Playing Catch Up

It was hot but not continuously sunny. Under the part time cloud it was very steamy. I was, surprisingly, at a bit of a loss, finding four days off rather long. The solution then was to go to Southampton and catch up with photographs long on my 'to-do' list. I was a little jaded after visiting three sites with varying degrees of success and may pause before sending them to Flickr.

I remain concerned that blogger seems to contain errors and may be gaining more. Some of these are, I think, incompatibility with IE9. It might even be sending spurious indications when posted to Facebook. Ah, the joys of the internet! I still can't decide whether to rehome it again because I am not aware of any really good blogging software.

Fog and How It Clears

In the early morning mists of a summer Sunday morning, a deer ran across a road. Not just any road and, frankly, some way from anything qualifying as open countryside. A residential road in Lee on Solent; ran across and melted mysteriously, magically into gardens and seemingly through a wall in so doing. Was it lost, frightened? It seemed a metaphor for our existence. We are all a little lost or frightened at times and that anomalous animal symbolised for a moment our fears and, in its disappearance, how they too might disappear with the rising of a new day.

The new day was reluctant in its arrival. I had been to see my Mum and returned to Greg with an unexpected proposal of garden visits. By chance I had discovered that it was an NGS (National Gardens Scheme) open day and identified two local properties as well as an Alverstoke garden whose existence had not previously impinged on my consciousness. We went to Carisbrooke Road in Rowner and immersed ourselves in a beautiful garden. It has to be a hobby of the heart to be that well conceived and looked after. Greg photographed flowers which the macro function on his camera handles very well and I turned my attention to less obvious subjects which will appear in Flickr when I am not writing this. We went to the second property in Lee but found that it would not open until 2pm. A brief servicing stop at home and then we went to Alverstoke for the remarkable Crescent Gardens. We went via the shore. Throughout the morning the ominous sound of foghorns had suggested the persistence of poor visibility across the Solent and thus it was. In fact we moved between two lands; in one only hundreds of metres onshore bright sunshine fell whilst the fog which clung dourly to the water dared to curl and swirl tentatively onto land whilst all the while facing the retreat which would come with the later afternoon. Few it seemed were deterred by the conditions. Yachts came and went in the mists and powered vessels, jetskis and motorboats raced at speeds unabated by their grey surroundings. On land, the Bayside Cabin Cafe furnished another good meal. There were dozens of people there and hundreds in the area. We lunched after Crescent Gardens which are very beautiful and intended to proceed to Spindles (the second NGS property) via the Lee seafront. I had intended to observe if not actually particpate in the anti-Tesco protest but we were temporarily overtaken by events. A passing cyclist who happened to be a motor mechanic pointed out that we had a large bolt in the front nearside tyre of our virtually new car. It had not deflated - even if I did at this point - and, after another pitstop, we went to Kwikfit. Thank goodness they are open on Sunday. They are, I learned, open every day except Christmas Day and, yes, that does include Boxing Day; I asked. A repair rather than a replacement saw us on our way and finally to Spindles. It was another beautiful garden but very popular and therefore crowded.

As we drove along the seafront the sun was driving the fog back across the Solent and the landmark Fawley chimney seemed eerily close by virtue of an optical illusion. A shallow bank persisted along Southampton Water. The Tesco protestors were being lightly observed by the police and we drove on to the airfield where I snatched some shots which is all one can do without accompanying someone on business.

Some clouds have drifted across my life of late but the cold front of adversity is being met by my own occlusion of studied nonchalance. I shall even reserve a warm front for my few true friends but there will be no depression.

And They Shall Fear My Tread (1)

Today's supermarket scam seen in Tesco Extra, Havant. Subsidiary and partially obscured display Tetley teabags 240s, £3 a packet. On the main aisle where all Tetley sizes were together, no shelf edge ticket for the 240s promotion but large eye catching promotion for 160s - 2 for £6. So, to summarise then, that would be 320 teabags for £6 or, erm, 480 teabags for £6; that takes some thought doesn't it? Remedial action, theatrical demonstration to Produce Manager who visibly winced. He should; I waited for the end of a meeting of 10 managers - that's about the same number of people who were on checkouts at the time. Go figure. Yup, I know I'm an asshole but I am an asshole with proper motivation and a heart in the right place. It is actually wrong to want things done properly and fairly?

There were small clusters of people on Havant's pavements today. They were all affected by the same fraud perpetrated by banks and building societies across the country. Yes, it's the old 9.30 opening for 'training' trick. Having a nice chat and a cup of coffee is not 'training'. And 9.32 isn't 9.30. If you're going to open late, do so on time, thank you.

The Hyundai i10, a small car driven by people with low budgets and marginal driving skills. I don't know if there is a hybrid version but I am fairly sure that the one in front of us this morning runs on 4 AA batteries - which needed recharging.



Today's prize for sheer magnificence, the day after I passed my medical, goes to Marks and Spencer All Butter Cheese Twists.

