I Am (no longer) Kurious Oranj

It's the last day of my two weeks off...boooo! We had a few days in Amsterdam with PW & CW and a jolly good time was had by all. One of the things Amsterdam is known for is bikes. If Katie Melua was right, and there are 9 million of the things in Beijing then there must be at least half that number in Amsterdam. Most of them appear to be permanently parked up...

Hmmm...I know it's here somewhere...

This is a multi-storey bike park just outside the main train station. We arrived at night so we thought that come morning rush hour they would all be gone, but not so, and they didn't seem to be touched in the four and a bit days we were there. This also seemed to be true for other mass bike dumps, but that's not to say there weren't thousands out on the streets where they have their own bike lanes, and are a law unto themselves. Out in the evening sitting outside a bar PW and I observed that although most bikes had lights a good 90% couldn't be bothered to switch them on, and all bike riders wear the darkest possible clothes. Not only that but only around 50% seem to observe red traffic lights, all this making walking around at night quite an experience. The other odd thing about Amsterdam traffic is that taxis give way to pedestrians! Who wouldathunkit??

Being a long time ex-pothead I was constantly aware of the all pervading scent of cannabis sativa, and on Sunday night when the Dutch were out in orange force celebrating the eve of Queens Day, the air was a mixture of alcohol and weed, a quite heady mix I can tell you. As the result of a culture were weed smoking is accepted as normal the atmosphere of the city, although vibrant, does not have the manic edge of London, which can only be a good thing. However the forces of conservatism are never far away, and I learnt on returning home that just prior to our departure the Dutch powers that be had passed a law banning tourists from smoking cafés, not that anyone seemed to be taking any notice!

We went to the Van Gogh Museum, which is a obviously a must and once I had seen the four paintings on my "to do" list, my low tolerance threshold where art museums are concerned kicked in. To be honest seeing the famous self-portraits of the Dutch master in actualité was a bit underwhelming, added to the fact that the place was heaving with tourists, ruining any atmosphere. Some folk were going round in a long snaking line at a pace a snail would be ashamed of spending ages at every painting. I'll admit to being a philistine heathen were high art is concerned, and I cannot fathom where they get their patience from. Now, if we were in a science or living museum (Ironbridge Gorge, the cradle of the Industrial Revolution being a fine example) spending ages looking at the inner workings of a Victorian smelting plant would be no problem!

While the others were keen to visit the Anne Frank Huis I did not fancy depressing myself by confirming the depths that human beings can sink to in pursuit of a cause. I know the story, that's enough for me, and look at the queue!

While my companions were there I went for a hike round the city, indulging in coffee and sticky buns at appropriate intervals.

Tulips, many many thousands of them form a riot of colour at Keukenhof Gardens which is another must see...

Our final evening coincided with the eve of Queen's Day were every Dutch man and woman wears something orange, heads into the city and carouses until the small hours. A great way to end a holiday!

Amsterdam is a great place and we would go again, the only difference being that B and I would fly as the train journey takes too long even without the one and half hour delay on Eurostar going out (!), and is far more expensive than a flight.
...

A late summer weekend out

Ironbridge Gorge in Shropshire is a World Heritage site, because it was here as far back as the late 17th century that the Industrial Revolution started, which ultimately led to the consumerist lifestyle we lead today. Whether or not that is a good thing is a debate for another time. Within a two or three mile stretch of the Severn valley about 8 miles from Shrewsbury are numerous museums and working exhibits showing just how the enduring ingenuity of us Brits kicked the whole shebang off in the 17th century. There are museums dedicated to to iron works, pottery, mining, all kinds of things.

The jewel in the crown is Blists Hill Victorian Town. Centred on an original humongous blast furnace, an entire working Victorian town has been created, it even has a pub. The woman next to me at the bar asked for a half of lager, and the suitably attired Victorian innkeeper looked at her blankly and said "Be that a bitter, mild or cider madam?" I laughed.

Probably the most famous sight in the area is the Ironbridge itself, with wonderful views up and down the Severn.

Another enjoyable trip was to the Tar Tunnel. A tunnel dug to transport coal through a hill came across a reserve of natural bitumen, which can still be seen today. Very messy! Hard hats are supplied.

When you get to Coalport, visit The Boat Inn for lunch. Hidden away on the far bank of the river this is a pub for the locals, that has a flood marker on the door you can see on the right of the picture, showing that the floods of 2000 came up to a level of 9 feet! The food is simple but wholesome, and was the best we had on our short stay, the ale is Jennings. Their Golden Ale is a good session beer - very nice. Also very dog friendly.

