Padding It Out.

How did I end up wearing 8 tops and 6 pairs of trousers on a transatlantic flight on the way back from Peru? Read on....

I queued up (knowing the weight limit was 25kg) and I put my big bag on the scale. It was 26kg. I was thinking SHIT, SHIT, SHIT be a nice person on the desk. This was with Air Transat. But then she saw I had a backpack on and asked me to put that on as well. I had totally packed out my backpack with the heaviest things (excluding liquids) like books and electronics because they never check hand luggage weight normally. After the bow and arrows too it was was 38kg or something stupid. She said that it would be about CAN$200 to pay the excess. My mind was racing. She was really nice and saying that I should ring my parents and use their credit cards to pay. Yeah like I am ringing my parents at 1am to ask for 100 pounds. I walked away with all my stuff and toyed with ringing someone for assistance but I knew I was on my own. I only had CAN$20 on me and I still wanted to buy food after going through security. I knew I needed to throw some stuff away. I went to the disabled toilet and sorted my stuff out until I had a small pile of stuff that I could afford to throw away. Then I layed myself up good and proper. 3 pairs of shorts and 3 pairs of trousers. Then I put on 5 t-shirts and 3 thick jumpers. Plus 2 scarves and a woolly hat. I was boiling and I could hardly walk but I walked back to the check-in desk. I ended up with a different woman. My big suitcase was now 20kg plus 2kg for the bow and arrows. She didnt care about my hand luggage. After it all went through and I had my ticket I went back to the toilet. My small pile of dispensable possessions were still there as I had left them (except I had an inkling someone had read my National Geographic whilst in there). I packed out my previously only half-full backpack but I had overspill. I had 2 plastic bags knocking around so I filled them up with wellies and hiking boots. My pockets were also bulging. This is how I went through security. The metal detector went off of course. But the metal zips were deep under the layers of trousers. The man was confused with the paddedness but I got through. As soon as the seatbelt sign went off on the plane I took most of the layers off and took up an entire overhead storage locker to myself what with the bags of boots, the huge backpack and piles of clothes. Shortly before the descent I got back into my layers. After picking up my luggage at London I got re-changed in the toilet there. Then I went and met my Dad in the arrivals area.

A rival for Stormguy?

As all who read this blog will know stormguy.com is the best place to view storms, lightning and tornado pictures and videos on the internet. But the BBC are starting to step up with lots more tornado videos and pictures. And many of the ones the BBC publish are British as well. I just wish they wouldn't describe tornadoes as 'freak weather'.

These are some of the best recent tornado videos from the BBC: Lancashire Tornado, Inside A Tornado and Florida Waterspouts.

Storming the Gates!

