:: The Wendy House ::

sat at the back of a bus heading to bus full,  approaching the Wendy House.  A man in front (MIF) rises, stands looking at the packed standing passengers in the isle.

Wendy: are you getting off at the next stop?

MIF: I don’t think we’ll make it (looks at crowded passengers in the Isle)

Wendy:  If we start now we could get half way to the door,  I’ll follow you

MIF: (steps into crowded Isle and stands still)

Wendy: (offers my seat to a person standing and asks to swap places with a person ahead in the isle)

We start to make our way down the bus,  politely asking each individual to swap places with us… …slowly we make progress.  We manage to get off near the Wendy House. 

Once again,  bus full is a destination that has evaded discovery.

The driver smokes a short filterless cigarette, awaits a passenger. 

Not any passenger. 

Not Flat Eric.   

A passenger from a windowless room.

We passby,  missing the passenger emerge, missing the small car leave.

My London raised Reading friend encountered this innovative use of traffic cones to prevent traffic from disturbing a Swans nest,  or possibly to prevent the Swans from colliding with nearby traffic. 

Either way,  hoorah for the portable bollard, the traffic cone!

Even the sleek Greek cats emerge from the windy alleys to occupy favourite perches to supervise the sunset.

All the Cyclade islands were mazed with Alleys just the right size for a mule and its handler.  Some towns even advertised themselves as not having cars.  European cars are small but not small enough for these alleys! 

Occassionally buzzy-bee sounding mopeds would swish around these alleys.  Houses were often built over the alleys creating pleasant shade and interesting archways.

 Mules are a current and useful form of transport in the Greek Islands.  The mules are small enough to navigate the windy alleyways of the old towns,  they are sufficiently sturdy to carry tourists and tourist bags up hill-sides,  stairs, down alleyways. 

This enterprising young fellow carried tourists and their bags to a venetian styled hotel near the entrance to Pyrgos Castle.  Inbetween ferrying tourists he sold pedestrians the opportunity to have their photograph taken with him and his mules.  Labrador took this opportunity which came with lots of kisses,  and from the young fellow.

Other fellows used the mules generally as personal transport,  we often passed them on main roads and back streets.

The travel company has provided a trip dossier that includes a very specific pre-holiday check-list on what to pack!  Useful and appealing to my listophilia:   

I’m a tad concerned about the lack of underwear and nightwear worn by my fellow passengers, self, and the skipper. Publically displayed jiggly-bits can put one off one’s beer or book.  The lack of ’dressing’ requirements for evenings in the Taverna, or Temple visiting, is also a tiny disappointment.  Luckily for the male guests there are no requirements to bring skirts or dresses. All the listed gear fits into this holdall with space to spare, for an unlisted skirt, underwear, binoculars and possibly a pretty dress.   I’m still waiting for my promised paper airline ticket to arrive…

 I am a traveller when commuting,  most weekends, and for a couple of weeks in GREECE (Whoooooopieee!). 

The word traveller is now used in the UK to describe people that take their home (caravan) with them when they move.  It apears to include the older reference groups (Gypsies,  Romanies,  Tinkers) that I am more familiar with and may include newer groups that I am not familiar with. 

Recently,  in the spirit of travelling,  I rode bus #20 around Lower Earley.  For fun.  I as able to sit above the driver at the front of the bus and wave at other local Reading people that I knew.  I saw some camper-vans parked on the grass of Cintra park (formerly Sutton Seeds sports ground) with people picnicing outside.  Get Reading reports that these are travellers that regularly stay in the Park every year,  this year they arrived just before a fence as due to be errected with the specific intent of keeping them out.   I wonder if they come to take full advantage of Jackson’s summer sale?

Boarding the outstanding,  yet not bio-ethanolically-fueled, free Thames Valley Park commuter bus I was forced by proximity to listen to a Scottish man wearing a back suit,  pink tie and highly polished shoes have a conversation with one of his work colleagues,  it started:

‘have those pissheads on the platform fwcked it up yet?’

and went down hill rapidly.  He alighted at the British Gas company bus stop. 

Recently,  while much of the UK was panic stocking on petrol,  in Reading pedestrians were riding Bio-ethanol fuelled buses on route 17.  In Sept 2006 Stagecoach single-decker buses were trialled in Merseyside, Yorkshire, Tyne and Wear, and Greater Manchester.  Stagecoach introduced 8 singledecker buses in Kilmarnock running on cooking oil.  Apparanly nearby residents got discounted travel rights in return for donating cooking oil. 

According to the BBC,  who are terribly credible,  Reading is the first area in Britain to supply a BIG fleet of 14 bio-fuelled buses.  The first doubledecker bus trialled in Reading in October 2007,  was called ‘Ethel’,  as were 2 of my mumzies aunties.  Get Reading reports:

Reading Transport Ltd chief executive James Freeman watched the company’s newest and greenest bus roll in.  He said: “People in Reading are very environmentally-conscious, so now they can be sure when they choose to travel by bus they are making a green choice.

