orright luv?

Lunched with the ladies at noon on Tuesday, who then deposited me at the airport for the flight to Sydney - on an aircraft that inspired the thought 'So this is what it feels like to be inside an insect.' Enjoyably named a 'de Haviland' - evoked images of the 1940s and phrases such as 'just going to pop in the de Haviland for a jaunt to Paris' - and the aircraft evoked the possibility that it may have been doing just that in the 1940s.
Flew out of Sydney at 5pm-ish, 7 hour trip to Singapore, apparently a time frame that requires two meals and numerous snacks. Tiny little softdrink cans - fun! Half an hour off the plane in Singapore, proof that airport terminals are basically identical - except that there are less semi-automatics draped over precision-groomed police officers in Aust and NZ. It was about 1.30 am according to my body clock, leading to an almost incident, but I fortunately quelled my desire to yell 'puppies!' and pet the sniffer dogs. Funny how the most ornamental looking dogs are the ones that have the best sense of smell. Or maybe just the precision-groomed officers wouldn't take anything less.
Back on the plane for another meal - it had been about 2 hours since we'd had a meal after all. Strange how noodles aren't food that can be prepared in advance and retain their appetising features. My new all-time favourite piece of technology is the seat-back entertainment console - have gotten myself up to date on films: Over the Hedge (don't bother, digital animation is not enough of a novelty anymore to justify having no plot. Apparently if it's digital you don't need an editor either.), Thank you for Smoking (enjoyed very much, see it), Jindabyne (v. good, although would have been a lot better on the big screen rather than the 5 inch screen), Friends with Money (a deeply bad film, I didn't make it to the end, one more minute of Jennifer Anniston and her cat's-bum-pout was going to make me attempt strangulation, and I don't think the guy in front of me would have appreciated it), RV (standard family-road-trip comedy, apparently Robin Williams is the new Chevy Chase, amusing moments). There was also a good range of tv and music on the system - arriving in London I was listening to George's polyserena which was launching me into a flashback of Sharehouses past and a strange desire to eat tuna pasta...
My knowledge of geography turns out to still be crap, flying somewhere at night I was peering out the window thinking 'so that's germany' only to consult with the flight path and discover, ah, now, that's Russia. Which really is large, everytime I look at a map I'm always surprised by it. Anyway, touched down at glorious Terminal 4 at Heathrow, which seems to be aiming for a 'East Germany circa 1975' feel to its décor. And succeeding. Had a happy moment of 'now which passport should I choose', - very international, continental even, don't you think? - went for the EU as the line was shorter, managed to get through Heathrow onto a train in about 30 min which was a whole lot better than what I was expecting. Got a train to Piccadilly, at about which time my exciting, high-pitched, and fortunately suppressed, squeals started: 'oooh Picadilly! a Tube station! They really do say 'mind the gap' a lot! a stall selling Paddington bear merchandise! a Bobby! wearing a hat! They actually wear those, not just on the Bill! Actually there seems to be about 75 Bobbies! A marks and spencer!' Had an hour to kill before my train left so wandered around a bit, briefly outside the station, again with more squeals: 'Huh, London, so you do exist, and this is you! Buses, red ones! Black cabs!' Since I arrived I have also been truly appreciating just how many english accents there are, and just how amusing so many of them sound.
Catching the train down to Cornwall ended up taking about 6 hours, which was rather entertaining having not slept for quite sometime, but probably the best way to avoid sleeping and creating the jet lag of death, and it kept me in the right frame of mind to continue my high pitched squealing (internal still): cows! black faced sheep! a duck pond! Oddly, it turns out that those plastic farm animal sets I played with as a child that had cows, sheep, ducks, geese, tufts of grass, stone walls, fences etc turn out not to be an idyllic recreation of farm life past but a highly accurate scientific representation of contemporary farming in the South West of England.
There's was also lots of Green! Very very Green! They weren't kidding about that. And when I told someone later they responded with a shocked But we're having a drought! Ah huh, the kind of drought that doesn't involve loss of Green.
Anyway, it turns out the conference venue is kind of like having a conference in say, suburban Hornsby, and not giving people any directions of how to get there. Anyway, I got a cab from the tiny train station I was directed to, and this led to another of my English discoveries. You know all those shows set somewhere in a small town in the UK or Ireland and feature our two fetching heroes, whose sexual tension motivates the plot, and are surrounded by an array of quirky personalities? Turns out they're documentaries, those poeple exist. My cab driver proved this to me by being exuberantly barking: mouth full of teeth going in festively different directions, driving like a lunatic while loudly abusing other drivers, asking me where I was from and sharing that 'Now of all the places, Australia is one that I've never wanted to go to.' Goood, thanks for sharing. Then we got distracted, because, as he explained, 'OF ALL THE FECKIN EEJIT THINGS TO DO I'VE MISSED THE TURN OFF, WHAT KIND OF FOOL DOES THAT, I KNEW THIS ROAD IS BLOCKED OFF NOW WE'LL HAVE TO DRIVE RIGHT THE WAY 'ROUND, JESUS WHAT A FOOL I AM' Anyway, he gave a discount, amusement, and a short tour of Penryn, so I had no problems. Perhaps if I hadn't been so sleep deprived I would have transcended amusement into some level of fear.
Something like 38 hours after the ladies lunched, I arrived at the university and found a level of disengagement that was quite surprising - there was no one really around other than the staff who gave me my room key, and meal ticket and vague directions - this is where your room is, show the ticket to the poeple at the servery for food' - ah, where's the servery? is there dinner tonight? No. Is there food anywhere nearby? No, you'll need to catch the bus to falmouth. But they did make me come out the back so they could demonstrate close up how the window latch works. Thank goodness. I found my room, which is nice, and had one my most favourite showers ever.
In a feat that was quite spectacular I managed to miss three successive buses into town, which turned out to be a blessing as I ran into someone looking equally lost, and wearing a shirt with wattle on it, which alerted me to her nationality and likely reason for looking lost in Cornwall - so I showed her where she needed to be and then we joined forces for the trip to Falmouth. An entertaining bus ride, as apparently my cab driver from earlier on at some stage taught this bus driver to drive. Nothing like tiny narrow cobble stone streets and a bus driver who apparently drives as though there is a voice in his head saying Be the wind! Fly! Let your spirit free!
Falmouth is a tiny town, and a source of more internal shrieking Cobblestones! Swans! Wooden boats! Old things! Old! Look how old they are! We shortly found ourselves inside an English pub, a real one, you know, where the beams aren't hollow and the builders must have been five feet tall: 'ach no, why would anyone need more than a six feet high ceiling, preposterous.' Dutifully I forewent the tempting prospect of Fosters on tap and somehow convinced myself to try a local ale (v. good), then we went for food, and apparently I'll order anything that has 'Cornwall' in the title, food was nice, over looking the harbour, a very nice redemption of what was looking like a dire evening otherwise.
I am slowly coming to terms with the Cornish accent and refraining from smirking everytime someone speaks.
Discovered where the servery was this morning, and the bad news I have found the only university in the entire world (from my core sample of Aust, NZ and Cornwall) where there is NO espresso, or indeed any non-instantaneous variety of coffee. It's going to be an interesting few days.

I am here.