Category Archives: Transport

My bank holiday Monday

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It’s impossible to walk down Southbank in the early evening with your iPod plugged in.

It’s bank holiday Monday and I’m sitting enjoying a couple of buskers perform under the sunset outside the Tate Modern. The tide is out and just below me, are the pebbles and sand that usually form the river bed.

20130506-205221.jpgThe air above me is busy, with planes and helicopters flying over and of course, the setting sun to me left, blinding any turn of the head towards Blackfriars Bridge.

If anything, I should be in my flat revising for my upcoming exams but I’m not. Instead, listening to two guitarists and the many conversations around me – most of which in a language I don’t understand. Continue reading →

Nerd level up

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After purchasing a lava lamp Wednesday, I’ve noticed my mood chill out. The blue bubbles of lave bounce off each other in a kind of boring but weirdly relaxing way and have somehow inspired me to actually do something.

Considering the fact that my end of year exams are only a week away, you’d think that I’d do some revision, right?

No.

Well I’ll be honest and admit that I’ve been a little distracted. Continue reading →

Too much London can kill you (1 of 3)

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Twelve months ago, I had my first work experience in commercial radio.

It was offered to me six months earlier in the weirdest of ways and despite it only been a week or so in duration, there are things which I learned there that I could not have been taught elsewhere.

I received a text from one of my then-teachers saying that there was a gaming careers talk at the other college campus, which meant nothing to me. Why on earth would I be interested in a talk about how to get a career into game design and the world of COD? My teacher replied back with a ‘lol’ before explaining that one of the guest speakers was ‘someone who ran a local radio station’. The message came days after he found out my passion for radio was a hell of a lot bigger than making podcasts for an independent record label and so he made a call and I was there.

Being honest, I hadn’t an idea what was going on and had my mind on a recording session the following morning at a recording studio in central Birmingham. I still hadn’t properly learned the song (typical for a guitarist…) and here I was, sitting in a hot and stuffy room, listening to a bunch of men talk about gaming. That was until the radio dude stood up. I sat forward and took out my little jotters pad and pen ready to make notes on anything interesting he says.  Continue reading →

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside

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If I’m being honest, Brighton isn’t really my scene…

My reason for travelling down to the coastal town was for an interview, just a couple of questions with someone representing a company. I figured that by going the extra mile, or so, I’d be able to give myself a great opportunity for the assignment. Once the interview was over, it was my intension to explore and to visit somewhere new.

The train I was on arrived into Brighton station an hour and a half early and after briefly popping into an internet café, took a stroll to the beach where I spent some time taking photos and walking up to the pier. I noted the old pier too, which appeared abandoned and cut off from the shoreline. I remember seeing it in a presentation based on hyperlocal websites, where one of my classmates chose a site local to Brighton and a banner on the home page was a picture of the old pier. Continue reading →

The guy with the hat

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When I travel, I prefer trains because they take one route to your destination. The only stop starting is between stations and that seems to be getting better of the years, but ultimately, it’s being able to sit down and watch the countryside pass from my window without having some bloke in the car next to you staring at you through the window.

It was my mums birthday over the weekend, the Easter weekend. As usual, bank holidays were awarded for no particular reason other than to make my life absolutely hell. Taking advantage of nothing different, except a day off uni, I got myself some train tickets for the Friday morning and a return for Monday afternoon. Two full days to relax and to not worry about work, coursework and anything else for that matter – I even saw some snow! Continue reading →

Two days notice

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Ever since I could remember, holidays took weeks if not months planning in advance. Flights had to be booked as early as possible. Up until now, the shortest time I’ve had to prepare for a holiday is somewhat four months. Up until now of course, where little over 48 hours was really the fine line.

I shall set the mood for you back to when the idea first came into question.

It was a drunken Monday evening and the four of us had been on the topic of Mickey’s monthly adventure and that was where, I think, the joking about began. I have a vague idea of what happened next but it resulted in the booking of a city break to Amsterdam, later that week. Continue reading →

A new beginning

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That seems a little over-the-top for the start of another year, or another year to make out of the world statements and call them resolutions.

I seem to recall last year, expressing my dear love to the idea of being able to fly, like Superman, however I can only tell you how disappointed I am that I did not succeed that particular new year resolution. Instead, I can confidently say that I found some fantastic new music and some great new friends. In that order. Although some of those new friends also brought me to the attention of some more great music, so, thanks uni!

But you may ask, what have I set myself this year?

I can only reply with one clear answer, and it’s one of great concern to all those around me who understand that I really did need that cookery book for Christmas.

DSC01281To not die from food poisoning.