 Hurrah for conscientious, progressive,  Reading public transport services.  Route 17 is one of my absolutely favourite bus routes,  it carries over 6 million passengers per year.  That is LOTS.

Watch people on CCTV cameras,  LIVE,  on the number 17 bus!

Distributed social responsibility by having lots of witnesses to any naughtiness on the buses.  Everyone knows they are being watched.

Distributed snooping,  snooping in public, taking people watching to the next level.  The bus company will have witnesses to incidents, 

Reading bus services are cutting edge,  except perhaps for the requirement to pay to ride.  Using cash and having the exact change.  How archaic is that?  Why can’t I just have my retina scanned by one of these many inplace cameras and have the money directly deducted from the bank account of my choice?

The buses here are so clean and shiny they just give me a warm feeling all over,  its sweet,  though it will never replace the sheer jof of sitting over the driver on a double-decker.  yay!

Collegue:  did you catch a taxi home last night?

Wendy:  no,  I walked

Colleague:  how long did it take you?

Wendy:  35 mins,  5 of those were spent crossing the road at cemetery junction

I’m working on my commute conversations,  but I suspect they are still well-below par

Sat on the top of a Reading bus route 33,  exploring the hinterlands of Reading from the comfort of a heated doubledecker,  we pull up at a bus stop and I hear:

hoards of passengers downstairs:  the driver’s missed the turn,  gone the wrong way,  let me off!   

sound of people stomping off the bus

little boy upstairs: the bus has gone the wrong way, do we have to get off?

man with litle boy: it might be the first time the drivers driven this route,  we can stay on and he’ll go near to our home.

The driver found a place to turn-around and continued on the right route without the passengers who like to have a good shout at someone who’s made,  what in the whole unvierse of mistakes is, a tiny easily retrievable mistake.

Commuting is by far the most popular local conversational topic, everyone can weave a story about the time, the traffic, the mode of transport, and details of obstacles on the route. Bus numbers, train stations, connections, services. These conversations happen over lunch, during work breaks, on blogs, at bus-stops, train stations, in pubs, cafes and homes. The conversations are littered with amusing anecdotes and demonstrations of the commuters wyle and frustrations.

I will have to work on perfecting my currently short, colourful-engaging-anecdote-free, story of a 15 minute brisk walk to a Thames-Valley Park (TVP) free bus and notable-eventless ride. Short, easy commute stories just don’t cut the conversational-biscuit here.

coordinating a US based

• cat foster home carer,
• UK approved shipper
• vetinary care and cerification

from the UK to get my kitties into the UK is like juggling ferrets,

tricky, and they have sharp teeth

Before moving to the temporary Wendy House in Reading I spent all of 5 minutes looking for bloggers who confessed to a connection with Reading.  I found Reading Roars and Scary Duck.  After turning up in Reading I built a ‘feel’ for liveable-in places in Reading by riding some of the local bus routes.  Most circular routes appear to take less than 45 mins.  That’s a sizist comment: “Reading,  the size of several 45 mins circular bus routes“.   Apparantly this photograph of buses passing on Route 24 was taken very near the cardboard box that ScaryDuck claims to live in. 

How cosy is that?

First time Taxiing Bros:

Bros:  are we going the usual way (voice stress indicates some concern)

Wendy: I don’t know,  you’ll have to direct me to the usual way

Bros:  it’s the other way

Wendy: 180 degrees in the other direction is going the usual way?

Bros: Yes

I turn around in the car park of a local Medical centre.  Bros. explains this is the medical centre he normally uses.  It will close for-ever when another one is completed further away from his home.  Approaching Bristol, Bros continues describing the usual way then comments that he hasn’t done this for 2 years so the Roads might have changed.  I managed to reproduce near-enough the usual way.  A way I had never taken because Uncle Vaughan set the usual way for my brother.

This moving malarky is intense, unrelenting and exhausting:  decision,  decision, decision,  pack, pack, pack,  sell, sell, sell, donate, donate, donate, comma, comma, comma….

I will be treating myself to a long ride on the top of double-decker bus as relaxation one Sunday in Reading. 

I like the look of the N26 and the N11. 

The bus service in Reading is of award winning European standard!  Hoorah!  The Reading “PLUSBUS‘ service won the International Road Transport Union Eurochallenge Award 2007 judged by an independent panel of European senior transport experts.  Oh, OH, OHHHHH,  I feel a bout of bus-geeky over-excitement about to break out….  If I get one friend to come with me we can be a ‘group’ and buy a  bargain group ticket for all day Sunday travel for only 5 GBP.   I may take Flat Eric.  It’s oh too exciting,  don’t you just wish you could sit up there with us and make bus-appropriate sound effects and faces at the pedestrians we pass?  Simply hours of good clean fun to be had.

senior colleague:

“Wendy is one of our best.  She’s the sort of girl that, when she says she’s leaving you think,  Wow that’s a great new job but boy are we f**ked“

junior colleague:

