How To *Not* Explore Manchester {Warning May Contain Cats}

Most antipodeans come to the UK lured by quick, amazing jaunts to Europe, and can often miss some of the best cities in the British Isles. Goodness knows I was guilty of that for the first few 'temporary' years that I lived here - bar a week exploring Bath, Salisbury and a quick wander around Stonehenge.

Having been here so much longer, I have loved exploring more of the country - from ancient estate houses to walking through the hills hugging The Lake district.

Unfortunately, we had never made quite it to Manchester despite having family living there, and um, I'm not sure that with Emily and I's visit there a little while ago that we've actually explored it properly still. I blame the cats.

An announcement: Taking a leap of faith and going freelance

As a very small Emma, I wanted to become a vet. I wanted to work with animals, curing their ills and judiciously handing out comfort. As a slightly older Emma (but not necessarily wiser) architectural design interested me (one might wistfully connect sheltering human beans) before the conservation of ancient buildings was calling my name and I put my architecture degree “temporarily” on hold to travel and actually experience a few of these wonders.

In the decade I have lived in England, I fell into jobs that kept a (London-priced) roof over my head – among which number managing a pub (where I met my husband) and acting as an office manager & PA for a Bishop – but never quite fulfilled a creative need that never quite receded.

Enter stage left ‘Adventures of a London Kiwi’.

I’ve always maintained that blogging was only ever going to be a hobby, but 5 years on I’ve been presented with the opportunity to make my passion for writing a career. I’ve agonized for six months about leaving behind a creatively unfulfilling but steady role to embrace the life of a freelancer. I’ve read as many self-help books as I can, consulted the cat on how she’d feel to have a colleague all week long making noise plus brewing coffee in her warm haven and spoken at length to my amazingly encouraging friends and family.

Egerton Hotel: A pawfectly luxurious doggie afternoon tea.

My cutest afternoon tea date (ever) arrived at our Egerton Hotel rendezvous wearing a blue bow tie and his salt & pepper hair suavely combed - just right for a Kensington afternoon tea. 

Paws down, this is the cutest afternoon tea I've ever done. Ever. And I shan't be apologising for the litany of puns about to litter this post. #Sorrynotsorry

9 of our favourite things to do in Austin, Texas

Every time that someone hears we visited Austin on our epic road trip, they immediately say "Austin? Texas? Why'd you go there?" Well, we were lured there by a Stetson clad Pied Piper - we booked for the rich music culture, the curiosity of exploring the LoneStar state and some of the best BBQ in the world - or so we were told.

The tagline adopted by the capital city of Texas is a curious one. Found on T-shirts, posters and marketers, "Keep Austin Weird" and we can definitely confirm that in between the downtown skyscrapers and government buildings, a vibrant and bohemian community thrives.

Gordon Ramsay’s Savoy Grill - A birthday lunch

Dining at The Savoy has always been on my all time bucket list. The atmosphere, quirky history and the sheer opulence of the famed hotel meant that I'll take any possible excuse to nip into the American Bar for a cocktail or just use the 5-star luxury hotel as a cut through - sorry, I mean coffee stop - but I wanted a thoroughly special reason as a celebration meal to remember our visit with.

 

Deciding that my milestone birthday was a worthy enough occasion (after that sentence I feel like selling T-Shirts that say "if something isn't worth waiting a few years for, is it worth it?") after opening some of the lovely cards on the doormat, we ignored the unpacking from my surprise trip to Gothenburg completely (one of the joys of living in Europe is definitely the ability to use carry-on) and made our way up the Strand for a leisurely lunch.

Friday figments and photos: Are you going to Scarborough Fayre...

This week has been a whirlwind of delicious chaos (and at least one night collapsed on the couch.) Amongst other tidbits, we discovered a pop-up garden overlooking the busiest Street in London...

We attended the dreamiest wedding in Scarborough...

Hawker House, Street Feast Canada Water

On the outskirts of the looming finance district tower, a small island of foodie pop-ups exists. A secret known best to Twitter-wielders and the blog mafia (oh, and all the local office workers who have disposable incomes and furry dependants) - namely Street Feast's Hawker House.

The boys almost exclusively wore beards with their checked shirts, the beer was craft and the bins were burger-themed to my utter delight.

Nine travel essentials that I won't leave home without...

Having zipped around the globe as much as I humanly could fit into annual leave for the last 10 years (HOW HAS IT BEEN THIS LONG ALREADY?) including 3 flights last year to my own Kiwi home - aka almost as far away as you can get from England without cozying up to Antarctic Penguins - it's safe to say that I think I've almost got this travel packing thing down to an art. (I'll have you know that it was my husband who left all of my bathroom kit behind in England on a recent trip - thankfully it was only Belfast and I could buy almost everything I needed in any case.)

