What did I do this weekend? Do you really care? Why is what people do on Sat. & Sun. so much more important than others days? Doesn't matter much to me, because I don't have a regular job. I guess it's nice to have less traffic.
I got the C-1 back on Friday, and although I drove it home from Chiswick on the motorway, I was scared to ride it again till today. Sometimes I just freak myself out for no real reason. Once I was back riding again it felt fine. People give me weird looks when I'm riding it through town. When I'm stopped at lights they say stuff to me I can't hear through my helmet, I hope its good. This one boy was yelling at me from the curb, and all I heard was "___ ___ ____ motorcycle!" The light was long enough for me to yell "what?" to which he replied "Can I hava go?" hee hee! Not everyone thinks I look like a dork, I can impress 12 year old boys! So I looked at him and yelled "no!" as I revved the throttle and pulled away when the light changed. Boy, sure feels cool making my bike go vrooooooom!
Yesterday there was a little dog show in the park, so I took Misha and hung around for a while. It was miserably hot and sunny, no shade to take comfort in. I bought the dog some treats, watched the parade of canines of all shapes and sizes pass by in the sun. Misha had her picture taken a few times, which is all she's really good at, as she failed miserably at the little dog run they had set up. (Fastest time of the day wins!) She was great at jumping the hurdles, she just couldn’t be bothered to run through the tube at the end. Don't blame her though. It looked a bit demeaning.
The deputy major was on hand to judge the first two rounds of the Scruffs competitions (a takeoff on Crufts, the kennel club that has huge dog shows), of which Misha couldn't enter because it's for mixed breed dogs (whereas all dog shows, like Crufts, are for pure breeds, of which Misha also can't be entered, because she has no official papers to prove her blue bloodedness. Not like she cares, nor do I). After he was done judging, he stepped out of the roped off area, and as he passed us he stopped and asked if he could stroke her (I still can't get used to that, 'stroke' for 'pet'). Of course, I replied. He was taken with her (of course), and said she was a most beautiful dog! He asked if I entered her in any of the competitions, to which I answered no. Not really giving much more of an explanation than that, I didn't want to have to explain that she was a pure breed, and had hundreds of years of genetic engineering behind her. It's so easy for her to be fabulous.
I tried taking some pictures, but I didn't get anything good because it was too hot to concentrate. So I will give you yet another picture of Misha, trying to escape the heat by finding a bit of shade behind a chair:
On Saturday I also found a new running trail, which put a bit of zest back into my routine. I rode my bike to Putney bridge, then ran along the river to a bit beyond Hammersmith bridge and back. Ran past lots of boathouses with tanned people putting row boats away for the night. (Are they called row boats? They are the long sort that people race in.) The trail was mostly off-road, which was great (although still paved, or remnants of pavement lied beneath much of the dirt and pebbles). I am killing myself for not finding this earlier.
Tomorrow I have to ride into central London to get some more coffee beans at this awesome coffee place I was tipped off on last week. I am running low on coffee, not good.
Posted by shannon at 12:26 AM | Permalink
| Comments (3)
I had another lovely evening tonight. It is amazing how wonderful London can be when you know someone who lives here. Or maybe it is just this weather, the mild summer nights just make everything seem easy and relaxed. Yet again I was introduced to a new cocktail: Pimm's. (Its this very British alcoholic mixer that is synonymous with summer, you usually mix it with lemonade _its fizzy here_ or sprite or champagne, sometimes with bits of fruit thrown in.) I had my Pimm's sitting on the grass in Soho square, chatting about Scottish inventors, art and the rewards of domain name selling. Afterwards I rode my bike home in the twilight on streets light with traffic, riding aggressively through roundabouts I wouldn't think of riding through in the middle of the day. I made a cool new friend tonight. London is groovy.
Posted by shannon at 11:45 PM | Permalink
| Comments (1)
I've had a headache all weekend. Is that a good way to start an entry? Who cares, its true.
Friday night was great. At the last minute I decided to take someone up on an offer of a night out. It turned out to be a long and late night with lots of loud music, strange cocktails and dancing. Dancing! I think I remember watching one of the DJs setting things on fire at one point, but maybe I just imagined it. Im sure, however, that I didn't imagine the lovely concoction I had called a vodka espresso. I'm not sure what was in it other than vodka and espresso of course, but it was cold, sweet and dark. It was topped with bit of foam just like the crema of a real espresso. It didn't help me stay up all night however, and I conked out around 3am.
