Christmas in Cornwall

January 4, 2014January 4, 2014 ~ Jamie ~ Leave a comment

‘Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time.’
Laura Ingalls Wilder

Super early in the morning on my first day in Newquay, we headed out en masse (family, aunt, uncle, two out of three cousins + partners, and all five chidlers + bump) to have breakfast with Santa. Much to my disappointment, Santa didn’t actually join us for the consumption component. But after eating a massive English breakfast, complete with fried toast that was interesting if not enjoyable, being hugged (or terrorised, depending on one’s age) by some very authentic Christmas Characters, and seeing real live reindeer, we did get to meet him in his shanty grotto, although I wasn’t allowed to sit on his knee.

We went to a pantomime in Truro in proper English tradition to keep the festive cheer levels up in my two grinchy brothers. It was of Cinderella, and featuring alongside some beautifully remixed pop songs and a less-than-tasteful Nigella joke was a rather gorgeous Prince Charming and his not-half-bad-either valet (pronounced with a hard t, since we were in Cornwall). It was on this outing that we got caught in the first proper storm that I have ever experienced in the British Isles. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if they would invest in some roadside guttering, but a large percentage of the roads were flooded, and I was the only one who seemed to get any enjoyment from dancing in the rain.

During the days, we drove to the coast to visit some run-down-but-still-cute Cornish villages and indulge in pasties, cream teas, and hard boiled lollies. Highlights included a damn good cliff blowhole and a potential rugby team in full on elf and sexy Santa get-up.

Not that I don’t love my gorgeous little cousins once removed, but after having them latch onto me in Summer, I was worried that I would spend my Christmas and 21st birthday looking after them rather than stuffing my face with the constant supply of food. Thankfully, for most of the time that we spent with family, my little brother was chosen as Lead Babysitter for his patience and Lego assembling skill. Aside for the occasional cuddle or book reading, I was then free to eat and drink all the amazing food that my wizard of an aunt had somehow managed to prepare (for 20 people on Boxing Day!)

Super excited cause it's my birthday — Super excited cause it’s my birthday

After a final trip to the countryside to climb Roughtor, we headed up to London in the car. Seeing as I don’t currently live at home, and I’d usually drive myself places anyway, I’d forgotten what it was like to sit in the back seat between two six-foot-something brothers who like to have their knees and elbows jutting in the most awkward of angles. Somehow, we managed to make it up to London without anybody dying a mysterious death, and we had a lovely dinner out in Covent Garden with our family friends before catching the Eurostar the next morning.

Four Days of Solid Christmas

January 1, 2014 ~ Jamie ~ Leave a comment

‘Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before! What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. What if Christmas… perhaps… means a little bit more!’
Dr. Seuss

Having valued affordability over convenience, I arrived at Stansted Airport at 2 am for an 8 am flight. I’d figured there’d be some way of entertaining myself – eating, drinking, shopping, reading, maybe a bit of sleeping – so that the 6 hours would be bearable. However, apparently everybody else was being cheap too, and all the soft spots of the lino floor were taken. There was no Starbucks or Macca’s in which to eat or drink, and I was so tired that I was falling asleep on my feet, so reading was in no way an option. So instead, I spent some of the money that I’d saved by travelling at such a horrible hour – but one can’t resist Victoria’s Secret!

Sharing a room with a group of Lithuanian boys made my stay in Bremen enjoyable, if a little bit noisy. To make it even better, I was apparently staying in a sort of upmarket red light district, which made walking into town (whilst avoiding all the cyclists and trams, much like Manchester) very amusing. An awful lot of shops appeared to be sex shops or drug stores (the one across from my hostel was called Udopea, which I thought to be an excellent pun), but they seemed somehow to remain classy in the cute neighbourhood of boutiques and lovely restaurants.

One rather cold morning, while waiting for the shops to open so that I could finish my Christmas shopping, I kept myself warm by exploring the main cathedral of Bremen. From the outside, it was a pretty standard European cathedral, but the inside was truly spectacular. Like the Parisian Notre Dame, the interior is painted, and although the decoration is not as intricate, these colours are a lot more vibrant. Bright red beams criss-cross the ceiling, and blue and gold tiles line the vaults.

Inside Bremen's St Peter's Cathedral — Inside Bremen’s St Peter’s Cathedral

I also visited the Schnoor a few times, which is the oldest neighbourhood of the city. Although now just a tourist trap of boutique shops and overpriced restaurants, the district was once the heart of the fishermen’s quarter. Being a tourist, I was easily tricked into entering the adorable, half-timbered, 15th C buildings that line the narrow streets.

Although I did make time to culture myself with the churches, historical districts, and art galleries, I spent a large amount of my time exploring the Christmas Markets. They were the reason (along with the hugely discounted travel) that led to be being in Bremen in the first place, and although there was no snow, they were well worth a visit. I spent hours browsing the stalls, picking up trinkets for presents and food for myself. Although my German is extremely limited, I made learning words for food a priority so that I could have a varied and fat-heavy diet, rather than living solely off bretzels. And now my Bucket List is one item shorter.

Arriving back in London, my Christmas spirit was crushed a little bit as I had a near death experience. The pilot (Ryan Air, naturally) lost control of the plane as we descended into Stansted, and our landing on the tarmac was more than a bit bumpy. He then had the nerve to play that stupid little ‘we landed on time!’ jingle. I was not a happy camper.

I only had one day in London to get my Christmas spirit back and revisit my favourite places. I’d seen the Oxford Road lights on the coach (as well as most of London, as our driver had to detour via Canary Wharf), but I still had a long list of things to do. First up was a trip to Hamleys Toy Store via Buckingham Palace and the parks to release my inner child and perve on all the massive Lego sets. I arrived before opening time, as I had no desire to be crushed in the hordes, so I sipped on a real coffee from a café off Carnaby Street (made by a lovely Aussie barista – none of this English rubbish) as I waited for the doors to open.

