Bus stops and Amsterdam and budgets

Amsterdam - It's all about boats and bikes

I had a weekend in Amsterdam just past and enroute from London it got me thinking about the so called ''budget'' airlines of Europe of which Easyjet (aka ''Squeezyjet'') is one. They are, for all intents and purposes simply aeronautical buses and airports themselves have simply become overpriced bus stops. Yet what is interesting is that people continue to deride them for not being able to provide a service to the level that we long ago experienced whenever we flew.  This derision somewhat baffles me given that the same group of people complain incessantly that the ''budget airline'' is not really that much of a money saver nor bargain it once touted itself to be. So on the hand we want the cheapness of the ''budget'' part but we don't want to have to put up with a ''budget'' service. Wanting something for nothing I think is the oft coined phrase. 

And isn't the word '' budget '' relative anyway? A weekend away in Europe is definitely not.

I had time to organise this trip so I did a time and price comparison to discover the easiest, cheapest way to get from London to Amsterdam (excluding hitchhiking and bus) and flying there won hands down.

Options were 

1. Car it to Harwich on the east coast of England and catch a 7 hour ferry over to Holland and drive to Amsterdam parking the car in the city.

2. Drive to Dover and load the car on the train for the short trip through the tunnel and then resume driving to Amsterdam and park the car in the city.

3. Drive to my nearest budget airline airport (Gatwick) and take a ''budget'' flight

4. Taxi it to my nearest airport (Heathrow) and fly on a ''full service'' airline.

Well on a price comparison option 3 was both the quickest and cheapest.

Option 1 

Fuel = £80. Ferry crossing return £179. Car park in Amsterdam £40 per day x 2 = £80. 

Total cost = £339 

Time taken = 21 hours (14 of that on a ferry)

Option 2. 

Fuel = £100. Channel train = £170 return. Car park in Amsterdam = £80.

Total cost = £350

Time taken = 11 hours

Getting better !

Option 3. 

Fuel = £35. Airport car park = £37. Overpirced sambo and drink and trashy magazine at airport = £11. Flight = £170 return. Taxi from and to Amsterdam airport / hotel = £80

Total cost = £333

Time taken = 6 hours

Option 4. 

Fuel = £0.00. Taxi to and from Heathrow = £60. Flight = £220. Taxi to and from Amsterdam 

airport /hotel = £80. Overpriced sambo and drink and trashy magazine at airport = £11.

Total cost = £371

Time taken = 5 hours

Throw in hotel accommodation at £165 per night for two nights and take option 3 and you get a tasty little bill of £663 without even starting on food and wine and museums and tours.

£1,000 for a 2 day weekend is therefore not a ''budget'' weekend for anyone.

The river Amstel. Dammed in 1275 to create ''Amsterdam''

If you think your house has a bad case of subsidence think again.

Amsterdam's smallest house

Amsterdam's oldest remaining wooden house.

Too funny

A laugh is always worth sharing. For some reason this did make me chuckle when I read it this morning.



Page 35 of the The Times newspaper today





                                                  Straining credulity

                                                  Vienna An atheist in Austria has 

                                                  won the right to appear on his 

                                                  driving licence wearing a pasta 

                                                  strainer as ''religious headgear''. 

                                                  Niko Alm, a ''Pastafarian'', was 

                                                  first asked to prove that he was 

                                                  mentally fit to drive.(AFP)

Paris and thoughts

I was fortunate enough to be in Paris the last couple of days.

An easy 2 hours and 18 minutes train trip from the centre of London to the cultural centre of Europe.

Here are some thoughts. Long winded thought they might be, they are nonetheless accurately reflective of my state of mind these past few days.

Being conspicuous. We all try to avoid it. Well most of us do. So bear with me here as I take a little trip sideways.

Many a moon ago when I was doing an exchange program in New York and I had 3 weeks work experience on a trading desk in the Big Apple one of my American colleagues suggested catching a baseball game at the Mets stadium out on Long Island.....

'' I'll pick you up on the corner of  121st and 2nd '' he shouted across the desk much to the mirth and chuckles of his fellow Americans.

'' Sure !'' I replied. Innocently condemning myself to a 45 minute experience that has has obviously left indelible scars on my memory since.

So I caught the train up the Manhattan east side to the aforementioned station.

Rising above ground I discovered very quickly that perhaps I had got off the at the wrong station. I re-checked the piece of paper that he had kindly scratched directions on and gulped uncomfortably when I realised that I was in fact at the right station. My throat went drier than a hair dried cracker.

My discomfort was existent as the result of my presence being the only caucasian within 400 miles (or so it seemed) of where I stood. It was one of those moments in life when no expression better examples your way of thinking than ,

''What the fuck?''.

To my mind I may as well have been a maggot on the end of fishing hook in a trout farm. Or a flapless Canadian cub seal, marooned on an ice flow surrounded by baseball wielding inuits.

So precarious did my situation feel that I took off my watch, and under the pretence of doing my shoe lace up, I bent over and placed it in my left sock. I withdrew my silver money clip and threw it into the depths of my boxer shorts adorned crotch.

If I had had a wedding band at the time I probably would have taken it off and swallowed it.

Needless to say my concern was unfounded and 45 minutes later, fully intact I climbed into my hosts car.

Moments later he said - '' We all thought it would be a great laugh to have you stand at the epicentre of the Boyz Hood for a couple of minutes, cos I had to drive across the northern part of Manhattan from New Jersey to get to the Mets game on Long Island.''

Funny ha ha indeed.

Why do I take you on this journey back to 1991?

Well.

Have you ever been to a black tie function and being the only person to turn up wearing a business casual suit? Or disregarded an invitation to get dressed up for a fancy dress party only to discover you are the one prat who is not wearing anything close to resembling a costume?

OK.

Now transport yourself if you can to Barbles Rochechouart metro station on the Paris network.

If you are a white anglo male and 46 years old wearing an Omega Speedmaster watch on your wrist whilst clothed in a Rodd and Gunn polo shirt with authentic Levis 501 jeans and a pair of Converse sneakers pulling a Samsonite cabin bag on wheels then certain things are going to become fairly obvious fairly quickly.

In no necessary order they are

1. You are the only male not from Tunisia or Algeria within 200 metres of the station.
2. You are the only male not wearing fake aftershave
3. You are the only male not wearing a heavy linked gold chain around your neck with accompanying wrist chain.
4. You are possibly the only man in the vicinity to not have spent a small fortune on ''manscaping''
5. You are the only man not trying to sell black market Marlboro cigarettes.
6. You are the only male not trying to sell fake branded sunglasses
7. You are the only male  not driving a clapped out and pimped up 1982 Honda Accord with a stereo system worth more than the car
8. You are one of the few men not cooking corn cobs using an upturned supermarket trolley as your grill and then trying to flog them for 1 EUR a piece
9. You are the only person not trying to enter the football ground styled turnstiles the wrong way in order to avoid paying for a metro ticket
10. You are the only male for whom English or French is your first language.
11. You are the only male that hasn't decided that the best place to relieve yourself is up against the metro ticket machine
12. You are the only male not carrying a knife, box cutter, gun, switch blade, nunchucka set, Kendo stick, M60 or a SAM in your back pocket.


Live life and visit ''Barbles Rochechouart'' metro station next time you are in gay Pari. If nothing else it will make you appreciate the word ''conspicuous''.

Modern ''Art'' at Palace de Versailles

See if you can spot the 3 weddings taking place.

Even period actors need a break. 

Time for new glasses Monsieur?

Paris at its best

A beret for everyone

For the man who has everything. A barge with its own helipad.

......or car port.

Amusing musings...

I went for a swim today at the local pool. Couple of musings followed.

Musing no.1 - Given the complex has both an outdoor and indoor pool and given today is one of those perfect English summer's day why would you even consider swimming indoors?

Musing no.2 - Is swimming laps one of the more mind numbing activities created? John Trudgen has a lot to answer for.

Lap 1 - Enter water and commence swimming wondering how overweight you look in a pair of budgie smugglers.

Mindset after 15 strokes = ''Hey this isn't too bad. I've still got it''


Lap 1.5 - ''Got it ??? Who was I kidding. I don't ever recall it being this hard''


Lap 3 - Spot that used band aid on the bottom of the pool for the third time and wonder if it has moved.

