Slow and Steady

Today I am proud of myself. I am in Edinburgh and I went to to the castle with my friend Lauren. We walked all around it, up the massive hill, saw the Scottish Honours (crown jewels) and aftwards I went to the Writer’s Museum. When I made my way back to the flat erhere I am couchsurfing I realized that I did nmot feel dead, or like I could not take another step

It felt very different from trips when i was younger and with my family when I was always dragging. I have seen a lot here and on my travels thjus far, but doing it at my own pace has helped a lot. I am really proud at how much I can do and see, maybe slower than others and with more buses, but I am having a great adventure.

The Rift is Open

Well, not really, but I am in Cardiff!

I got my stuff to the train this morning without use of a cab, of which I am proud. It took looking at the tube map and taking the train down to westminster because they had a lift-interchange instead of switching at the stair heavy Baker Street, but I did it!

The train and everything was uneventful, so that’s nice. I spent my last day in London at the British Library and got to see the handwriting of some of the world’s greatest authors. Inspiring, perhaps? We’ll see!

London Eye and Other Things

I love London. Let that be said.

Today I slept late, later than I wanted either because I forgot that Daylight Savings Time started. I went to the sushi restaurant next to the underground for lucnh and it was as good as it was overpriced. Then I went into Kensington Gardens and saw the Peter Pan statue. I had wanted to sit out there and read, and did for a while, but it was cold, so I got back on the underground to go to the cafe Nero I love. Goodge Street was closed this week too, which was annoying, but I sat in there for a while.

Then I decided to take the tube to Embankment and walk the pier. The day had turned clear and pretty, with only a few grey clouds. The pier was great, happing musicians competing with their drum heavy music. I decided spur of the moment to do the Eye (thought of you sevarina ) and it was LOVELY.

Oh but then. I got lost trying to find Waterloo. It should not be this hard. I went allll the way around through the car park, tired and dragging. I eventually found it, got dinner at Burger King and went to get on the Jubilee to go my merry way home.

BUT WAIT the reason that it was hard to find Waterloo is because construction was going on around Jubliee. There was no service.

Insert epic tube journey here.

Right. Sleep now.

And guys, no pictures for a while. I has not my cord. Sorry

Whirlwind Weekend

Two in the morning on Friday (well, Saturday) and I was trekking back from the end of term party, which was at a club that is a mile away from my place. The fact that my feet were dying then did not bode well for a weekend that would be pretty walking heavy; yet, I’m back from it and alive!

I got up on Saturday a tad later than planned, got breakfast at the News Cafe then got on a train to Paddington. Going the wrong way on the District Line got me on a train to Brighton at three, but soon enough I was threading through the Lanes on my way to meet Marcus, who I was staying with. Technically, I was surfing with Marcus’s flatmate Aubrey, but he was working nearly the whole time. We met at the pier then went back to his flat for a while before getting dinner at a pub in the South Lanes.

Brighton is wonderful if you like to be able to walk everywhere (as I do) but can’t walk much (as I can’t). I’m slow, so it took me about forty minutes to make the trek that Googlemaps assures me should take fifteen from station to pier, but I love the sights you see along the way. The sound of the seagulls I miss so much led me to the seaside; shops totting coffee, ice cream, tattoos, jewellery and loads of other things that are quintessential to Brighton. Starbucks existing (somewhat) peacefully near local cafés; it’s all great.

The gig I was going to was Emiliana Torrini, who is absolutely wonderful. She’s really precious on stage, although I wish she had done a meet and greet. I really appreciate Amanda Palmer more for always doing so. I chatted with the two ladies next to me about music and gigs and such. Emiliana opened with Heartstopper, one of my favourites. There is something absolutely amazing about hearing the music that has permeated my life being sung by the person who created it. At a gig, the music absolutely surrounds you and it is wonderful.

Marcus picked me up from the church where the gig was and we spent the evening sharing a bottle of red and trading music and watching youtube videos. In the morning we went to a café and ate breakfast outside. Marcus gallantly walked with me to the station and I hoped on the train for London that left five minutes later (BritRail pass for the win!!!)