All in all a great weekend, the only drawback was our choice of base. Being one of those freaks who does not drive, we have to plan our trips around public transport. Interwebby research told me that a weekend tourist bus service ran at regular intervals from Telford through the gorge and back again, the first bus leaving Telford just after 9:30. We'll stay in Telford methinks, as the chosen accommodation, the Park Inn was a mere 10 minutes stroll from the train station and the town centre. Sounds like a plan!

Little did I know that Telford is a "town" that makes Milton Keynes look like the most soulful and culturally deep place on the planet. Looking like it was built in the late 70s and seemingly forgotten about ever since, Telford centre consists of a VAST homogenised shopping mall and virtually nothing else. There are no restaurants, unless you are inclined to spend your hard earned in the dreadful likes of McDonalds, and I've gone 50 years without doing this, so why should I start now? Frankly, I'd rather starve. More amazingly, there are no pubs, not even rubbish ones!

Ironbridge Gorge is a World Heritage site. That means it ranks alongside The Great Wall Of China and the Pyramids at Giza in terms of cultural importance. When in Telford you would have no idea this was the case. The Tourist Information centre has been shunted around so many times no-one seems to know where it is, or if it even exists. The shuttle bus service is a misnomer as on the Saturday the first bus simply did not turn up at all, and on the Sunday we waited for the second bus on the assumption that they simply couldn't be arsed with the first one, and that was 15 minutes late!

Telford is a dungheap of colossal proportions inhabited by lackadaisical people with glazed expressions. Avoid it at all costs!

A Rant (that earlier bit was just a starter) - Telford is full of thousands of glassy eyed shoppers wandering round in a daze. In Asda to pick up evening provisions we checked out next to what we thought at first glance was a grossly overweight dad and his 19ish year old daughter, also somewhat of the lardy persuasion. Mr Lard proceeds to empty the contents of his piled high trolley onto the checkout, and out came box upon box of every variety of frozen food imaginable, followed by sundry bags of frozen chips, chicken "shapes" etc etc. I had to look away for fear of laughing out loud. When I did venture another glance (it was horrible - similar I've no doubt to watching a car crash) Mr Lard had turned round. What I first thought must be a 40 something bloke was actually no older than 28! These are the kind of people who claim eating healthily is too expensive, when the reality is they're just too damned lazy. And they'll end up costing the NHS thousands too. Rant over.

"Ironbridge and Telford - Is there a better English day out?" - Makes so much more sense if you leave out the words "and Telford"!

Le compensation est miniscule...

A few weeks ago I told of an unheard of 1 hour plus delay suffered by B & me on the French TGV. Le billets de compensation were duly submitted.

After much to-ing and fro-ing in the form of letters and emails to SNCF, the buck finally stopped with Eurostar, as this was where the tickets were purchased. They are sending me a cheque for the princely sum of £7.25, as this is 25% (EU statutory minimum for dalays of between 1 and 2 hours) of the Lille-Angers leg of our journey!

I have to say from our own experience that, as they are probably more used to complaints arising from delays, that the UK train authorities are not only quicker with dealing with complaints, but also far more generous. We got 100% of our fare back recently for a nightmare journey back from Watford Junction, when by EU law they only had to give 50%.

I'm not sure if the UK's profciency over France at dealing with complaints makes me feel better or worse to be honest!

.......................................................................................

Went to Cambridge for the day yesterday. There's a great CD store there called Fopp. Their logo is the name in red in the middle of what looks like a bird dropping, said bird having just eaten two pounds of raspberries...

That aside, it's a great shop with loads of less obvious cds at online prices. For the first time in years I spent some money on cds IN A SHOP!!!!

...................................................................................

Trains, Safe Music, and Crooked Digits

Back in February I regaled you with a tale of woe involving non-appearance of trains at Watford Junction. Complaints were made, a full refund ensued. Earlier this month amazingly we were on the only SNCF cross-country TGV to be delayed, EVER! At least that's the impression given by our embarrassed hosts.
I'm beginning to think we're jinxed. Said train arrived over an hour late at its destination, and SNCF employees handed us all complaint forms when we got off. Now you may think with their spotless reputation where punctuality is concerned, that the refund offered would be 100%, no questions asked. Nope, it's a measly 25% for a delay of between 1 and 2 hours. At least UK reparation is of a better class than our French counterparts. It's now over 3 weeks since the form went in and we have yet to hear anything, we'll see what transpires.

......................................................................................