It happened to be the same day I had had my injections before I go to Peru. At about 4pm there was a suggestion that we go to the beach at Weston-Super-Mare. I hadn't been to Weston-Super-Mare before. Me, Jennie, Jamie and Izzy went there in Jennies car (it took 45 minutes). I was nearly falling asleep on the way as I had been up the whole night before. Anyway after a brief stop at ASDAs (Wal-Mart for overseas readers) in Weston-Super-Mare we made our way to the beach which is about 5 miles away. It was actually a beach called Sand Bay. When you get to the beach if the tide is out you can be a 15 minute walk to the sea. The beach actually has the 2nd longest tidal range in the world. It was a very nice day and the beach, although huge (a mile long maybe) was almost deserted maybe a couple of people walking dogs and so forth. We made a fire and roasted marshmallows and had a picnic and played games on the sand and so forth. Jennie hadn't seen a sunset before (she is from Devon so they are always a bit behind) so we stayed for the sunset (photos on Facebook now!). Although the fire was providing heat and light at 10:30pm we headed back to the car. We got in the car. We were all tired, dirty and chatty. We drove through the car park and got to the gate. It was closed. Locked? I jumped out to inspect. It was indeed locked. There was a padlock the size of my hand and a thick, heavy metal chain locking the gate. We walked over to the car park sign. It said it was closed at 9:30pm. We hadn't noticed that everybody else had left already. We rang the number for the council on the sign. They said that we would have to stay in there all night and were basically quite rude. Jamie and Jennie climbed over the gate (Jennie has a metal hip) and they went to the local pub to ask for advice. "the people last night who got locked in got a lift home and came back in the morning to collect their car" was the reply. Was there another way out? Huge stones were blocking a car getting onto the beach. The 2 girls sat in the car and said that we would have to sleep all night in the car. Jamie got on his mobile and called his friend for tips. Meanwhile I started picking the padlock with my leather punch on my penknife. I tried to pick it for half and hour to no avail. Jamie's friend on the phone suggested that we hit the padlock with rocks to try and break it. We tried that. It was very neolithic. There were a few bruised nails as a result! The whole time the girls were saying "just get back in the car and give up". I asked if they had any tools in the car. They said no. Then I asked if she had a spare wheel as they normally come with tools. She didn't know. I took everything out of the boot and took the cover off. The spare tyre was there and also a few tools including a jack and so forth. There was 1 tool that looked like a giant hook and eye thing. I think it was supposed to be some sort of tow-bar thing. Anyway I took it back to the padlock. My theory was that the leverage would break the padlock. I slid the long metal end through the padlock and started jumping up and down on the eye bit. The padlock was a big, heavy duty, chunky affair and I couldn't even tell which side the padlock opened. Anyway I kept trying. Nothing seemed to happen for ages. Jamie was still walking around the car park in the dark on his mobile. Suddenly there was a yell. I ran and Jamie was lying on the floor with his sock off. He had stepped on a 4-inch long rusty nail. It stopped bleeding fairly quickly but after looking at the nail in the headlights it was defiantly rusty and old and had gone deep. "If I kissed you perhaps my tetanus injection from earlier would help you" was my quip. But he needed to get to hospital really. I went back to the gate and tried for another 10 minutes. My entire body weight was on the eye bit. I was jumping up and down manically and worried about my testicles in case they banged onto the top of the gate. Then suddenly there was an almighty CRRUUNNCCH. I jumped off and inspected it. The metal loop was half broken! I waved and they hobbled/limped over. I got up again and gave it another few minutes of hardcore jumping. 82kg (I had been weighed at the doctors that day) of chocolate eclair power and the padlock snapped and the gate swung open. There were cheers. We all jumped into the car. I bandaged Jamie's foot whilst we looked for a hospital. I suggested we headed for Weston-Super-Mare as that's the nearest big town. By half luck and half design we arrived at the hospital. It was quite empty so in half and hour Jamie had had his tetanus. We made our way home but we were all so tired we got lost a bit and ended up in Bristol. We went under the Clifton Suspension Bridge and finally ended back at the campus at 2:45am.

The People of Bath

Thus far during my time in Bath I have noticed peculiar goings on in the course of my ramblings. These folk of the western shires (Wessex) have many quaint customs and habits which are noticeable to an outsider. They use words like 'lush' which means 'cool' and 'gertlush' which means 'very cool'. They begin sentences with " 'allo my luver" and throw in plenty of "arrhhhs". The children when playing tag call home, 'the den' or simply 'den'. But one major oddity (which was brought to my attention by my brother) is that even in the depths of winter Bathonian males wear shorts. They wear them at the bus stops, they wear them at the pubs and they wear them in the high street. Builders wear them and postmen wear them and students wear them. When its sleeting and the temperature is struggling to stay above zero. Many young people wear a Japanese clothing brand known as 'Superdry'. They venture all the way to Bristol to hunt and gather these garments while the rest of the English-speaking world looks on bemused.

If I discover anymore anthropological faux pas in Bath I shall kept thee updated.

International Food Swap

Last night I was invited by a Japanese girl I know (Mari) to a Japanese dinner party. I was also informed to bring some 'English' food. As I didn't have anything in that was really English I made mashed butternut squash with pepper, boiled potatoes and stir-fried chicken with Montreal chicken seasoning.The nationalities of the people there were: Mexican, Finnish, German, Chinese and Japanese. Everyone brought food of their country but the Japanese food was the most prolific because it was their kitchen. I ate everything with chopsticks and was praised for my skill at using them.

