Kevin's Watch

Just heard from Frosty that she is safely home now. Will post pictures, details etc tomorrow as it is getting late over here

Short answer, we both had an enjoyable weekend

Looking forward to hearing all about it.

You're a Brit, she's Findinavian ... I guess you didn't discuss football ... but the real question is: did she meet your friends?

I didn't even know he was a Brit. Where in London are you Fuzzpaws? (I don't know if I can ever type that with a straight face... )

--A

Avatar wrote:(I don't know if I can ever type that with a straight face... )

meh.

I may have suggested he change the thread title to match his new username, but he'll always remain hue to me.

Avatar wrote:I didn't even know he was a Brit. Where in London are you Fuzzpaws?

--A

I'm not London based I'm afraid. London was the easiest place to meet up with Frosty flying in. My usual haunt is in the Midlands.

Ah, a region I luckily managed to avoid in my UK sojourns. Damn Brummies.

--A

Avatar wrote:Ah, a region I luckily managed to avoid in my UK sojourns. Damn Brummies.

--A

Ahhh, then you've missed out of the best parts of the Isles then. Rugged moorlands, gentle farmlands, caves full of interesting minerals.

Admittedly, I'm about 30 miles North of Birmingham

Menolly wrote:

Avatar wrote:(I don't know if I can ever type that with a straight face... )

meh.
I may have suggested he change the thread title to match his new username, but he'll always remain hue to me.

Well, "Hue of Pink" might function for such a romantic bruin as Fuzzpaws. I do venture to wonder, however, if one reason for the name change might have been the bawdier version I twisted from his previous alias.

wayfriend wrote:You're a Brit, she's Findinavian ... I guess you didn't discuss football ... but the real question is: did she meet your friends?

Well, indeed, everyone kens Finland remains snowbound for thirteen months per year; no open ground for odd, outlandish carousals. Hence we conversed about such less ballsy topics as Beowulf and Viking raids instead.
Alas, his pastel-toned cheery forest critter pals had to remain in central Anglia, too terrified of the eldritch dwellers of un-London.

Avatar wrote:Ah, a region I luckily managed to avoid in my UK sojourns. Damn Brummies.

--A

Thought you'd been to Lincoln, Av. That's more or less midlands. I don't think Fuzzpaws is too far from me.

Glad you two enjoyed your weekend. How about having the next meet-up in the "midlands"? I can play gooseberry.

I thought Lincoln was further north. Gods know it took long enough to get there by coach. Anyway, I wasn't there long.

I was mostly joking though. Darth Revan, famed in myth and legend, is from Birmingham, and I like to tease him about it. He's been MIA for a good while though.

--A

15/0815 Day 1

It is 6.01am and the train is leaving the station. I settle down in my seat and take out Peter Ackroyd ‘s London and begin to read. I can’t see much of the landscape speeding by the window as my seat is set back. However, I soon get wrapped up in the book.

It is 7.28am and the train is easing into the glittering steel and brick hybrid that is St. Pancras. With my rucksack I set off at a good pace as I need to get to Gatwick for 8.30am as Frosty’s plane is coming in at 8.35am (no delays I hope) I have my first experience using a Oyster Card as I make my way underground and am whisked away to Victoria.

Once there I use my self-printed ticket for the Gatwick Express and am soon on my way. Although I wonder why they call it an express, as it doesn’t seem to be going that fast. However, it is about 8.35am when I finally arrive.

Just need to look at the Arrivals board and see that Frosty’s plane is already here. So make my way to where there is a continual stream of people streaming out. Hmmm, can’t see her and then I get a text. After supplying Frosty with my location she seems to appear out of nowhere. A shy little smile appears on her face and then we are hugging each other. And hugging and hugging.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Methinks she is safely home (and I don't mean back in Finland!).

I have to admit that I can't help feeling a little protective of Frosty. We've spent a fair amount of time together now and she is, after all, of an age with both my own children. Good luck to you both.

Iolanthe wrote:
I have to admit that I can't help feeling a little protective of Frosty.

Well, Frosty speaks highly of you Iolanthe

Thank you

I'm really happy for both of you.

Score another for the Watch.

--A

15/0815 Day 1 cont.

When we finally disengaged from hugging, we started thinking about returning to Victoria, however not on the Gatwick Express. As we walked side by side I took hold of Frosty’s small hand into mine and held it as we negotiated the large crowds at Gatwick

All this time we kept talking and talking. Talking as we waited for the train. Talking as we travelled by slow train back to Victoria. However, once back at Victoria, Frosty declared she was unable to go any further until she had replenished her energy levels. So she steered me towards the “Upper Crust” snack stall. These did baguettes with a variety of different feelings, hot beverages and pastries.

When we had found somewhere to sit down amongst all the hustle and bustle we set about enjoying our early lunch. Afterwards we exchanged gifts and then decided to go the Victoria Coach station to leave some of Frosty’s bags/case at the Luggage department.

Of course this led to some more hand holding as we made our way there.

Day I continued even more:

While Fuzzpaws may wax detailed, I may be terser with the narrative.
Indeed, at that point my stomach was growling and yowling worse than a pack of starving wolves; I'd taken a 4:00 (AM) bus to the capital of Barbarialand to catch the airborne dreki, and overall had stood awake-ish for almost eight hours. Mentally hoped I didn't resemble a worn-out zombie too much. Not the first time for such cock-crow flights nevertheless.

Plenty of time to chat and get acquainted with our physical selves during train travel and copious subway stretches. While I had informed Fuzzpaws about my height, he may have harbored half a qualm about me truly looming twelve feet tall. However, our eyes sit just about on the same level. Apart from that, my second impression must have been the slight difference in the nuance of his voice: the microphone connection possesses its twists and distortions.

We decided to visit The British Library (British Museum was the other option) first, as the free collection included a variety of fantastic manuscripts, Beowulf as one of the superstars. We could not cease gushing over the minutiae, in particular regarding the Lindisfarne Gospels; also such names as Bach, da Vinci, Dürer, Shakespeare, et cetera drew our attention. Much recommended for a date-event to bookish couples.

Alas, time was leaping onwards, and we were scheduled to be at Apollo Victoria Theatre by 14:30 to see Wicked. As usual, I was immersed in the wealth of books and historical whatsits in the museum shop, but Fuzzpaws remained mindful of the clock. Teary-eyed and with lumps in our throats, we had to forsake the wonderland of literature. We shall return.

Oh, and this is us in the obligatory mush-selfie.

Fuzzpaws wrote:...we started thinking about returning to Victoria...

When I worked for an arcade game company in London, we had a site inside Vic station. Parking around the station (for the purposes of moving new games into the site) was enthusiastically discouraged by the local traffic wardens.

I have a very vivid memory of having a large arcade game (Area 51 as I recall), a good 150+kg, balanced precariously against the back of the van while I vociferously argued with one such worthy.

At that moment, the handbrake failed, and the weight of the game balanced against the tailgate sent the van sailing down the road sans accompaniment.

I hurled myself under the game as the boss would take a dim view of it breaking, while the driver (previously supporting me in my defence of our parking arrangements) sprinted down the street, dived through the open back doors, and over the seats in order to operate the foot-brake with his hands.

I lay in the street below a 150kg arcade game, releasing a stream of invective that would have done a navy man proud. By the time I successfully extricated myself, the traffic warden was nowhere to be seen.

--A