The wedding... march?

Good day to you all. Its been exactly one week since I left work but already it seems a long time ago. I've been pretty busy, putting off getting ready for Canada until it gets too late to do most of what I wanted to do, only leaving me time to do the minimum of preparation. Yay! I was getting worried about this but as Andy said to me 'I've never been prepared for anything in my life, so why should I start now?' I've decided that's the best philosophy and have taken it for myself.

Anyway, in the last week I've had my work leaving do which was a success (I got drunk), attended the Wedding of my good friend Ruth to her young gentleman friend Jon in Brighton, got food poisoning of a large cheese pizza, was tricked into putting up a friend's bed and have seen Land of the Dead. I've been a busy bee. Though a bee couldn't really do any of those things.

Tonight I'm off to Salisbury, I'll probably get back on Saturday morning. I then buy a suitcase, go to my main leaving party near Oxford street. Then Sunday I recover from Saturday, start packing. Monday I finish packing, go for one last drink in the Northstar, then on Tuesday I go. After that I have absolutely no idea where I'm going or what I'm doing. Though I guess it'll be in Vancouver.

I'll try and have one more post before Tuesday. Before I go today I've attached a couple of photo's of Ruth's wedding. Enjoy.

They have just married, taken outside of the pavilion. They married in Brighton pavilion don't you know. Ruth and her husband, the 11th incarnation of Doctor Who.

Scott, Ruth and me. I look about 8 foot here. Doesn't Ruth look lovely? Scott 's looking pretty good too.

Here we are at the end of the night after a great reception in a bar/theatre place. The odd glass of wine had been drunk through the day, and some funky stuff has been strutted on the dance floor.

A long 6 weeks

Today is my last day in my current job. After being here 3 and a quarter years it is time for me to now leave and make my fortune in Canada. Or at the very least don't starve in Canada. Have quite a few loose ends to tie up in the office (shredding all that work I never got round to finishing, y'know, stuff like that). Course its not just me leaving. Good friend and fellow Canada bound chap Andy is also finishing today. He's only been here a measly 2 and a half years. Pathetic. So really today is more about me. Yes.

Have to clear our desks, pass over bits and bobs to our replacements (one of which is my brother, natch) and file away most of our work.

My Office. It looks far more depressing than it actually is. Here it could be the setting for 'The Office'.

I was actually only supposed to be here for 6 weeks. Then I was made permanent, promoted, promoted again and here I am. When I consider how much has changed with my life and the lives of my friends and family its like I've been here for 30 years, not 3.

Anyway, time to say our goodbyes. We're having a leaving party in the pub where we go... used to go lunch times for a game of darts and a cola. The kind owners, upset at a steady revenue stream disappearing with us going, have given us half the pub for the party. Not quite sure how we're going to fill it.

No longer being in work means that posts will be pretty irregular over the next 2 weeks. Sure I'll post a couple of things, and I promise to really hit the ground running in Canada.

Bye Newham, and thanks!

Being English

What is it to be English? A question that seems to have ever increasing importance. With Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland developing ever stronger individual senses of identity, along with their own parliaments and assemblies there is an effort amongst many people to come up with a definition of 'Englishness'. Of course there is much disagreement, with everyone from the fascist BNP to Richard Curtis presenting their own vision of being English. Is there such a thing as 'being English' anyway? Do national characteristics really matter in a globalised world?

Whatever the arguments I believe though that I have stumbled on what it is to be English, something that people with extremely differing ideas of what Englishness is will agree on.

We don't like being naked in front of other people.

I'm not talking about, ah, rumpy-pumpy (now there's a phrase that hasn't been used since 1962). Indeed our high rates of STDs in England show that the one place we don't mind nakedness is in the bedroom (or club toilets, or alleyway behind the chip shop). No, I'm talking about the insane dance your Englishman/woman will do when changing into a swimming costume on the beach, trying to take off your jeans while having a towel wrapped round you is not easy. Or the fact practically every home has net curtains, and those that don't are the talk of the street ('I don't believe it, number 27's not got her curtains up, disgusting'). Yes that thing that unites the people of England is the terror that someone they don't know might see them in the nude. If the terrorists really want to scare us they should develop some kind of x-ray bomb.