Lap 4 - Swimming technique starts to seriously deteriorate and your action resembles the flapping of a landed fish on a boat deck.

Musing no.3- If we call them ''French doors'' what do the French call them?

Lap 5 - In between breaths of self survival you notice a hairpin has joined the band aid in your lane and you wonder where it has come from. Anything to keep your mind off the strain you are now feeling just attempting to stay a float.

Lap 6 - You know you are in serious trouble when a pregnant woman breast stroke's effortlessly past you.

Musing no.4- I wonder what I would've done with that £136 million won on Euro millions the other night.

Lap 7 - Your freestyle flapping has been downgraded from landed fish to to the movement not too dissimilar to a gyrating youth high on a cocktail of E, speed, and red bull, dancing to loud and heavy beat home music. Think flailing arms and epileptic legs.

Musing no.5- Who I'm kidding trying to muse. Staying afloat and alive is all consuming.

Lap 8 - Highlight of the lap is noticing the band aid has moved lanes but the hairpin is still there.

Lap 9 - You are tapped on the head at the turn of the lap by a pimple faced ''Lifesaver'' and asked to move from the 'slow' lane into the 'free n easy ' lane. You don't get a chance to say goodbye to either the band aid or the hairpin.

Lap 10 - Doesn't exist

Getting older...

You know you are getting older when ...

1. The entertainment highlight of your year is going to listening to an aged Aussie rocker who is only marginally older than you.

2. You go to the ''Walkabout bar'' next door to warm up and you wonder if you can ask the barman to turn the music down

3. You are the only male in the bar who is NOT wearing an item of clothing from Hollister, Wills, Fat Face or Superdry and are wearing your jeans where they should be worn. Around your waist and not your bum.

4. You ''tsk-tsk'' at how little the women are wearing

5. You're the only guy in the bar who says no when the barman asks if you want a shot of Jagermiester with that pint of beer you have just ordered

6. You're the only guy in the bar who is not wearing a t-shirt seemingly 3 sizes too small OR a body hugging fitted shirt

7. You're the only guy in the bar whose underwear is not on display

8. The bouncer at the door calls you 'sir' and the 25 year old behind you 'mate'

9. You're glad the gig finishes at 10.45pm so you can get home in time to watch the Wimbledon highlights.

10. You have cheese on toast and a glass of milk watching the tennis before hitting bed by midnight

To Eden and back

The English do old boats very well. A classic.

Sun sets on another lovely day in Cornwall

Note to self...

Quite a few years ago, to escape the heat and oppressive humidity of Port Moresby my mother would bundle my sister and I into the car and head for the hills some 20 miles inland from the capital city to a place we revered as a sanctuary of relief called Sogeri ( So-gare-ee ). As we climbed into the hills we would wind down the windows (remember those? wind down windows) and I would stick my head out like an over excited puppy to saturate myself with the moisture of the air and inhale the richness of the fertile clay and soils of the New Guinea highlands. On one such occasion I gleefully reached out to the passing grass only to be stung into reality as it sliced my palm wide open. And that was my painful introduction to the aptly named Sword Grass. 

Roll forward some 40 odd years. You'd think that sword grass experience would have left an indelible mark on my memory. Well it didn't. 

If you think sucking a fresh lemon reminds you that you are alive then try this on for size. Take a car. Put yourself in it and drive down a few narrow country lanes in Conwall, south west england. Overcome with the beauty of the scenery, wind down the windows and buoyed by the unbridled joy that only comes with good weather in the UK stick your arm and hand out the window trying to touch the blurr of grass passing by as you set out to example how narrow the lane is upon which you are driving at 30mph. Then throw in a stinging nettle growing unencumbered roadside. 

Huh-uh. Car-bare hand-stinging nettle-30mph.

Surely a surf life savers nightmare?  25 or more German tourists form landlocked Berlin taking to the water for the first time for a surf. Someone dial 000.

Cornwall's reply to Sydney's Tammarama Beach. Also known as Chapel Porth

Surf life saving outpost done Cornwall style.

Godvrey Light house at 8.30pm. Gotta love the summer evenings in the UK.