Wednesday, June 21, 1989

Taking a Tour Inside Parliament ...

A hectic and fun day today. Dad and I awoke early this morning to walk to Victoria Station this morning, in order to buy my plane ticket. We arrived at around 7.30 a.m. and had no problems. So that detail has now been taken care of.

Dad said the family all enjoyed seeing "Starlight Express" immensely last night, which was good news. He and I had coffee and apple danish at the train station, which was empty because of a rail strike that is going to go on for one day. So as a result, we had to rely on our feet or on taxis for transportation today.

We walked back to the hotel (after buying a Daily Telegraph newspaper) and had a proper breakfast. I showered, packed, and we were out of the room at a little past 10. I dropped my bags off at Rosemary's flat, and then set off to find a room for Mom and Dad (Angela's flat did not work out for them.) In short time we found one for them, which was basic but nice, and they checked in.

Next, we took a walk to the House of Parliament, though we then decided to catch a taxi in order to save time. During the ride, I realized that I had forgotten to bring my copy of the Daily Telegraph. I was supposed to have a copy in hand and use it to flag down Sally Hallam, a friend of Dr. Morrison's who works as a secretary for the Daily Telegraph's political correspondent in the Parliament building. Fortunately, it wasn't a problem that I didn't have the newspaper and we met up with Sally without difficulty. (Picture #2 is the permit that gave us access to Parliament.)

At this point, Mom, Dad and Angela left to take a boat trip down the Thames River, and Dr. Morrison and I joined Sally to begin our exclusive tour of Parliament.

It was yet another memorable experience, as we walked around the floor of the House of Commons, which is much smaller than we expected, as well as other vital parts of the building. It was a great tour, and it was really nice of Sally to to take time out of her schedule to show us around.

Next we had an opportunity to see the House of Commons in action, which was quite remarkable. Although Mrs. Thatcher and Neil Kinnock were not there today, we still got to see some action. They were debating trade and industry, which was difficult to follow because of the style and mannerisms of their debate... frequent cat-calls and "here-heres" when one person spoke. We stayed there for 45 minutes, but left during the questions and answers. The reason? They were on question 10 after 45 minutes, with 91 to go. (Picture #3 is a magazine produced for Parliament; Picture #4 is the agenda for the business of the day for the House of Commons.)

So we then headed over to the House of Lords to see them in action, though here I am using the term "action" quite loosely. They were discussing what to do about Hong Kong, which is an interesting topic. The British are planning on turning it over to China in 1997. Unfortunately, it was presented in a far less exciting manner than the style of the House of Commons. In fact, we noticed that several of the Lords were actually asleep during the proceedings! If only we could've gotten to see this debate in the House of Commons.

Well, after only about 10 minutes of this, we left the very posh House of Lords chamber. I mailed two post cards, to Viv and to Sam, from inside Parliament to get the special cancellation from it's post office. And then we left.

Outside I took a few pictures (Pictured #1 is a compilation photo of several angles of Parliament that I shot, with Dr. Morrison standing in the foreground.), and then we walked along the Thames River until we reached the National Film Theater, where after a coffee we entered the Museum of Moving Images (MOMI). It was a fabulous place that I could've easily spent all day exploring. (Pictures #5 and #6 are brochures from the MOMI.)

It chronicled the history of film, and presented it very well... and since Dr. Morrison and I are film buffs, we had a wonderful time. The highlight of the experience was a section of the museum where we saw how a television production is done. There, they had a freeze-frame camera, a television interview area, a television news report display where you read from the cue TV and appear on camera, and something where it makes you appear like you are flying over the Thames.

They also had a Charlie Chaplin exhibit in honor of his 100th birthday, which was great, since he is one of my film heroes. I bought a badge and a book on Charlie Chaplin. (Picture #7 is the book cover.)

When we left the MOMI, it was a bit later than we had anticipated it would be, so we grabbed a taxi and dashed back to my parent's hotel, where they had been waiting for awhile. We then went to dinner at the Lime Tree Hotel, located across the street from my parent's hotel. It proved to be a very interesting meal.

First, our table was outside, and had a waitress that later told us she had a Yugoslav/Italian accent. She was very nice, but it was difficult to understand what she was saying at times. Then there was the gardener: A bizarre man who thought Angela was my daughter and that Mom was my wife. This was funny, but this guy was not playing with a full deck. (Picture #8 is Dr. Morrison, Mom and Angie at the Lime Tree Hotel.)

Well after that experience, we grabbed a taxi and went back to the Royal College building, grabbed some bags, and Mom & Dad returned to their hotel while Dr. Morrison, Angie and I took a taxi to Rosemary's flat. I think I have taken more taxi rides today than I have the entire previous nine months.

