Last days at home, at work and in London

Time is simply flying by: this time last week we were cleaning the flat and packing up the last of Dayna’s stuff; now we’re staying at Dayna’s place (she’s in Wales) and have finished off just about everything we need to (“closing the loops” as Dee says)! So yeah, we cleaned our place on the weekend, and finally moved everything downstairs to Andy’s on the Monday night. (We’ve had the report back from the independent inspector now, and he comments: “Professionally cleaned” — yah!

Football, fish and (green) fairies

As our time left in London grows ever shorter, we seem to be cramming more and more into each moment. Only natural, I guess, but it’s been hard on our sleep patterns! Last week I went to my first football game — Fulham vs Stoke City at the Fulham home ground, Craven Cottage. Andy organised it once he heard I’d not been any time in the five years we’ve been over here; I didn’t even get to a Rugby match at Murrayfield when we lived in Edinburgh!

Brains in jars

Six weeks and counting. We’re getting into the “spirit of travel” now I reckon — most of the house packing is done, so I can make a booking with the shipping company with some confidence that we’ll be ready for them, and start concentrating on our backpacks and gear. In the meantime we’re trying to spend quality time in London so that our memories aren’t all work, work, work. Which is why we caught the bus to Drury Lane yesterday and walked to the Royal College of Surgeons for the Hunterian Museum: a gory selection of skeletons and partially-dissected animals (and people!

So much preparation

Well I think I’ve found all the WordPress plugins we might possibly need now, and so after a weekend and a day this travel journal is about ready to be used in anger (as they say – although who “they” are and why they say that I have no idea). Maps, twitter, spam-filters and the theme – all in place and ready for us to hit the road, er, tracks.

Transhumanism at the Butchers Shop

The theme of last night’s Butchers Shop, organised by hip indy magazine Bad Idea, was transhumanism. We drank a little gin, then settled into the body-warm Victoria operating theatre for a little slice-and-dice of two short stories of human augmentation: in one, our narrator upgrades his heart; the other creates a xenographic sommelier with the nose of a canine. A little role-play, some heckling, then a chance for Matthew de Abaitua to wax lyrical over Paris Hilton’s doggy palace, peacocks and peahens, and consciousness as a evolutionary frivolity.

I can stay in the country, huzzah!

About 2 months ago my entry/work VISA for the UK expired; two weeks prior I sent it away for an extension. Today I got my passport back and breathed a sigh of relief! It’s hard to believe it takes so long! I mean, they certainly took my money quick enough — that was taken out of my account before the first biometrics interview. Worse, the application form warns that it can take up to 90 days, and that if you need your passport back before then they will cancel the processing altogether.

Relaxing in Wales – yn llacio i mewn Cymru

It’s day four of our holiday out of the city, and we’re sitting in the Hawk and Buckle Inn reading historical fiction, sketching architecture and writing weblog posts. It’s been incredibly relaxing. The town we are staying in, Llannefydd, is too small for even a general store. Apart from a handful of houses, there is the Hawk And Buckle Inn (where we are staying), a church and a primary school — such a cute wee school it is too!

Is it Friday yet??

It has been a long week this week, largely due to Dee’s work schedule: she’s been on the early-shift, which has meant getting up some time between 5am (on Monday) and 6:30am (by Friday) i.e. a case of finding exactly how late she can leave it to get to work by 7 o’clock in the morning. I’ve tried to get up at the same time, but I’m really not a morning-person.

Northern Line canned at 8:50am this morning; took me another 40min on the bus to get here. Its 45min walk from home!

glennji{.tweet}: I still hate the Met: Northern Line canned at 8:50am this morning; took me another 40min on the bus to get here. It’s 45min walk from home! Yep, I’m blogging tweets now. So I slept in this morning; Danielle got up at 6am, and whilst I could’ve followed her I found it far easier to roll over and bury my head in my pillow. Easier at the time, but I suspect the Universe was trying to tell me something.

Divergent paths

A female friend of mine is considering becoming Muslim i.e. following “Islam” (which can be translated as “submission”). This mostly makes me worried for her, as Islam doesn’t have the best track record concerning women’s rights and domestic abuse. The philosopher Ibn Kammuna said in 1280CE: “… we never see anyone converting to Islam unless in terror, or in quest of power, or to avoid heavy taxation, or to escape humiliation, or if taken prisoner, or because of infatuation with a Muslim woman, or for some similar reason.