In London I drug myself onto the tube, I was rather tired by this point, to Goodge Street to go to my favourite Caffe Nero for a coffee and to nip into the Paperchase that it is above. The tube station was closed on Goodge though, so I had to go to Warren Street and walk up, then walk down to Tottenham Court when I was done. Ugh. Worth it though.

Then to the O2 for Snow Patrol and to meet my LJ friend to whom I was giving the ‘companion’ ticket that ticketmaster gave me. We got a coffee and chatted before the doors opened. I have to say, initially i was not sure about this whole arena show thing. I like my gigs standing two inches from the stage, thanks much, and there’s no way I would fight an arena crowd for that. However, it ended up being amazing. The support was loud and screamy which was sad, but during the actual show– God– lights and video were amazing, and when the entire crowd stood and sang “If I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?” I wanted to forget the world.

However, I could not forget the long-haired guy and his MUM (it looked like) next to us. Nor the security man apparently showing a lost kid back to his seat. I love people watching.

We crammed ourselves onto the tube and I thought I would have to get the bus back to Oxford and be out ten pounds, but then I checked the time I had written down and saw that the last train was at 11:47 not 10:45 and went to Paddington. A guy at Costa made my night by not making me pay for my juice and giving me back the quid I put in the tip cup. Gimp pity or not, that was sweet. The train got in at one in the morning so no buses and the rest of the train grabbed all the cabs. I walked towards the center with a group about my age, The were lugging instruments and they got a cab near George Street, along with two girls who had either not changed trains at Reading or gotten on the wrong train and wanted Worchester. The hostel was shut for the night, so the group I was with took them to sleep on their floor and I got back to St Michael’s Street to treat myself to a cookie and milk before bed.

Lovely, lovely weekend.

More Neil

Roomie got her present today. She’s the one for whom I had Neil sign a second book. I can, therefore, post the picture.

The Waiting Game

Not to turn this blog into a Disability manifesto, but I got to thinking yesterday about just how much waiting is involved in being disabled. Overall going to and from a tutorial I think I spent an hour waiting for the bus (got a lot of reading done) to go one stop either way. A normal person could have walked it. Truth be told, I could have walked it, but I knew it would be pointless strain on my body. That and I always overestimate the time it takes me to walk places. If I had started walking to the tute when I got to the bus stop and saw ‘15 minutes’ on the digital readout I could have made it. But I fear bad things happening so I didn’t.

But this goes beyond waiting for a bus. What about the cabs that the disabled without cars take in cities where there aren’t just cabs on the street and they have to be called in advance? What about those (as I am at this moment) on a waiting list for services? Parents, like the ones my mother works with, waiting on a diagnosis for their child. Waiting for medications to take effect.

Now most of these things can’t be solved. But we also wait for the world to realize how much acceptance is needed. Sometimes we wait for the accommodation to be in place before we attempt something. So here’s the thing (and we watch as I get to the point of this blog), accommodation will not be made if people do not realize that it is necessary. And they won’t if the disabled (and I’m not accusing, I’m guilty of it) wait on the steps of the pool dipping our toes in and hope that the water gets warmer. You have to dive in and test the waters.

So that’s what I’m doing.

Lovely London

Saturday was my twentieth birthday. I spent it in London getting a new computer. I started off the day at the café down the street for my Saturday mocha and croissant and then got the 10:37 train to Paddington. There were no express trains so the ride took a while.

I got a sushi lunch at Whole Foods on Kensington High Street which is absolutely gorgeous on a pretty day.

nd got my mac and since macbooks are incredibly light I lugged it on the tube and to Regent’s Park to relax before coming home and getting dinner with a flatmate. It was a very good day. Said flatmate bought me balloons and another got me candy. 

I miss my friends and family, more so now that the cards from my parents came, but it was probably the simplest and happiest birthday I’ve had in a while. Simple pleasures and all that. Also, iPhoto ‘09 is AMAZING

Oxford to Dublin: An Experience in Three Acts (Act Three)

Not many pictures this time because my camera was buried under copious clothes and books (five Neil and one CS Lewis I picked up at a shop Dani and I stopped into waiting for the restauran to open for lunch).