Mourning Sickness

All death is to be mourned. Often, the perceived or even actual nature of a person in life can shape or subordinate that mourning but perhaps it is not for mere humans to judge at such a moment. I can not say I mourned the departure of, for example, Saddam Hussein but I do deprecate the unseemly celebration which accompanied the event and the accompanying endorsement of judicial killing. You have seen my comments on execution before; the death penalty is wrong. Daeth in any form can never be a cause for celebration.

Most of us enter and leave this life unnoticed; I know I shall. Some have the distinction of making an impression in the lives of others and often for good reason. This weekend took two such people from us. Of course it is judgemental, even if positively so, to venture such comment but my life and thoughts were enriched by both. No man is perfect and I am sure that Saturday's departures had flaws but both impressed me in different ways. Brian Haw was the anti-war campaigner who defied state-sponsored oppression and, of course, war in Parliament Square. How strange that someone could be vilified in official circles for opposing war. Are there people in the second decade of the 21st century who are pro war?

In an entirely different orbit was Clarence Clemons. Best known as the extraordinary saxophonist in the E-Street Band, Clemons' viscerally memorable solos and stage presence will live on. Springsteen has now lost Clemons and Danny Federici and the band is diminished for those losses but no more so than our blue planet itself.

It is so easy to read and swiftly dismiss the many reports of deaths great and small which populate the daily news. When my colleague Ben posted on the untimely demise of Ryan Dunn I had to look him up as I am not a 'Jackass' fan. Therein lay a tiny lesson. Perhaps we should take a moment to note all deaths and learn the meaning of loss in the lives of others as well as our own. Perhaps then we would be better to live with.

Reise til Norge - Day 7 - At Sea

A Review of P&O and Oceana.

Champagne and chocolate greeted us in a good sized and well appointed cabin but these things were needed to soothe after a protracted and poor check-in experience. With experience of only one P & O ship it is going to be difficult in this review to differentiate between what might be specific to Oceana and what might be generic to the company. I felt a lack of warmth from the crew from the moment we boarded and service continued to lack an edge throughout the voyage. I should say though that where I did complain on three occasions (and about three different subjects) my name and face were remembered and I subsequently received a more personal approach. The weak point of the cruise was definitely the food which was relentlessly mundane although often more flavoursome than its appearance suggested. Menus remained incoherent and it was very difficult to imagine how one thing would go with another. Drinks waiters in the self-service restaurant were inattentive especially in the first half of the cruise. Restaurant service (in the Ligurian) was mechanical more than enthusiastic but mostly efficient. The general standard of maintenance was poor with several things visibly broken and remaining so for 24hrs or more. The casino, an undeniable money-spinner on any cruise, was dull and poorly equipped with several non-functioning machines. They do not meet industry standard insofar as they continue to use tokens instead of paper. In most respects, P & O do not compete with Princess, NCL, Celebrity or even Holland America.
The shows, however, were a different matter. The Headliners Theatre Company is really pretty good and most of the performances offered pure escapism. The singing and dancing was energetic and accomplished. The artists, whom one could meet after every show, were extremely engaging. The ships photographers were also quite personable. Internet service on any cruise is always rather hit and miss and this was no exception. There was a server upgrade on the last day of the cruise but as soon as people tried to access the rehosted service it collapsed under high demand. A cap of 60 is perhaps within the technological capacity of the environment but potentially inappropriate for passenger numbers of 2000+. The itinerary was excellent and the structure of it optimised opportunities for both activity and leisure. I enjoyed all our ports.
I am in no hurry to use P & O again; it seems to attract a clientele who might be more comfortable in southern Spain or one of the cheaper Turkish resorts. I shall listen to reports from other P & O users but my bookings are likely to be more up-market in the future.

Reise til Norge - Day 6 - Bergen

It was a very beautiful morning for our arrival in Bergen and I went up on deck early to watch as much of the approach as possible. There had seemed no end to daylight. It was well after 1030pm last night when we passed ‘Marco Polo’ and I photographed her. Ships that cross in the night. This morning we passed under the Askøy Bridge but I did not see anyone who might be Tom Børslid. It was warm and sunny for the first half of the day and we had a mostly good time, self-guided, but there were disappointments. The park containing Lille Lungagårdvann suffers from litter like we saw in Stavanger. Bergen station has to be one of the dullest I have been to. Several things are in need of repair. It is based on a classic grand European trainshed and the sheer volume of infrastructure suggests to one that it can only be viably run with some sort of substantial service which there is not. The station came to life for the impending departure of an Oslo train which was evidently very popular. Walking was pleasant enough but, as in so many places, views are often cluttered. We were minded to go on the funicular Fløyenban but the queue was too long. We then stuck to the old town area and some of its shops and sights. We went in MacDonald’s so Greg could use the internet and I had a meal. It was the freshest I have had in a long while and significantly cheaper than Burger King in Stavanger. We walked to Puddefjordsbroen (bridge) from which I was able to take today’s photographs of Oceana.  Bergen is an expansive port and I was able to photograph the other two cruise ships only when we sailed. They were Hurtigruten’s Nordnorge and Holland America’s Ryndam. Cloud came over during the afternoon as forecast albeit without rain and we did not mind spending the rest of the time on board. There were substantial internet problems and I am very keen to get back to something more reliable. The evening Tex-Mex buffet was pretty incoherent. The evening show ‘Encore’, from West End shows, was excellent. We could tell from our seats that we had sailed into a storm. No long sunset this evening but the roughest seas of the cruise – which thankfully don’t bother me one bit. We should be at Southampton at 7am on Saturday and home as soon as we can collect our car.

