Yanda Time

August 22, 2004

Ashridge

(more pics)

I've been at this place twice now for training seminars connected with work. It's absolutely gorgeous. Ever since I first came to England, I've been waiting for someone to invite me to stay at a place like this.

The place even has a library with a secret door. There are bookshelves along all the walls of the room and the door is covered with a shelf of fake book spines. To open the door, you have to turn one of the book spines to the right and it acts as a doorknob. At one point there were about 20 of us in this room being taught some kind of management theory. A woman in our group had to leave to go to the toilet. Unfortunately, she couldn't work out how to open the door. In fact, at that point, I don't think any of us knew how to open the door. I certainly didn't. We all had just trooped in and plunked ourselves down as the teacher slammed shut the wall of books. The teacher was now too busy talking to us about the benefits of anarchy in the workplace to notice that one of her students was in a bit of a crisis. The poor woman scrabbled all over the fake spines trying to find the latch. She tried prying the door open with her fingernails. She gave it a bit of a shoulder check. For a while she just stood there with her legs twined around each other, hopping on one foot and running her eyes over every inch of the door. Finally, after a good five minutes, she fled out the French windows and into the garden where I presume she found another entrance to the building and relief.

Ashridge is now a Management College and it seems a fairly busy one. Several companies were running training sessions while I was there. They also do tours of the place. At one point I was in the main lounge engaged in one of several discussion groups that were going on in the room when one of these tours came through. Everyone in the group was elderly. When they first came in, I felt a compulsion to get to my feet and offer them some tea. I didn't but the feeling that I needed to somehow welcome or acknowledge them persisted the whole time they were there. I suspect most of the others didn't even notice them, however. Many of the discussions around me were quite animated. This was extremely upsetting to at least one old guy at the back of the tour group. The tour guide was trying to tell them about the room we were all in but he couldn't hear anything. He interrupted her to say, "Could you speak up? There are some very rude people talking far too loudly behind me!" The tour guide tried to explain that those people were supposed to be there and were actually working. "No!" he bellowed, "I still can't hear you! They're still too loud!"

None of the discussion groups paid any attention to the tour group. It was a somewhat bizarre scene. Personally, I would have been happy if everyone had stopped talking and we all could have listened to the tour guide tell us about the room we were in. Eventually the tour group moved on with the guy at the back of the group still muttering to himself about "insolent rabble" and saying things like "in my day we would have beaten them with tongs".

The best thing about the place, however, was the grounds, and, in particular (at least for me), the croquet lawn. I think I've become addicted to croquet. It's a lovely, genteel game which involves thwacking your opponents' balls as hard as you can. This last visit to Ashridge the weather was a bit crap and we were too busy in any case to have much time for croquet. Despite this, I managed to fit in a game. We had 20 minutes during lunch to play and it was raining but I still convinced a colleague to challenge me. We only took one very large umbrella with us so between every shot, we would sprint as a pair from one ball to another so we could each take a turn sheltering the other person with the umbrella while the shot was played.

The only bad thing about the place was that we had to leave. I'm still berating myself that I caved in to peer pressure and didn't just stay behind and make the most of it until I was forcibly ejected. If I ever go back I'm staying until they kick me out.

Posted by YandaMan at 10:38 AM | Comments (2)

August 21, 2004

Berkhamsted Castle

(more pics)

I was on my way to a training thing as part of work and ended up getting an earlier train than I needed to. I'd spotted this ruined castle from the train and so I wandered over to take a look at it. It's called Berkhamsted Castle. As you can see, I took many stunningly bland photos of it.

It started to rain while I was there so I ran on to the porch of the caretaker's house to shelter under its roof. The caretaker stood at the sink, eating his lunch. I asked him through the window if it was all right if I sheltered there. He said, "of course" and then proceeded to tell me the history of the place and of himself. His name was Stevens but everyone called him Steve. This started in the war. If your name was White, they called you "Chalky", if your name was Stevens they called you "Steve" or "Inky" (Stevens being the primary manufacturers of fountain pen ink at the time). Steve was 84 and had been at the Castle for the last 30 years. He told me the property was now owned by Prince Charles who kindly let him live there rent free for his war service. He served in the RAF during WWII and had 6 sisters and five brothers. All the brothers were in the war. Two were in the RAF, two in the infantry, and one was a sailor. All made it through the war, including one lucky brother who managed to survive both Dunkirk and the D-Day landings.

We held our conversation the entire time through the window. This seemed to irritate his ancient dog who had obviously heard it all before. The dog lay on a bed by the stove and every so often would raise its head to glare at me.

Posted by YandaMan at 10:18 PM | Comments (0)

June 28, 2004

See, Birmingham Doesn't Suck

(more pics)


Just a couple snaps of the central canal area of Birmingham. I took these when I was up there in May. Birmingham for some reason seems to have a reputation as a particularly ugly English city but it seems all right to me. And so here's some proof.