I myself was reminded of the fear while in Berlin. Jason shares his shower room with about 3 other apartments on the same floor. I was in there showering, marveling at how clean the communal bathroom was (showering in Lytton Road was sometimes akin to standing in a muddy field in the rain), when there was a knock at the door. I turned off the shower and wrapped the towel firmly around me (easy to do as I wasn't wearing jeans this time) and opened the door. A German woman apologised and asked if she could quickly come in and brush her teeth as she was late for work. All in perfect English as well, not sure how she new I was English, perhaps we have odd shaped nipples... maybe its because Jason warned them we were coming.

Anyway, I of course let her come in. As she passed me she said 'You can carry on showering if you like'. This absolutely threw me and I was immediately panicking. 'Carry on showering?!?! Are you mad?!?!, you're in the room now, how on Earth can that happen?'

Of course to her continental sensibilities there was nothing strange at all. I would simply go back into the shower, carry on and she would leave once she finished. But to an English person she may as well have said 'please be naked now'. Not wishing to make her feel awkward I went back into the cubicle, pulled the curtain around and made sure that there was no gap between the side and the curtain, gingerly removed my towel and turned the shower on again.

After a few moments I started to realise how silly I was being. I mean I was in a shower cubicle, curtain completely surrounding me. She would simply finish her teeth cleaning then leave. No problem, no nakedness. An icey feeling then gripped my heart as I realised that in the cubicle there were two windows set into one of its walls, the wall that separated it from where the sink was. ARRRRGGHHH!

I wish I could say this was a nightmare from which I suddenly awoke screaming in a cold sweat. Unfortunately it wasn't. I considered hanging myself with my towel but no, I reasoned I was in a foreign city and if I was going to be seen naked anywhere better here than back home. At least one of us in the situation isn't embarrassed.

I'll leave the last words with Jason 'In my first week in Berlin more people saw me naked than have probably seen me in my entire life'. He may have Greek and Iranian blood in him, but he's English to the core.

20p

I found two Twenty Pence coins yesterday. One in the morning and one in the evening. I was a whole 40p better off by the end of the day. There's not much more you can want from life is there? Please do not answer this question.

No, I can't think of anything to write about.

Interesting Berlin

Berlin is a truly amazing city. Its the city of the 20th Century with practically everything that impacted on that century so much happening here. It bears the scars of the last 100 years too, from patches on any building more than 60 years old to cover bullet holes, to the remaining bits of the Berlin Wall. Here's some of the buildings that caught my eye while there.

Brandenburg Gate, symbol of Berlin. The actual square is actually pretty unimpressive, apparently to get a lease there you have to promise not to build anything that would take the focus away from the gate.

The Memorial to the Murdered Jews Of Europe. I find it really impressive that the German people are so willing to face the darker parts of their past in a way most nations won't. This is right by the Brandenburg Gate. It would be like a slavery monument outside the White House or the Westminster Palace.

The Emperor Wilhelm Memorial Church. Remains of a church that was bombed by the Allies during World War II. Berliners have kept it to remember what war did to most of their city.

Though the Allies successfully managed to hit the Emperor Wilhelm Church they somehow missed the Luftwaffe HQ in Berlin... and they had 6 years to hit it! It was one of the few buildings left standing at the end of the war and is one of the handful of Nazi era buildings that are still standing in Berlin today. It was used by the Communists to house the 'Ministry of Ministries' (no joke). It's now the tax office. They've kept a piece of communist propaganda which was painted on the side of the building. Its about 30 foot long and shows lots of happy East German communists. As a contrast along the front on the floor is a picture, same size as the painting, of the 1953 protest march in which several were shot by the communists.

A rather over-the-top Protestant Cathedral which was designed with help from the stupid Kaiser Wilhelm II. Its right next door to this...

The People's Palace. A massive royal palace once stood here. It actually survived the war, but once the Communists took over they decided that a royal palace was too much of a symbol of Germany's imperial past, so blew it up and replaced it with this, ah, interesting looking building. A palace for the 'people'. It actually looks a lot like where I used to work. Now this building is to be knocked down in November. There's talk of rebuilding the destroyed royal palace.

The rapid passage of time

I'm back from various escapades and have returned to work for the (its the) FINAL COUNTDOWN to my last day in this job. I'm sure I'll discuss this loads over the coming 12 working days I have left, but for now, I'll just stick a load of pictures Berlin and tell you all about my trip there. So settle down, get yourself a nice cup of tea and read on...