It felt really nice just to be able to relax a bit, chat with some cool people, experience the city at night. It made me realize that I spend too time alone and I hardly ever leave my little neighbourhood. I hadn't realized how small my world has become.
The rest of my weekend was uneventful, and yet somehow it has passed by too quickly. Monday is coming and I have to get ready for a big long week of looking for work! bleh.
Posted by shannon at 10:35 PM | Permalink
| Comments (1)
This is Jesse.
He emailed me out of the blue and said he was going to be visiting London for a bit, would I mind hanging out for a day? I said sure, nevermind that I had only met him once, about six years ago. No matter, he's a good guy. I think the photo came out pretty good considering the camera was sitting on my lap. And that you're not supposed to take photos in the museum. whoopsie.
Jesse was going around London with a well planned out list of places to see and do. He based part of his list on the novel Pattern Recognition, which was rather creepy because I had been reading when he contacted me. He didn't manage to find a curta, but I think he found his way to Camden Town. Hope it didn't disappoint too much!
My life seems to be scattered and jumbled right now, or maybe its just my brain that is. I can't seem to concentrate on anything. I seem to run out of time to do things, even though I have all the time in the world. Its like time expands and contracts according to how much you have to spare. The more time you have, the longer it seems to take to get things done. I feel like I'm walking through mud. I do things everyday, and yet I can't seem to get beyond eating, sleeping and taking the dog out. What is happening to my time? Maybe I can blame the internet. Everyone else does.
The book club meeting went well last week. Met some cool people. The surfing thing fell through though. I will have to try harder.
Posted by shannon at 05:45 PM | Permalink
| Comments (0)
My apologies if this is too long. I need an editor that will work for free. Its really hard to stick to the past tense, I always seem to slip into the present tense.
Yesterday I went down to Wimbledon to get a CBT (compulsory basic training) certificate so I can finally ride the C-1. We left the house a bit early to reach the training place, which turned out to be a good because I accidentally left the paper half of my licence at home on the coffee table. (Why on earth does the thing have to be in two parts anyway?) So Bill went back to get it for me while I started the course (yay bill!).
The training school was in a dingy three-storey building with a garage on the first level. I went upstairs to the third floor and sat in a room lined on one end with shelves of white motorcycle helmets. When everyone was accounted for, the group was split in two. I got the chubby instructor with the South London accent, dressed tastefully in black Teflon-like trousers and ordinary looking black boots. The other instructor was a thin guy with spiky blonde hair, tight leather motorcycle pants that creaked with every step he took, and huge knee high armoured boots, the kind that only bikers and goths wear.
My group consisted of three other people, one girl and two guys. The girl was 20 and had never even driven a car before. One guy was 21 and had ridden his own scooter, which he had just purchased, to the lesson (which he was chided for, as it is illegal to drive without getting your CBT certificate first) and another guy who said he had ridden a bike before, years ago. The third man said he wanted to use a scooter to get a job as a delivery person. His English wasn't so good. My instructor gave both groups quick low-down on the basics of proper safety wear. The spiky guy told a story of how his foot was run over by a Rolls Royce, and that the very boots he was wearing protected him. I still think the boots are a bit over the top, fashion-wise.
After the brief lesson we went out to the parking lot. It rained the entire time we were out there, for a good three hours. I putted around the parking lot of Wimbledon Greyhound Stadium soaked to the bone, trying to avoid the puddles and the huge city bus at one end (also in training), making figure eights and emergency stopping. Once we heard the dogs yelping near the entrance, while we were standing around waiting for something. It seemed there was lots of standing around waiting for something involved in this class. Two of my fellow classmates took advantage of these breaks and smoked each time, cupping their cigarettes in their hands to keep them from fizzling out in the rain. We stopped for lunch and the delivery guy was dismissed and told to come back another time, as he couldn't do his figure eights without putting his leg on the ground.
My fellow classmates and I got lunch at a spot frequented mostly by BT servicemen or other tradesmen, men whose office mainly consists of a van of some sort. The rain seemed to have stopped and the sun started to burn down, drying my clothes almost completely (except where the sun doesn't shine). I grabbed a twix for dessert from the basket on the end of the lunch counter and tucked it into my pocket as I paid for it. I needed some chocolate to complete the next task: riding on the road in traffic. (Please note, no eating and riding was done simultaneously.)