It seems like a fair argument, I think, especially when you look back on the last few months from moving into my flat in London where cooking has become a need-to-do thing, sort of, imperative to survive. Sadly for me though, cooking at university was a first for me and only ended in disaster on the first few attempts but slowly but surely, I am beginning to get the gist of things and hopefully I won’t try anything too adventurous with food (this excludes chilli-cheese-toasties which are a must keep).

But enough of this rubbish, enjoy your new year parties and celebrations! Get off the computer, or phone, or tablet, or television, or holographic device or what ever space-age technology you use to read WordPress blogs. Enjoy your day and enjoy the year, it’s 2013, and remember, we survived the apocalypse!!

Oh, and be sure to check out my new review site – The Daily Review – which was also launched earlier today! 

In twelve weeks…

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It’s been approximately twelve weeks since I made the move out of a quiet little cul-de-sac in Birmingham to a ground floor flat in the heart of the City of London and you could call it a good time to sit back and reflect on what’s happened since that weekend my parents left me to cook by myself.

In fact, while day-dreaming through my politics lecture this morning, I realised that throughout my time at university I have learned so many new things – and here’s my chance to share this with you.

1. In the first week of arriving, I learned that it is possible to pop over to Leicester Square for breakfast before running across London in order to get ready for a wedding that’s in Basingstoke.

2. I have learned how to wear neon paint on my face and how to draw various graphical images on other people while convincingly telling them that it was innocent.

3. In addition to number two, I have also learned how to remove such paint, ten minutes before a job interview.

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Looking down into Northampton Square, City University London

4. Some of my earliest memories of university itself include wine. I guess you can say that I’ve learned to appreciate free wine at every occasion.

5. Following that, I managed to work out that white wine was the 2nd most consumed drink I had in the first week of me moving to London, which then shot up to the 1st by the second week.

6. I have learned that it is fun to dress up in a tiger onesie and run around Piccadilly Circus at midnight!

7. At the end of my second week, I learned that the Wetherspoons make a great king prawn curry.

8. I have learned that when you use the washing machine, that you put your washing up powder in before you press the start button.

9. I have learned that I really shouldn’t play the popular game ‘never have I ever’ with people I have to work with the following day.

10. I have learned how to get ripped off by a ‘major photography store’.

11. In mid-October, I learned that storing all of your friends’ mobile phones, your own, a laptop and various drinks is highly suspicious when entering the Houses of Parliament.

12. I also learned that day that it takes more than two hours to order and eat lunch form a pub as well as run half way across London in order to make the next seminar on time.

13. I have learned that conversations over a pizza have no limitations… Especially with references to the discussions that happened during my ninth point.

14. I have learned how important it is to go to a good jazz night and that an Apple Martini is always welcome.

15. I have learned how cyclists don’t stop for red lights, on many occasions.

16. I have accidentally learned how to give yourself food poisoning.

17. I have learned how to get yourself barred at a pub.

18. I have learned that my mum’s cooking is simply the best. It’s better than all the rest.

19. I have learned that when you have a train at seven o’clock in the morning, it’s a good idea to pack the night before – and to also wake up with enough time to avoid the start of London’s rush hour on the underground.

20. Unfortunately, it was only after reading week had ended, that I learned that the week was not-best spent drinking.

21. I have learned how weird it is to have impressions taken of your ears.

22. I learned that a pint with a comedian is always funnier than the show itself.

23. At the end of watching One Rogue Reporter in SOHO Theatre, I learned what Kelvin Mackenzie looks like naked. I also learned that this is the reason I have nightmares.

24. I have learned that even in the Houses of Parliament, you have to wait for internet videos to buffer as half way through the live feed from the Leveson Report, it did just that.

25. I have learned how to get yourself barred at another pub.

26. I have learned that money-off vouchers have an expiry date and that managers can’t do anything with a voucher thats over two years old.

27. I have learned that going to a teacher’s book launch helps put you in his good books when you miss his seminar.

28. I have learned that three donuts is a substantial breakfast each morning.

29. I have learned that ‘devils advocate’ can help you keep friends when you say something controversial in a panel discussion.

30. I have learned that it is possible to get changed, eat dinner and get from St Pauls to Wembley Arena in an hour.

31. I have learned that you can listen to your own music (Mi1) loud and clear, while standing at the front of a rock concert.

32. I have learned that rice, tuna and cheese don’t really ‘go’ well together.

33. I have learned how to disguise earphones for lectures.

34. I have learned that ‘flat inspections are important’ and ‘should be taken seriously’.

35. I have learned that it takes a considerable amount of time to write an essay and that just over half an hour before deadline is not a good time to start.

