Well I'll Be an Arctic Monkey's Uncle

Welcome to the south of the north.

I arrived by bus in the steely city of Sheffield around noon last Friday. It turned out to be a rather grey day, but I was determined to make the most of it. I didn't know much of Sheffield, other than that besides steel, it has produced Def Leppard, Pulp and the Arctic Monkeys. A coworker had told me it was very hilly, and I had noticed this during the brief stop here on the bus ride back from Manchester. The city lies a valley in the tall foothills known as the Pennines.

From the bus interchange I was keen to visit Sheffield Station just up the road. I had remembered seeing a brief news item a couple months back on the new plaza there. When I came upon it, I was astounded. I honestly can't think of a nicer piece of new landscape architecture that I have seen in some time. The site is dominated by a complexly curved stainless steel wall fountain called 'The Cutting Edge' that runs the length of the station along the A61. Approaching Howard Street, the pedestrian entrance to both Sheffield Hallam University and the City Centre, it tapers to a round tube. Both ends feature coloured lights at night. Within the plaza is a massive system of stone cascades. Between the steel and stone fountains is a ramp from the station up to the Howard Street crossing.

The thing that amazed me the most about the site was the sound. As you walk up the ramp there are several different sounds to be heard. Along the steel fountain wall there is the sound of a brook as the water runs down to the drain (which makes a funny gurgling sound); appropriate as Sheffield sits in the plain of four rivers. Across the ramp the cascades have a ripple effect causing them to sound a bit like a train, appropriate for obvious reasons. On the plaza the water falls in thin strips, sounding like a waterfall. At the bottom of it all is a round geyser fountain that comes on and off, with streams of different heights. At night the whole thing is underlit and on occasion mist is released to add another dynamic effect. All in all the site made the trip worthwhile. It really was fantastic.

Sheffield seems to be filled with dynamic landscapes and architecture. Just up Howard Street at the entrance to the university is a rippled hill with a multi-coloured tile channel that drains into a swirling drain. To the right is the HUBS, now the student union building, once a museum of popular music. The building is very odd, resembling a quartet of steel curling rocks. In front of City Hall there are twin fountains made of glass boxes. It is clear that the city has put a lot of effort and funding behind design in the City Centre. Apparently the place was not as pleasant to visit a decade or so ago.

I wandered around the sprawling City Centre for a bit, coming across the Winter Garden, where Sheffielders enjoyed their lunches in the pan-continental planted interior. Just outside was St. Paul's Square and the Peace Gardens, named so in honour of Hiroshima.

I was starting to get a bit peckish and began my search for a nice greasy spoon or even a pub for some food. I ended up at Castle Market, a multi-floor indoor market, much like the one in Leicester. On the lower ground floor was exactly what I was looking for, a mom-and-pop (or perhaps mum-and-dad to the Brits) operation offering a roast chicken dinner complete with mashed potato, stuffing, Yorkshire pudding, cabbage and mixed veg, and a homemade dessert all for £3.80. I threw in a chocolate milkshake and I was all set. Their friendly South Yorkshire demeanour added to the enjoyment of the meal. The smoky air was bearable considering the circumstances. That old hold-out is on its way out anyway as the anti-smoking legislation is set to take effect across Britain.

After lunch it was more aimless wandering. I found the Sheffield United Football Club's stadium, just south of the City Centre. I wasn't able to find the oddly named Sheffield Wednesday F.C. though. It's north in the town of Hillsborough. The weather turned misty and made for rather difficult navigation with the need for frequent spectacle wiping. I popped into various shops to keep dry and browse for items I didn't buy. I hit a pub for some supper and it eventually came time for me to return to the Sheffield Interchange to catch the 310 back to Nottingham. The hour-long trip was rather relaxing. I dozed off a bit. It had been a long day of walking. Those hills really make it more work.

And now the preparations for the Continent are kicking into high gear as my days at the restaurant are numbered. Two more shifts and I will be happily unemployed (but busy nonetheless), awaiting Darryl's arrival in late April. Hopefully I can take a couple more budget trips in the UK before then. I thought of challenging myself by limiting my budgets on these days trips (e.g. go to London and spend no more than £30, including transportation). I know it can be done.

Cheers.

New Photos

There are a handful of new photos available. They cover Manchester through to Elvaston Castle. Click here to see them.

Cheers.

A Tale of Three Cities

Well maybe tale is a bit of an overstatement, but account just doesn't seem to have that Dickensian flow.

So I managed to squeeze in visits to three new cities this past week. Last Thursday I headed down the road a bit to Leicester (the "ice" is silent) and Cheltenham and Gloucester (not to be confused with Cheltenham & Gloucester - the mortgage agency).