In the vain hope of wrangling yet another trip on our way home from the last one, I always leave a little bag of essentials tucked into my drawer. I like to think of them as emergency travel ninja supplies that I could pick up at a moments notice - and it's the first stash of things that go into my suitcase.

Well, actually, this was going to be 10 travel essentials list, because as a spectacle wearer since the age of 11 - long before fashion made wearing spectacles respectable, even cool - I would always have to tuck my glasses case and a large stash of contact lenses for special occasions and emergencies into our suitcases. However, Vision Direct approached me to share their international contact lens delivery service (taking only 2-3 days delivery to most parts of Europe) that is going to be a game changer for our holidays. We will be much less stressed about accidentally knocking our glasses off the bedside table and having to wander around beautiful places squinting in annoyance because everything is blurry...

My carry-on essentials that I can't enjoy travelling without are:

Lessons I have learned over 1,000 blog posts

I can't actually believe I'm writing this. If someone had told me in June 2012 that years later I would be still typing away at my little corner of the internet, I would have laughed. In their face.

Setting myself a goal of daily blogging for 1001 days seemed foolhardy to a girl who can only just commit to reading a full book (and usually cheats on it with at least one, maybe two other novels along the way) and struggles to watch a whole movie without wandering off. Bizarrely enough I managed it (at the rate of 6 posts a week) and at the end of the challenge still enjoyed blogging enough to continue on.

Furthermore, somehow all this time down the track Adventures of a London Kiwi is something I am immensely proud of.

Friday figments and photos: March mischief

I discovered a long time ago that when I'm nervous I giggle too much and flap my hands about whilst talking. In fact by the end of a conversation I'm almost dancing in sentences - catch my flailing arms and I won't be able to talk. One of my friends just stares at my hands as we chat because she knows it flusters me.

That's why I love her...

Friday figments and photos: The arctic winds of mid-January

It won't surprise you that the middle of winter is cold. I don't know why it surprises any of us, as it happens every single year, around the same time but we always seem so shocked when it eventually hits. We get out the thick jackets and thermals, wind scarves around our necks and slip on those cozy boots. And moan, did I mention the moaning?



But the trees and blossoms seem to think that it's spring already (I suspect it was the pre-Christmas heatwave we were having).

Merry, happy Christmas!

In many ways I hope you aren't reading this, I want you to be doing something you love with people you at least like. My Christmas gift to you today? A sleigh-full of Christmas Carol suggestions. Just remember, you won't get to play them for a whole 'nother year...

10 things I have to do in Winter - Festive travel linkup

London is simply built for winter sunshine, incipient precipitation and afternoons lazing by a pub fire and when it come to festivities, London celebrates Christmas wonderfully. December is encrusted with beautiful street light displays, pine bough covered store fronts, carollers echoing on train station platforms and the smell of mulled wine seductively wafting from open pub doors full of chatter.

These are a few of my favourite winter things.. (2014 here) WARNING: Contains many jolly, festive and delicious cliches.

1. Snuggle. Cat, book, blanket, terrible weather outside, cosy socks, festive scarf, lurid Christmas jumper. Perfection. 

2. MULL ALL THE THINGS. Cider, wine, cranberry, cocktails, the cat – no wait, that’s going too far. She just needs her Santa hat. Bonus item: Eat (sweet) mince pies for breakfast at least once. Ok, maybe twice.

Friday figments and photos: Silly season v.1

The silly season is here. It's the last full weekend of November, the Christmas lights are twinkling, everyone is in a party mood, the bubbly is flowing a little too well, we're all getting merry and thank goodness coffee is in our cups.

Friday figments and photos: Time

“Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.”
― Marthe Troly-Curtin

 

 “Books have a unique way of stopping time in a particular moment and saying: Let’s not forget this.”
― Dave Eggers

Friday figments and photos: Guilty pleasures

Guilty pleasures, guilty pleasures. Oh how many I have... tea-ing, brunching, sipping bubbly in the name of 'networking', too much time spent laughing on Twitter, curling up in front of the TV with a cuppa and the cat (who is currently finding it quite amusing to sit in front of the PC screen whilst I attempt to type around her silhouette) whilst the rain pours down outside, dancing to full volume rock music on a Saturday morning at full volume, more hours of wanderlust glancing through Instagram, indulging the crazy words that race through my head and the occasional London adventure.

You know, the best bits of blog and life melding into one.

Delicious brunches (gluten free crab churros for the win) and enormous couches...

Friday Figments and Photos - Singin' in the Rain

Music is a lifeblood that runs through the veins of humanity - crossing cultural, language and education divides, there is something primitive and utterly beguiling about a 'phat beat' pumping, the sweet glissando of a string quartet or the haunting duet of singers.

This photo is technically terrible, but I rather love it..

