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The London transportation system is the most unreliable I’ve ever experienced.
Three people die in the Underground a month.
At least that’s what my experience so far tells me. I doubt there is a day that all trains on all lines run perfectly fine.
There is always a “signalling problem” leading to delays.
There is always “a person under a train”, causing entire sections or lines to shut down.
There is always “damage” so that a station is shut down.
I was waiting for a train once, when the following annoucement came up:
“We apologize to announce that the 14:30 train to Fenchurch Street is delayed for 3 minutes…”
Two minuted later: “We apologize to announce that the 14:30 train to Fenchurch Street is delayed for 6 minutes…”
Five minuted later: We apologize to announce that the 14:30 train to Fenchurch Street is delayed for 10 minutes…”
Do not trust bus stops and bus timetables.
Last night, Nasty and I spent 1 hour waiting for a bus that was never going to come. We eventually called Transport for London and was told that routes have been diverted and the bus doesn’t actually stop there. Why haven’t they put up a notice? Or taken the sign down?
We’ve also spent at least 30 minutes waiting for a bus that was supposed to come every 12 minutes.
Some stations do not have Oyster card top-up machines.
The Oyster card is London’s pre-paid card for the Tube, trains and buses. And I would not imagine any station without a top-up machine or convenience store nearby that can do the job.
But I know of one station, where once the station counter service and the convenience store/newstand closes (which is very early), be fucked. Or get ripped off by buying a ticket.
People do not queue for buses.
Just like, oh, China?
Okay, that’s a bit harsh. People probably do not rely on buses as much here and therefore there is no need to. But on certain nights in certain areas, it is, just like China.
… …
It baffles me why, a great city such as London, such poor management is allowed to continue for so long. Don’t citizens complain to a district councillor or other elected officials of some sorts? Who in turn will petition a local government or relevant department, to discuss and fix the problem? How and why do officials get elected if they cannot run their district/borough/city properly?
Before I came to London, I often imagined what my life here would be like.
I envisioned myself exploring the city. Visiting museums and seeing sights I’d only be able to see on TV.
To live in London! In LONDON!
I’d have my own little room; I’ll eat tasty good food; I’ll get lost on the Tube; I’ll have fun at my new job; I’ll make new friends; I’ll play good hockey;…oh, it’s all so new and exciting!
It’s LONDON!
Where all the movie stars are! Where the BBC is! Where the Tube got bombed! Crop circles! Stonehenge! Arsenal! It’s what the travel programs show! It’s great! It’s awesome!
… … …
This is the British Museum.
Main entrance.
And this is the largest indoor public square in Europe. It was previously exposed to the elements, until the sky roof was constructed. The round column in the middle is previously the British Library, where Mahatma Gandhi and other notables once wrote and study.
The British Museum is so large and it’s loot collections so vast, Sarah and I didn’t know where to start. We wandered about, sorta lost amongst all the exhibits until, surprise surprise, we were hoarded out again because it was closing.
Gees, I must make a point to go to museums EARLIER.
… … …
Instead of all the wonder and excitement I’d envisioned for myself, I now spend the majority of my days in front of the computer. Searching.
For jobs.
For flat.
For laptop.
Well, notably, I’ve finally found a place to stay, if just temporarily. I’m uber excited about moving in on Monday!
I’ve also just forked out GBP300+ for a laptop. Which is a scary thought, since I can’t decide, and Nasty basically forced me through it. And heck, that’s a lot of money.
Come to think about it, I’ve never actually bought a computer before…
I’m relieved.
I’m so sick of searching for things all the time.
At least now I’ll have my own room; I can put out my alarm clock; I can put up postcards and photos.
I no longer have to live out of my suitcase!
I come from a family of great awesome cooks.
People always wonder how I’ve always managed to eat living away from home in high school and uni., when the best thing I can make is spagetti bolognaise.
Fortunately, I’ve also always been around friends who are great cooks.
I’ve tried. Really.
And I’m always so grateful, say when I tried making blueberry cheesecake for my mom’s birthday and it turned out like slimey putter, or when I tried making rocky road and they turned out like, um, rocks, she always manage to eat quite a bit of whatever I create and always had good things to say about it.
I was in the kitchen just now, happily puttering along preparing baked potatoes to be ready for when Nasty comes home.
I turned up the oven and went about washing, cutting yucky bits, oiling and salting.
When just about ready, I bent down to open the oven, already heated to maximum, and saw to my absolute horrors thick smoke bellowing out of the opening.
As my eyes watered from the smoke, I see that a cardboard pizza box has been sitting there since who-knows-when. I didn’t see fire, but all the same, I panicked like fuck.
I ran about opening the balcony door and all the windows I could lay my hands on. I turned up the smoke sucker above the stoves and looked around for smoke alarms. I found possibly one in the hallway and shut that door.
As the smoke died down and I gingerly remove the now crispy pizza box, I found inside a slice of just-as-crispy pizza and that one big bit of the box is burnt.
Holy fucks.
I’m now making the potatoes again, but Nasty (and his flatmate): I’m sorry if the potatoes, and your entire apartment, now smells like burnt cardboard.
The reason I told you first about how nice my mom is about everything I make and every fuck-up I ever did in the kitchen, and how she has always been great about it all….please be nice to me too. :)
Nasty and I went back to Godalming, his hometown, 40 minutes by train south of London, for the weekend.
I’ve always found the name odd. I always like to think it’s “god damning” or something. (!)
I initially hesitated in going back. It always takes a long time for me to get into the mood of something, and on Friday, I was in the mood for job and flat-hunting and I didn’t really want to break the flow.
But I went anyways. The devil.
And he’s right. It was good to get out of London. Get away from the city. Be somewhere different. Breathe fresh air. Be in a small town. See different people.
It was pitch dark on a large grassy field and when you look up, it’s nothing but stars.
And for one moment, everything, EVERYTHING, is fine.
Going about Guildford one afternoon with his mom, sister and brother, I suddenly realize, for the first time, that I actually miss my family.
Until then, I’ve missed things about home, but nothing about family as a whole.
But all of a sudden, as I watch them banter and joke and fight, they remind me of the little things that make a family a family. The little things that happen when you are with family. The things you talk about, the things you say to each other, the things you are able to do.
The comfort of familiarity. The feeling of warmth and care.
And I miss them.
So we were lounging in front of the TV last night at 11pm, channel surfing, when we come across this orgy scene of naked people having a mass fuck.
This show, Sexectera, is on a free channel, on a Friday night, where anyone, from small children to nice Christian ladies, could see.
It’s a factual show produced by Playboy about….what else, sex. So they send “reporters” on sets of a naked version of Survivor; masturbation club nights; sex expos and what-not; where the reporters themselves sometimes participate in the action.
It’s all very explicit, and even with what little is blurred out, it’s down right porn.
Porn. On a free to view channel. Accessed by all.
I found this completely baffling. How is this allowed?
In Hong Kong, RTHK, a government funded broadcaster, once created a documentary about gay/lesbian rights in Hong Kong. Nothing sexual was shown at all. It was a serious documentary, reporting about the difficulties and discrimination LGBTs face in the territory.
That was enough to create a public outcry denoncing the program for showing sympathy to the LGBT community and how it is “misleading” and “wrong”.
Those people are really just stuck-up idiots, but still, you can imagine my reaction to seeing porn on a free TV channel.
Apparently, channels here are allowed to show almost anything after 9pm, which to me, is very early.
In Hong Kong, you’re allowed to show only slightly more sensitive material after 11:30pm. And really just slightly.
Oh, and Nasty’s mom was sitting next to us, asleep.
Where I’m from, I could not see this happening in a million years.
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