Oliver in England, with a Twist.

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I arrived in England on a cold day in June with 20 pounds in my pocket and hardly any plans. After spending the first part of my stay in St Albans with the Maddicks (more on this later) I headed for the big city - London - to see what all the fuss was about. I checked into the cheapest hostel I could find, and although it looked decrepit and filthy I was happy to stay there after discovering that breakfasts were free. I dropped off my bag and took to the streets, looking for a job, an opening, or just a friend.

Things didn't start well for me; I was hungry and cold, and people didn't like my dirty face. The streets of London weren't paved with gold at all, but with cigarette butts and old chewing gum. I found rats and mice in the tube stations and prices above and beyond my wildest expectations. Things were looking dire. To make matters worse, I got evicted from the hostel after asking for more during their 'free breakfast service' which consisted only of gruel and toast. I wandered the busy streets for days on end searching for an opportunity. I had my life (a few extra shirts, some soap, and a loaf of bread I had bought in a Polish supermarket) in a small bag on my back and as the wind picked up and the rain began, I was beginning to wonder why I had chosen London.

I thought my luck had changed when I was befriended by a friendly bunch of young lads down by the orphanage but, just like my loaf of Polish bread, that didn't last. They seemed so welcoming and friendly, but soon their true colours shone through when they tried to make me steal a handkerchief from an unsuspecting old gentleman. I didn't come to London for petty crime and thievery. I had to move on.

Slice by slice, my food was running out and things were looking grim, and I'm not just referring to the weather. Amidst the despair, I managed to find an advertisement for a job in a hotel, arranged an interview, then lit my fire and started praying it would come through for me...

And it did! Luckily for me, wandering the streets had given me an unrivalled knowledge of the city which was perfect for the job of giving guests recommendations and directions. So now I'm in the concierge department of a fancy hotel in the city centre. My days are filled with making small talk and big tips, and the only bread I think about now is the type I put in my wallet after a good day's work. None of that Polish rubbish. (Please note my use of cockney rhyming slang - bread (and honey) = money).

But of course, I arrived in London almost four months ago - a lot has happened since then.

I have left for Europe and returned 3 times and I've travelled around England itself quite a bit... alone, with friends, with family, and with some slightly insane girls who picked me up once when I was transportless and broke. Much has happened in England for me, so here is a bit of an idea about the rest.

And now, as for London, I LOVE THIS CITY.

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How could I write anything about England without talk of my stay in St Albans with the wonderful Maddicks?! It is here I have been fortunate enough to find out exactly what goes on in an English Family.

Things I have enjoyed and will no doubt remember include a constant flow of tea, 12 containers of yoghurt for two pounds (those ones where you can mix it in with little chocolate pieces), a good old fashioned English pub around the corner with an English pub quiz every monday night (and I stress the English side of things in the pub quiz. One week we made the fatal error of leaving home without our Uncle and suffered the consequences). St Albans is a place where squirrels are ignored (I'm still amazed by them) and where temperatures over 26 degrees classify a heat wave. I have even learnt English manners, and now always use a plate for my sandwiches and sometimes even cut them in half.

Above all others since I have left home, it has been the Maddick family who have been the most unceasingly accommodating to me, taking me in on short notice, feeding my (abnormally enormous) appetite, washing my clothes - and when I'm lucky, even ironing them! They took me in with open arms when I arrived from Africa, took me to the doctors when I thought I had malaria or bilharzia (I had neither), and kept me focussed when I was looking into work in London. And on my birthday, they had me around for a lovely family dinner and a chocolate cake too! Delicious as usual.

I never could have (eventually) got started without you guys - especially my Great Auntie Elizabeth, and for that, I am eternally grateful. I've always thought the Malayan people have a great way with words in situations like these, so allow me to borrow one of their proverbs:

One can pay back the loan of gold, but one dies forever in debt to those who are kind.

The most sincere thank you to you all.

Other noteworthy features of my time in England:

Tracing the family tree back (on Dad's side) through the frosty winds in the graveyards of Cornwall, and sifting through ancient family photo albums in Marazion.

Visiting Charlotte (with Tim) in Cambridge. Tim probably won't read this, so I can safely blame him for losing our return bus tickets to London. Having spent all of our money tasting every variety of vodka in in a vodka bar the previous night, we were forced to stand on the side of the road with a poorly written sign saying "LONDON ... Please?". We'd heard hitch-hiking might be illegal, so we were scared stiff when a car with lights, sirens and the word 'PATROL' written on the side started slowing down when it saw us. As casually as we could, we put our signs behind our backs and pretended we were just regular Cambridge youths, hanging out on the side of the motorway... And, it seems our lucky stars were shining brightly as it turned out to be only an ambulance, and the kindly woman behind the wheel dropped us right back in Central London. An ambulance! What a trip.

I also hitched my way around Stratford Upon Avon upon discovering they charged something like 20 pounds for the bus-tour between Shakespeare sights. This place certainly Hath a way of ripping one off. I must say though, that the production of The Taming of the Shrew was particularly impressive.