When I'm playing my tunes (aka choons for the 80's babes) it doesn't matter that there are thunder and lightening storms outside to the staccato beat of rain hitting pavements. Inside, the clever arrangement of instruments playing with the weft and weave of vocal harmony means it's gonna be a bright, bright sun-shining day!

On another note, London, sort out your weather!

A day in the life of a London Kiwi (feat. a few blog friends)

The 'day in the life' post style is one that has kicked the blogosphere for years, and every time I read one I love it. It offers a fascinating snapshot into the wanderings of a blogger you love - so, inspired by Kaelene @ Unlocking Kiki and Kerri @ Crumbs in the Bed, here is a look into my little life.

Now, day-to-day my weekday routines aren't interesting to anyone, let alone me, so I've picked a fairly typical Sunday. Just exchange our brunch location for any one of these London brunch spots, the Shoreditch wanderances for a plethora of explorations and the snoozing cat for, well, nothing as the snoozing cat ain't never gonna change.

8am: Wake up, resent the curled up cat still sleeping on my bed, laugh at my silly self, choose outfit and size bag that best suits the day of mischief, then run for train.

*Reconstruction of incident*

9am: Check Twitter updates, intend to reply to comments on my own blog, end up being distracted by other people's posts and find coffee.

9.31am: Rescue a dazed and upset Duck from being runover in London traffic, before shooing him into a nearby grassy square and calling the RSPB.

An ode to cats

Cats are evil. Small, furry and vicious they use their cute faces to worm a way into your heart, and before you know it career-driven power players are cooing nonsense to the beast pinning them down to the worn sofa in a comfortable living room. Believe me, I've seen it happen

And then there are people like me. Indoctrinated from a young age, our family always had at least 3 cats: it's just how it always was. Amongst a cast of furry family members we had a farm-striding ginger tom that would go hunting with my Dad only to be picked up forlornly sore-pawed and carried home; a crabby-tortoiseshell who wouldn't be touched except when she knew you were incredibly upset with a sixth-sense for soothing childhood heartbreak and we a kitten whose first bath was in a (ahem used) toilet, thus christened forever as Flush. (As an aside, my young sister was also kinda evil, but has grown out of those ways, so I'm told.)

How to project manage, cat-style...

Fast forward many years, 10,000 miles and a marriage proposal later and we're stuck with our own furry bastion of chaos. Raised as a kitten on the tough streets of a rough London estate, we were offered her through a friend of workmate in order to introduce a touch of genteel life experience to her professional portfolio. She'd been through it all in her short life; tail crooked over her back (thought to be from abuse as a kitten), a fraught teenage pregnancy and a rather yowling car journey through the streets of London. She arrived at our home consisting solely of enormous green eyes, a woebegone look on her face and downy dappled white chest.

Able Sea-Cat Simon

My heart was broken this week by a weathered, whiskery old Sailor. His name was Simon, and served gallantly aboard the HMS Amethyst at times under heavy fire in turbulent seas during World War II.

Regarded as very lucky by sailors, cats were welcomed on board many early ships for their rat hunting skills as well as their cute faces (I may be slightly paraphrasing here). Simon was picked up off the Hong Kong docks by a drunken sailor, the young black and white moggy took to life a sea like the proverbial duck to water. Hunting rats, improving morale and performing tricks (when he felt like it, cat's perogative of course) he was incredibly popular amongst the hard-bitten sea men.

Badly injured by shrapnel during an attack on the ship that became known as the Yangtze Incident, killing the captain and 15 sailors, Simon recovered and carried on with his role as a ratter, killing the rats who were eating and befouling vital rations whilst comforting the sailors who survived.

Are you crying yet?

 After a few years at sea scooping ice cubes out of water jogs, sleeping curled up in the captain's hat and running a tight ship accompanied by the captain's dog, Simon was brought back to the UK to recover and rediscover his love of rolling meadows - rather than bouncing foredecks. He became so infamous one of the ship's crew was appointed to deal with the resulting mail for him.

Sadly a few months into his quarantine Simon succumbed to the rampages of a viral infection, and was honoured with a full military burial in the Illford PDSA pet cemetary. Many of the ship's crew turned out to say goodbye to their feline companion.

Posthumously Simon was awarded the PDSA's Dicken Medal, the pet world's Victoria Cross for boosting the morale of stranded shipmen under fire. Of only 53 animals in the world, Simon is the only feline to receive this honour for displaying “conspicuous gallantry or devotion to duty.”

 

50 years later, almost to the day of his passing (unintentionally) we made our way through London through the grizzly grey Saturday to remember this little fellow who made such a mark on so many lives, so many years before.

But what really broke my heart? Someone had taken the time earlier in the month to leave a wreath on his tiny grave, to mark another fallen warrior on Remembrance Day. 50 years later, and people still think of this small black and white cat.

Call me a softy, I don't care.