Scene: Dublin Bus Stop, eight in the morning, February eighteenth

I am waiting for the bus outside Nodis’s, watching people head to work, a couple with a baby-in-pushchair going down the street. Just, having lives. Airport to wheelchair to cart. The guy let me off at my gate then said ‘there’s some time before your flight and a cafe down there’. I wonder if  ‘I NEED a coffee was written on my face’…?

The airport is really nice but I think Stansted wins as far as wheelchair. They didn’t take me to the plane there, for instance, and I boarded last but my seat was reserved. All-in-all wheelchair worked okay with Ryanair despite Statler’s warnings. I read and slept on the plane then got to Stansted about an hour and a half before my coach. The coach station had internet so I sent in my tutorial paper. Hee hee.

On the platform (Outside the station I guess) I saw a boy (about my age) in a orange messanger hat looking very European with a French/English dictionrary he was reading. “Francais?” I asked. He nodded but that’s all. i wish he’d continued, I felt too rude to ask questions but other people always seem to have experiences where they meet people and have long conversations in these situations.

The bus was not as bad this time, though it felt interminable. It took longer than the ticket said and I don’t know why. Traffic wasn’t bad, we didn’t stay long at stops… who knows. Back in Oxford the sun was setting under a light drizzle and I felt at home. I dashed into Boots to get bandages to put myself back together. I am determined to care well for these injuries and not let them ruin my last weeks here. i am also going to focus on Oxford. London and Dublin were amazing but expect Oxford posts for a while.

Unpacked remnants:

My books are stacked on my fireplace, and I have this:

 

And go to Dublin if you can!

Act One

Act Two

Oxford to Dublin: An Experience in Three Acts (Act Two)

Scene: Interior Chapters Bookstore, four-thirty February 17th

I have a seat. I have bought the equivalent of my plane ticket in Neil Gaiman books (all of which are justified even though it was later announced he’d only sign one). And I decide to go to the toilet beforehand so I don’t, you know, have to in the middle. Because that’s awkward. So I leave Fawkes-the-Cane at my spot and wander. Lack of cane is important, because walking by a shelf it’s not there to tell me that I am walking behind an info desk and there is a STEP. So I toppled over the step. I don’t know why. Maybe my day was too perfect up to then…. maybe it was a take-the-cane lesson or maybe it was an accident. The injury count last night when I removed make-shift bandages was two bruised knees (danger–I am praying for no infections), one cut wrist and one cut finger. All hurt. Sigh

But that’s okay. I had some sticky gauze pads in my backpack, so I fixed best I could went down the street (really…) to the restroom and had to get staff to help me regain my seat. Look, people, I came from Oxford for this.

Neil and Amanda were amazing. He read from the Book-N0t-Yet-Available (Who Killed Amanda Palmer?) and she played the uke. I love that she played ‘Dear Old House That I Grew Up In’  because I understand it well, feeling much the same about Mom and Daddy moving. It’s weird….

The line was long but we were pretty far to the front (I heard people were there until ten or so) and in line I met a woman from Ravelry who had seen my post about the event! So cool! She had crochet Neil a bee, which is adorable.

I thought about giving the ‘ I came from Oxford, had my laptop and phone stolen Saturday, fell two hours ago, turn twenty on Saturday and have to lug all these back’ ramble to get stuff signed but the rational part of me knew that to be horribly unfair and also nearly too much to be believed (and yet all true). Instead I got Fragile Things signed, because of how much I adore “The Problem of Susan”  and did ramble a little for something else that is secret until someone gets it. Neil said I’m mad for coming, he should meet Mom. I also got to tell him about the time Katie and I decided he was a god. If there were world enough and time I would have also rambled on about how the short story books kept me company whenever I was lonely in London this summer. How reading Neverwhere this fall made me long to be back in London and how I won’t get to see Coraline in theatres because it’s out now at home and in May here

Amanda was lovely as always and signed my postcard and took a picture even though that took far too long. It was an amazing moment.  I hate devoting so much space to Neil and less to her because she’s such an amazing person, but my rambling to her has mostly happened at other events

Dani and I got food at a nice little place with almond croissants and then I took a cab to my couchsurfing host Nodis’s house. She was so sweet, with a nice little flat and an air mattress. She told me about moving to Ireland from Germany and burnt me Terry Prachett audiobooks! I zonked out by eleven, though. I probably should have slept before the coach Monday evening. Oh well.