Leicester is only about forty-five minutes south of Nottingham. I was a bit ashamed of myself for not visiting sooner. That's about like living in Moose Jaw and never going to Regina. The return ticket was a measly £4 and the weather was decent so off I went.

When I arrived I just kind of wandered aimlessly around. It's nice to do that in a strange place. Part of me wanted to head to the tourism office to grab a City Centre map, but I was content to just explore on my own. There were maps on large kiosks on the main streets so I got a quick glimpse of where I was heading. Leicester is quite a nice city, despite what people in Nottingham might say (there are rivalries between all neighbouring cities in England. Methinks it has to do with football-instilled civic pride).

Before long I stumbled upon the market. It was unlike any I've seen thus far. The ground level was open to the street but covered. There were fruit and veg carts for an entire city block, clothing and accessories, pet food and toys, etc., etc. Up a level inside there was a fish and meat market. Up one more there were fabrics and carpets, and a cafe topped off the complex.

I also saw the largest war memorial I've seen outside of Ottawa and just up the road the oldest building remnants that I have seen thus far. Before that though, I took a stroll through Castle Gardens, the site of what used to be Leicester Castle. All that remains is a mound where the lookout was. There are some modest steps up to the top and a nice view of city below. Further up the path is a plaque beside the River Soar that demarcates the final resting place of King Richard III, as it is belived his remains were disentombed and dumped into the river near that spot. Today, across the river, there is an empty parking lot that offers low cost car washing. Oh how far we've come!

Along one of the A Roads, there is a pit that contains the Jewry Wall, the remnants of an ancient Roman bath that dates back to the Second Century. It is quite clear where each of the rooms once stood. Along the back there is a massive stone and brick wall with three large arches. It is now supported by a horizontal member connected to the neighbouring St. Nicholas Church. This, as stated above, is the oldest piece of architecture I have yet seen.

Back in Nottingham I started to hear the murmur of the Cheltenham Festival and became intrigued. I decided that since I again had a Thursday off, I would venture out that way to see what it was all about. The Cheltenham Festival is an annual horse racing event where people go to make and lose a lot of money. A lot of British High and Low Society make appearances. This year the papers were abuzz with the drab garb of Kate Middleton, Prince William's (expected) future wife. Wills just wore a boring sweater and jacket of course, but nobody batted an eye about that.

The town is only about two hours by train. The station was crowded with snazzily dressed people queueing for the shuttle service to the racecourse. I wasn't interested in that at the moment. First a bit of pedestrian exploration. The station is linked to the Town Centre via a mile-long park. The weather was clearing and it was a great day for a stroll. Every once in a while a pair of suits would walk by dragging their suitcase-on-wheels. Then there would be a local walking a dog.

When I came upon the Town Centre, the things I had read about it being the largest collection of Regency architecture was becoming apparent. Oddly enough it all looked a lot like Regent Street in London. It looked like some kind of weird child of Ancient Greece and New Orleans. Very posh, yet somehow accessible. There were a lot of people in suits and dresses. Many of the betting places had red carpets, balloon arches, and women dressed as jockies handing out flyers.

I stopped at a greasy spoon for some late day breakfast and then decided to head toward the racecourse, to see where all the action was. I had absolutely no plans to pay money to go into the festival. I just wanted to view it from outside. I wasn't too sure how close I could get before I would be shooed away. With a five o'clock shadow, earring and backpack, I wasn't exactly fitting in with this crowd.

Along the way I walked through a park with a little lake and a couple stone bridges. At the top of the park was the Pittville Pumphouse, the original spa in the town, which gave the town its full name of Cheltenham Spa. The building is now used as a conference centre.

Not far from there was the racecourse. With the blimp flying overhead, a sea of coaches and city busses, and a myriad workers in the ubiquitous yellow reflector jackets, I knew I had arrived at the centre of the action. I'm sure I looked suspicious and was probably earmarked by a yellow jacket at some point, though I was never told by anyone that I couldn't be there.

Nearing the stand I could see the course below, and the hordes of people in the bleachers. The fashions got more pronounced the closer I got. Pinstriped suits and women with ridiculously oversized hats. Horse racing still has the kind of popularity here that it did in North America in early Twentieth Century. I felt like I was in some kind of 3D Hitchcock or Kubrick movie. Some scalpers tried to sell me some tickets for a mere £95. No thanks.

I headed back toward town and decided to pay £4 for a round trip to neighbouring Gloucester (the "uce" is silent), the county town of the shire. All I knew of Gloucester was its cathedral, though I needed to be reminded by the woman at the tourism office. I had remembered reading all about it on Allan's site. This is where much of the Harry Potter movies were filmed.