Not a lot of proof, mind you, but it's a start.

Posted by YandaMan at 12:15 AM | Comments (0)

March 27, 2004

More Castle Party Pics

(more pics - by karenm)
(more pics - by johns)

A couple folks who were at my 40th-birthday-in-a-castle-with-a-James-Bond-theme have sent some photos which I have duly posted. The picture above is of Jaws, Felix Leiter, and an unknown bond villainess whom I shall now dub "Brigitta Wundermounds"

I miss my castle.

Posted by YandaMan at 8:12 PM | Comments (0)

March 21, 2004

40th Birthday at the Castle - Yanda Pics

(more pics)

For about a year, maybe more, my darling sweet little bunnykins, Dr. Vicki, has been asking me what I wanted to do for my 40th birthday. I had always answered, "I want to rent a castle for a week. I want everyone I've ever known to come. There needs to be a moat and tennis courts and beautiful women in revealing outfits and we need to have a big ass party!"

I never actually meant it, however. I assumed it would be far too expensive and ridiculous. But then one Sunday morning, I was laying in bed, reading the paper, and she asked me once again and I replied with my stock answer. Except this time, in the paper I was reading there was an article about Belle Isle Castle in Northern Ireland and so I showed the article (which was quite glowing) to her and said, "Here! I want to go here and we'll invite everybody and it will be really cool! Look it's on an island; that's as good as being surrounded by a moat. And it's got a tennis court. And it's perfect!"

She threw up her hands as always and said, "Right. What do you really want to do". I ignored her because I had now reached the end of the article and found that you could rent the entire castle which sleeps 14 people for about £1200 for a weekend. "Holy shit! I said, this is actually kind of affordable! It's less than £100 per person!"

And so we started working towards the castle plan. We looked at a few other castles and chateaux hither and yon but eventually came back to Belle Isle because it sounded like the best deal and wasn't too hard to get to from London.

Rather than a week, we cut it down to just a long weekend. The estate had some more accommodation near the castle so we looked into hiring a bit more of that and started inviting people. There wasn't room for everyone and so my apologies to all those that I didn't invite. To those that I did invite and who turned me down, you are all a pack of fools! What the heck were you thinking? That you'll just go to the next castle party you get invited to?

In the end there were 24 of us, almost all from England. My mother came from Canada and my friend Derrick came from... wherever the hell it is he calls home at the moment. He's kind of an international man of mystery so, although originally he's from Canada, he actually flew in from Geneva and has a Saipan address. A couple more friends came from Lancaster, but everyone else was a Londoner.

My charming spouse, Dr. Vicki, wanted to get me into a tux for the party on Saturday night so after a bit of hemming and hawing we decided on a Jame Bond theme. I was hoping this would prod the women into going a bit sexy and, My God, but it worked beautifully! And I mean, "beautifully"! Damn! But I've got some good-looking friends.

In order to keep costs down, Dr. Vicki volunteered to cook Friday and Sunday nights and we just told everyone to fend for themselves for breakfasts and lunches. (Mark did stellar breakfast duty for all on the Sunday morning.) Saturday night was catered so Vicki could relax a bit. We hired a coach from a Lakeland Tours in Enniskillen to get everyone to and from the airport and rented a car for the weekend to pick up groceries and booze.

The castle and rest of the accommodation was absolutely beautiful, far nicer than I expected. Most people chipped in to help with the cooking and cleaning and I think everyone had a grand time. There was poker. And cigars. And a piano and people who could actually play it. And tennis, and an expedition to the local pub, and boats that I don't think anyone used, and dancing, and booze, and board games, and Bond Girls and Bond Villains, and fun, and romance, and sun, and rain, and fun. Did I mention the fun?

Anyway, I'm definitely going to do it again in another 40 years. Thanks to everyone for coming out.

Posted by YandaMan at 11:18 PM | Comments (2)

March 10, 2004

Ben gets dabbed, Chris gets deluged

(more pics)

The missus and I went to the christening of Vicky's and Nicky's boy Ben in Liverpool on the weekend. It was lovely to be around a big extended family event. Neither of us have family here in the UK so such occasions are rare enough to be a treat.

For me, the highlight of the trip had to be the shower in the Hollins Hey Hotel though. Not because it was particularly enjoyable - quite the opposite. But it was such a challenge it went beyond being an annoyance to being an experience to marvel at.

To begin with, the shower was one of those handheld thingies in a bathtub with half of a glass shield instead of a shower curtain. A sticker on the side of the glass shield warned not to stand beneath the shower when turning it on. It was therefore a good thing that you could remove the shower sprayer whatsit from the support thingamabob as otherwise there would be no way to turn the shower on without having most of your body directly under the spray.

