

If I am not mistaken, one week after the "Open House", Marianna and I realised that very soon, it would be a new chapter in her life: she would be resuming her studies after an absence of 4 years from academia by starting an M.Sc. at Imperial College. We thought we should have a weekend break out of London before this time, which, from experience, I know will be a busy one. We checked a couple of towns across the UK and then I remembered! A quick call, a booking, a small suitcase and off we headed to Nottingham for a weekend!

One of my buddies whom I have known for over a decade now, JPZ, is doing a Ph.D. at Nottingham. Since I have been here in the UK, I have visited him twice at Notts and once at Worthing while he was working there, and he has come down to London a couple of times too. Since Marianna had never been to the home of Robin Hood in the Midlands and it had been a couple of months since we had seen JPZ, we abused of his open invitation to visit any time and thus we decided that Nottingham it shall be!

The trip was longish - 3 hours by coach is just at the limit of my endurance, especially the first hour which is simply getting out of London and embarking on the M1. Once we got there, the usual thermal shock: it is way colder there than London! JPZ and his better half picked us up and we headed to his flat, where we had a welcoming meal and a good bottle of wine and a deserved sleep...

The next day was possibly the most beautiful dose of weather for September. We all headed off to the Peak District, where we set off on a walk up to a cavern upon a hill, Thor's Cave, the ascend to which was (in the words of JPZ) about to give me a heart attack. But it was worthwhile the effort since the view was amazing. The descent was far easier and then another walk up to another peak, Ecton on Hill. The beauty of nature in this part of England is beyond words: fresh, pure air, abundant stretches of green and streams, no cars, no planes, no buildings, nothing really except hills, trees, grass...and cows.

All this was followed by a hearty pub lunch, a drive back to Notts, a walk around the city centre, the compulsory pit stop at a Nero's Cafe and then back to the flat. A quick shower and change of clothes and then a massive dinner at a Thai restaurant which probably restored my calorie intake to more than it was before all the walking in the morning. The night was concluded by a visit to Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem pub, the oldest one in England (or so it says). I love that place!

On Sunday we did not stay long and only visited the city centre for some shopping and going around. After all the goodbyes, we headed back down to London and got ready for another week of normal life in the capital. I look forward to another weekend break around England (and beyond!), away from the hustle and bustle of our host city we are temporarily calling "home".

P.S. The image in this post is not an edited version of the cover of the Floyd album "Atom Heart Mother" but is a snapshot of the cows mentioned in the text above!

Whole lotta writin' - Buildings

Since my first arrival in London (of which I happened to celebrate the 3rd anniversary on 22/09), I have been reading in my "Lonely Planet" guide to London about the annual "Open City" (now renamed "Open House") in the capital. This is an annual event in which many buildings are open to the public, for free but, more importantly, some of these buildings are only open during this time! In 2007, 2008 and 2009 I failed to attend this special event (2007: I had just arrived in London and missed it by a week, 2008: I was complete my M.Sc. thesis and had better things to do, 2009: I had not yet moved back to London and so I missed it, again). This year, I was 100% determined to go, at all costs...

And so the "Open House" kicked off on 18/09 and my wife and I headed off to visit one of our favourite-est buildings in London: the Lloyd's Building by Richard Rogers. The day was splendid, chilly but sunny - perfect for pictures and enjoyment. Upon arrival, I was shocked to see a massive queue, but happily this was progressing fast and in 20 minutes, we were inside the hi-tech 1980s marvel. I lost count of the number of times I visited the Lloyd's (from the outside of course), but each time I see it, it gets me shivers: the neatness of design, the attention to detail, the immaculate finishing and the ingenuity of placing all services on the outside, freeing the internal areas from "wasted" space (lifts, stairs, WCs, service shafts etc)...sorry, this has become an architectural lesson...But being actually inside, made me appreciate the last sentence even more: the vast openness of the office spaces without any clutter but maximised usage and all lit by natural light through the massive glazed atrium. And heading up to the 11th floor, the view was simply amazing.

The whole visit lasted just under an hour so this gave us enough time to visit another London landmark before lunch: the City Hall. A short walk across the city to the Thames and across Tower Bridge led us to "The Scoop" and the egg/helmet/testicle shaped building which landed controversy on Norman Foster's CV. We swiftly headed inside since there was no line whatsoever and the same story as before began: amazement at the detail, unusualness of design, quality of workmanship and (needless to say) endless number of photos. Up on the terrace offered a great view of the Pool of London and then down the huge ramp/staircase which takes up most of the building's footprint and which leads to the actual Hall.

A few years ago in my student days, these buildings and many others were only reachable through books and Google Images. Nowadays, I have the luxury of seeing these buildings first hand and, on special occasions like this, actually experience the spaces therein. After all, a building is not only a design or an image, but a volume, a liveable enveloped space. I love London!