Reise til Norge - Day 5 - Olden

I got up early to watch our cruise in the Nord Fjord. It is a much gentler place than the Sognefjord with greener and more sloping sides. Our arrival in Olden was sedate and involved manoeuvring around Ibero’s Grand Mistral which would be tendering. Olden is pretty but small and was under the predictable layer of mountain hugging cloud. We had a leisurely breakfast and went ashore but soon after that it started raining heavily which did not encourage exploration. We went to the Oceana’s internet cafe as much for power as connection. We had been warned that there would probably be little or none in the fjords. That provided another excuse for the absence of the already elusive internet manager. The condition of the ship and overall level of service are not what we expect – I had been warned – and I doubt we would use this lower end of the market again. It is not at all a bad thing to have limited access to the internet and I am enjoying some sort of detox because I spend too much time online at home. Having said that, I am going to have a massive Flickr backlog and that is also due, in part, to the need to browse meticulously to research my notes.
With Jack Reacher safely in Wisconsin, I have moved on to the highly skilled Michael Dobbs’ ‘The Reluctant Hero’. It is, to use a cliché, a page turner. That kept me occupied until we could go out again. It was a very pleasant walk to the few shops of Olden but it did start raining again. The air was palpably clearer than any we are used to and a small part of ones soul was drawn towards the tranquillity of the area. I think though that its attractions would soon pall for the mildly hyperactive. We went back to the ship at lunchtime and secured a rare place in Cafe Jardin. I think the Marco Pierre White connection is, strictly speaking, for dinner only (evening meal, David) and he probably should be careful what he puts his name to as it is there all day for people to see. I immediately homed in on a salad of chick peas, feta and medhool dates which visibly contained no dates. Normally a man of great patience and legendary tolerance, I hate incorrect menu descriptions (and misused culinary terms). I gently drew attention to the date deficiency and the remedial action was amusing to behold. The maitre d’ had laughably suggested that they might be ‘very finely chopped’. My retort was to request an electron microscope; ‘finely chopped’....?; they were invisible because they weren’t there! We chose very different main dishes. Greg’s Coq au Vin; we always have high expectations of Coq. My cheese and pickle baguette was another matter with the pickle so little in evidence it might have been vapour. Perhaps they did not wish to offend the sophisticated palate; perhaps they had not noticed that there are none beyond our cabin. The patisserie chef has a lot to learn and the first thing is to much reduce his/her use of gelatine.

It is regrettable not to say inexplicable that ship security is now, cosmetically at least, similar to that at airports. The problem is that ship security staff (not just on Oceana) make airport security staff look like Mastermind candidates. They have no real idea what they are looking for or why and I am not surprised. Boarding a ship is not at all like boarding an aeroplane. The potential outcomes of so-called security lapses are entirely different. We returned to the internet cafe for the desk space and I got my photographs and blog draft up to date. Indian food in the buffet was reasonably good. The evening show ‘Simply The Best’ was very energetic but requires more practice and, as we reached the open sea on an amazingly beautiful evening, the internet was back on.

Reise til Norge - Day 4 - Flåm and Voss

I awoke to a sixth form geography lesson, a geology module on a field-trip I never did. We cruised Sognefjord and it was mostly grey overhead but it was still worth seeing. There were waterfalls of course and isolated huts reached only, one presumes, by water. There were, however, habitations higher up reached probably by some sort of road or track and, again close to the shore, some small towns. When we walked on the open deck it did all bring a smile to my face. It rained heavily as we arrived in Flåm but it was perhaps some sort of summer morning ritual as sun appeared soon afterwards and fell across the head of the fjord. Today’s tour was called ‘Norway in a Nutshell’ and that, I think, is what it gave us. Everything was very well organised and there was some bright weather until mid-afternoon when it rained relentlessly. This is not surprising given Norway’s west coast rainfall figures. The scenery is spectacular but can look very tedious in poor weather. Our stop on the Flåm Railway at Kjosfossen was, however, overwhelming and simply made me cry. It is the most magnificent waterfall and the sun shone behind it; breathtaking is not an adequate word. A train journey (we made two; Flåm – Myrdal and Myrdal – Voss) is good for sightseeing but not necessarily ideal for photography. There were few opening windows and plenty of reflections. The late snow suggested that some is year-round. Voss is, apparently, famous for skiing and extreme sports. Being an exponent of neither, I did not know that. It was quiet today but had enough delights for me on a decent length stay. Lunch in Park Hotel was really quite good. Our tour buses were Swedish and it was unclear to me whether they had been brought in to augment limited local resources. We also saw tour buses from Latvia, Estonia and Ukraine. We stopped at another extraordinary waterfall, Tvindefossen. I was shocked to learn how recent the good part of the road network is especially that in tunnel. Much dates from only the 1980s and 90s. It was a tiring day and a fortuitously structured programme allows us to wind down for the rest of the holiday with an independent port day in Olden, a short tour in Bergen and a sea day.