36. I have learned that there is a food pincher in my flat.

37. I have learned that when one person borrows your printer, everyone suddenly has things they need to print.

38. I have learned to come up with printer excuses in those situations.

39. I have learned that flat parties at 2am are ‘unsociable to others’ and ‘annoying to my neighbours’.

40. I have learned that when running late, I can indeed get to uni in five minutes. It does however mean that I can’t stop off at the bakery on the way…

It’s almost time!

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It’s felt like a long time since my last visit to the capital and even then it was business. Today marked two weeks before I move into student accommodation in London, sort of Eastern Centraly but still in the congestion zone. So to rephrase that, my humongous student debt starts in two weeks…

With it only being two weeks before the big day, I figured it would make sense to visit so that I would be absolutely certain that it was the right choice to make. Plus, it was helpful to find parking spaces too, and the local shops as well. The kind of things you’re going to actually need on arrival. So this morning, I packed a bag and hopped on a train, arriving for about half eleven.

All the fuss regarding the tube being busy during the olympics went straight over my head when I booked the tickets during the week before, however it was safe to say it all came back to me. Very quickly. Coincidently as I had my head squashed up against the door of the underground train I had shoved to get on. The moist atmosphere was the reminder, I guessed. Welcome to London.

I hopped of the train at the next stop, Baker Street, before launching myself around the maze of platforms and tunnels to find myself on the line I wanted. I forgot where I was going when I arrived as it had taken me so long! I stood dazed and confused as I tried to work out what had just happened, and what I had been thinking. Of course by that time, the train had left and I was stranded on my own at the platform’s edge. Not a soul in sight.

Twenty minutes or so later, I arrived at what was going to be my new local tube station.

Okay, so I spent a few minutes on Google Earth on the way down, I knew which way to go. I timed my journey’s from the station and past what would be ‘home’ for term-time before walking up to the University itself. It took approximately twenty minutes all in all, with the flat right in the middle. Literally, spot on! I also walked past the place some of my newly found friends would be staying, a three minute walk away from the main entrance to the Journalism Department.

After a stop for something to eat, I had a walk up to some studios I knew of around the corner – or twenty minutes around the corner as it turned out to be. The painful journey landed me in front of a very grand building, I knew I had arrived, even if there wasn’t a big red sign to say so. There wasn’t any chance of getting inside, so I decided to have a wander around the city. Kill some time. I made my way up to Piccadilly to find a couple of clubs I’m heading down to on freshers week, but where was the warning?

Seriously?

I have never seen Piccadilly so busy in all my life!

For one day only, and out of all the days in the year it was today, it was the ‘Piccadilly Circus Circus’ with eleven or so stages with gigantic performances! It spread from Fortnum and Mason’s down through and past the Rainforest Cafe! The streets were closed to traffic, and so it made life a free-for-all for anyone there. Little kids running from left right and centre, not to mention their parents running about after them!

Tourists with their cameras too. Why take the trouble to move around them all, avoiding their lens’ when instead you can do what I do? It’s entertaining to see the shock of a photographer’s face, when they realise you were staring down the lens over the shoulder of the person they were taking a photo of.

Priceless.

While I am a kid at heart, I’m not inconsiderate all the time. I helped someone open the toilet door on the train there! I was in hysterics though, as someone trapped in a train’s toilet is moderately funny!

Of course, after paying a visit to Piccadilly, I hoped back onto the tube to find the third of the clubs over in Elephant and Castle. That find wasn’t so difficult, as the entrance was right on top of the station. I then had a wonder over to Waterloo before making my way to Westminster where I hoped to meet Nick Robinson – the face of political news on the BBC. Much to my disappointment, he wasn’t there. Not even in the newsreaders spot around the back on the grass! Instead, a female correspondent spoke loudly into a ball of fluff held in front of her by a bloke with a pair of headphones.

This left me only an hour before my train home, so I began my trek back to Marylebone Station, via the depths of Westminster Underground Station – the deepest station ever?

It led me back to the familiarity of a station I knew all too well. I hadn’t got enough time to enjoy a drink in the bar like last time, so a quick stop to WH Smith and straight onto the train before a short wait before it left.

It’s not just a sightseeing trip however, it was a test of everything. My shoes failed, having insisted on giving my blisters almost straight away. My rucksack, the bag I spent so long trying to find, did me proud though. My patience was tested too, energy and general knowledge of the area. It would be my last visiting trip to London for the next three years, as the city swaps with Birmingham for it’s title of home.

