Sheridan’s Blog

I’m not convinced the fish in the bear’s teeth is a real fish (the one up there).  Obviously I’ve been looking at it for a long time now (most of the day, actually).  Have a closer look:  it looks like a plastic fish, possibly with a camouflage print on it.  I won’t be satisfied until I’ve seen it with my own eyes, in the flesh.  But it’ll have to do for the moment since I have no idea how (nor the inclination) to change it.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about singing.  When I first got here, it was ok to not sing.  But now it’s almost unbearable.  I can’t wait to get back into it.  I can remember what it felt like when I couldn’t do R’n'B runs and seemingly everyone else could.  Then, after months of the same boring practice exercises, I could suddenly do them, and how great it was to wander around doing them all the time (like the people who can do them always seem to be doing, bloody show-offs.)  Now that’s all I want to do.  Same for dancing.  I’m completely over not doing the things I really love doing.  I could just go and do them, but there is a whole list of other priorities I have to deal with, and other people I have to think about before just rushing off and being completely selfish (although at least once a day I think to myself that other people are doing what they want so why shouldn’t I?)  I had a dream about my old dance teacher the other night, and might I say it was one of the best I’ve ever had.  I won’t be going into details.  And if I don’t get to a piano soon I’m going to scratch someone’s eyes out.  I’m so creatively frustrated.

Conditions have taken a turn for the worse in Clapham North.  Just last week, the upstairs shower decided to just stop working.  But that was ok since we had a spare one downstairs.  Only a minor annoyance, since 12 people in one house, all trying to go to work, mainly in the morning = race for shower time.

However, on Saturday night it got a whole lot worse.  A couple of the reckless youth happened to be finishing work in London and embarking on some kind of world tour before heading back home.  Small party, big noise.  I can put up with noise – Tim has had me installed with ear plugs (there’s nothing he can’t do).  However, it appears amidst the drunken frenzy some dickhead broke one of the pipes leading to a radiator.  A few hours later (ie – 2am) a plumber had to come out and drain the whole radiator system (that’s right – over 3 floors…).  My first hint that something was not right was the consistent trickling water sound coming from the radiator in our room.  But I wrongly assumed it was just someone tipping a beer out the window or something.  In the morning, I went downstairs for a shower, and encountered a mini-flood, the back door wide open, the crisper from the fridge full of water in the middle of the floor and various unidentifiable fluids and stains scattered around the place.  I did (for just a moment) marvel at how I slept through what looked like a fairly decent celebration.  Anyway, tried to turn shower on – nothing coming out.  Turn hot tap on – same result.  Go back upstairs and complain to Tim.

It’s now Wednesday – still no hot water.  An email was sent to the appropriate parties, outlining the inability to shower in warm water, wash dishes or wash clothes.  We don’t have a kettle, and since the stove is electric, having even a sponge-bath takes well over an hour.  It’s not such a big problem for me since I have a shower at work, but I suspect others may not be so fortunate.  Anyway, it seems to be all in the name of experiencing the joys of a share house in London.  At least we all smell much the same.

I am so panic-stricken I cannot sleep well.  Will I cope on a bus for 9 hours?  Can I urinate in public with seemingly gay abandon?  In which case, is a skirt not better than pants?  Am I going to have enough money saved before leaving?  I swear I only had 3 hours sleep last night.  Relaxing is out of the question. 

Plus, I got some shots yesterday (both arms) and I woke up every time I tried to roll over.  Then, when I did get up, someone was in the only shower we have that works at the moment so I didn’t have time to have one. 

So I get to work and opt against having a shower there (since the cleaner is still in the changerooms; it’s a bit too intimate for me) and by the time they go I have to be at my desk.  Plus, when self-importance and confidence is at an all-time low, I’m told I have to go and organise breakfast for a meeting. 

Demoted from receptionist to waitress.  Is there any point going on?

I’ve been spending increasing amounts of time planning some kind of itinerary for Asia. Tim has been spending increasing amounts of time sleeping and generally laying around. To be fair, he finished up work here and then fell ill with a cold (possibly brought on by alcohol consumption combined with inhalation of cigarette smoke). He might need a few weeks to settle comfortably into some kind of routine, which, at first thoughts, should probably include: washing, grocery shopping, vacuuming, general cleaning and bin emptying. You know, all of the things I do in my ‘days off’. I’m sure he’ll put the time to good use…

Holiday planning definitely is a logistical dilemma at some points. There’s a bit of guess-work required since we need to apply for a couple of visas, thus need to know roughly when we’ll be entering and possibly departing countries. Some visas can be collected along the way. We did sit down and begin the planning in an enthusiastic spirit on Monday. However, after time and time again of discovering that travel is more of an art form than a ‘service’ in many of the places we wish to go, creating any kind of accurate itinerary on the first or second attempt was not going to happen. So Tim went to sleep, and I went to work with the Lonely Planet guide and a pen and paper. It’s a long and arduous process – finding out how to get from Place A to Place B, then trying to find out when, how and how much. Often there’s only one option, and sadly sometimes it appears to be an 11-hour bus ride along winding, narrow roads, along with 400 or so other people (and animals!) crammed onto a 60 seater bus*. Strangely enough, the distance traveled in such a marathon bus ride may only be 200-400km. Then, since Sheridan is allergic to bus journeys over 4 hours in duration, the whole leg of that journey may need to be modified. On top of this, since travel is so slow, we may need to get the longest visas we can so we don’t find ourselves stuck in a country we are no longer entitled to be in. I think we’ll be ok. It’s mainly the Laos leg that’s causing the issues at the moment. I’d prefer to spend some time in the place, rather than just traveling through it on a bus. A very slow one at that. It looks like we may get to spend some time on a ferry/river boat, which I think might be nice.  I particularly look forward to jumping off the boat during designated ‘toilet stops’ and dashing into the bushes with the rest of the passengers.  I have also taken on  board the advice to not stray off the road for toilet stops in Cambodia.  According to several sources, straying off the beaten track might see you come back with less limbs.  There’s some really interesting places I am looking forward to seeing, including the Angkor Temples, just north of Siam Reap, and the Death Railway in Thailand. These are, of course, the touristy kind of places, but supposedly majestic just the same.