I love Spotify, it's a great idea, but have you ever tried their Radio tab? One of the genres is Alternative, right up my alley methinks. After putting up with it for an hour or so it turns out to be about as alternative as lunch at The Reform Club. Think I'll try the Jazz tab....good start with Ray Charles and Natalie Cole duetting on Fever. Just right for the hot day we were having when I wrote this.

......................................................................................

What a fine thing the NHS is - not only do they provide a wonderful service under increasingly trying circumstances, but some of their female nurses quaff Real Ale.

I found this out today from Lynn who did the tests on my claw-like hands with a view to straightening them out. One finger will be a local anaesthetic job, but the more serious one may involve a general, with my arm having to be put in a sling thereafter for up to 8 weeks! God I wish I was 20 again.......at least I'll be able to wave my scarred maws at Phil and make him queasy.

A Pause For A Hoarse Horse, or A Day At The Races

My partner's son Steve celebrated his 40th birthday recently with a day out at Sandown Races, in Esher, Surrey. The treat was a surprise for him, but as we were all loitering around in the car park of Four Marks Travelodge waiting for the charabanc, any pretence of keeping it a secret soon flew out the window.

The dress code was the dreaded "smart casual" and the male attire ranged from one guest who looked lke he was off to a wedding to the sort of gear worn at a smart bbq (most of the rest). As I normally wear a shirt and tie to work, I have no time for dressing up when not "on duty". If it doesn't fit, then tough!
The ladies on the other hand like dressing up as a rule, and all looked a picture.

The charabanc arrived. Now we were expecting a coach, but what arrived was an ancient minibus, the sort of thing used by bus companies in rural backwaters. Some of us were hoping it may have a tv so that we could watch the England v USA world cup game on the way home, but we counted ourselves lucky it had seats!

Luxury, sheer luxury....

An hour and a quarter later we arrived in Esher, having been subjected to Shake, Rattle & Roll all the way.

I did not know quite what to expect as I have never had the remotest interest in horse racing, which, almost uniquely amongst sports, would not exist were it not for the betting industry. I used to have an annual flutter on the Grand National at the bookies, but even that stopped a good few years back. The entry ticket (£35 for the posh seats) included £10 of vouchers for the expected over-priced food and drink, and £10 of betting vouchers, one of which was a free £2 bet, the rest essentially money off vouchers. When you add to that the race programme and sundry tote betting cards, we were each carrying around  a small forest worth of paper.

As it was Irish Tote Day I expected a lot of inebriated Irishmen and their equally pissed women to be staggering around. Although there were a few falling into that category, the majority of the spectators, at least in the posh area were loud cockernee geezers and their birds, noworramean? The blokes looked and sounded like extras from Hustle (Minder if you're older) and the women were of the classic Essex bird variety. There was one in particular that caught my eye. She was elegantly starved a la Victoria Beckham, not particularly pretty, but wearing a low cut very bright yellow dress - you could see her coming from miles away. Her mate was more attractive but less flamboyant. These were what one might call high maintenance women, paid for by their barrow boy geezer boyfriends who probably all worked in The City making more in a day than some of us do in a year.

The day started to get interesting for me when the tips I was given by Phil started winning. At one point I was even shouting along with all the punters.

I won some dosh on this race...

I can see why this thing is so addictive, but as it is all geared in the bookies favour, also painfully expensive. Our party must have had a good dose of luck with us though, as B & I came out about £20 ahead, even after paying for food and drink, Steve's brother Robert was about £100 up, dad Brian slightly less. There was one experienced race goer in our party who won £600 on one race, the lucky sod! Mind you he was betting £50 at a time, something my accountant instinct could never countenance.

A loud punter.....

After the last race of the day we were entertained in the paddocks by a U2 tribute band. I felt sorry for the singer who spends his spare time impersonating the world's biggest bellend! The cockernee geezers and their birds were louder than ever after four bottles of Bolly, the birds were falling off their high heels and falling out of their dresses, the blokes doing knees-up singalongs to Bonio's greatest hits. all very amusing!

The blokes in our party led by Robert having been primed by me, voiciferously decided that we would just HAVE to leave early to get back to the Fur & Feathers in deepest Hampshire, where a reception was being held for Steve, but, more importantly, a 45 inch tv had been set up so we could watch the England v USA game. By now I was, shall we say, somewhat pished, having been drinking all day. As a real ale fan, the only thing I could drink at Sandown was Guinness. Suffice to say it did strange things to my bowels the following day! At least they had Adnams in the pub, otherwise gawd knows what would have happened if I had had to carry on with the Irish Nectar!

All in all an interesting and enjoyable experience.