12 July 2010 Happiness

Posted on July 15, 2010

“Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence”

~Aristotle

I got lost and was almost late for the wedding, Jacques forgot his socks, Ginnie forgot her deodorant at the house and her bouquet at the hotel because she somehow ended up with a hotel full of 8 people with her watching two boys as they went nuts play-fighting in suits over Star Wars, it started to rain right as the ceremony began, and the mother of the bride showed up at 330 for a 330 ceremony leaving the bride in a car outside behind a bush, and the groom standing alone at the alter.

And yet, it was absolutely the most perfect day ever. And I mean that as sincerely as I can possibly say. The delay gave her step father time to get settled in (he arrived in a wheelchair as he’s been in quite ill and in hospital for weeks, but was let out for good behaviour and to see the wedding), and gave me a chance to banter with the guests for a bit. Ginnie sent a cabbie back to the hotel to get her bouquet, and the amazing people at Loseley Park, ever on the spot snatched up a pretty bouquet of wildflowers right from their Royal gardens, tied them with a pretty ribbon and up the aisle she came.

And my God. I don’t have words enough to say just how beautiful she looked. It was all I could do to look at the registrar as she spoke instead of at Ginnie, and even then I stole a glance or two whenever I could.

I’d never been to a wedding in England before and had never met a registrar. She was something like a cross between a stern Mary Poppins and the flower girl character Audrey Hepburn played in My Fair Lady. She had a fierce command when instructing everyone before the ceremony, and before my eyes shifted into the sweetest woman in the world when she saw Ginnie. I kid you not, she almost cried while giving the ceremony. It was just the most charming thing in the world.

During the ceremony, she mentioned something about standing in the sun and enjoying our day, and sure enough the sun had come out and the rainy day had turned into this amazing moody blue afternoon, with high, puffy clouds laced with black and silver, breaking brilliant blue swatches that intermittently showered the golden sun down onto everything and everyone. I listened to the rest of her kind and meaningful words, repeated them in earnest, took the ring from the ever brilliant Mr Jacques’ tiny hand, put those gleaming diamonds on to Ginnie’s finger and longed to be out under the sky with her and all our lovely friends. So many smiling faces and warm hearts in one place, I can’t tell you how overwhelming that is. I have never felt so blessed.

Moments later I kissed the bride, or rather the bride kissed me, and after signing all the right papers with our witnesses, Van all the way from California for me, and Emma, Ginnie’s life-long friend for her, we were pronounced to cheers and applause that seemed so huge in that old stone house.

We slipped away for photos and while we were busy, Van arranged everyone outside with bubbles to blow for us as we exited the house. It was sweet and fun; I think most of the kids accidentally poured theirs out before we made it out but it was still this mass of smiling friends and family, and nothing could be wrong. More photos, laughter and a bit of silliness wherever we could fit it in between one moment and the next. Everyone retired to the gardens for Prossecco and a walk around the fresh flowers growing everywhere. We found our way around for photos and finally got to mingle with everyone, and just enjoy the day.

High tea followed in the Tithe Barn, where men in smart suits and ladies in summer dresses with beautiful hats (can I say just how much I loved the hats?) were treated with tiny fresh sandwiches, and pastries filled with creams and butter made right there at the Loseley farm. It was unbelievable. The staff never pushed us or made us feel rushed, they simply adjusted themselves to the flow of the day, which if you know either Ginnie or me personally, you know that’s what works best for us. If something had to be rushed, they did it, not us. So neither of us ever felt like we needed to take care of things, only enjoy the day and our guests. The kids were all seated by a wide open door, and each had a bag we’d made full of toys and treats. So as soon as they were done, out the door they went to play in the sunshine. They entertained themselves so well (all being cousins), the four boys and two girls (the sweetest little French flower girls you can imagine) ran off and took advantage of the free day. I think grandparents, aunts, uncles and my very special best “man” handled anything that came up with them and by the end of the day they were all about to pass out.