Reise til Norge - Day 3 - Stavanger

It was a beautiful morning as we arrived at Stavanger but, unfortunately, it did not last anything like as long as in the forecast delivered by the deputy Captain. Stavanger is about the sea and there is plenty of marine interest on the approaches and in the surrounding areas including what I took to be an oil rig under construction. I later decided it was lying across a barge and wished I knew more. Certainly the industry support vessels are in evidence. There are ships galore for the relevant groups on Flickr but my eye was caught by what was on a ship in the neck of the harbour. The motor yacht ‘Ice’ with Cayman Islands registry had a New Zealand registered (ZK-HLH) Eurocopter EC135 on board. She is a charter yacht so I don’t know that it was anyone well known visiting – as the truly wealthy are often anonymous – but I can be fairly sure that they have more money than I do. At this point I should be able to insert a picture of the helicopter (which I have posted on FB) but that is just one function of Blogger which has inexplicably degraded. When I first noticed toolbar accessible functions locking off, I Googled (ironically enough) and found that others have the same problem(s), so I don’t feel quite so aggrieved. I can only assume it is to do with the combination of Blogger and one or more of IE9, AOL or Windows. It all means that I am quite likely after this vacation to have to take a short break and then, once again, find a new home for my blog. I might even have to start my own website, a prospect which quite frightens me and about which I understand less than 1% of what I probably should.


I felt that Norway’s fourth largest town was waking a little slowly and discovered that 10am is a common opening time. However, it was also a public holiday and many places did not open at all. Cruise schedules cannot easily avoid the many different holidays around the world but this has happened before and I think there should be more onus on the cruise company to let you know, certainly on arrival, given the extent to which they sell the virtues of a destination. We had determined that we could stay within a very walkable radius of our mooring. I did not need a scenic tour as I figure our three days of fjord cruising will cover that. The helicopter took up some of my time in the port area as they were moving it and looked as though they might be preparing it for flight although that did not materialise.

It was still well before 10am but a bank of grey cloud was moving steadily in and that was an end to the sunshine and a change of lighting for our photography. There is a pleasant lake park, Breiavatnet, with a fountain and we circumnavigated this to the station. I can only wonder what Stavanger station might once have looked like because, today, it is a bit like Birmingham New Street or Euston albeit on a much smaller scale. Most of the track away from the concourse end is hidden gloomily beneath the expanse of a concrete roof. There appear to be frequent trains though the 1033 to Oslo did not seem to have attracted a huge crowd – perhaps people fly? There are sculptures everywhere but not all are especially photogenic and some have been vandalised. It would appear that social evils are here as everywhere as there is also a noticeable litter problem. The Old Town, Gamle Stavanger, seems to me a little fraudulent. The original houses might well be ‘old’ but they are sensibly protected from the region’s winter by double glazing. I am not sure that they do Grade II listed buildings in Old Stavanger. The depth of the harbour waters must be impressive as Oceana was moored at town centre quayside.

We sought the opportunity to use free internet first at Burger King then Stavanger Museum. At the burger joint where otherwise familiar burgers were TWICE the price of England we were politely told that ‘free’ internet was only for those who had purchased meals. At up to ten pounds for a sandwich I think I would also want a campaign medal. Meanwhile, the canny crew members were arrayed on public benches outside with their laptops open. It is a poignant sight because the seamen, many Filipino, are away for long periods with few precious opportunities to contact friends and family. The museum was a friendly place and, unusually, had a secure network. I started my Flickr uploads but was not comfortable without doing the meticulous research (for my notes) and had a beastly headache which curtailed my efforts and made me feel faint as we rejoined the ship.
Perhaps because of the holiday restaurant closures, the ship was not as quiet as it might have been on a port day and lunch was a bit crowded. At this point, I would record that there may well be as many sticks, crutches and wheels on board as legs but then my cousin would find me even more (potentially) rude and intolerant so I shall put this in hidden text [I wonder if it will work]....No? Oh dear. Whatever one’s level of social benevolence, this is one of the older cruises we have been on and has a clientele who perhaps do not mind the relentlessly British food. It remains adequate and often tasty but poorly presented and appears in poorly crafted menus – meaning, for example, you wonder exactly how the vegetables on offer would actually go with the main courses.