All-in-all an amazing, amazing day that I wouldn’t trade for the world. But maybe would cut part out of.

Good night, Dublin
 

Next: Coming back

Act One

Oxford to Dublin: An Experience in Three Acts (Act One)

Scene: Oxford High Street. One in the moring on February 17th.

I stand on the kerb with Holly and Devine (sp?) two of my flatmates who walked me up to the bus stop because one in the moring is sketchy in Oxford. The bus proceeds to be three very long hours of an uncomfortable seat and me being that American listening to Taylor Swift. (If you wish to mock me, go listen to Best Day then come back and argue).

My bag is not my large can-hold-books backpack because it had not arrived from home (still hasn’t). So my clothes are very tightly packed to make room for Neil Gaiman books. I went to Dublin to see him, you see. Bobby Bear wanted to go but knew he might get abandoned for books:

At Stansted airport I was amazed yet again by the disorganization of airports+getting a wheelchair. Once you have one you are perfect, but to get one, in this case, you get checked in and then take a paper back down the zones to Mitie who runs the chair show (army of chairs outside the window was amusing). Then you wait for a guy with a chair. And you don’t get to hang out in the airport lounge or get a freaking coffee…. But I digress.

Wheelchair guy brought along a friend– a bloke who I gathered was new to the airport–WG was about fifty and his partner had kids, probably in his thirties. I spent much of the plane ride trying to think of a suitable name for their awesomeness. I think Statler and Fozzie works well, but doesn’t quite catch it.  Statler let me know all about what airlines to take (not Ryanair, which I was on), and advised Fozzie on buying a house in that–way of the working class older brit. It sounds like stereotyping but it’s here, promise.

They took me down to pre-board the plane. On the plane, I slept. Apparently Ryanair charges alot for food. You don’t need food if you pack copious Nutrigrain bars. Ask me how i know. Cane on plane:

Dublin airport, wheelchair to cash machine, purchased postcards and got on the bus. I took the local bus per my host’s advice and saw the advertisement that shows that Burger King adapts! (Was there a Bush version of this? Obama? Brown?):

 

Also Gaelic on the signs which I hadn’t realized happened:

There was a woman on the bus who was obviously mentally handicapped. She had bright red irish hair and I could picture her in the 1860s, a weak relation… Unable to immigrate…. I think in stories.

Off the bus I went to meet Dani, my couchsurfing host’s friend who was also going to the signing. Dublin is so pretty. There are lovely buildings, and a river right in the centre, with several nice bridges.

Water

We met at the Library Bar which is GORGEOUS and has good coffee.

I made my way there with my map and got there early (!) so I wrote to Laura. Then we had sushi. Good sushi. With eel. I am in love. The restaurant (Yamamori) was really sunny and light.

We sat and chatted for ages about language, being sick a lot, travel and I don’t know what else. She was such a nice girl and I love hearing people’s stories. We then went to the ampitheatre. I perched on top, perhaps having a premoniton, perhaps not wanting to chance fate and topple down stone stairs. Nevertheless, it was beautiful. The slightly cloudy sky excentuated the grey stone and it felt incredibly peaceful. After that, we went to this little place called the Queen of Tarts for hot chocolate. I love little shops on side streets. It really makes a city for me if there are precious cafes in hidden spots.

Dani at the amphitheatre

Queen of Tarts menu

It also makes me glad that I got to go around with a local instead of a tourist book. I got a feel for walking around Dublin that morning. It’s much less rushed than London, and everyone seems more…calm. I don’t like that it runs on buses because when you’re unsure where you’re going that’s confusing, but it also shows how walkable the city is.

 Oh, Oglekids:

Next act: Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer!