Woodstock Barbie

Phil, the Kiwi in the office, is finishing up his contract, throwing his family into a van and buggering off to the continent - i.e. those bits of Europe where Johnny Foreigner lives. 3 months later, he will be heading back to New Zealand. Check it all out here.

We were invited to the most important part of the preperations; the pre-trip barbie.

Meat - check. Beer - check. Camera - check. OK, we're all fixed up...

Thought I'd take along some porn.

This big fella is dedicated to putting the garbos out of business.

Fresh from an arduous hunting trip during which The Beast of Oxfordshire was finally grappled to the ground - in the freezer section of Safeway, natch - the lads relax with a couple of cold ones.

Cooking, it seems, is a little more than applying fire to meat.

This young chap decided to 'fix' the wind chimes.

Erecting the spoils of war - or, in this case, a village pub-crawl.

Getting the offer of a lift right to our hotel, and having eaten and drunk as much as we could, it was time to bugger off quick. Still, the night is young and the pubs are open...

Proper English warmed-up beer. And a chick's drink.

Reminder of a more civilised age when cigarette warnings made sense.

Woodstock

Back in the 60's when your mum had an 'eclectic' taste in music, weird taste in clothes, interesting taste in smokables, loose(r) taste for sex and now doesn't like to talk about it, there was Woodstock.

This is the other one...

The trip to Oxford had a couple of purposes. First to see where the judges, politicians and foreign despots go for their education. Secondly, a guy I work with - more of this in the next post - is leaving to go back to New Zealand for a few years and threw a goodbye barbie. As he lives in Woodstock, we thought we'd get there a bit early and have a look around.

30 minutes after leaving Oxford on a bus and riding through the lush, green fields of England's home counties, we arrived in Woodstock. Eschewing Blenheim Palace - which takes a good part of a day to look around - we did a quick spin round the village and got some piccies of this lovely little place.

The geographical centre, I suppose. It's a bit too smeared out to make that a definite call, though.

A pub.

The gardens are quite small so, every Friday, children are employed to stick plants to the front of houses. We used to send them up chimneys so they should be grateful.

Another pub.

Not a pub. A restaurant unfortunately.

Vertical gardening strikes again.

Not a pub. An inn. Which, thankfully, amounts to the same thing.

Pretty little lane.

Footnote: Your mum would like to point out that she has NEVER had an 'eclectic' taste in music, weird taste in clothes, interesting taste in smokables (and didn't inhale, anyway, OK), loose taste for sex and now doesn't like to talk about it. She was a child of the 70's and, well, you've seen the photos!

The World Game Goes Down-Under

Today, in a state of utter, utter surprise, Australia staggered, blinking, out of it's dark little burrow and on to the stage of international sports. Who could have seen that coming? Certainly not me:

* Anti-French rant below. Not for the politically correct - or the faint hearted.

30 years ago, probably more through sheer luck than appreciation of the beautiful game, Australia qualified for the World Cup - and promptly failed to do a damn thing. As you would expect from a country with an unnatural tolerance for unnatural acts with unnaturally shaped balls, they got nowhere near a goal-line - other than their own. It was a case as 'let's all giggle at the funny colonials'.

Oh, what a difference. The 3-1 win over Japan was unexpected - not the win, so much, as the scale of it. They could, of course, have not left all the work for the last 10 minutes, giving everyone's heart health a bit of a break but, when it came, it was oh so good. The 2-0 loss to Brazil was always on the cards - let's not enter the 100m Olympic sprint until we can crawl - but Australia put up a good fight and could (with better referreeing) have given the South Americans more of a run for their money.

The 2-2 draw with Croatia was about as exciting as football can be. The referree, somewhere down the line, had the mother of all brain-farts. Though it would be difficult - unless you were someone not a million miles away from me right now - to claim bias. He made bad calls both ways. Notwithstanding, both sides put up a valiant fight. Croatia needed the win, the Aussies merely the draw. As expected, the Eastern Eurpoeans picked up a fistfull of yellow cards, and a couple of red to boot (one after the final whistle!).

Australia, in the end, came through with precisely the right result. And about bloody time!

So, what to expect from your new-found place on the world stage?

- The England footy fans at Aussie / Brit internationals will borrow from the Barmy Army's song book; 'You all live in a penal colony' (to Yellow Submarine). (The answer to this, if you must know, is NOT getting all miffed about the rude, unwashed poms, citing Gallipoli and generally complaining about how everyone's got it in for Australia. The answer IS, coining a song entitled 'We all live in a penal colony' and another one about how English fans have little willies or something. You can do it.)
- The standard of international referreeing will come under scrutiny as Australian fans will decry the number of free-kicks and penalties awarded against them - conveniently overlooking the number of dirty fouls they got away with. So no change there then.
- New writers for [any Australian TV channel] News will be drafted in to create a totally new concept. With Rugby Union falling in popularity, the entire first 45 minutes of any bulletin will be replaced with actual news. The next 10 minutes will be all about proper footy and the remaining time will consist of a quick round-up of darts, rugby union and water ballet. Order will be restored to the universe.
- The Footy Show will be scrapped making way for 2 hours of highlights of the Hyundai A League, English Premier League, the Spanish / Italian / in fact, any Hispanic country's league. It will be the most exciting thing you have ever, ever seen. Dozens of large, hairy transvestites will be reduced to trawling the bars of Darlinghurst and Newtown looking for work after being sacked from the show. They will not be missed.

Can't wait.

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* Let's not forget the bloody French:

Kim and me had a bet each on the winners of each group with William Hill - the bookie across the road. Kim got her selection from a woman's magazine. Yes, you heard that right, a woman's magazine. This is the sort of magazine that features phrases like 'the smart money', 'turn 5 pounds into 2,500', 'look at all these fat / anorexic (delete depending on the issue) stars', 'how to have better orgasms (Every bloody issue. Girls, you've been reading these mags for decades - if your orgasms are not good enough by now, you really should try something else.)', 'chocolate is good / bad (delete depending on the issue) for you' and a whole lot more crap. Needless to say, this bet deprived me of 2 pints of sparkling ale - but we knew that before-hand, right.

I, on the other hand, used my man-brain to carefully assess the form of each of the teams on offer and their potential vis-a-vis the opposition. That, and a set of darts. Out of 8 preditions I got 7 - count 'em - right. Man-brains are seldom wrong.

Until, that is, the French got started. In a group that included South Korea (too short), Switzerland (too moutainous) and Togo (too - where the hell is Togo?), this should have been a no brainer. Sadly, the French forwards had precisely that - no brain. They bombed, and so did my bet.

England has been at war with France for over a thousand years. Now you know why.

The Globe Theatre

Off to The Globe tonight - a reproduction of the original theatre that Shakespeare wrote many of his plays for. It's built to the original specifications, close to the original site, but with one small difference. As the original burnt down during a production when a cannon was let off for dramatic effect, this one has a sprinkler system.

The play is Titus Andronicus, part of The Edge of Rome season, is a simple tale of conquest, execution, murder, coronation, marriage, marriage, adultery, murder, rape, mutilation, mutilation, betrayal, self-mutilation, execution (twice), adultery, birth, torture, ghostly appearences, execution (twice again), murder (sword up the backside, no less), murder, canibalism, murder, regicide, execution and murder. Yeah, one of Shakey's better comedies.

On to the piccies, then...

First you've got to get there. Found this sort on the platform.
Nearest tube is Mansion House, requiring a walk over the new Millenium Footbridge - every major city has to have a Millenium something, right. The Globe, the small white building is down to the left, in the shadow of the new Modern Tate Gallery (straight ahead) in this converted power station.
From the footbridge looking down the Thames.
Back across the footbridge looking at St Pauls.
Here we are.
Bit of detail here, showing the medieval construction.
Stage is set and ready to go. The cheap tickets have to stand - for 3 bloody hours!
The more affluent amongst us get to look down on them, as nature intended.
You're not allowed to boo the bad guy - or in this case, the bad gal - these days. Fruit & veg throwing is also, apparently, out. Wasted trip to the greengrocer, then.
My noble Lord Lancaster, what doest thou?
I'm getting a beer in, you twat.
Break over, back to your seats.
All over and out to the Thames-side at night.

This was just brilliant - Shakespeare as it should be done. There were a couple of modernish references to keep the humour bowling along (cooks never dressed like that at the time) but, for the most part this was as minimalist as it would have been done way back when. No elaborate sets here. Basic props invite you to suspend belief and go to the center of Rome, hunting in the forest and into the generals house. The language was authentic, too, proving that you don't need to modernise the dialogue to keep a modern audience on the edge of their seats. No problem following this plot - and, of course, all the blood helped.

Sickness

Thursday was not a good day - I got Foot & Mouth, Kim got Bird Flu (she is a bird, after all).

Serious stuff, so we went to see the Doc around lunchtime and he recommended rest from work, lots of fluids and to keep warm.

It was with much sadness that we had to leave work and meet up in The Elgin to compare (sick) notes and start the onerous task of keeping our fluids up. Luckily, England vs Trinidad and Tobago was on the telly; just the keeping-warm environment we needed for recovery.

You will be pleased to know that, by the wonders of modern medicine, we were fit for work the next day with only a slight headache to show for it.

So that's 2 to the National Health Service, 0 to the bugs.

Fourth Metatarsal - A Nation Exhales

After England's first outing against Paraguay, that resulted in a useful but, let's face it, ordinary, 1-0 victory, it was Trinidad and Tobago's turn to hand over some points.

The Elgin beckons.

Special offer. Two of these with every beer.
First blood to England. Crouch's 80th minute header starts the ball rolling and not before time.
Gerrard gets the second in extra time sealing the win.
Full time and it's 2-0 to England and they qualify from the group. The crowd sings 'Let's go @#$%ing mental'. And then does.
A couple of England fans celebrate by getting wasted, throwing up, beating some old people and weeing on the pub floor.

The first half was quite ordinary, possession being about 50-50 and T&T getting a couple of half-decent chances. After the break, England went up a gear, rarely letting the ball out of their grasp and peppering the Windie's goal before finally getting the score that matters.

This is all well and good but, for a team that fancies its chances at winning the whole thing, the showing against Trinidad and Tobago, slated as the weakest in the competition, was ordinary indeed. England will surely have to lift their game if they have a hope of getting past round 2 and the quarter finals.

Crashing and burning in the post-group phase looks like business as usual rather than the much touted 'fittest England team for 4 decades'.

The only light at the end of this tunnel is the possibility that England coach, Sven, is boxing very smart indeed. Is he putting out the team that just guarantees the wins he needs to get through while keeping the big guns fit and ready for the next round? While an England win against Sweden on Tuesday would delight the fans, and decide exactly who England meets in the second round, qualifying may be good enough for Sven and he may use the-game-that-doesn't-matter to try out a few formations, give some latterly underused players a chance to show their stuff and manage injuries and yellow cards. It may disappoint the fans if they lose but, if you are looking for World Cup victory, it's not a win you really need and there may be more important things to think about.

My prediction; England 2, Sweden 2.

CLEAR IT YOU MUPPET!!

It's finally arrived and we are ready...

One England shirt, one Aussie shirt and a couple of wallcharts. Nobody can acuse us of not being front and centre when the time comes.

And just to jump on the international pastime of group standing speculation, let's see where we are.

England beat Paraguay 1-0 in their first game giving them 3 points and, from here, every chance of qualifying. They play Trinidad and Tobago next - widely touted as the worst team in the whole competition - followed by Sweden. Likeliest scenario is they beat the West Indians convincingly (a 2 to 3 goal lead at half time giving Sven room to experiment a little and let a few of the lower ranked players a run-around). If that happens, England qualify and the Swedish game is irrelevant. England are likely to win the group but could come second - still qualifying - but putting them into a different second round match.

Australia, against all logic, wiped the floor with Japan. The fact that they trailed 1-0 until the last 10 minutes and then put 3 away before the final whistle only added to the excitement in what is generally agreed to be the best game so far. Shame I missed seeing it, though I heard heard Kim's screams across some 50km of verdant English countryside. So, what happens now in this difficult group? Well, will Brazil win everything? Probably, but, if they win their first two - against Croatia & Australia - they will have qualified so why risk injury just to show off. Because they are Brazil, that's why, and they can. That puts it all down to the Australia vs Croatia game on the 23rd. Should Aus win they qualify second. There are other calculations but let's go with this one.

England win Group B, beat the Group A runner-up in the second round and go on to thrash whoever else comes out of groups A, B, C & D. Australia do something similar.

