"Where is he. Oh there he is. Thank goodness for that."
"Come on come on, haven't got all day".
Just three of the sentences I heard on a trip into Norwich yesterday. As you know I'm always listening into conversations. These are little microcosms of life, small vignettes. But I wonder if anyone ever listens into my conversations. I'm sure they do.
I ventured into Norwich for one of my look and see days. That is a day when I had nothing specific to do but just have a look round. That usually means bookshops and then a sit in the library reading more books. Today I took out a biography of Andy Warhol. Warhol and Salvadore Dali have always intrigued me as artists and also human beings.
The first comment was by a man on a mobile phone in the market place. I have no idea what he was offering to pay £5 a month for and whether that was indeed fair. I bet the person at the other end would be disagreeing and upping that amount.
The second sentence was from a couple of women carrying a load of clothes and looking for a car to load them into. Couldn't help wondering where the clothes came from and where they were going to.
The third was muttered under his breath by a man who sat next to me on the bus home. He was annoyed that once again there were temporary traffic lights on a stretch of the B1172 - the same stretch that have had so many sets of traffic lights over the past couple of years that we have all seen red literally.
Photograph-wise today you have a couple of the Christmas lights in Hethersett. Once again apologies for the quality as to date I haven't taken any photos that I'm even vaguely happy about. Then there are a few of my recent walk along the riverside in Norwich.
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On one of my recent rambles to Wymondham, I lost control of my functions. In other words I almost peed myself. The reason was a piece of music that I wasn't ready for.
I love Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells. I have loved it since it came out 50 years ago. Ommadawn and Hergest Ridge which followed it were pale cousins of Tubular Bells and what came after that was pretty poor. But Tubular Bells I loved and still do and it did save Virgin from bankruptcy.
There have been a number of classical or symphonic renderings of Tubular Bells over the years and I was interested when I heard that there was another classical version being released to mark the 50th anniversary. So far so good.
I think I was on Norwich Road at Wymondham when it happened. In the original there is a rather strange bit in the second part of the work where it sounds as though some savages are joining in. The words sound guttural and something like "Saccum vrack". I have no idea who sings this in the original but I do know that Viv Stanshall of the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band announced the instrument in the tubular bells section. You know the one "grand piano," "two slightly distorted guitars). If you have never heard Tubular Bells you won't have a clue what I'm talking about here.
Now on the latest version it all sails along nicely until Brian Blessed gets involved. First of all he shouts the names of the instruments. But that wasn't what had me in stitches. In the Saccum Vrack bit he starts hollering and shouting and seems completely out of control. I could only think that one of three things was happening. Either he was being violently sick or was being murdered or was murdering someone.
I was walking along and laughing out loud. As I passed people I tried to stop laughing and ended up whimpering. It was the funniest thing I have heard for a long time and the problem is it wasn't meant to be funny. Whoever let Mr Blessed loose on this piece of music has a lot to answer for.
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So now I continue my travelogue as we came towards the end of our trip. This was written on November 9th and it's important to remember that because I'm now going to burst into song.
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Jack Frost nipping at your toes.
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the one we used to know.
So we are sitting in a cafe, having a sandwich and a coffee and those songs are playing along with Oh Holy Night. But something is seriously wrong.
For a start it's relatively early in November and just too early for Christmas songs. But much much worse, it's Spring in Western Australia and the temperature is 21 degrees.
I doubt that Australians have ever roasted chestnuts on an open fire and certainly Australians would be wasting their time if they are dreaming of a white Christmas. I wonder what Australian people think about when they hear all these songs about snow when they are more likely to be on the beach on Christmas Day rather than huddled around a fire or radiator.
It was an interesting day wandering around the Perth area. We got an excellent value day pass for the local train network and started out for Guildford which was a delightful frontier town which was boosted in the middle of the 19th century by an influx of convicts from Blighty.
There are a number of very historic buildings which have been restored including the home of one family that consisted of two small rooms for a couple and their 13 children, many of whom slept outside on the porch.
There was a zany arty feel about the place, and I felt very much at home there following a gentle walk to the source of the Swan River. I could have stayed there all day. The sun was out but it was a comfortable 22 or so degrees and without the ridiculous humidity we had on other parts of the holiday.
But we had to move on to make the most of our train passes. Mind you after just three days in Western Australia we are now treated as locals. A young lady on the train asked us for directions and ridiculously we were able to give them.
She was an interesting character, missing at least two teeth. The song "All I Want for Christmas Is Me Two Front Teeth" could have been written for her. She asked us what we thought of the airport, but we couldn't say because we haven't been there yet. Then she told us about her life and asked where in Australia we came from. When we said we were from England she let out a perceptible gasp.
In fact, she took some convincing that we were indeed British. There's an awful lot of British people living over here - most of them seem to come from Leeds. Mind you if I came from Leeds I would probably move to Australia (sorry about that comment).
After our visit to Guildford, we took the train back to Perth and then changed lines to go out to a strange named place which the other threequarters said was a seaside resort. Joondalup turned out to be a massive shopping mall. I wondered if this was a deliberate ploy to get us there but the other threequarters seemed as surprised as me. So I will give her the benefit of the doubt.
It was in the mall that we were subjected to Christmas in November. To be fair, we eventually did find a picturesque lake after quite a lengthy walk.
On a boardwalk overlooking the lake we met Dorothy who was in a wheelchair and on an outing with two carers. And guess where Dorothy originally came from? Yes Leeds.
And guess where one of her carers Lesley came from. If you said Leeds you would be wrong. She came from Prestatyn in Wales. She married an English guy and they moved to the Perth area. He of course may or may not have come from Leeds.
Our Lesley was very excitable. She had recently been on a trip home and bought loads of stuff from Marks and Spencer. She said M and S was the only thing she missed about the old country. She would dearly have loved to bring back a Xmas pudding but Australia doesn't allow you to bring in food.
She told us that the town of Butler two stops up the road was full of people from Leeds. Sounds like one to avoid.
In the evening we dined at a shack type restaurant on a small island on Queen Elizabeth Dock back in Perth. It was a rough and ready place but the burgers were good.
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For those following my walking progress on my year long sponsored walk in aid of the East Anglian Air Ambulance. I am pleased to say I have under 100 miles to go before the end of the year and am now well on target to finish around Christmas time. I will be glad to reach my target as it seems so long since I started.