Afternoon rain was limited; afternoon sleep fought off my near-migrainous headache and the cloud retreated to medium levels. Small Stavanger is going to make Flåm and Olden look tiny but the stop was a good one and I am anxious to get the time to process and upload my photographs to show that. As we sailed away some rain fell, enough to drive us from the deck. From the restaurant a solitary wind turbine and, later, a strange fluorescent marker (a wreck perhaps) caught the eye. Dinner was fine and I tried the ‘Regional Dish’ which was tasty. We went to the show again and it really was very good. ‘Stop In The Name Of Love’, was Motown themed and cleverly put together in ‘Mamma Mia’ style. The energy of the dancers who perform most nights of the cruise and rehearse is unbelievable. The show was highly escapist and is absorbing enough to blot out any worries from outside. Now as we transit misty seas, I am looking forward to two train rides tomorrow.

Reise til Norge - Day 2 - At Sea

It was a bright if cool day on the North Sea and we learned that we had left behind much wetter weather in the UK. We also heard that they have not had this weather in the North Sea for two weeks. We were 30 miles east of the UK coast and our passage took us close to oil fields which were fascinating. To watch the sea and the horizon is a bit like looking at the radar without the strips; where is everybody going from and to? Each journey important to its crew, their families and employers; from one place to another, criss-crossing the oceans.
Lunch was dull, a steak and kidney pie having little flavour and only the mashed potato being well done. I slept a lot, an important restorative feature of sea days. In my more vigorous moments I lived vicariously the life of Jack Reacher, someone I could never actually be. Tonight was black tie and most people made the effort but the food was a bit humdrum again. My salmon was acceptable; my sea bass was a sardine impersonator at least as far as size. I was planning to record that service is cohesive but a waiter at our station seemed to get stranded on his own and things broke down a bit. We felt a bit foolish later when we went to the wrong theatre and saw ‘Gotta Sing, Gotta Dance’ instead of the comedian. However, it was a well choreographed, well performed, high energy show and it is remarkable that there are six shows during the cruise. We emerged from the theatre to be reminded just how far north we are already with the sun still well established in the sky. I am looking forward to arriving in Stavanger but was disturbed that port details including excursion meeting times etc. had not been promulgated by what, frankly, would be bedtime for many.

Reise til Norge - Day 1 - Southampton

With uncertainty about the well being of our car still in my mind, we were herded by a G4S retiree/reject into a toiletless shed for the longest cruise check-in queue I have yet experienced. Our wait of over 30 minutes gave us time to confirm that there was no-one on board we would actually want to talk to; it's a shame we'll have to dine with them. The large representation of the hard of moving should find the fjords challenging. On board, the ship does look nice and our cabin - we forgot we had ordered a mini-suite - is excellent and spacious. As we thrust away from the quay, I began to doubt that our location above the propellers was ideal. Still, we'll never be far away from the next screw. The first impression of the food was that it is visually poor but tasty. The internet manager was not available as advertised and no-one seemed to be able to contact him. Dinner was fairly good except for portion sizes and having to sit with six other people. Dinner was served efficiently by a largely sub-continental waiting staff. The waiters were generous with people’s requests for additional food. We bought our internet packages later.

Waterside Brasserie

Perhaps wishing to adjust early to the anticipated luxury of our cruise, we decided to at eat the Waterside Brasserie, Lee on Solent. On the shore but slightly hidden, it is not as accessible as it might be. You need to know it is there. It does not have its own parking and the nearest ramp is completely unsuitable for wheelchairs. These can be safely propelled only from another access point some way away. The menu was enticing and tolerably priced. I felt virtuous to order a dressed crab salad and it was not bad but it is fair to say that the best feature of the dish was the, probably local, new potatoes. I have little experience of crab in the singular but the dark meat mix unintentionally reminded me of builders sand albeit more in appearance than texture. It was at least cheaper than my partner's salmon with fresh vegetables and that surprised me. A chocolate and chilli creme brulee was pretty spectacular with the infused heat subtle but distinct. Across the table, bread and butter pudding disappeared quickly even in a slightly over-sweet creme anglaise.

For above average food and unsurpassed Solent views, Waterside is worth a visit especially perhaps on one of these long evenings.

Food 7.5 out of 10; service 7 out of 10.

Baiting

To separate Rant from Restaurant, I am writing more than one blog entry today. This is the rant, a short one; your beans on toast won't get cold reading it.

Baiting is a common feature of supermarkets today. Unfortunately, even the Consumer Association in a recent review of supermarket tricks conceded that is difficult to prove as an intentional strategy. Nevertheless, there is no doubt in my mind. Baiting, in case you don't know, is where a retailer publicises a special offer which, in fact, is not available and anticipates that you will instead purchase a strategically located and, naturally, more expensive alternative - another size or another brand. When challenged on availability of the alleged offer they will give you all sorts of disingenuous waffle about stocking difficulties, awaiting delivery or even completely wrong information about the offer dates.