Gloucester was not nearly as posh as Cheltenham. The people seemed more like the regular English mix. It wasn't hard to find the cathedral. It is massive. The bells were ringing for Evensong, so I wasn't sure if I would be able to go in. Luckily I was, and was lucky enough to catch some of the amazing choir sounds. The space made my jaw drop when I entered. It was incredibly huge, and the sound was unbelievable. For the moment it did not feel like the Twenty-First Century. I spent some time in the large empty entrance hall listening to the organ and choir in the main chapel beyond before heading back out into the town. Unfortunately I was too late to visit the cloisters, but I think it would be worth heading back down that way some day to spend some more time getting a proper look at the place.

Outside it was getting dark, and I decided to head back to Cheltenham to observe how the sophisticated public were behaving in the streets. I knew I was in England when I saw a group of yellow-clad coppers, donned in their own ridiculously oversized hats barrelling down the pedestrian streets towards a pub where a brawl was happening. When I passed by I saw about twenty constables standing between the two fighters. One of the fighters had a bloody face. It's amazing how the Upper Class Twit of the Year can turn himself into a peasant when he gets a few pints of ale in him.

St. Patrick's Day usually falls within the frame of the Festival and because of that there is a huge Irish interest in the festivities. Irish accents abound in the streets and every pub seems to have a shamrock pictured somewhere. This was Thursday night, the Ides of March, a full two days before the big day and there was already drunken mayhem in the streets. I can't imagine what it will be like on the day itself. And of course this was only 8:00pm.

I headed back on the last train to Nottingham. Naturally so did a bunch of well-dressed drunkards, who before long were standing on the tables singing "You've Lost That Loving Feeling." Almost all of them got off at Birmingham, leaving me an hour of peace.

What's next? Perhaps Sheffield. I've got my eyes open for cheap tickets. The more places I can see before the European trek the better but I gotta keep the pursestrings tight.

Cheers.

A Castle and a Concert

Ahh days off. Ain't they grand.

Another Friday off, and I managed to dodge the bullet of getting called into work. My plan was to go to visit John and Marian, whom I hadn't seen since Christmas. I was awoken at 8:30am by a call from work. I grumbled and hissed and Tom said he'd call me back at 10:00. So the entire morning was spent wondering whether I'd be bullied into calling off my plans to go to work. By noon I hadn't gotten the call and was on the Red Arrow to Derby so I knew I was homefree.

I got to South Derbyshire around 1:30pm, greeted by John, Marian and their dog Penny. It was the perfect weather for taking a drive in the countryside. They had decided it might be nice to go to Elvaston Castle, just ten miles or so up the road, the area where they had grown up during the War.

We parked at the church in Alvaston (not to be confused with neighbouring Elvaston) and walked toward Elvaston and its Elizabethan castle. The castle was once home to the Harrington's, and the grounds have in recent times become Elvaston Castle Country Park. There are equine stables, a cricket ground, and a large duckpond. A new topiary garden was added in the mid-twentieth century. The castle itself, as far as I know, is not really used for anything. After returning to Findern, we had a nice supper and relaxed a bit before I headed back on the Viallager and Red Arrow to Nottingham.

The next morning at work there was more begging from the bosses, wanting me to work in the evening. I refused, as I had tickets to a concert in the evening and had specifically asked for the time off. Luckily they dropped the request when they realised it was a futile endeavour.

That evening I headed to Nottingham Arena to see Nine Inch Nails, the second time in as many years as I've seen them. I arrived at the arena a bit before the show to have a look at the place. This would be the first arena I had been to in England. The layout is standard arena: ice surface and seating in the middle, food stands, WCs and circulation around the outside. It was pretty barebones, seating about five thousand in the stands and about another thirty-five hundred on the ice surface.

The band was supported by Liverpool's Ladytron, who would have sounded better in a smaller venue, but then again I'm automatically a little more critical of arena shows. They later did a DJ set at a smaller venue.

Trent Reznor and crew, who must have felt special being in a city with the River Trent running through it, played for about an hour and half, hitting all their classics and edging in about three of the newest ones. This show is more the tailend of the last tour than the start of the new one. The set was very simple. Gone were the giant draping screens of the last show. Three hanging lights and fog provided most of the effect on stage, coupled with Geordie's guitar-swinging antics. I was impressed for the second time.

This past week has been rather laid back as well. I've managed to go an entire week without working a double shift. I think the chef is really getting to understand the idea that I'm here to travel more than to work.

The other night at work there was a booking for twenty-five earlier in the evening. They didn't show up and then later called back to tell us that their bus had broken down and they would be there a half-hour later. That time passed and they still hadn't shown up. We started formulating ideas as to what was going on. Probably a stag or hen party planning a night out. They'd likely get into town and be too hungry to sit down at a restaurant, opting instead for take-away or fast food. We were optimistically expecting a no-show or cancellation so we could clean down the kitchen and go home. At around 9:15pm they called back and said they would there in fifteen minutes. We were gutted.