Pierre. What can I say about Ginnie’s father except that he may be the classiest and most charming man on the planet. He’d told me earlier that this was the last time he would wear a tie for anyone, and he wore it with pride, beaming the whole day and just being lovely. We’d both wanted a few words from him, a toast no more, since we all loathe speeches and he delivered. He called upon a bright pink-faced Claire to “translate” and I thought she would die thinking he would give some long speech in French, but he put on a huge devious smile and aid no more than 4 words toasting our happiness, and the champagne flowed. It was perfect.

We made the rounds, toasting everyone, lots of hug and kisses and well-wishes from everyone as evening guests began to arrive. The staff had been slowly cooking a hog on a spit back behind the barn and the smells were starting to waft around the grounds making everyone hungry. Right on time the food came out, wine flowed, and we slipped easily into the evening. Dinner was fantastic. Slow roasted pork, vegetarian kebobs, grilled potato wedges, bread and a few kinds of salad and pasta, then our cake and their fresh ice cream served in tiny pots from a basket to anyone who hadn’t already taken the dance floor, including my new wife. We skipped a lot of the traditional things, like throwing the garter (there was no room for one in that beautiful dress), the bouquet toss, etc., and moved right into partying. The DJ kept the girls (and a few brave men willing to get into the mix of all those heels) on the floor until we exited around 11, running through the arches of all those people who celebrated the day with us. Hands to be shaken, and so many kisses I think we were both wearing 40 shades of lipstick by the time we got to our waiting car.

We slipped off into the cool evening and let the partiers finish off the night.

Moments after we got settled into the Manor for the evening the rain stared once more. It could not have been more perfect.

I’ve been swiping photos from Face Book when I can as we’re still waiting for the professional shots. so more to come!

Fish out of Water, but Swimming Along Nicely

Posted on July 3, 2010

It’s a strange phrase, fish out of water, and yet I can think of nothing more fitting. I’ve been here about two weeks and finally I’m finding my way. You’d think it would one a simple thing, no language barrier, a shared history to some degree, but I really am a stranger in a strange land. Words and phrases don’t quite always mean the same thing, and things like directions, especially when spoken quickly are something of a challenge.

That said, and taking the liberty of one final cliche (I was on a roll), I honestly don’t feel like the pilgrim in an unholy land. Quite the contrary, most people I’ve encountered have been so very, very pleasant and helpful. And while car-less (I’ve been searching endlessly) I’ve had a great opportunity to walk just about everywhere I can in the local town and enjoy being on the ground, which is something I have always enjoyed. It’s always given me a sense of the town, a feel for the layout and people and that’s been nice.

I finally did find a car, though after a few encounters with less than admirable customer service (really, you don’t want to come in off the golf course to sell me this car when I have cash and drove an hour to get here like I said I would? Hm, well, ok. Oh look! Another one right down the road from someone else! Yay!). So, I bought the other one and have begun the challenge of my full-fledged assault on the DVLA, which is a lot like the bureaucrat office in Beetle Juice. Let the games begin.

Life at home has been a sort of challenging bliss, which is more than I could have hoped for. The little man is a burst of happy energy, ready to tackle each new day like a Spartan on the battlefield fighting for his honour and people, and the Mrs-to-be is fantastic beyond words. They make me feel welcome, though I think it’s all just as new and challenging to them as it is to me, which I think is good. I think it mans we all take it seriously and want things to work out so we try, we make the effort and learn each other’s ways. It’s new for us all, and worth every effort. Each day I wake up ready for it, and each evening I retire thankful for it.

Not long now til the wedding. I’m not nervous, though it’s definitely a stressful thing and it makes for long days, especially for her. Work all day, planning and details to think through all night. We’re both really looking forward to things settling down. And we’re both really, really looking forward to the big day. I can’t wait to meet so many people who think so much of her, and for Van. my friend who’s coming halfway round the world just to be there. She’ll be the best man a man could ask for.

12 June 2010

Posted on June 12, 2010

VINCENT: How did Marsellus and her meet?
JULES: I dunno, however people meet people.