The sticker warned about water temperature and scalding but the real danger was enormous, fire-hydrant-like water pressure and the fact that this enormous torrent was focused through a rather cheap plastic shower nozzle. In keeping with our modern age, the taps were digital. As far as water pressure went, they had two values: 0 and 1 billion.

Vicki showered first and came back into the room laughing. "Look out for the shower" was all she said.

And so I took it very carefully. I turned each of the taps the smallest increment I could, literally a degree at a time. At first there was nothing, but then, one degree more, and water burst out of them as if I'd removed a little Dutch boy from a dike.

The temperature seemed all right though. So I stepped into the shower, grasped the hand held shower thingmabobinchab (I think I'm just going to call it a "wand" from now on) and clicked the little lever that redirected the waterflow.

The wand immediately flew out of my hand and started writhing around the bottom of the tub and up against the wall. I scrabbled around on all fours trying to trap it and received several nasty blows to the head and other important bits of the body. The whole while the wand blasted water all over the bathroom and myself. In a panic, I hit the lever again and the wand fell dormant to the bottom of the tub.

I now tried putting it in the support whatchacallit. I flicked the lever and the same thing happened. The wand took on a life of its own and had to be subdued by killing its source of evil power.

You may assume that I was irritated and angry at this point but you would be wrong. I was simply amazed and a bit amused. And now it was a challenge. Other people must have mastered this shower and so would I.

I grasped the wand tightly in both hands, then leaned forward and carefully nudged the shower lever with my knee. The wand immediately tried to leap free but I managed to control it. Now that it knew who was the more powerful, more sentient being, the wand was tamer. I was able to direct it with only one hand and soap up my nasty bits with the other.

I continued to soak the rest of the room, however, because the pressure was so great it shot out of the back end of the wand as well as through the nozzle. I tried covering up this back spray with my hand but I almost dropped it again so soon gave up.

A short while later the job was done and I turned off all the taps and switches and spent the next ten minutes drying as much of the room as I could with the towels that we had.

In fairness, I should point out that the rest of our hotel room held no surprises and was, in fact, quite lovely with a big four poster bed and if I'd just taken a bath instead of a shower I would have nothing bad to say about the place.

And the christening was lovely. The Canon from Cantrememberwhere did the service and he was an entertaining old git who sat down at the piano and played an impromptu song partway through the ceremony. Afterwards there was tea and beer and nibbles at one of the grandmothers' house and it was all very pleasant. And I suppose, in a way, my experience in the shower was just God's way of making sure I was properly baptised myself before I went to the ceremony.

Posted by YandaMan at 8:38 AM | Comments (2)

January 5, 2004

New Year's in Norfolk

(more pics)

My crazy landlord proved his craziness once again by taking myself and my charming spouse out to the country for New Year's. We stayed in a gorgeous old B&B that started life 650 years ago as a monk's college. It's called College Farm and is in the middle of Norfolk in a tiny village called Thompson. Check out the pictures. It's gorgeous!

It is run by a delightful 80 year old lady named Lavender who seemed completely impervious to cold. We were there for three days and despite the fact it was bloody freezing in the house she tottered around in her bare feet the entire time.

Despite the chilliness of the place, we had a fantastic time. The house was everything I'd always dreamed an English B&B could be. I suppose that includes the inclement indoor weather now that I think about it.

For New Year's Eve we went to the only pub in the village, the Chequers, which had fantastic food and a bit of a New Year's disco after dinner. We ate too much, drank too much, and danced too much. Then we stumbled home in the pouring rain and sleet with the help of my new magic phone which has a torch built into it. It was nice to see some genuine darkness again. The sleet was less welcome, especially by my landlord who complained at the top of his lungs literally without pause the entire 20 minutes it took us to struggle back to the B&B. It was truly an impressive performance.

Some time during the night the sleet turned to snow and we woke to find the grounds a beauteous white – a lovely start to the New Year.

The day after, we went horseback riding at a place called Middle Farm. Sinead is an experienced rider but the rest of us had only been on horses once before (on separate occasions) so it was all pretty basic. We did get to do a little bit of trotting and had a small ride around the farm, but that was about it. I was hoping to herd some cattle or chase some foxes or something. Oh well, Maybe next time.

Posted by YandaMan at 11:51 PM

July 28, 2003

Bike Update - A Dearth of Cupcakes

My friend James, despite sponsoring me a cupcake a km for my recent charity bike ride to Southend, has paid me in cash instead. It's a disappointment, frankly. Still, I suppose the British Heart Foundation may not have looked too kindly on a donation of several dozen obesity-inducing dainties.

According to his suspect financial figuring, one cupcake is worth 10p. The man has obviously never eaten at Starbucks. Still, it was a generous gesture and I shouldn't quibble. All told I managed to raise £106.63. Wha-hey!