Winsbury Hill

Yesterday I decided to go on a walk. The temperature was 14c and it was a perfectly sunny day with no clouds. I left my room at 2:00pm and walked to the end of my campus over the sports field. Then I climbed a stile and went over into another field which had long, clumpy grass and was quite boggy. After that I went through a cow field where the cows watched me warily. I then went over another stile and found myself in a shady grove of trees with a brook trickling past (picture 1). I continued along another path which got increasing muddy as it was next to the brook. Eventually the path was so muddy it was impassible so I squeezed through a gap in a hedge and into a ploughed field. I saw 2 hills in the distance. Because I was now unrestrained by the direction of footpaths, I headed towards the hills in a straight line. As I got closer I realised that the hill which I thought was higher actually wasn't because it had tall trees on the summit. In fact the whole hill was a copse (which I later found out was a pheasant shoot). So I continued towards the other hill which was just grassy. At that point I looked backwards and could see that I was already high up. I could see the city of Bath tucked between the hills. (Picture 2) I also noticed that it was moonrise and the moon was clear against the blue sky. I continued. After scrambling over a gate and sloping through mud made by tractors I emerged into a very narrow country lane with grass growing in the middle. The road went paralell to the hill I was heading for but I decided to go left as I could see the road bend round soon towards the hill. Soon I came to a cottage made entirely out of old-fashioned stonework. I kept going up the road- realising it was taking me uphill and towards the hill. Soon I came to a metal farm gate. Beyond I could see a steep grassy slope going to the summit of the hill. But the gate had barbed-wire on it. After coming so far I wasnt going to give up but I noticed that the gate was only tied shut with twine. I untied the twine and started walking up the hill. It was boggy at the bottom and molehills were scattered around haphazardly. About halfway up I got a distinct feeling of vertigo. I was getting quite hill. My natural defence mechanisms were telling me to get down on my hands and knees- more balanced and lower. I stopped for a minute and took some photos. (Picture 3). Then I continued up the hill. I got to the top. The chilly wind whipped my hair and my face and hands started to go numb. But I could see for miles. From the direction I had climbed the hill I could see Bath. (Picture 4) To my right were rolling fields. Behind me it was surprisingly flat as far as the eye could see. But to my left I could see the sprawling city of Bristol (which is 8 miles from Bath). I could see the high-rise blocks and the cranes at the dock. Beyond that I could see the Severn Estuary. And beyond that I could see the hills and mountains of Wales- shrouded in haze. (Picture 5) I was up there for quite a long time. I recieved a call from Bath leisure centre while I was up there saying that I had been runner-up in their prize draw. Eventually I came back down the hill. I went a different yet quicker way home and got back to the campus just as it was getting dark.

I later found out that the hill is called Winsbury Hill and is 165 feet above sea level.

Bathonian Spelling

How many citizens in how many cities would correct the spelling of a film in the cinema?

Bath would- a city where Jane Austen lived for many years. Clearly the locals still feel an affinity towards their local hero.

Bikes, Buses and Bath

It was an intense day today for me (7/11/07). Here it is:



After getting up at 8:40am I got to my lecture at 9am. It was a practical- squishing up soil/mud samples that we had extracted from the ground the previous week. It was dirty work and I found it hard to concentrate with my sleepy brain. Also most people from our group didn't turn up so it was just 2 of us (me and a Japanese girl- Mari) and the other groups had about 5 members so our personal workload was higher.



Afterwards at 11am I walked back towards. I stopped off at Maris for a while whilst a discussion about sushi was held. I got home and had some lunch. When it got to 1:30pm I needed to leave for work. I didn't start work until 2:45pm but I knew from experience that the 418 bus is slow and unreliable. But then I thought they needn't be- I would cycle into town. Since getting my bike I have been getting used to it but now I felt that I was ready to go into town (4 miles). So I set out on my bike. Of course the 418 buses slowed me down even when I wasn't on them. While I was still on the campus 2 buses were trying to past each. 1 had to reverse and it got confusing and tight. There were 200m tailbacks behind both buses. Anyway I sailed down the hill and after I got past the 2 junctions it wasn't a bad bike ride; it was quite flat. On the way I realised that even though my work is reasonably close to the town centre it is at the top of a very steep hill. I decided I would leave my bike tied up in the town centre and get the number 2 bus (which is pretty OK) to work.



But disaster struck. Just as I got into town and was cycling past the river I felt something funny happen. Then there was a cluck onto the pavement. At the same time I had the sensation that was left foot was dangling. I stopped the bike and looked behind at the pavement. A pedal was laying 20ft behind me. Not just the pedal but the metal pole that connects the pedal to the chain wheel. I went back, picked it up and put it in my bag. I was alarmed but not worried at this juncture. I walked the bike into the town. Just as I walked past the bus stops before the train station the number 2 bus came round the corner. I ran with the bike. I had a vague idea were the bike racks were. I ran across the entrance to the carpark, ignoring hoots of protest from cars. Quick as a flash I tied up my bike. Then I rang back to the bus which was still waiting. Dripping with sweat after cycling 4 miles, walking fast with a bike for 10 minutes then doing a rapid 300m sprint I plonked myself down at the back of the bus after buying a student daily travelcard (and proving I was a student).



I got to work early as it transpired. I had fun with the children. What we basically did is all of us (3 adults and 13 children) went down to the woods with a camo net. I went off with 2 or 3 children, they would hide under the camo net and I would cover them with leaves, then I would hide nearby. It was great fun and the children enjoyed it to the point that we were all late getting back to the hall.