About fifteen minutes later, Amy, one of the servers, burst into the kitchen, and informed me that there were twenty-five Canadian girls in red jackets coming down the road toward the restaurant. Apparently some kind of sports team (initially they speculated rugby, but I later learned it was synchronised skating). I was excited to be cooking for Canadians, and as suspected, most of them ordered chicken Caesar salads. Unfortunately I didn't get to talk to them and find out what they were doing here, but a quick internet search revealed that they are in town for the Synchronized Skating World Challenge Cup for Juniors 2007 this coming weekend.

More adventures to come perhaps. I'm considering a daytrip to a nearby city that I have yet to visit, perhaps Sheffield or Leicester. We shall see.

Cheers.

Manchester: Part Two

More tea and curry, and a Full English to boot.

We got up about mid-morning Saturday. I watched Looney Tunes while waiting for the shower. I hadn't watched Saturday morning cartoons in a long time.

Tom and I headed back to town in search of that time-honoured tradition, the Full English Breakfast. Walking around the City Centre was revealing just how much the city's food establishment has been transformed from English to Asian. All we wanted was a greasy spoon that served an all-day breakfast (as it was, by this point, the early afternoon). We finally found one.

The Full English typically consists of two eggs, bacon and sausage, baked beans, crushed tomatoes, and two toast. And of course it was all washed down with a nice cup of tea. The morning papers were stacked there for us to read. I picked the one that looked the least trashy. Well, ok, halfway between trashy (The Sun) and pretentious (The Times). I don't really recall which one it was. The big headline was the train crash the night before in Cumbria that had killed a passenger and wounded several others.

Tom and I wandered around, stopping in at a pub now and again for a pint of cider or bitter. We found The Living Room on Deansgate, the Manchester unit of our restaurant. The presence of a doorman and our casual dress with backpacks told us not to bother trying to get in. After all, all of the units are pretty similar. The decor's the same, as is the menu.

Around 6:00pm we headed toward Oxford Road Station to meet up with Tom's brother Alex, a University of Manchester masters architecture student, who was arriving from Chesterfield, where he had attended the Nottingham Forest game, which ended in Forest's favour. Tom and I waited at Grand Central, a nearby pub which, unbeknownst to us, has taken on a heavy metal motif. Alex showed up and joined us for a pint before we headed off.

We stopped in at Sainsbury's to buy some sandwich-making supplies before heading down to Alex's place just off the Curry Mile. His house was a little less clean than Rob's but I wouldn't expect anything less (or more) from a swamped architecture student. Tom made us some sandwiches and we ate while watching a very blue-tinted television.

From there we headed out to the Friendship, where a couple of Alex's friends were sat watching the Wales-France Six Nations rugby game. Before long I was talking architecture with Alex's friends. That ended abruptly as we left for another spot.
We went to a busy Oxord Road bar for a pint of real ale. I don't recall the name of the ale I chose, but Alex and his friends had gotten a Manchester. You know it's local when it's got the name of the city in it.

From there we hit a few more places around the City Centre. It being Saturday night, it was difficult to find space anywhere. Eventually we ended up at a club right next door to the place where we had our staff party a month or so prior. We stayed there for a couple hours and then made our way back to the Curry Mile for some more fantastic take away. I had a nice lamb curry. It was quite hot for my baby tongue, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I'd have to say the take away in Manchester is the best I've had in Britain thus far.

Awakening from a less comfortable sleep than the night before, on two chairs pushed together (hey it's cheaper than a hostel), we headed out from Alex's to catch our 11:45am bus back to Nottingham. Routine Sunday repairs on the rail lines meant there was no train back. The bus ride was to be three hours. That idea didn't bother me until these two loud-mouth rudeboys got on and sat beside and behind us. They were the types that didn't seem to get the concept of sitting still and talking quietly. Luckily before long they settled down, and save for the occasional text alert on their phones, they weren't too bad.

The bus took us southeastward through the Peak District. The scenery was beautiful. Despite being tired I didn't want to sleep, this time for fear of missing the sights. The terrain was hilly (as you might have guessed from the word 'peak') with lots of vegetation, and little creeks and waterfalls dotting the landscape. Seems like a nice place to come back to with a backpack and a tent.

We arrived in Nottingham via Sheffield and after a couple hours rest I was off to work for a fairly laid back Sunday evening. Back to reality. The pleasant surprise of three consecutive days off later in the week awaited me however. I could handle that.

Cheers.