Stage one.
Stage two.
That's as good as it got. Luckily I found a more willing guinea pig.
Thursday, 15 November 2012
Stop animal testing!
It's been a while in coming, but I finally found a suitable candidate to fulfil one of my all-time American ambitions. And in England, no less.
Stage one.
Stage two.
Stage one.
Stage two.
Round Britain Quiz
What connects West Wales, Manchester, and Weymouth? Miles and miles of tarmac, I can confirm having arrived at our south coast terminus after a long drive.
We started by meeting Miles who was running a course in Cilfynydd (we can't pronounce it either) in South Wales, where the English were certainly the ethnic minority in the local Albion Cafe. The sausage sandwich and tea was exemplary. That night we were in Haverfordwest on my cousin's farm, where I assisted with the dairy cows in a purely consultancy role. I also got to play some rugby with nephews Lewis, Oliver, and Godson Freddie. Lewis was in charge and was Scarlets, Freddie and I were Munster (we weren't even worthy to be a Welsh team!) We lost substantially.
The next morning we found our way through North Wales to Manchester; visibility only dropped to zero for a little bit of the journey. Mat and Alana made it down from Durham and we stayed with Hannah's sister Rachel. Dinner out was at Rhubarb, a little more refined than the Albion, where they served an "espresso martini" - gets you drunk while it keeps you up. Perfect.
Today was another motorway tour, taking in the Ms 6, 5 and 4, then various single-lane country roads where I got some good (terrifying) overtaking practice in our Fiat Panda. And now we're with our nephews and nieces, have offloaded the majority of our luggage weight (presents), I've made at least one of them cry, and almost lost at draughts to the eldest. They're in bed now, Scott's cooking us steaks, and the dog won't come back in from his evening walk. Homely consistency.
The pinnacle of British cuisine.
Miles, still looking gorgeous.
Three-year-old Freddie, my Godson and Munster teammate.
Lewis: Scarlets.
Technology comes to West Wales.
Sisters together in Manchester.
My breakfast this morning, the black pudding special.
Mat and Alana are equally impressed.
Reasserting my intellectual dominance over Oliver (we drew).
We started by meeting Miles who was running a course in Cilfynydd (we can't pronounce it either) in South Wales, where the English were certainly the ethnic minority in the local Albion Cafe. The sausage sandwich and tea was exemplary. That night we were in Haverfordwest on my cousin's farm, where I assisted with the dairy cows in a purely consultancy role. I also got to play some rugby with nephews Lewis, Oliver, and Godson Freddie. Lewis was in charge and was Scarlets, Freddie and I were Munster (we weren't even worthy to be a Welsh team!) We lost substantially.
The next morning we found our way through North Wales to Manchester; visibility only dropped to zero for a little bit of the journey. Mat and Alana made it down from Durham and we stayed with Hannah's sister Rachel. Dinner out was at Rhubarb, a little more refined than the Albion, where they served an "espresso martini" - gets you drunk while it keeps you up. Perfect.
Today was another motorway tour, taking in the Ms 6, 5 and 4, then various single-lane country roads where I got some good (terrifying) overtaking practice in our Fiat Panda. And now we're with our nephews and nieces, have offloaded the majority of our luggage weight (presents), I've made at least one of them cry, and almost lost at draughts to the eldest. They're in bed now, Scott's cooking us steaks, and the dog won't come back in from his evening walk. Homely consistency.
The pinnacle of British cuisine.
Miles, still looking gorgeous.
Three-year-old Freddie, my Godson and Munster teammate.
Lewis: Scarlets.
Technology comes to West Wales.
Sisters together in Manchester.
My breakfast this morning, the black pudding special.
Mat and Alana are equally impressed.
Reasserting my intellectual dominance over Oliver (we drew).
Monday, 12 November 2012
It's raining, it must be England
Well, it could hardly be any other way. It was wonderful and sunny yesterday to be fair, but after a surprisingly decent night's sleep I awoke to the sound of rain on my parents' roof. Welcome home!
It didn't deter us, of course, and we were soon enjoying a lovely pot of tea and a slice of Somerset Apple Cake at a local farm cafe. I discovered yesterday that I'd forgotten to pack any underpants. Normally I don't wear any in California, of course, but I needed the extra layers here so made a trip to Marks and Spencer's. I'd read that 75% of ex-pats wear only M&S underwear so I'm pleased to add another tick to the British stereotypes list.
Back home, Mum had put on an early Christmas lunch for us where we were treated to all the trappings, including crackers. Yes, we sat around the table wearing silly paper hats, so my 2012 Yuletide is already complete. Tomorrow our road trip begins, starting with Wales. Things are likely to stay a little wetter than around CA...
Straight off the plane, straight for a coffee.
Good morning!
Patriotic pride.