“blub-blub-blub,  blub-blub,  blub-blub-blub” (or noises to that effect)

someone in the corridor:

“f-off back to blighty then you old trout” (no-one was plucky-enough to actually say this,  I made it up)

senior colleague

“once you’ve learned how to spell,  stop wearing velvet, and start talking properly rather than your geeky research stuff then the world will be your oyester” (Mushroom implied,  this wasn’t Raymond)

friend

“would you like a lift to the airport?”

colleague:

“how many days vacation will you get?”

friend

“they have Anne Klien in the UK” (me - who’s Ann Klien?)

anonymous

“do they have mountains in England?”

sadly deluded commenter on theoldnewthing blog ’shipper’

“disappointed that Raymond and Wendy didn’t end up together”

The New York Times

“    “

Disclaimers:

• this blog is fictional.

• any offense caused to any friend or colleague is purely intentional.

• all spelling mistakes are deliberate.

• I reserve the right to relocate again if someone makes me the right offer.

• are you still reading? You get brownie points for perseverence, ability to scroll or possession of a huge monitor or dense screen resolution (take your pick).

• I like lists

Contrast.  Less than 20 yards apart,  an empty Hotel foyer with ample seating and the busy street across the road where the pavement provides seating.  Shuffling through the  slowly revolving, silent, automatic Hotel doors onto Friary street the chilly night air, scent, and sounds of Reading nightlife slap you sharply on the cheek.  Especially if you sit down suddenly. On the pavement (US = sidewalk) as I am wont to do occassionally.

Oddly enough I didn’t fall-over on my recent trip to Reading.  Is this portentous? 

After looking for a place to live in Reading I returned to the US to wrap-up the move.  On British Airways while completing an immigration form, I94

Air staff:  do you have a visa

Wendy: I have an advanced parole

Air staff: are you a criminal?

Wendy:  Advanced parole is the US document used as a Visa when you have almost got a greencard

Air staff: I’ve never heard of that before

I like the way that British staff happily display their lack of knowledge. 

Today I’m catless, carless, surrounded by dissembled furniture and half packed suitcases. 

Goodbye blubbing by me and soulful wailing by Sampo.  Matrix looked her normal relaxed self.

Matrix and Sampo can’t join me in the UK until the last 4 months of their PETS passport process,  6 months quarantine, is finished.  Today they moved to their US foster home. 

“Non-portable instruments such as pianos are not authorized for shipping.“

written in my relocation documentation.  I’m not 100% convinced.

Things to be aware of when flying from Heathrow to SeaTac:

How white are my knees after 6 days in Spanish August sunshine?  WHITE
How big was the person in this seat before me?  BIG
Was the pink spotty dress  just the ticket for travelling? YES
How long have my nails grown?  SCRATCHY LONG.
Focus?  what’s focus?  pre-flight BEER

These two people, he with a big camera and pants des cargo con khaki,  her with hotpants and wobbly thighs, whirred passed the Madrid cafe where I was peacefully soaking up the view and the vino. 

I suspect I would fall-off and crash such a contraption that clearly needs advanced balancing skills.  Why aren’t they wearing helmets?  Such wild wrecklessness on whirring wheely thingys.

Warning.

Lady in deceptively slow-moving dress caught undertaking a yellow Moped on Gran Via.  Watch out for the Handbag,  it’s like an air-bag only much harder on sudden contact.

I jumped right in and fell-over on my first day in Madrid. 

Nice scrape there on my knee… …and what colour and style are those pants I’m wearing….a shade of khaki…a version of cargo….have I succumbed to the camoflauge of the masses? 

Oh fickle me and my grazed knee. 

We are sat at the beautiful Madrid airport watching the rain……

the RAIN  in SPAIN waiting for my PLANE

(Warning:  anyone with aversions to bulleted lists should avert their eyes after the next sentence) 

The July 4th parade in the City formerly known as Bug is by far the most engaging, relaxed and inclusive I have ever experienced.  Inclusiveness includes:

• Buses to Baseball teams,
• Karate clubs to cheerleaders,
• Hairdressers to hospice staff, 
• Logs to dogs,
• Milk to mariachi bands,
• Moped formation riders to mexican restaurant football team,
• elected officials to racing cars,
• submarines to saxophones, and of course
• Tractors,  Tractors and more Tractors.

Some people even drive their tractors to the parade for a good view.  Everyone cheers and waves at everyone else. 

An all around love fest of everyday life. 

My fembot footwear provides aesthetical and sizical proportion to the tarmac cracks outside the wendy house. The current fall-overness-potential alert level is orange with a hint of cerise. 

This weekend I was hanging around at Bay #1.  

While failing to photograph the talented skateborders I noticed that the outstanding experience that is Redmond park and ride bay #1 has evolved!    Bicycles now have a dry, windless,  environment with a lock and key on the door.  I wonder how you book your bicycle to stay in this bicycle hotel?