Posts filed under 'Fun'
My fears were unfounded, and the balloon flight passed without death.
It was in fact one of the most surreal and most serene experiences of my life. We were lucky that we managed to book our flight for the clearest day of the year, combined with the best showing of low-lying Kent mist the pilot had seen. Apart from the odd roar from the burners to keep us at the 4,000 foot cruising height, and the odd dog protecting its owners property by barking into the sky, we were surrounded by complete silence for the duration of our flight.
We got to float around for an hour rather than the usual 45 minutes thanks to the almost complete lack of wind, and our pilot’s desire to land in a field easy for the retrieval team to collect us. The most unexpectedly soft landing was followed by the workout of my life trying to pull the balloon to the ground then folding it up into its bag. Then Kent-produced champagne and Pringles followed.
I want to do it again already and I recommend it to anyone. Not cheap obviously, but worth every penny.
You can see the full set of pics on my Flickr site.
A quick tour of the Hop Farm filled an hour or so before we headed off to West Malling (near Maidstone) for lunch at The Swan, where I had one of the best meals I’ve had in years. The most amazingly tender pork belly, and a great bottle of Sancerre. Another recommended experience should you find yourself in the neighbourhood.
October 10th, 2005
Today I am mostly stressed about height. Off to float above Kent in a balloon-type contraption on Sunday. My fear of heights is not that pronounced, but hot air balloons just have a slightly flimsy look to them.
I am excited about it, but I get a twinge in my stomach when I think about looking over the edge of the basket to take photos. I may have to just look straight ahead. And drink all the champagne in one go.
Anyway, thought I’d share a picture of something that i have been walking under for the last 6 months on my way to work, but never noticed:
October 7th, 2005
Last year’s London Design Festival opening reception was a grand affair. In the British Museum, rubbing shoulders with untold artifacts stolen from all around the world, great canapés, bumping into all sorts of friends…
This year we were in the National Gallery, surrounded by gloomy and depressing paintings. There was nobody there of any interest, apart from some freaky Bride of Wildenstein look-a-like (Plastic surgery – don’t do it kids). The canapés consisted of endless miniscule lumps of over-cooked puff pastry with various different things added, none of which distracted from the over-cooked puff pastry. BN1 was necking the champagne at a furious rate, so we left before he lost it and attacked Van Gogh’s Sunflowers with a puff pastry missile.
This year’s guest of honour was the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who—unlike Prescott last year—sounded like he had thought about his speech before he turned up. He mingled too:
Even Tom Dixon’s bench made of elastic bands was particularly unimpressive. Sitting on it produced a distinct feeling of being precariously suspended, and fear of breaking my arse on Trafalgar Square had me standing up before you could say ‘boing’.
Roll on next year.
September 20th, 2005
So much for last barbeque of the summer. Just when you thought autumn had you in its grip a last ditch invite to Boss No.1’s house for a late summer evening of charcoaled lumps of animal and bottled Budvar in a bucket of cold water.
I’m not complaining. I lurve barbeques, especially when they bring new joys such as M&S salmon burgers. But once the food was gone and the strange Canadian neighbours (and their parents!) had left, the turntable and 80s/90s vinyl collection was wheeled out.
A couple of Wonder Stuff, some Abba and the theme from Champion the Wonder Horse under our belts, next thing I know it’s 3am. I don’t stay up until that kind of time anymore! That’s for the kids. BN1’s other half managed to put away half a bottle of some strange Sicilian digestif and pass out, which gave us the excuse we needed to shuffle off to bed. But it may take me a week or two to recover.
And sitting here at midnight typing this nonsense isn’t going to help anything. Z..z..z..z..z..
September 18th, 2005
I thought it was Bank Holiday blues, but now I think the reason I have spent the whole day yawning is because of the fresh, salty air I consumed yesterday. A drive to Ashford in Kent, to investigate the college that Jess is being interviewed by on Thursday, became a trip to Hythe and Dungeness to eat fish and chips and see Derek Jarman’s house and garden. This is exactly what Jay did on her long weekend, but I have no shame in plagiarising other peoples’ leisure activities.
Not that impressed by the few spiky plants and reclaimed bits of wire and wood that had been sold to me as the greatest garden this side of Eden. Maybe it’s a male thing? Maybe I just don’t ‘get’ it? Maybe it’s a deep seated resentment for a man pretentious enough to create a film of one frame of blue? Power station looked cool though.
With the fish and chips still sitting fairly heavy on my stomach, ’twas back home for a good, sturdy Chicken Shashlick at the local curry house. Maybe the tiredness is from overeating?
August 30th, 2005
Only a couple of hours until the Foo Fighters play a surprise show in the compact surroundings (well, compact considering they’re playing 2 dates at Earls Court in a couple of months) of the Astoria in London Village. It’s almost 3 years to the day since we went to the last Foo Fighters surprise show at the Astoria. Becoming a regular thing.
Just been and collected my tickets and there is already a fairly substantial queue of spotty 14-year-olds, standing in the rain, hoping to get to the front and be sweated on by Sir David of Grohl. Crazy Fools.
Working in Soho certainly has its advantages.
August 24th, 2005
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