And the next thing you know, you’re moving to England to be with her. However you met her. See you in 5 days, London.

March 2010

Posted on March 24, 2010

And I would Walk 500 Miles, and I…

Posted on December 27, 2008

Or maybe jut 6 or so.

I set out this morning after staying up a little late and sleeping in like the vacation bum I’m happily becoming to see the Queen. It was a bit overcast with a cold wind that cuts through you, but I’d bundled up pretty well. But first, breakfast and a trip to the store for a different power converter. I discovered all my electrical stuff was compliant with European voltage so all I really had needed to bring were a couple of adapters. The hotel provided one but I needed another so I hit a little Boots pharmacy and they had just what I needed. Then, McDonald’s for a quick bite and off I went.

I don’t know what I was expecting with the Palace, but what I found was a pretty walk through St. James Park with people feeding squirrels from their hands, and water fowl flying all around. I can imagine this place in the spring time and what a pleasure it must be. There was an obvious lushness to it, even in winter. The Palace itself was less impressive from the outside than most of the other historical buildings around it, though there was something charming about it. I imagine inside it’s spectacular, and I could see small bits of evidence around that said it was indeed functional as the house of the royalty.

The guards you expect were present and everything I was told they would be. Still as statues even in the cold wind and something like clockworks when they chose to move. People lined up outside the steel gates to watch them stand there. The flag was flying over Buckingham and I think read somewhere that it was a sign she was home. The men with the machine guns may also have been something of an indicator. I took a few photos, headed back to the park for a cappuccino from a little vendor and then made my merry way in to the streets to get lost again. This time, intentionally.

London is such a typical mix of old and new but with a dark history behind it. So much was lost in the great fire and in war that to see an old pub or church surrounded by the examples of brutalist architecture is moving. These are places that have survived. And many of them are older than our entire country. Some of them were old when were first declared our independence from this place and there’s something remarkable about all of that. I made my way up quiet alleys away from the throngs of tourists and professional shoppers and just walked. Narrow cobblestone alleys met modern asphault and few buildings seemed to stand alone, unconnected from neighbors. I wondered about this and whether it had something to do with space or strength of design, but in most areas in the inner city, homes are all one long stream of buildings. I’ve seen that in other large cities as well, so perhaps it’s not so strange. It probably started on this continent and made it’s way to America,

I wound my way back out of an alley and turned to face a beautiful old church that turned out to be Westminster Abbey. I hadn’t gone looking for landmark sites, they’re just everywhere. I decided to come back this direction after dark and see what it looked like then as well. Back to the hotel to warm up and then off again, this time for a bit longer jaunt.

I headed right through the Horse Guard toward Westminster Bridge, The Clock Tower (affectionately referred to as Big Ben, after its builder, but officially The Clock Tower), the House of Parliament and the London Eye. Venders sold roasted peanuts, sausages and other wares all along the streets and everywhere, people moved in those masses again, though better than in the shopping districts. From there I walked down the bank of the Thames, along Thames Path past the Eye (beautiful at night) and on all the way down to the Tower Bridge. It ws a bit sketchy at times, with dark alleys, unlit paths and in some places, no one else to be seen. I read the next day in the paper that knifings in London were at an all-time high…something I’m glad I didn’t read beforehand. I did see a few characters up to the usual night time no good, but most people ignored me. I imagine I look as sketchy as the rest.

The walk was long in the 30 degree weather, though and the cold chill was knifing me far more than any thug, and at that point was really more dangerous. I could start to feel my legs getting stiff and a soreness was setting into my feet. I’ve been walking almost non-stop over the past several days…far more than I normally do. I crossed one of the bridges and headed back the way I’d come. I actually had no idea where I was, only that I was heading back in the general direction of everything. There were few buses at the hour and in that location so on I walked. I wasn’t miserable, just worn.