Here are some pics of the adventure.

Posted by YandaMan at 6:22 PM

July 13, 2003

Bike Update - Southend

Hee! Hee! I made it. James owes me at least 92.26 cupcakes. Or, rather, he owes them to the British Heart Foundation. Upon arrival we were greeted by these cheerful folks. The British can be extremely odd.

Now to find a seaside pub serving the biggest Sunday Lunch in Christiandom.

Here are the rest of the photos from the trip.

Posted by YandaMan at 2:46 PM | Comments (0)

Bike Update - Hullbridge - Good News

Crisis averted. John found his contact lens. A couple of ants had knicked it and were using it as a beach umbrella. Damn Essex Ants. Fortunately, John was able to get it back due to the magnifying effect of the lens rather reversing the umbrella effect. The Essex Ants are no more.

Posted by YandaMan at 1:52 PM

Bike Update - Hullbridge - Bad News

Crisis! John has lost a contact lens at km 77. He'll have to do the last 16km completely blind.

Posted by YandaMan at 1:36 PM | Comments (0)

Bike Update - Mountnessing

Just arrived Mountnessing at the 39 km mark. It's interesting to note that the typical cyclist's body on this ride is the inverse of that of the typical Tour rider's. There is a great preponderance of large-bellied men with little scrawny legs. How the Hell did they make it up to summit of fearsome Mountnessing?

Posted by YandaMan at 10:47 AM

July 12, 2003

Tour de Essex

I'm off on a charity bike ride tomorrow: London to Southend for the British Heart Foundation. It's 58 miles (93km) in the broiling sun -- a bit like doing the Tour de France, except compacting it all into just one day (as well as making it slightly shorter and not quite so hilly and maybe, just maybe, a tad slower).

I put out a call amongst friends and colleagues for sponsorship and have so far received:
£5 in cash
promises of about another £20
a pledge of 31p per km
a pledge of one cupcake per km

It strikes me as a bit perverse to donate a bunch of sugary dessert items to the British Heart Foundation but I suppose it's the thought that counts.

You too can sponsor me if you wish. Use the button below to donate via PayPal. I promise to pass on any money raised thereby to the BHF.

Or contact me directly and arrange some other form of payment. This might be a particularly good approach if you are planning to sponsor me with foodstuffs or other non-currency items.

Please note that that the more money (and cupcakes) I get in sponsorship, the less I'll look like a friendless tightwad to the organisers of this event.

I realise that, as always, this plea may seem to come a bit late and to a very tiny audience, but, hey, at least I can fool myself that I tried and sleep better because of it.

Posted by YandaMan at 11:28 PM

September 21, 2002

Alice and Oliver's Wedding

Some far away pics of the wedding party alongside of the church. For some reason I always feel uncomfortable taking pictures at events like these so I have to start far away and build my courage. Creates suspense, though, doesn't it?
"The Steeple and the Brother in Law" Sounds a bit like an Agatha Christie novel. The guy on the right is Dave who helped break Alice's family in, wedding-wise. He married one of Alice's sisters. I'm ashamed to say I can't remember her name. Dave also spun the tunes at the Reception, and fine funky tunes they were too.
And, finally, some of the principal performers...
The dude in the hat was the best man. His name is Chris. It's a fine name and he's an amusing man. The girl with the flowers was a bridesmaid. Again, I have no idea what her name is. Maybe I was taking pictures of the wrong wedding. I expect Alice might know who she is.
Immediately after the ceremony, we ran off to the Bardswell barn to drink champagne, listen to a couple of brief and entertaining speeches and eat cake, before having a bit of a pause to gather steam for the reception proper (which I didn't take any pictures of because I forgot the camera, sorry).
New to married life, Alice and Oliver had no idea which kitchen utensil to use for what.
Us, in our finery, popping back to the hotel for a bit a refresher between courses of champagne.
Relaxing in our palatial room at the Royal Hotel, Mundesley. Note the Advanced Entertainment system which Victoria is demonstrating.

Posted by YandaMan at 11:55 PM

The Sea at Mundesley

This is the beach at the town we stayed in for Alice and Oliver's wedding. Quite pretty. And not nearly as many tourists as in Blanes. Might have something to do with the North Sea wind or maybe just the lack of good tapas in the neighbourhood. Not sure.

Posted by YandaMan at 12:00 PM

August 17, 2002

Trip to Spain: Dover

Vicki is pleased to see the White Cliffs of Dover, and we haven't even left the country yet.

Posted by YandaMan at 3:59 PM

Trip to Spain - South Mills

First Stage in the trip to Spain: hang around a big truck stop on the motorway North of London and defy the laws of Physics.

Posted by YandaMan at 12:53 PM