In other news, we went to a Tool concert last night at the Brixton Academy (in Brixton, strangely enough). It was loud. It was hot and sweaty. I was accidentally intimate with about 6 other people. A good time was had, although it was a job to get the youths to stop bumping into my walking frame, and I cannot recount the times my bifocals were knocked off my face…

*Presence of slight exaggeration.

5 cats and 3 mice (not blind).

Tim did challenge my tally, suggesting perhaps that one of the evening cats may have indeed been the same as one of the morning cats.  But there was no re-catting.

Still just the 3 cats so far.

Today I met 3 cats on the way to work.  I’m going to keep a running tally throughout the day. 

 

In other news, leaves have been falling off trees and into my face or onto my head rather a lot lately.  I’m interpreting this as the universe patting me on the head.  At least a tree isn’t falling onto me.  I think that’s the universe saying something entirely different.

There are some finer parts of life when you are able to join up a childhood event with it’s adult equivalent.  This is not one of those times, but it’s a nice thought anyway. 

Well I went to this military tattoo thing.  I’ve always liked the military; something about the discipline and respect that appeals to me.  The integrity and absolute transparency that they preach is to be admired.  I like it when people are transparent in their dealings with me.  I also appreciate being treated with respect, and I am even more impressed when people are able to maintain a sense of integrity with me, especially if I have not acted in the same manner.  Everyone should think about that today, and forever more.  (Sheridan dismounts high horse).

Anyway, it was quite a stunning day in Edinburgh.  Until about 7pm, when it began to rain and then didn’t really stop.  Equipped with my big coat and a bright yellow plastic poncho, I joined the crowd on the street to enter the castle grounds.  The majority of my party was sitting on the opposite side of the arena, but I was more than happy to settle in with my Canadian-Scottish friend for the night.  The rain was relentless.  The music was great.  They started out with the classics – bagpipes, horns, brass, Scotland the Brave, etc.  Then they brought out a High School Girls Band from Taipei.  They were throwing their guns around and everything, while I wondered why my high school didn’t offer gun-throwing in the curriculum.  It was pretty hard to clap and gesture wildly and take photographs in the less-than-ideal weather but I somehow managed.  Then a Russian military band came out, and they were awesome.  They played a few relatively normal and respectable pieces before launching into some more up-beat tunes.  And then they danced while they played.  I do love it when the military men dance.  And these guys, being finely-tuned musicians, know how to really break it down.  I was beside myself with glee.  Sometimes things are so good that you have no adequate way to express your feelings.  This was one of those times.  It was almost the best moment of the night.

Just when I thought the pinnacle had been reached, the funky band from Trinidad & Tobago came out playing steel drums.  I would have leapt up from my chair, but I was fairly wedged in there and could barely move.  It was akin to being transformed to an island in the Caribbean, sitting in the sun and relaxing.  I say, if you’re going to be under attack from another country, you’d wanna pick these guys.  I can almost see them advancing up the beach all ‘Ggrrrrr, gggrrrr, gggrrrr…..can I get you a Mai Tai, ma’am?  And then everyone would get up and start dancing and waving, and we’d all be really tanned and slender and toned, and our (my) hair would be all smooth and not like a scourer, and we’d have some drinks and there’d just be throwing shapes all night.  Then some military officers came out, not dressed in a very military way (unless there’s some kind of Samba militia, in which case I want to become a member).  They proceeded to set fire to a limbo bar and then limbo under it.  I would have been the person yelling and screaming the loudest had I not been choking on and inhaling the polyvinyl chloride poncho at regular intervals.  It was so cool (the limbo, not the plastic smock of death). 

So a good night was had.  Now I’m back at work, recalling it all to you folks.  I’m still a fair bit below (or perhaps above) normal today.  For some reason I’m on high alert – I am prepared for someone to step out of the jungle with an AK-47.  I think I could deal with that today.  Maybe someone slipped me a shot of epinephrine or something.  I almost pity Tim – it may take a while to get me back down to normal. 

It was only about a day after Tim’s airline-booking triumph that I started to get a bit edgy.  Now I’m experiencing full-blown panic.  We’re definitely committed to something now and there is no going back.  I’m not exactly sure where the fear is coming from or even what it is that’s provoking it.  Perhaps it’s just the different cultures I’ll be experiencing.  Toilets are a completely different thing in Asia, but I don’t think I’m all that worried about that.  It’s not ideal, but I’ll cope.  It might be the 5 or 6 hour-long bus rides (not even an opportunity for a toilet stop).  Or it could be that, being female, we tend to be more toilet-prone than men.  Maybe I’ve read too much of the health section of the Lonely Planet guide, which informed me of all the diseases I may or may not catch.  I was practically hyperventilating on the train yesterday as I read through the horrors.

(Freud enters the room, along with Jung, Bandura and Rogers…)

It could perhaps be that once we’ve left London, I have Tim and Tim alone to help me if things go badly.  And perhaps there might be an issue there that I didn’t realise existed.  Until now, when it’s all I can do to not think about it.