Mum and Dad at the cafe.
A local.
Mmmm, soft new pants. Lovely.
Hannah in Cheap Street - Frome's only street with an open sewer!
A classic Somerset combination.
A classic Christmas photo.
Flaming pudding. Yum.
It didn't deter us, of course, and we were soon enjoying a lovely pot of tea and a slice of Somerset Apple Cake at a local farm cafe. I discovered yesterday that I'd forgotten to pack any underpants. Normally I don't wear any in California, of course, but I needed the extra layers here so made a trip to Marks and Spencer's. I'd read that 75% of ex-pats wear only M&S underwear so I'm pleased to add another tick to the British stereotypes list.
Back home, Mum had put on an early Christmas lunch for us where we were treated to all the trappings, including crackers. Yes, we sat around the table wearing silly paper hats, so my 2012 Yuletide is already complete. Tomorrow our road trip begins, starting with Wales. Things are likely to stay a little wetter than around CA...
Straight off the plane, straight for a coffee.
Good morning!
Patriotic pride.
Mum and Dad at the cafe.
A local.
Mmmm, soft new pants. Lovely.
Hannah in Cheap Street - Frome's only street with an open sewer!
A classic Somerset combination.
A classic Christmas photo.
Flaming pudding. Yum.
Saturday, 10 November 2012
No sleep til Brooklyn
It seemed like a good idea at the time: breaking a flight to the UK with a day's stopover in New York. Unfortunately, somehow, you can take off from SFO at 10pm and arrive at 5.30am in JFK and yet only four hours have passed! Hannah said something about the world being round, I don't know...
Anyway, after this temporal slip up we found that parts of the subway are still out after Sandy blew through. Undeterred, and praising the invention of the smartphone, we navigated the NYC bus system and some slightly dodgy neighbourhoods to arrive in Brooklyn. Here we found Elad and Daphny!
It has been their lifelong ambition to live in New York and, after suffering Berkeley for a few years, they made it out here. As soon as we were together the memories, mainly of playing Rock Band on the Xbox, came flooding back, mainly while we were playing Rock Band on the Xbox. It's nice that some things remain constant in this crazy world.
We didn't only do that. They live by a beautiful park, where we walked their dog Noozie, and in a fab neighbourhood where we enjoyed crepes, coffee, Mexican, and dessert at "The Chocolate Room". Then it was back on the subway for us, returning by a different (working) route, and I'm now in JFK nine hours after getting here waiting for - yes - another red eye across the Atlantic. NY may be the city that never sleeps, I currently have other plans...
Anyway, after this temporal slip up we found that parts of the subway are still out after Sandy blew through. Undeterred, and praising the invention of the smartphone, we navigated the NYC bus system and some slightly dodgy neighbourhoods to arrive in Brooklyn. Here we found Elad and Daphny!
It has been their lifelong ambition to live in New York and, after suffering Berkeley for a few years, they made it out here. As soon as we were together the memories, mainly of playing Rock Band on the Xbox, came flooding back, mainly while we were playing Rock Band on the Xbox. It's nice that some things remain constant in this crazy world.
We didn't only do that. They live by a beautiful park, where we walked their dog Noozie, and in a fab neighbourhood where we enjoyed crepes, coffee, Mexican, and dessert at "The Chocolate Room". Then it was back on the subway for us, returning by a different (working) route, and I'm now in JFK nine hours after getting here waiting for - yes - another red eye across the Atlantic. NY may be the city that never sleeps, I currently have other plans...
As early (and cold) as it looks.
Heading out into the scary city.
First stop: breakfast for all.
Latte, ricotta and honey crepe. Delicious.
Noozie and others enjoy the snow.
Storm damage is still evident everywhere.
What's that tiny grey smudge in the background? It's the Statue of Liberty of course!
Thank you for a wonderful day, and a good acclimatisation to British conditions.
Saturday, 3 November 2012
Low brow
My sensible distrust of science has been discussed before. If we evolved from monkeys, how come there are still monkeys? Answer that, science! I was therefore a little shocked when Hannah asked me to be a "science ambassador" at the Chevron-sponsored Bay Area Science Festival. Then she told me I would get a free lunch, and all my misgivings evapourated, like the element bromine (atomic number 35) when heated just above standard temperature and pressure.
As usual the flagship event was held in AT&T Park and the turnout was boosted by the Giants' recent World Series win. Tents and stages surrounded the pristine green diamond, displaying various projects and experiments, while the pitcher's mound and bases exerted an equal pull on the crowds. The Chevron tent was the centerpiece, full of sciency stuff including a full TV studio where kids could direct, film, and star in their own shows about technology and/or oil. For respite, staff (and partners) could relax and eat in the Virgin America Loft which, I have to say, is a little better than Chevron's stadium box. Yes, I now compare different corporate hospitality suites.