Today it was Princes Corned Beef in Tesco. Theoretically 49p off and £1.49 for a small tin. Amazingly it was out of stock but adjacent to the resulting space was Princes LEAN Corned Beef in the same size for only £2.49. Funny that. You will find countless examples of this across all the leading supermarkets.

I think we can agree that they are all master baiters.

What A Difference A Day Makes

Had I written this yesterday, the day of most of the events recorded, the prose might have been much more heated. As it was I arrived home from London exhausted and a little deflated. I like to get things done and, at a late hour, I knew I could not process all my photographs (to my satisfaction), write a blog entry and get smart on Facebook. Without my notebook I could not even have held all my thoughts from the day. I am a great list and note maker. My mind is a little overactive and thoughts sometimes get lost. The weather on Monday was unsettled but excluded an early return to Mottisfont where, it appeared, lighting would be similar to yesterday. It was time to gamble; the first gamble was that it would be brighter later and further inland. With Ai Weiwei's 'Circle of Animals' at Somerset House closing on June 26th and my Norwegian Fjord Fiesta about to intervene, it seemed important, almost urgent, to get to London. I did not want bright sunshine in the Fountain Court; the harsh shadows it causes are not conducive to good photography of sculpture. I was tempted to go all the way by train (from Havant); it was as well that we did not. We drove the familiar A3 noting that the next time we do so we shall probably benefit from the soon to be opened Hindhead Tunnel. A journey to London these days is an expensive proposition with train fares on the one hand balanced by the congestion charge, parking and probably Travelcards on the other. We both thought of the same compromise at the same time, to avoid the congestion charge and seek lower parking charges by parking outside central London and using a Travelcard to complete the journey. We chose Kingston and this, at first, brought a bonus. Parking was fairly easy albeit in a typical NCP poorly designed and maintained edifice. Our choice of location brought us across David Mach's uplifting 'Out of Order' an installation of 'tumbling' telephone boxes which will shortly appear on my Flickr photostream. The challenge in photographing something so popular is to try to do something a little different. I have at least avoided the clutter some people don't seem to mind in their pictures. When you are using the viewfinder/EVF or LCD you can not cease to be aware what is going on at the periphery of the intended image or allow oneself to concentrate on the subject itself to the exclusion of what else will appear in frame.

Time was evaporating and we stayed in Kingston for lunch at 'Little Italy' which was not busy but, I think, deserved to be. Penne Arrabiata was a degree beyond a desirable al dente but the sauce was very good. Lunch prices make this centrally located Italian restaurant worth a visit. There are, improbably, some architectural gems in Kingston which I might previously have thought a potential candidate for Betjeman's 'friendly bombs'. These range from Quebec House to the old (1864) Police Station, now in alternative use. Now we were to learn why people are reluctant to use public transport. Kingston station is well presented and maintained but the journey from it was excruciating. The loop services are not fast anyway but our progress through London's dull suburbs seemed for a while to have the alacrity of an Indian hill train. The graffiti fom Barnes inwards is as shocking and depressing as any on the notorious approaches to Paris Gare du Nord. At least we picked up speed for a while but ultimately to no avail. We ground to a halt after Vauxhall, tantalisingly close to our destination. It took about 20 further minutes to reach Waterloo with only the 2 Class 08s in the Railway Children set of the former Eurostar terminal to distract. The guard gave us frequent but futile updates - about 'earlier signalling problems' - and these provided little comfort in a train with neither intercom nor toilets. Trains were moving all around us and we seemed to have been pathed for the least available platform at the terminus. Such was the need for a toilet on arrival that there was no time to berate the staff of either Network Rail or South West Trains. Sometimes piss comes before pissed off. To my considerable surprise the barriers in the toilet were open and the 30p fee waived. I would like to think that was in deference to the desperation of the delayed arrivals but it was more likely due to the fact that another small part of NR's shabby infrastructure, the change machine, was out of order. The return journey presented us with two options; return to Waterloo which clearly would not have recovered from the inept bumblings of Network Rail or, using our still decent knowledge of London's transport options, seek an alternative route to Kingston via Richmond. Unfortunately, we did both. Waterloo, although well provided with 'Customer Service Representatives' was chaotic. Trains were running but no-one knew the exact departure time of any. It defies belief that NR do not simply reset their timetable. It is utterly meaningless to run the 16xx to Shepperton 'one hour and four minutes late'. I was able to determine from a calm but ineffectual manager who had ventured onto the concourse that there had been a major power failure much earlier at Walton-on-Thames. There was no evidence of diversity or contingency and plenty of evidence of a significant engineering failure. If airlines ran like NR they would not last five minutes. We made various connections across a typically overheated Underground to reach Richmond where we could be more confident of identifying a Kingston bound train and completing our journey. This had all taken a lot of time (I felt glad that we had not had to return to Havant by train) and we now needed supper. Pizza Hut is an established comfort zone for me and service was quick. That turned out however to be at the expense of the pizza dough. I felt that they had changed their pepperoni and not for the better but was impressed by the free unlimited salad with a main course. On balance it is a sad reflection on Pizza Hut when the strongest menu item is the tortilla chips from the salad bar. The toilet there was borderline insalubrious with an astonishgly claustrophobic cabin and a flush with the strength of a vegetarian Liberal Democrat handshake. The taps in the hand basins appeared to have been placed rather than plumbed in and rotated freely. I imagine Prince Phillip might have been able to suggest the origins of the plumber.