I then walked along Oxford St and down to the National Gallery – not actually to see the art this time, but because they don’t charge for the use of their bathrooms. I thought the Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square was a little bit sparsely decorated, but the thousands of tributes to Mandela that surrounded the fountains more than made up for it.

Tributes to Mandela in Trafalgar Square.

I then made my way past St Paul’s, along the Strand and its amazing cavern of Twinings, and up to Monument. I hadn’t been up the tower for almost three years – since I’d been in London with a friend on my gap year – and I’d forgotten how amazing the view is. But it really is the best view in London, and standing up there on a beautifully clear day not only froze me to the bone but also reminded me how beautiful the city is.

View over London from the top of Monument

A little bit tired and really rather hungry, I walked through Borough Market to make the most of the free tastings of cheese, meat, and oil before buying myself an extremely late lunch. I ended my afternoon by strolling through the South Bank Christmas and book markets, and would have happily gone back after dark if an untimely thunderstorm hadn’t occurred.

The next morning, before going to Paddington to sip on a terrible English coffee and board my train to Cornwall, I went for an early morning walk across the bridge to Battersea. It was a bit of an enlightening morning – I discovered that Battersea Cats and Dogs Home is a real thing, I saw the Power Station for the first time, and I was reminded that ice is legitimately slippery when I fell over in the park.

Battersea Power Station looking pretty dapper at dawn

And then, buying my own lunch for hopefully the last time for a few weeks, I headed down to Newquay to see the fam.

LDN: 5 Things I Did This Time Round That I Hadn’t Done Before

September 3, 2013 ~ Jamie ~ 1 Comment

‘The fields from Islington to Marybone, to Primrose Hill and Saint John’s Wood, were builded over with pillars of gold, and there Jerusalem’s pillars stood. Pancrass and Kentish-Town repose among her golden pillars high, among her golden arches which shine upon the starry sky.’
William Blake

Met Peter Pan
I have a habit of wandering London aimlessly until my feet are blistered and I’m on the verge of collapse. On one of these walks, I found Charles Dickens’ house. And on another, I found Peter Pan.
Peter Pan is pretty significant to me, growing up wishing I was Wendy and all that. But most importantly, my 2012 NaNoWriMo was focussed on J. M. Barrie and the Llewelyn Davies boys. So it was quite nice to walk through the park that I had used 1666 words describing and stumble across a statue of the boy himself.

Charles Dickens' House — Charles Dickens’ House

Oxford Street Primark
Despite having previously lived in the UK for a year, with frequent trips into London to quality-check its food and shopping facilities, I had managed to avoid Oxford Street Primark. Tales of shopping there from the students and staff always sounded rather like the premise for a horror film, and I quenched my thirst for super cheap and not-necessarily-ethical clothing with the smaller and less crowded Primarks in our own Oxford and down at Marble Arch.
And to be honest, even though it’s supposed to have the largest selection in the known world of things one has no need for, I have no urge to go back. Every item of clothing that I desired to put in my over-sized and annoyingly bulky ‘shopping basket’ seemed to exist only in sizes 8 and 14, and as much as I’d like to, I can no longer squeeze my over-sized and annoyingly bulky hips into anything smaller than a 10. The shoe section had no sandals – but it’s still Summer! – and the flats always fall off of my feet. And I couldn’t for the life of me find a delicates wash bag on any of its hundred and four floors.
Giving up, I satisfied my need to shop by buying a laundry hamper and moved on.

Southwark Cathedral
Although I used to frequent Borough Market for its uncanny ability to feed a hungry wanderer with its free samples of oil, cheese, and meats, I had never once been inside the Cathedral that towers over it. Which is super surprising, considering it costs exactly £0 to get in (they request a donation, but I’m cheap).
And it was totally worth every non-existent penny from that £0. It is a stunning example of gothic architecture, and the British pop-rock boy-band that was playing outside of the window added something special to the atmosphere. It also features massive plaques commemorating William Shakespeare, Wenceslaus Hollar, and John Harvard, so apparently it’s a pretty significant Cathedral as well as a pretty one.

Stalked a Living Work of Art
By accident, I swear. Sarah and I were wandering around the British Museum, gazing adoringly at all of the amazing artefacts that are casually chilling in their display cases, and occasionally taking culturally insensitive (but still highly appreciative) photos of them to preserve them in our memories, when we noticed a stunningly good-looking male specimen. And we accidentally noticed it a few more times in a few different display rooms. Most notably, in the hall of the Elgin Marbles, where it was in a deep conversation with its also-possibly-good-looking-but-not-compared-to-this friend about the art, and Sarah accidentally took a photo of them while actually photographing the Marbles, but unfortunately only captured the friend. Which is a shame, because they were worth a few culturally insensitive photographs.

Drank the Second Best Coffee in London
Sarah and I had discovered this precious little cafe on our way to the British Museum, but I’d just had breakfast and wasn’t in the mood for drowning my sorrows in caffeine. Instead, I returned on my own the next day to have a look around – because ‘The Second Best Coffee in London’ is quite the claim, and I felt it was my duty to verify it.
Verify it I did. It wasn’t just the coffee that was good. The service was friendly and the room itself was adorable – tiny, rustic, and crammed full with corners and hoards of church pews. It was empty when I entered, but I curled up with my pretentious book on a wicker chair and watched the constant stream of (cash-only) take-away orders be made while sipping my flat white from mismatched china.
Then, scrounging up £2.20 in coins from the bottom of my handbag, I left for St. Pancras to catch my train to St. Albans.