I enjoyed taking in the view while Hannah handed out science kits, but I was soon pressed into service aiding the roving reporter cameraman. While he wandered the field, filming kids for soundbites, I had to canvas parents for their signatures of consent. In England this may have led to some awkward moments but over here adults were thrusting their children in front of the camera, encouraging, directing from out-of-shot. I can only imagine what it would be like if we'd done this in LA.
After a hard hour's volunteering, during which I didn't have to answer even the most basic science question, I returned to the calm of the Loft for a burger and drink. Such is the quest for knowledge in SF that Chevron ran out of giveaways shortly after, and I spent the rest of the time watching Lauren and Nate drop balls of different weights and claim they landed at the same time because gravity acts equally on everything, or whatever.
Where the magic happens.
Fellow Chevron trophy husband Nate displays his loyalty.
The Chevron science zone, before it was overrun by knowledge- and freebie-hungry kids.
The Mars Rover, on earth.
They had a real shark in here!
More "experiments".
Virgin and child.
Interviewing young scientists.
Lauren's attitude to science reflects my own.
Taking a break after a long day where the fundamentals of my belief were rocked (by free food).
As usual the flagship event was held in AT&T Park and the turnout was boosted by the Giants' recent World Series win. Tents and stages surrounded the pristine green diamond, displaying various projects and experiments, while the pitcher's mound and bases exerted an equal pull on the crowds. The Chevron tent was the centerpiece, full of sciency stuff including a full TV studio where kids could direct, film, and star in their own shows about technology and/or oil. For respite, staff (and partners) could relax and eat in the Virgin America Loft which, I have to say, is a little better than Chevron's stadium box. Yes, I now compare different corporate hospitality suites.
I enjoyed taking in the view while Hannah handed out science kits, but I was soon pressed into service aiding the roving reporter cameraman. While he wandered the field, filming kids for soundbites, I had to canvas parents for their signatures of consent. In England this may have led to some awkward moments but over here adults were thrusting their children in front of the camera, encouraging, directing from out-of-shot. I can only imagine what it would be like if we'd done this in LA.
After a hard hour's volunteering, during which I didn't have to answer even the most basic science question, I returned to the calm of the Loft for a burger and drink. Such is the quest for knowledge in SF that Chevron ran out of giveaways shortly after, and I spent the rest of the time watching Lauren and Nate drop balls of different weights and claim they landed at the same time because gravity acts equally on everything, or whatever.
Where the magic happens.
Fellow Chevron trophy husband Nate displays his loyalty.
The Chevron science zone, before it was overrun by knowledge- and freebie-hungry kids.
Appear on TV and everyone suddenly believes you.
The Mars Rover, on earth.
They had a real shark in here!
More "experiments".
Virgin and child.
Interviewing young scientists.
Lauren's attitude to science reflects my own.
Taking a break after a long day where the fundamentals of my belief were rocked (by free food).
Friday, 2 November 2012
Middle Class
We took another step on the long road to child ownership today by attending a "mid-pregnancy class" at our local hospital. I don't think this was mandatory but it was heavily pushed during several of our scans. We'd managed to skip the "early-pregnancy" one so felt obliged to do at least some preparation.
Oh dear. The class started with the usual introductions: who you are, how pregnant you are, whether you knew what you were having. The lady running the class - who was an "educator" rather than, you know, someone medical who actually knew what they were talking about - followed every "we're having a boy/girl" with the question "is that ok?" and a strange, rodenty grin. How are you meant to answer that? "I think it's too late to change now!" I wanted to shout after the tenth time she'd asked. Her delivery of the word "ok" was bizarrely extended: "ooookkkaaaayyyy?", rising, grating, like a kazoo, like heartburn.
As the class got going it quickly became clear that this was a worst-case-scenario affair. The "educator" took pains to underline just how unnatural and horrific the changes to a body during pregnancy can be. From loose joints and dropping things to gas, constipation, cramp. She had rhymes to help us remember how bad things will be after birth too: "she coughs, she sneeze, she laughs, she pees." She said it three times because no one laughed, so it's now stuck in my head, and it's not even grammatically correct!
Contrast was provided by a care and share, gender discriminated breakout session, where expectant fathers could...I'm not sure what the point was. "Did everyone here conceive naturally?" asked one when introducing himself, to bemused silence. "Anyone go through IVF? Because we did seven sessions of IDI," I don't even know what that is, "and six sessions of IVF before we got pregnant." Is there nothing that Americans won't share?