Berlin of course is famous for two things. JFK saying 'I am a doughnut' to a crowd while there, and the fact that good pal and ex-Lytton Road-ite Jason now lives there. Please see blog links for his own excellent blog 'Tomorrow Can Pay the Rent'. Accompanying me were Faye and Harriet, better known as Girl 1 and Girl 2 due to me constantly mixing up their names. In my defence I have brain problems.

We arrived on Monday, at 9:30 ish. Jason met us at the airport declaring that he would take us all to breakfast. It took my confused brain a couple of moments to realise that it was still morning, I only thought it was the afternoon because we got up at 4:00 in the morning.

And breakfast we did, sitting on a terrace in Jason's building, in East Berlin, in brilliant sunshine avoiding wasps.

Jason lives with his beautiful, charming and extremely patient girlfriend Steph. Steph is a singer and German. I've just realised that I know little more than that about her.

They live in a crazy, fantastic building. Jason, if you're reading this you really should write the history of your building. From the what Steph told me its a squat in which those staying there lived there so long and looked after the building so well that its ownership passed into their hands. Its a kind of collective, where you have to be invited to live in and has very strict rules about living there and respecting the others you live with. A sort of legal squat... I haven't explained at all well really, Jason, please do better. Basically the end result is a building with extremely cheap rent, near the centre of Berlin and tenants who trust their neighbours so well they often don't lock their doors! Any crooks out there reading please don't now rob them and ruin this.

After breakfast we went on a bike tour conducted by Jason himself who has become a tour guide in order to earn some cash while waiting for his first novel to be picked up by some farsighted publisher. It was my first time on a bike in about 10 years. I felt that I coped well enough and it made me determined to buy a bike when in Vancouver, though it did destroy the pair of shorts I was wearing. How? I don't know. Berlin is a fascinating city ('where East meets West'), and the bike tour, along with the walking tour Jason did the next day, were brilliant. If you're ever in Berlin get yourself a Jasoni tour and tip him well.

Jason, entertaining dozens of tourists.

We spent the 4 days we were there seeing lots of Berlin, visiting the stunning Potsdamn (which Jason didn't realise had about 15 palaces), drinking lots of German beer and catching up with each other. It was really... cool to see him. I miss him (sniff). Also got to see the lovely Jasmin, another German friend of mine who's in Berlin and helping Jason adjust to German life. I miss her too (sniff).

Jason, Harriet (Girl 1 or 2), Steph and Faye (Girl 1 or 2) on our first night enjoying typical German fayre, a curry.

Atop the Reichstag. This is inside the Glass dome at the top. It is supposed to symbolise transparency and democracy as you should be able to see into the debating chamber, though we struggled to make anything out. Like real Governments I guess, ahhhhh!

Harriet and Faye peer into the largest bowl in the world.

German largers in a German bar. In Germany.

A still from Jason's very own pop video.

Amazing Postdamn...

Sitting in the grounds of the palaces

Another palace... Hey, Hey, Hey we're the Monkees...

Heyyy! Jas, Ian and Jaz in the Beach Bar, with added sand. The bandaged foot belongs to the Christian, boyfriend of Jaz. He promises never to argue with her again.

On Thursday we returned to the airport with Jason, tired but happy. Thanks Jas, Steph, Jaz and most importantly, the good people of Berlin. It was lovely to see him and how well he's coping living in a country in which he could hardly speak the language when he arrived. Well if he can cope in Berlin, sure I'll be fine in Vancouver. Right?

Uncle Ian

I'm back in the country now. More on Berlin later, in the meantime I'd thought I'd show you a picture of Baby Ben held by myself. I was introduced to him as 'Uncle Ian'. I was almost speechless. Almost. I think I felt something like a 1000th of what Steve must of felt when he first held Ben. That's not saying I didn't feel nothing, but that the intensity of holding your child for the first time is unimaginable. Perhaps more so for the father than the mother, as she's had the blighter inside her for the last 9 months and has just gone to hell and back through child birth.

Anyway, here I am with Ben, he's the one in the blue romper suit, I'm the one in the A-Team t-shirt. He looks so small... which I guess he is. Silly thing to say really.