All this transport related trauma rather detracts from the underlying success of the day. The 'Circle of Animals' exhibit in the Fountain Court of Somerset House was well worth the trip. In truth it is the setting which is brilliantly conceived, for the zodiacal sculptures, whatever significance the oppressed Mr Ai might attribute to them, are precariously mundane with some considerably less striking than others. It is being seen together and with the fountains that makes the whole thing work although, paradoxically, the individual heads most lend themselves to striking photographs. The freedom afforded the photographer by the exhibition host contrasts poignantly with the current (presumed) living arrangements of the artist.

Between the recumbent telephone boxes of surprising Kingston and the animal guests of elegant Somerset House lay one more surprise. 'Urban Fox' at the South Bank is a smile provoking feature of a Waterloo Bridge crossing. As artful as the eponymous creature itself, it deserves a place more permanent than its construction and intent (celebrating the 1951 Festival of Britain) make likely.

As Twickenham's A316 became the dull ribbon of the M3, I silently composed the blog to come as Greg drove. Only two weeks from the longest day and where there should have been a vibrant, light evening, thick cloud seemed to reinforce the failings of the day. The task then was to place those in the context of the greater successes. With a rebuke for Network Rail only half-formed I slept grateful for art and the ability to enjoy it.

Cruel To Be Unkind.

In the evolution of the acerbic, Times columnist A A Gill is homo erectus to Clarkson's neanderthal as evidenced in their respective contributions today. Where Clarkson can be redeemingly self-deprecatory, I doubt that a man whose insecurities are illustrated by the use of his initials in lieu of his given name(s) is often given to such moments of self-examination. At the end of his weekly review of television, Gill lights briefly but pointedly on 'Talking Funny' in which, he reports, 'three American comics sat yakking matily about how comedy happens'. They were, apparently, accompanied by Ricky Gervais and Gill wonders 'who invited Gervais to a party of comedians'. [He was the programmes's producer]. This you might think just but it is, on his record, manifestly unfair. For all that he has more recently and frequently strayed beyond the bounds of comedic decency and into overtly barbed cruelty, 'The Office' and 'Extras' are undeniable masterpieces. They contained early examples of the same tendencies to cruelty but skilfully contained within the finely drawn boundaries of the acceptable.

Clarkson today admits to 'growing up' through the most improbable vehicle of a Porsche 911 or, at least, its latest incarnation. I admire Clarkson's prose though not without some concern that it is likely more crafted for an audience than the product of heartfelt opinions. His work in The Times is brilliantly entertaining but the cruder offering in last week's Sun led me to wonder if the only difference between the readerships might be that one keeps their tattoos under their sleeves. I was thinking of him today not primarily because of my breakfast reading but my later lunchtime experience at Mottisfont. I am grateful to my colleague Julian for suggesting a visit. Romance and reality had rapidly diverged when rain actually arrived. In an urban or transport setting I might have contrived some photography but the beautiful grounds of the National Trust property did not benefit from the poor light. We have to return if only to capture the extraordinary 18th century Mottisfont Plane. Today, the weather and hour combined to drive everyone to the cafe at the same time. Normally we would eschew such a queue but this time we waited to be rewarded with excellent food made with delicious local products. In the queue and at the table I had plenty of time to reflect on the company; couples between morning and evening church services, ramblers taking a day off from annoying landowners, a lot of low-cost all-weather clothing, grandchildren behaving with their grandparents much better than they would with their parents. A lot of those infuriatingly benign grins, wet on men, indicative of too much voluntary work on women and which suggest either hidden secrets or simply empty minds. People with fixed ideas of what they should enjoy but little idea of what they actually do enjoy. There I go; Gill, Clarkson, Gervais all in one and as unattractive as the worst of any of them. It's not really what I believe, just what passes through my mind and ends up in print.

Collingwood and Meriva

The silk of soft summer rain came as a comforting surprise as I scattered a little bird food after my short post-night shift sleep. I was pleased; I had actually been looking forward to the rain. Probably not as much as the gardens and fields of the south, but looking forward. The BBC forecast is notoriously inaccurate, its icons on my home page, a waste of time. The met brief at 4am had seemed to dash any hopes of rain in my area. But, yesterday, after a successful photo-shoot at Collingwood I had invited rain to provide new challenges for the camera, perhaps in b&w.