There was also footage of a couple going through childbirth (see previous sentence) with much less swearing than Hannah will manage, calming music playing in the background, and a narrator softly saying things like "you may think you are dying." The resulting baby looked suspiciously calm and not newborn. There was a time for questions and one woman wanted to know if she could still eat fish and, no word of a lie, started going through about twenty different species asking how much of each was safe to consume. "Can I eat 12oz of shrimp in one sitting?" Can anyone eat that? Another lady asked if she could still eat pizza, and I waited to be led through the Domino's menu. Blessedly no.
Then it was back to the "educator", and always that voice, "oookkkaaayyy?", like a blunt hacksaw cutting aluminium, like the mating call of an aquatic lizard. It kept distracting me from games of Jetpack Joyride on my phone. After two-and-a-half hours the torment ended and we filed out with the other shocked, scared, and disheartened protoparents. I should have asked for an epidural of the ears before the class began. At least, after this, birth is going to seem like a doddle. Right Hannah?
Oh dear. The class started with the usual introductions: who you are, how pregnant you are, whether you knew what you were having. The lady running the class - who was an "educator" rather than, you know, someone medical who actually knew what they were talking about - followed every "we're having a boy/girl" with the question "is that ok?" and a strange, rodenty grin. How are you meant to answer that? "I think it's too late to change now!" I wanted to shout after the tenth time she'd asked. Her delivery of the word "ok" was bizarrely extended: "ooookkkaaaayyyy?", rising, grating, like a kazoo, like heartburn.
As the class got going it quickly became clear that this was a worst-case-scenario affair. The "educator" took pains to underline just how unnatural and horrific the changes to a body during pregnancy can be. From loose joints and dropping things to gas, constipation, cramp. She had rhymes to help us remember how bad things will be after birth too: "she coughs, she sneeze, she laughs, she pees." She said it three times because no one laughed, so it's now stuck in my head, and it's not even grammatically correct!
Contrast was provided by a care and share, gender discriminated breakout session, where expectant fathers could...I'm not sure what the point was. "Did everyone here conceive naturally?" asked one when introducing himself, to bemused silence. "Anyone go through IVF? Because we did seven sessions of IDI," I don't even know what that is, "and six sessions of IVF before we got pregnant." Is there nothing that Americans won't share?
There was also footage of a couple going through childbirth (see previous sentence) with much less swearing than Hannah will manage, calming music playing in the background, and a narrator softly saying things like "you may think you are dying." The resulting baby looked suspiciously calm and not newborn. There was a time for questions and one woman wanted to know if she could still eat fish and, no word of a lie, started going through about twenty different species asking how much of each was safe to consume. "Can I eat 12oz of shrimp in one sitting?" Can anyone eat that? Another lady asked if she could still eat pizza, and I waited to be led through the Domino's menu. Blessedly no.
Then it was back to the "educator", and always that voice, "oookkkaaayyy?", like a blunt hacksaw cutting aluminium, like the mating call of an aquatic lizard. It kept distracting me from games of Jetpack Joyride on my phone. After two-and-a-half hours the torment ended and we filed out with the other shocked, scared, and disheartened protoparents. I should have asked for an epidural of the ears before the class began. At least, after this, birth is going to seem like a doddle. Right Hannah?
Thursday, 1 November 2012
High society
How do you know you've reached the higher echelons of East Bay society? When you appear in the Faces section of Diablo Magazine!
Faces: Parties, Society, Glamour, Nightlife. All things I usually avoid, but I was paparazzied, together with Hannah and her work colleague Lauren, at the recent John Muir fundraiser. We had a nice chat with the photographer, Peter Crooks, who Lauren knew, and he took down our names. Except he didn't, as the photo's caption lists "Hannah Davis" (without an 'e'), "Lauren Lyons" (with added 's') and, most egregiously, "Rand Davies".
While I am an objectivist, and got almost halfway through Atlas Shrugged before I was completely bored, I was a little put out to have my one appearance in the society pages marred by...well, misspelling is too weak. Oh well - as I'm inevitably recognised around the Creek, glossy magazines thrust in my direction to sign, I'll autograph them with good grace. My friends call me Randy.
The young and the beautiful. And Hannah and Lauren.
Who?
Faces: Parties, Society, Glamour, Nightlife. All things I usually avoid, but I was paparazzied, together with Hannah and her work colleague Lauren, at the recent John Muir fundraiser. We had a nice chat with the photographer, Peter Crooks, who Lauren knew, and he took down our names. Except he didn't, as the photo's caption lists "Hannah Davis" (without an 'e'), "Lauren Lyons" (with added 's') and, most egregiously, "Rand Davies".
While I am an objectivist, and got almost halfway through Atlas Shrugged before I was completely bored, I was a little put out to have my one appearance in the society pages marred by...well, misspelling is too weak. Oh well - as I'm inevitably recognised around the Creek, glossy magazines thrust in my direction to sign, I'll autograph them with good grace. My friends call me Randy.
The young and the beautiful. And Hannah and Lauren.
Who?
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