the grump

I must admit that I’m becoming a bit of a Leicester Square junkie. The main attractions being the overwhelming number of tourists, the crowds and the congestion at Leicester Square tube station. But ever since Chinese New Year kicked in a few weeks ago, I’ve made every excuse to stop by to eat roast duck noodles (now a frequent patron of “China China” and “New World” restaurants) and buy my little Chinese bakery items, drink coffee while reading The Guardian in one of the myriad of Soho cafes, and browse the numerous bookstores in the area, my favourite being the enormous Waterstones near Piccadilly Circus with its thematic displays of books, and the rather hip non-struggling-independent bookshop Foyles.

I’ve had a good start to the Chinese New Year so far. Despite deliberately avoiding the masses for the actual celebrations, Chinatown looks absolutely splendid with the streets lined with criss-crossing lanterns. It’s a spectacular sight to behold, and certainly very pretty. I’ve had numerous dinners out with my relatives in Chinatown for the new year, although David was good enough to drag himself and a decent bottle of Australian red out to Woolwich for dinner at my flat.

But as a very auspicious first, I ordered in Chinese for the first time in my life. Usually when I eat Chinese in Melbourne I have one of my parents to do the ordering. While waiting for my uncle, and with my halfie-cousins sitting next to me (with apologies to David who can actually speak fluent Mandarin), I was left to fend for our table in ordering the fish, the crayfish (on noodles with ginger and spring onions), the beef hot-pot and the roast duck. I could feel the perspiration drip down my back as I bumbled along, the rather ungracious Chinese waitress repeating everything back to me in English to make sure that what I said I had actually meant. Success! The food came out as planned, and I was felt the need to call my parents to finally tell them that their son had survived in a Chinese restaurant – ordering Chinese food.

Pity the Caucasian or non-speaking Chinese person who wants the real Chinese food!

It’s been a few good weeks settling into my new role at the NHS Counter Fraud Service and I feel that I’ve managed to get a grip on what’s expected of me. It’s been a bit of a shift again for me to work on policy work which is really more of corporate services work than actual policy-wonk detail, but I’m keen to start travelling around England and Wales for the research for the project that I’m working on.

Outside work of course has been quite breezy as well. It’s starting to get somewhat warmer now, and the sun comes up earlier which means it’s not dark when I leave for work. The South Eastern trains are hell as always, and to illustrate, I have copied part of an email I sent to Rob one morning at work:

“I was in a grump this morning - me and this other girl were gunning for the last remaining seat on the train (luck would have it that someone got off at my stop today! unbelievable! never happens). She cut in front of me and got the seat. Not happy Jan. I spent the next 35 minutes silently criticising her hair (greasy), her skin (pale and clammy), her dress sense (a 30 year old chick in 80s clothing), her coat (hideously pink, lint-covered and very dirty - heard of a drycleaner?), her shoes (she's had sartorial advice from Margaret Thatcher, I suspect), her handbag (i can't believe a crocodile was sacrificed for that monstrous red thing on her lap) and her choice of newspaper (the Sun - says it all, really).

I felt better after all that and hoped she had a comfortable ride in.“

I have no qualms about being a bitter old bag about this. That girl was the deserving target of my acidic wit.

Speaking of Rob. Rob and I decided to go out to see some comedy one Sunday night and met in Leicester Square. My trains had been cancelled so I was forced to take a bus, and was late. Fortunately, eagle-eyed Rob had discovered that comedy tickets were selling for a fiver at some hotel near the Square. There was no argument when we discovered that there was a 2-for-1 deal as well on drinks. Needless to say, the beer deal was a bit too much for me – at one stage I was tripled parked with beers and getting decidedly cheery. Cheery enough to create another first – chipping in when the comedians asked for audience participation. A good night was had by all, until I missed the train home. Rob was home even before I got on the next train home.

Does anyone see a common theme here? I love trains.

I now use the Central Line to get to work which is ridiculously packed – not to mention the enormous gaps between the train and the platform. I do enjoy using the Central Line though – it’s a hell of a lot faster than the ulcer-inducing slow South Eastern Train service.

What was also fast was Alex's time in the UK. With his Uni holidays over, he was going back to Australia via London, and what better way to celebrate his last night in London with a cheapy dinner in Chinatown (yet another variation on a theme) and a night of culture. Being a Monday night, Alex had decided he had wanted to see the Phantom of the Opera. We decided that we would embark on the last-minute-cheap-ticket strategy - with success. We managed to get some £25 tickets which was great - up in the circles, but right in the centre. Unfortunately, a combination of it being a Monday night and sitting in the circle meant that we were beset upon by hordes of rude tourists who talked throughout the performance, opened packets of crisps in moments of quiet, took photos with flash illegally during the performance, and put their feet on the seats during interval. It was certainly an all class audience. I had seen The Phantom before (aged 11, in Melbourne) and had heard the music before, courtesy of parents who enjoy the music, but it was a very good performance indeed. At some points it was thoroughly creepy, but I suppose that was the intended effect. Bravo, you have made a culture-literate happy, and brought a manners-impoverished audience to its feet.

A standing ovation for all. Except for those heathen philistine neanderthals sitting behind and next to me.