I've also spent some memorable times in lovely Leicester (see Family Reunion entry) and Buurrrmingum, also known as Birmingham for those of us who can actually talk. Nothing against the Burmingese, it's just you can't really pronounce the English language properly. Unlucky.

And just yesterday, I took the Tube over to Camden to wander around, and upon leaving a pub at around midnight, I found a half-drowned man face down in the Camden Lock. Needless to say, I struggled for about ten minutes to drag him out of the water and finally got him out as the paramedics and policemen arrived just in time to fill out the paperwork (and get the water out of his lungs). As they carried him off to the ambulance, I heard him gurgle "An Angel... an Angel", but I had no time for pleasantries, and disappeared off into the night amongst the prostitutes, drug addicts, and other freaks who hang around Camden in those hours.

And lastly, my personal favourite: Blaby. I think it's meant to be pronounced like 'Baby' (but with an L) although I'm sure you'd agree that it's much better to pronounce it Blayyybeh, preferably in a thick British accent. That's how I hope the locals pronounce it. Blaby is a quiet little village just North-West of Countesthorpe, very green and unassuming. Every time we drove through it or passed its signpost, I couldn't help informing everyone where we were. "Blaybeh, we're in Blaybeh". Imagine my surprise when I found it's been immortalized by hundreds of artists through the medium of song. For example:

'Hit me Blaby one more time'
'Heeeeeey, he-ey Blaby (ooh, ah) I wanna know if you'll be my girl'
'There goes my Blaby'
'Blaby I've got you on my mind'
'I'll be your Blaby tonight'

Ah, that one could keep me going for a while. In fact, it has.

As for this blog entry, I think I have finally covered everything for now and can sign off as far as England is concerned. To paraphrase the legendary Bob Dylan, "It's all over now, Blaby blue."

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Photos

Cornish Air
Elizabeth is clearly impressed

Tube
The sign says it all.
I love this city.
Should point out, there is a bit of an optical illusion in this picture, because there is no way Tom and James are taller than me.

Trafalgar Square
Red section of monopoly for those of you playing at home. This is me conquering one of the lions there.

St Albans Air-time
360 slam dunk in progress. You should have seen it.

Cornish Pasties in Marazion, Cornwall
St Michael's Mount in the background. Did you know Marazion claims to be one of Britain's oldest towns? I certainly didn't.

Vodka Bar in Cambridge
Another six varieties of vodka... Probably explains why Superman there lost the tickets home.

Anne Hathaway's Cottage
Stratford-upon-Avon

Devil Squirrel
Look at his eyes!

Union Jack
Location: Maybe Blaby

Blayybeh
But you can say Blaby,
Blaby can I hold you tonight?

Comments

[Traveling Partner]

OOHHH Blaby Blaby its a wild world.... (Thanks Tom for touring Birmingham with me!!!)

[Julie]

Angel !
I love it ! All the thing you have to do to keep the blog interesting ! Get kicked out of a hostel...save a man's life...please go on !!!

[lils]

ME impressed?
think again if you think i was impressed at your photo enhanced jump,mine was MUCH higher...but you didn't show that picture did you?

[Gary Warsop]

beyond Blaby .....
I thought it wonderful that your roadsign actually reads as "end Blaby" - there may well be many locals who might agree...... Some of the place names in this part of the Midlands are wonderful and personal favourites with me have always been Kirby Muxloe and Ratby (in my youth both villages with decent pubs - ask your mum)! I'm pleased all is well - keep on blogging! Gary

[Olivers Travels]

Place names
That reminds me of another favourite of mine - Radlett (near St Albans). I always think it sounds like the name of something nasty you might find living behind your sofa. Ooh, there's a whole family of Radletts down there! Kill them. Ah, England.

[Dulal]

Basketball & Jumping
Bread & a bar of soap..Gruel & Toast - Charles Dickinson: whose he? You should be with either Penguin (the publisher, not the short fella from Batman) or Hollywood (with your photo enhanced jump - Liz does not look impressed at all actually! :-) ) And PLEEEASE, you cant jump or play Basketball. I'm 5ft & a bit & you squirmished your way out of many a basketball challenges in Africa. Your Reason - Find a basket ball court, excuses, excuses, excuses

[Olivers Travels]

Charles Dickinson?
Firstly, Dulal, you don't know what you're talking about. It's Dickens, fool. 2nd, there is no photo enhancing in that picture, I must have just been swept up by a gust of Cornish wind. 3rd, There are plenty of Basketball courts in London, just tell me when.

[Dulal]

Charles Dickinson - 1951
LOL. You Fool. Firstly, you'd never come close to Charles Dickins, hence I compared you to the American childrens book author Dickinson (writes for 7-8 year olds). Secondly, I can fly. Thirdly, You're a guest here & I dont want to have to deal with emotional baggage after a thrashing on the basketball court. 'Nuf Said.

[MGD]

winter hibernation?
No update for a long time - are you still there or have you gone into hibernation with the onset of the long cold English winter??

[Olivers Travels]

Hibernation
Fingers temporarily frozen thanks to the snow in London (earliest winter snow in London since 1934 apparently) but will update soon...