After speaking with parents I left the after-school club at 5:50pm. I waited for the 2 bus to come. A 2a came after a short while. I inquired if it went into the city centre. An ancient, slightly dotty, always chatty woman gave me a lengthy answer. The upshot of my understanding of it was though that it did go into the town centre but to a different stop than normal. So I got on it. I scanned the passing scenary throught the gathering gloam. It was unfamilar. I was desperatly trying to work out where I was was when I saw a sign: University of Bath. I was at the wrong university and 8 miles from my house. But I knew that the 418 ran between my university and this university via the town centre. I saw orange buses milling around so I got of the 2a and ran for the first bus. To my dismay I saw that it was only going to the town centre but I tried anyway. Its doors closed in front of my face. I repeatedly banged on the window. The driver was gesticulating at me to get the next bus in a rude manner. I gave him the 'ups yours' sign with my middle finger but I was wearing mittens so the effect was lost. But already my anger was starting to raise. I was hungry and tired. I got on the next bus. It sat around for ages until the seats were filled up. Another bus came behind it and it left- or did it. No. It swung round a roundabout behind the other bus. The other bus left for good and my bus sat there for an age. It steady filled up until it was like a sardine tin. People were getting irriatted at the lack of bus movement. Eventually it moved (some people cheered). Out of all 3 418 buses they were all going to the town centre and not to my campus. Which is fairly typical.



I eventually got into town and the bus glided past the train station. I had a mini-panic-attack. I had tied my bike up so quickly that I was unsure if I had done it properly. Also I didn't like the idea of it sitting around in a town centre for days and days and days. It would have got rusty and/or stolen perhaps. So I got of the 418 in the town centre. I walked back to my bike. It was fine- I had tied it correctly. But I still wanted to get it back to the bikesheds on campus. So I walked it to the bus stop for the 418. The 418 is a bendy bus which is bright orange and by default has lots of students on it. After 10 minutes the bus came. It was nearly empty (about 10 people on a bus that can hold 140 people). I wheeled my bike onto the bus and showed the driver my ticket. He looked disaproving and said "I don't want you to bring the bike on this bus". I explained to him in a calm yet strong manner that it is a public service, I have the correct ticket, it won't cause anybody any inconvenience (I put my bike in the wheelchair area) and my bike is broken so I can't cycle it home. He turned of the engine, came out of his cab and his rage was growing. But my defiance was growing faster. With 1 bus an hour and a 4 mile walk with a bike to look forward to I had nothing to lose and I assumed he would cave. He left the bus and spoke to his supervisor for ages. He eventually came back and again told me I would have to get off. He was a 30something Polish cur with a temper and a scowl. I kept arguing my point. I also casually pointed out that everyone would be home by now if he would just drive the bus. He rang the police. They turned up quite a while later. The policeman had a brief word with the driver. Then he came and spoke to me. I told him my situation and I even got an "I understand" before making eye contact with the bus driver and continuing his angry retort. He said at 1 point "if you don't get off this bus then you and your bike will end up in my van". I replied cheekily "oh great you could give me a lift home then and there would be no problem". But mine was a dying cause. The policeman got out his handcuffs, told me to put my hands out in front of me and said that if I didn't take my bike and myself of the bus I was under arrest. I glowered at him before leaving the bus. The bus sat there for several minutes before leaving. The whole incident was 45-50 minutes. I rang Robyn. Then I tried my friend Oliver who has a car and lives in Bath. No answer from his mobile. Then I rang my Nan because my mum lives with her and she might know Olivers landline number. My Nan suggested I goto the train station and ask to borrow a phonebook (she refused to dial directory enquiries because of the expense). I went to the station, tied my bike up again and asked at the ticket desk for a phonebook. The excellent customer service left me in shock after my recent experience as the man (Peter) got the phonebook for me in 10 seconds flat. To my luck I found Olivers landline number in it. I rang it and Oliver answered. I explained my situation and he was there in 10 minutes. I was quite a laugh actually trying to get my bike in his 1.2 Nova but we did it and, with my knees touching my chin, Oliver sped up away from the station........

You are on hold.............

"Our lines are currently busy at the moment. Please hold until an operator becomes available or alternatively please contact the customer support office on 0845 286 2839 where someone will be available to take your call. Please wait while I transfer you call. Thank you"

Apart from the the glaringly obvious grammatical error I was on hold for 58 minutes.

I fashioned a device: