Zooropa

Amongst bundles of discarded wrapping paper, turkey leftovers and bags under the eyes during our trip home I also made my first ever visit to Colchester Zoo, re-discovered some old London stomping grounds and had a couple of cracking pub lunches.

Colchester Zoo was much bigger than I imagined. Our friends had suggested a 4-hour visit and as we drove up there in the drizzly rain I truly wondered what an earth we were going to do for 3 of those hours.

But I should have feared not as we comfortably strolled it’s 60 acres during 3 hours and still left some for another day, although there were a fair amount of exhibits that had migrated for the winter. There are apparently over 260 different species and they are laid out in numerous zones where you can get pretty close to the animals.

Roll up, roll up

One of the many things I miss about London is it’s parks. I spent a whole lot of my childhood playing in two parks near my home. Forster Memorial Park and Mountsfield Park, once home of course to the mighty Charlton Athletic. These last couple of days we have gratefully strolled the green pastures of London Fields, Haggerston Park and Hyde Park.

We were in Hyde Park, like almost everyone else was, browsing the Winter Wonderland, which has grown exponentially since last time I visited three years ago. We sniffed Mulled wine, squeezed onto a tea cup ride and counted more sausage stalls than you could shake a stick at but we also took the little ‘un to Zippo’s Circus.

Cold meat and pickles

Boxing Day morning and we have navigated our way from west to east through the Metropolis to my brother’s place in Shoreditch. My parents are here too and like many other families around the country we will soon tuck into a mountain of cold meats and pickles.

In a home dominated by Addicks, this afternoon’s game will take precedent later as we listen in to the goings on at Yeovil. Come on you reds!

London riots

This post should have been a retrospective on Charlton’s League Cup game, which selfishly I am still pissed off at missing, with the added annoyance of having spent money on a hotel room and match ticket. It’s the third game that has been moved or postponed that I’ve come back for in past year…. ok, selfish rant over.

After the game Saturday my son and I stayed at my brother’s in Hackney, and when I woke on Sunday morning I truly thought he was watching some library clips from the 1985 Broadwater Farm riots. I was in Hornchurch Sunday night but my brother spent most of it stood looking out of his window with his baseball bat as groups of yobs roamed the streets outside. Fortunately the police unsettled them enough to move the low-life’s toward Bethnal Green Road.

F**king Olympic tickets part #2

The greatest show on earth is quickly becoming the most shambolic!

I set my alarm for 1am yesterday morning (after a night out here in New York with New York Addick) so I could jump online and attempt to get a few Olympic tickets at the second time of asking. The whole ticketing process is farcical and although I eventually managed to apply for a couple of events I am rapidly thinking that we’ll just bin the whole idea and follow it on the telly.

Olympic tickets

I’ve been stewing over this for a week and thought I’d finally put down in a post my massive disappointment of being one of the 1,000,000 applicants who didn’t get any Olympics tickets.

We will have to re-think our summer plans for next year after applying for £2,500 of tickets and getting zip. It was particularly frustrating as we purposely stayed away from the marquee events and finals in order to get a small mix of tickets. Hell, my in-step other half even convinced me to apply for the synchronized swimming!

Pride and history

Day’s like today make me pretty homesick. All the pomp and ceromony, pride and history, flags and smiles. I love it.

Bermuda, as I understand it, is the only British colony without a day off today, even though Premier Paula Cox is at Buck Palace now quaffing bucks fizz. We were up early in our house this morning sat with our 18-month old watching the events unfold with our peanut butter on toast. The roads were quiet on the way into Hamilton this morning, but there does appear a real apathy here towards the future King’s wedding. No flags, no bunting, no smiles, no history. I’ve just put the telly on in the office though. Enjoy your days.

96 hours

Back in Bermuda after a short hop home for my son’s birthday and mascot exploits.

There was a lot of flying around, which is customary. I had a cracking night with my Hornchurch mates on Friday plus a very hot chicken madras in the Cinnamon Spice. We followed this up on Saturday after the game with another curry, this time in Brick Lane. We vowed not to be enticed into the first place we passed, but sure enough the offer of two rounds of drinks and a lively atmosphere was enough for us to eat at The Famous Curry Bazaar. It was very good and full of local hipsters and pre-clubbers at 8pm. Whatever happened to eating a curry after the pub shut?

The next morning my brother took us just up the street from where he lives to The Premises Cafe on Hackney Road. According to The Observer, one of the 50 coolest places to eat in the world! It’s attached to the renowned recording studios (with an impressive list of artists) and next door to the gigantic rabbit (which at the end of last year caused quite a stir) and our brunch was top-notch. The dinner menu looked good too, and at a tenner a head for two courses bloody good value.

Then we wandered up and down the Colombia Road Flower Market, which I have always loved. The smell of early spring blooms and toasted bagels filled the air and I couldn’t quite resist the little boutiques where I picked up a few things for my daughter. 

Then finally the long weekend ended with some home cooking at my Mum & Dad’s down in East Sussex and a little nap through Gnomeo & Juliet on Monday and a drink down by Sovereign Harbour. 96 hours, back at Gatwick and home.

A no snow

While snow adorns pavements and trees, for which in some cases still have leaves on, in London and the south-east of England, and with snow forecast for my second home in Chicago later today I came to work this morning dressed in shorts.

It is December 1st tomorrow and the weather remains in the 70′s (22c) in Bermuda. Despite it’s latitude and longitude and it’s location over a 1,000 miles north of the Bahamas, the island is entirely frost-free with snow only ever seen on Christmas cards. The reason for this is the Gulf Stream that heats the waters around this middle of the Atlantic dormant volcano, home to 65,000 people.