The open day at HMS Collingwood was a success both photographic and moral; the former as already stated and the latter because I am increasingly reluctant to waste the time between and after nights. It had been a challenge then to go already tired on a humid day to an inevitably crowded venue. It was crowded. Parking was well organised and entry well facilitated with only light handed security. Only the ominous presence of a Police CCTV van jarred slightly as we entered, a reminder of surveillance Britain but perhaps a low-key way of providing the security needed at a military establishment on a public day. I thought it might be being used NPR-style on people so that if the Stubbington chapter of Al Qaeda should turn up, the authorities could act appropriately, perhaps by sealing off the bouncy castle. The accessible parts of the grounds were, for the day, like a funfair or county show. I don't think the attractions revealed much about the everyday life of Collingwood but to wander around with 'a different eye' revealed plenty for the lens. It was about picking subjects, imagining what the results would look like, could look like in b&w and being incredibly if uncharacteristically patient to exclude the people from most shots. I think my set 'HMS Collingwood Open Day' on Flickr is a success.

I haven't had a bath in four years. I should hasten to add that I have occasionally showered in the same period but I just don't have the inclination to lie around in a bath, a terrible waste of time for the creatively tense (neurotic, near-autistic). Yesterday was an easy exception. I was tired, hot and dirty when we crawled back in from nearby Collingwood. I ran the bath, put some sort of bubbly stuff in it and soaked for the Oram equivalent of a very long time. I wrapped myself in a luxurious towel, dabbed and dried and stepped into pyjamas which would stay on until it was again time to prepare for work. By that time I was having serious doubts about the future for Ronan Parke and quietly predicting (really) a Jai McDowall victory. I think the BGT result was fair but, with three singing acts filling the top spots, Simon needs to decide if the show has somehow become X-Factor's Siamese twin.

We have had our new car for over a week now and wonder if we can remain attached for as long as we did with the Vectra. It is nice in many ways but there are too many irksome things. I think we would both like to return to bigger load space. For that, we are looking forward to the Zafira facelift. I am not convinced that opposing doors are anything but a novelty and running lights remain a curiosity in this country. I do not much like the electronic parking brake and I am not much looking forward to calling the AA if one of my tyres encounters anything larger than a drawing pin. That may seem a little disingenuous because I have no intention of changing a wheel but a spare of some kind does mean going home before finding the nearest tyre retailer. The cruise control problem is only intermittent and we have not been able to reproduce it for a couple of days.

Now it remains only to see which I enjoy more; two afternoons on White Watch or a week in Norway. I should cruise through both.

Literacy

I am not the perfect grammarian nor do I always spell correctly even after checking. I struggle with things Stephen Fry would digest in his sleep and frequently resort to a dictionary or question a common usage which has distorted the true meaning of a word or phrase. Blatant illiteracy, however, infuriates me and nowhere more so than on Flickr. Is it not worth taking the time and trouble to title, caption and tag correctly? How is it possible for example to reproduce (or in fact fail to reproduce) a word clearly visible in the photograph itself? If you can see 'Phoenix Buses', why caption 'Pheonix Buses' - more than once. This is not a typo, it is stupidity. Even more frustrating are examples of the phonetic but completely wrong reproduction of words in such a way as to completely alter their meaning. Recently I have seen:

'here here' - [hear hear]
'well-healed' - [well heeled]
'duel-braked' - [dual-braked]
'breaking' - frequently for [braking]

Whatever happened to English language education?

What To Expect Of Norway

I do not know what to expect of Norway in ten days time. We went to Oslo once many years ago and I do not recall being excited but I was puzzled as to why running lights should be necessary on the brightest of summer's days. Now my own car has running lights - how ironic is that? I am not approaching this holiday with a negative attitude; I badly need a rest and a day with Lee Child but, I suspect, alpine and fjordic scenery just doesn't do it for me. It does not seem right to say 'does not float my boat' as we are going on a cruise. We went to Alaska, you might recall, and, largely because of the weather, it was dull, a word I suspect may have been invented in Norway, the land of 'nul points'. I have looked at Flickr and I think I can do better with my own photographs (famous last words). Even when you search 'Flam Railway' you find that people have incomprehensibly focused on the scenery and not the train. Having said that, this is slightly understandable when you contrast the impossibly drab green of Flamabana with the vibrant colours of Swiss mountain railways. Would the Glacier Express be such a success if it looked like a WWII army convoy? The cruise ahead offers enough relaxation with or without stimulation on land. It will be interesting to try P&O and Oceana. There are 3-4 days at sea which, invariably, I enjoy and the stress free experience of departing from and arriving at Southampton. I'll be travelling with an open mind and several SD cards and hoping that the rain is not quite as prolific as in one Flickr member's July photographs.