The rail strikes chaotic effect seems to have been ill judged. The traffic surprisingly ran smoother today. Great! I love seeing strikes get shattered.

At Rosemary's we all talked for a bit, but I was in bed by 12.30 - earliest in awhile!

Sunday, April 2, 1989

Another Cash Poor Day in Madrid ...

Since we are poor until Monday (OK, we're always poor... but cash poor until Monday), little was done today. Woke up late, had a bowl of Chocapics for breakfast, then worked on fixing up Viv's room some more. We switched beds with Isabelle, then went to the store room to get out what was supposed to be a wardrobe, but after we pulled it out, we determined that it was something for the kitchen, so Viv didn't want it.

We took one of the chairs that was in the room, but later in the day one of our chairs was "stolen" from us, leaving us with one.

Isabelle the frog managed to get on everyone's nerves at one point or another.

After eating sandwiches for lunch, Viv and I took a walk down Gran Via to El Retiro, where we just sat on a bench for a while, relaxing and talking. It was nice. Then we got up and gradually made our way to the Television Tower, which we found out too late that that visitors weren't permitted. So much for an unrivalled view of Madrid.

From there we caught the Metro at O'Donnell Station (good Spanish name!) back to Chueca station. It looked like it might be closer to the flat then Gran Via, and it was. It turned out to be only about 500 yards away, but immensely seedy. Apparently, the leather-clad teddies liked to hang out in this area. Not exactly my scene.

The flat is located at 19 Calle de Pelayo. It's not exactly the greatest neighborhood. But the price is right, and the door is secure.

We rested in the room until Liz returned, when we made pizza and chips. Liz semi-whined about getting a smaller portion, so later Viv decided that she was not going to share meals with anyone if they act like that.

Viv and I sat chatting in our room, and at around midnight, the cheeky frog next door told us to shut up (in her outrrrageous Fronch axscent), not too unlike how The Old Man did it just a few nights earlier. So Viv and I decided to stay up even later than planned and continued talking and playing Gin Rummy. We finally went to bed a bit past 1 a.m.

Pictured to the right is a street photo of the flat that Viv and the other seven international students that abandoned the Residencia were now living. And where I was now living until my departure from Madrid back to Hull. The heavy black door was the entrance, andthe window above was to the room that Viv had claimed as her own. I didn't actually take any photos of the place, but found this photo on Google Map, actually. Never thought I'd find it... but there it is. Looks pretty much the same as I remembered.

***

• Number One Song in Britain This Week: "Like a Prayer" - Madonna
• Number One Song in America This Week: "The Look" - Roxette

Tuesday, October 4, 1988

Burning the Midnight Oil with the Guy Who Looks Like the Lead Singer of Midnight Oil

I woke up and went to class this morning. Not much exciting there. I spent the day just dogging around until around 6 p.m., when I went out for another run on my own to visit Karin. She wasn’t at her flat, but I left a note for her to stop in later. All-in-all, I ran five miles today, and felt pretty good afterward. Maybe I’ll be able to stick with this.

Later on, at about 9 p.m., a girl named Vicki and an friend of hers stopped by my room. I had met Vicki earlier in the day, and she told me she has no place to stay at the moment. I told her I’d talk to Karin and see if she possibly had an extra room in her flat. However, since Karin was not in when I visited, I had no news for them, so alas, they were out of luck. I offered to let them stay in my room until they found something. They then left to look at another place (located on Karin’s street.) I haven’t seen them since, so hopefully they did OK.

Well, it wasn’t 10 minutes after they left when Karin stopped into my room, and we sat and talked over coffee until about 1 a.m. After our excellent conversation, she left to return to her flat, and I went up to the community phone to attempt to call Mom and Dad again. After two attempts, I got through… but once again Dad wasn’t home. I talked to Mom for about 10 minutes, and we determined that on Sunday at 11 p.m. (GMT, or 6 p.m. EST) she would call me at the residence phone. (So don’t forget!) Hopefully the phone will be available at that time.

After our phone call, I started talking to Steve, who is the “resident assistant” for St. Martin’s Hall (the main entrance to St. Martin's is pictured above). Friendly fellow… tall, bald… he looks a lot like the lead singer of Midnight Oil. He has a habit of starting sentences and greeting you with “OK…” He’s from Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, a few hours north of Hull, and though that’s not too far away, the difference in his accent verses the local accent here is staggering. I’ll admit, it was difficult to understand a lot of what he said. Still we sat in his room and talked over tea until about 3:30 a.m. He is big into history (especially war), and appropriately enough, accents. When we were finished talking, I was good and knackered, so it was off to bed.