And then...AND THEN - it's England vs Australia in either a semi-final or the final itself.

Expect a World Cup domestic in Chez Roach some time after 4th July.

Kensal Green Cemetary

As London started running out of burial space about 150 years ago, some new 'out-of-town' cemetaries were commissioned and Kensal Green was one of them. Combined with the other six, they were known as The Magnificant Seven. They immediately became the place to be seen in the after-life and a lot of people put their names down; royalty, poets, engineers and businessmen rub sholders in this big green space that is now far from out of town.

We went for a walk up the road to check it out. I went on a hunt for Brunel and Babbage to no avail - the local info is non-existant. Still, I got some nice piccies that go to prove that, while wealth doesn't make you a better person, it sure gives you a better pad.

Old graves and old tech - in the background is a disused gasometer.
If you haven't got a big willy thing when you're alive, get one after you're dead! There are a LOT of big willy things round here.
This is modern one of an Ethiopean. The racial diversity is amazing reflecting the different groups that have come through the area down the years. The good thing about this place is that they can't throw rocks at each other any more.
Bet she's got a headache.
Four - count 'em - angels. Someone needs help on the other side.
Some nice little vistas, too, if you find the right spot.
The one on the right is minor royalty, the one on the left has a big, slightly pointy, willy (see what I mean about the willy thing).
Must ... resist ... the ... obvious ... caption...
This knight - oh, he's scarpered.
There's even a special space for the babies.
All this grave-robbing gives you an appetite.

Booking Oxford

We're going to Oxford overnight in a couple of weeks - piccies later, of course. Kim booked the hotel...

Kim: [picks up phone]

Phone: [beepity beep]

Hotellier: H...

Kim: Hello, is the The Royal Oak Hotel, Oxford? The hotel? In Oxford? Called The Royal Oak? Hotel? Anyway, I want to book a room on the 24th of June. Not July because we want to stay this month. On the 24th. We want a twin with a shower and smoking because my husband smokes. Steve. My Husband. He smokes. We aren't coming to look at Oxford, really. Well, we are but part of the trip is to go to a barbeque. We call those barbies in Australia but really it is a barbeque. When you cook meat. Outside. On a barbeque. The barbie, barbeque to you, is in Woodstock which is in a small town near Oxford. That is why I called the Royal Oak Hotel in Oxford. Which is you. Who I am talking to. Because we want to stay in one of your rooms. A smoking one. With a shower. And the barbie, barbeque to you, is at this guy's house in Woodstock. Which is near Oxford. And the guy having the barbie is a Kiwi. Not an Aussie. There's a diference you know. Kiwis come from New Zealand, that's why they're called Kiwis, and Aussies come from Australia but I'm not sure why they are called Aussies. But they are. We will drop our bags at your hotel and get a bus to Woodstock, where the barbie is, and then come back to sleep, in the bed in the room in your hotel in Oxford, at midnight and then, in the morning, we will go out and have a look at Oxford. [takes breath]

Hotelier - quickly: We're full.

Kim: OK, bye.

Phone: [beepity beep]

Hotellier: H...

Kim: Hello, is the The Oxford Boutique Hotel, Oxford? The hotel? In Oxford? Called The .. etc.

Portobello Road Market 2

Lunch. There is a great little cafe on the roof of a shop overlooking the market. Nice Spanish grub though they do have a touch of the Maccas - 'We don't start the lunch menu for 5 minutes so you have to order breakfast':

View from the cafe showing the crowds.
Looking the other way - and a tube train just happens to be passing.

Clothes / Footy. Almost synonymous at the moment:

Popular with the retro-kinder, this one.
My dad in the war.
Brazil are ready...
...and so is everybody else.

Junk:

Junk is cheap.
Joss sticks. A clever ruse, this. Light one up while smoking grass and the cops go 'There's someone smoking dope near here. Oh, wait a minute, that's joss sticks. I think I'll walk on by.'
Get your dodgy Rolex here without going anywhere near Thailand and that nasty business with the ladyboy - to pick an incident at random.
Posters, saucy and not-so.

And lastly, the flea market:

Please buy my pictures, I'm saving up for teeth.
Most stuff is real junk.
Others are really classy.

The Prize:

Of course, we had to buy SOMETHING.
And here it is in the back yard.