I’m glad I walked. Sometimes, you see the simplest and most extraordinary things down low and slow on the street when everyone else is flying by. Some short time before I’d started off on my journey, the same path had been taken by another. And that person had a message to leave for anyone who’d read. The first was a small heart drawn in chalk inside a small stone square of the walkway. And then another. Then 4 in a pattern. Every few meters there would be a small note, things like “Relax, nothing is under control,” and “You are perfect as you are.” Most of the messages were about peace and love, being who you are, being happy, finding happiness and unity. Nothing in the preaching line, and nothing negative. There was something simple and charming about it all and it made me smile and forget I was uncomfortable as I would look for the next and the next. All in all, they stretched more than a mile. I was the only person on the street for most of the walk, other than the artist who couldn’t have been far ahead. The street they ended on was the street I needed to turn on, the one that took me back to Trafalgar Square and eventually my hotel. I rested for a bit, and went right back out to have dinner and a couple of nice glasses of pinot grigio at an Italian place not far from the hotel.

Not a bad day at all.

God Save the Queen (and me from this Cab)

Posted on December 26, 2008

After a fast ride on Eurostar and an even faster, plummeting adventure in a London cab I arrived at the Sofitel London, St. James hotel, on Waterloo Place, a minute’s walk from St. James Park, and a few minutes from practically everything else. Strategically, it’s an excellent location and really it’s an excellent hotel, probably the nicest service of my trip.

I set out first thing, hand-drawn map in hand to find a Barclay’s ATM and get some Pounds. People really do seem to detest credit cards here so cash is the name of the game. I’d exchanged the Euros I had at the station to pay for my Cab ride of Doom and had only a few pence left. I’ve discovered that cash on hand is indeed very helpful. Also, if mugged, villains don’t take plastic. Well, they may take it…but not the way you might like. Fortunately though, no one mugged me. This was probably because there were thousands of people on the streets, day-after-Christmas shopping and there was simply no room to pull out a weapon and threaten me without getting trampled underfoot.

I think I can say without negativity at all that my first impression of London was, “Wow, what a happy and joyous clusterf*ck!” I mean that in the most sincere and nicest way, though. There is a mad chaos to the heightened shopping districts and a scattered flow of human mass that was disconcerting after being in the streamlined streets of Paris, where while also chaotic, have a bizarre sense of organization to them. London, not so much. Pedestrians constantly ignore the lights and get honked at every few moments because people are zooming about (cabbies in particular) and come from directions unexpected. It’s so much of an issue that the city’s painted instructions on the ground telling you which direction to look…something I found an exceptionally good idea.

Needless to say, I got lost that first night. Signage is something of a missing person in many areas, or exists on one corner or a round about and not at all on the other 7. I think I walked around the same few blocks for a couple of hours before I realized that the stores I was having to use as landmarks were in fact on every single corner, something else to keep in mind. There is an Angus Steakhouse on every block in every direction around Piccadilly, and Pret a Manger can be found sometimes within sight of the next Pret a Manger. It turned out, I only needed to turn the corner in the opposite direction and I was back on my street. Once learned though, I was fairly free to wander.

And wander I did! I found my ATM (in the back of a money exchange place) and then walked about a mile or two around the area. I grabbed a quick dinner at Pret and then found my way back to the circus. The masses moved in swells around this traffic light or that, and sometimes on a random cue, and swept up in the flow I simply went with it.

The cold was biting, though and staying our for more than a few hours at a time was exhausting. I rarely saw a bus that wasn’t packed beyond safety and walked the entire time.I did manage to find my way back to the hotel, though and discovered the first hotel with a bathtub I could actually fit in. It was very welcome after the cold afternoon and night and I made full use of it…once I figured out the 5 knobs on the plumbing. In the morning, I’ll go see if the Queen’s about.

December 2008

Posted on December 19, 2008

As the 2008 year comes to a close, I find myself waiting for the shuttle to take me to ATL and off to Paris. I’ll be in London for a few days of the holiday season and I’m really looking forward to it. I began planning and booking this trip back in June and honestly, the time has flown right by! I hope my time in the land of tea, Parliament and the Tube goes by with a little easier pace.

Right now, though…I just cannot wait. See you all on the other side of the Pond!