Back in the office again, where we over some of the British highway code, sitting around a table inlaid with what reminded me of an Ikea children's rug: an oversized cartoon map, with roads wide enough to ride a toy truck down. Then we split up so we could go out two at a time on the road with the instructor. I volunteer to be one of the first.
We started out with me in front, the instructor on a motorcycle in the middle and the other guy bringing up the rear on his own bike. We had radios to hear the instructor give us directions. I make the first left out of the parking and a woohoo! I'm off! It was fun but rather frustrating, as being on a scooter is like the worst of every form of transportation on the road: not fast enough to be a motorcycle, not nimble enough to be a bike. Cars, motorcycles, bikes and pedestrians all potential hazards, not to mention the buses. And the scooter is also not a very proud vehicle. It certainly feels embarrassing, even when going downhill, to be passed by a cyclist. The bike I was riding on was a 50cc model, I tried pushing it up past 25mph, but it really didn't want to be bothered.
We rode around a bit, stopped to do some mandatory maneuvers, and then came back. The hour flew by. I spent the next hour waiting for the other two to get back, snacking on my twix and chatting with some other students who had spiky as their instructor. It seems that some people are taking up cycling to avoid the congestion charge. I'm just doing it because it's a step above getting around on a bike that's powered by my thighs alone.
The last hour on the road it's the girl and me. I go first again, as the girl seems a bit frazzled by being out on the road, apparently, she tells me in disgust, cars cut you off and aren't very nice to you! (A lesson I learned on my bike, or maybe from driving myself.) She smokes three cigarettes in the ten minutes it takes for the instructor to fill out the paperwork for the first guy, as he gets his certificate and goes home. We hop on the bikes and its me in the lead again, stop again for maneuvers, only I get a break since I've done them already. I sit on a bench overlooking a golf course, and text back and forth to some stranger who thinks he knows me (hi, what r u doin?). In the old days it wouldn't take four texts to figure out you had the wrong number.
I get back on the bike and finish out the course. Bill is waiting for me when we get there. The instructor tells me to go inside and wait for him at the desk, he will fill out my CBT certificate there. I go up there and then wait and wait and wait, it seems like forever. Then the girl comes bursting up the stairs half in tears, saying that he failed her and she has to come back. I am kind of shocked and asked why. She tells me that while doing a U-turn out on the street she fell off her bike. I missed this because I was watching two lovely ladies putting on the golf course. She says something about losing her deposit on a bike because she can't pick it up this weekend, and storms out. Ugh, I feel bad because for the most part she was doing fine. One of the guys at the place says that it's all in the name of safety, that they actually lose money by failing people, as they are entitled to another course for free if they don't make it through the first time. At this point I feel relieved that I passed the course at all, even though I failed to cancel my signal on half the turns I took.
Finally the instructor comes upstairs and fills out my paperwork. I tell him what kind of bike I'm going to be riding, and he tells me to practice it first somewhere safe before going out on the road, as the C-1 handles differently than other scooters. I thank him, take my certificate, go downstairs and hop on the back of bill's bike to race home. I watch the speedometer and feel a trill when it gets up to 50 mph on a freeway-like stretch of road that slopes towards the spaceage wandsworth sign. It feels good to be riding on the road at a decent speed. I think that maybe after riding the scooter around for a bit, I will want to ride a big bike. Who knows. Lookout road, here I come!
Posted by shannon at 02:09 PM | Permalink
| Comments (0)
Ok, I wrote a bunch about my trip but its not done yet. The photos start here in the London gallery, because I haven't had time to add them to the index yet.
Tomorrow I am taking an all day long motorcycle training course (for getting a learner's permit for my scooter) and Thursday night is my first book club meeting. woo. I am also excited about the possibilty of getting a ride to Croyde on a frequent basis to go surfing. That hasn't happened yet, but hopefully if things turn out well I might be a decent surfer by the end of the summer! Today I think I will just be reading and getting back into my running schedule.
Did you know that peacocks make these eerie calls that sound like a cat's meow? Only 20 times louder? The damn peacocks in this neighborhood! Noisy.
Posted by shannon at 04:32 PM | Permalink
| Comments (0)