Spending the time out and about today gave me the confidence that this adventure that I was soon to embark on, was the right choice for me. Perhaps a little sudden, considering the timing of my application but the right choice.

Two weeks wait?

Eat my shorts.

The great lawnmower depression

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Okay, it’s summer. I get your point. But does that really mean I should spend my day listening to the struggling lawnmower a few hours round the corner? Surely not, I hope.

It’s already a steaming hot day with the sun belting down from a beautiful clear sky. I woke late this morning with a slight headache from the heat, made worse by the constant strain of a lawnmower pushed beyond belief along a stretch of grass that I presume is in need of a trim. You’d at least hope it’s not for the sake of it.

It reminded me of an occasion while waiting in the reception area of a helicopter training office, where I had previously had a one off flying lesson in a helicopter. It was time for a pleasure flight, to enjoy the scenery from above, without being distracted by the controls that had surrounded me. I was sat on a rather comfortable sofa, quietly chatting amongst the group of people I was with as an irritated woman made her way into the premises.

Her presence turned heads, before she had even opened her mouth. She stormed across to the desk and demanded to see the manager, who unfortunately wasn’t there to witness such event.

“What are these helicopters doing?”

It was an amazing question to ask. What were those helicopters doing in an airfield?

“They are being used for training purposes, is there a problem?”

It was a reasonable response to a fairly straight forward question – whether it was a little obvious or not.

“Well I’d like to speak to the manager please. Is he here? I want to make another formal complaint to the manager now. Where is he?”

She sounded awfully aggressive to the lady behind the desk, with students making their way into the reception area hoping to sign in for their lesson.

“The manager is away today, he’ll be back on Monday. Can I leave him a message on your behalf?”

Again, a polite response. What more could she have replied with?

“No you most certainly can not. Do you know how loud those helicopters are?”

At which point, with almost perfect timing, a helicopter flew down besides the window and landed only feet away from where the desk was. A quick personnel change and it took off almost straight away. It was amazing to see it so close from inside the little hut we were in, exciting me for my turn to run out under the rotor blades.

“Do you see what I mean? It’s horrific! I demand you to stop making so much noise!”

The lady behind the desk was beginning to get upset, as the tone of voice used by this angry woman was becoming more and more aggressive. I looked away from sight as a smile began to stretch across my face. After a further five minutes of ranting and violent shouting, the woman stormed off outside hand began to shout at members of the public – those enjoying the atmosphere at an airfield and waiting for their pleasure flight.

Once she was out of ear-shot, the lady behind the desk apologised to us before saying something quite remarkable.

“I’m terribly sorry about that, she comes in here every week like that. I’m really sorry you had to witness it. She lives a few minutes walk away behind the hut and constantly complains about the noise.”

I’m sorry.

Did I hear her correctly?

The woman lives a few minutes walk from an airfield – but complains about the noise?

Surely not?

“The airfield has been here for nearly thirty years, to which she has been living across the road for just over five. She’s made violent complaints in the past and we’ve even tried to buy her house of her – just to see her move away!”

I laughed. I’m not going to hold it back I thought, so I laughed and laughed. I don’t know anyone who could be so stupid to live not he flight path of a busy airfield and then wonder why it’s so noisy.

Unbelievable.

A day in life

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It’s what feels like record breaking heat after what has been one of the wettest years seen in England and for the first time in years, I willingly sit out in the garden with a chilled glass of water by my side. I don’t recall any time in history where it has been the perfect atmosphere to sit outside without sweltering under the sun, yet chilled without being frozen. A gentle breeze sweeps through my garden, where I relax on the patio besides a pond. It goes without saying I have my iPod on, who wouldn’t?!

With what is now less than two months before I take up my new home in London, I couldn’t miss out on the rare opportunity of enjoying the garden which has only just recovered from it’s own flooding from the previous weeks. With the sun still bright at such a late time in the afternoon, you’d have to be silly to miss out! With Alistair Griffin in my ears, the only thing that seems to be missing is a nice chilled beer… which can so easily be arranged!

However it is the countdown for September that brings me closer to home – with only a small handful of weeks remaining before my big move a hundred miles away from home to the busiest city I’ve ever been to. London it is, and incase you’re thinking that there are cities bigger and busier than London in the world, I’ve been to a few and I don’t think they even compare in the slightest. Most people would argue that New York City is the busiest, well I don’t think so. I spent a little short of a fortnight in Manhattan and yes, while it is massively busy, it was no where near as compact as London. You could argue that while London has a lot less people than NY, it’s smaller and therefore, busier. Oh, and did I mention the Olympics this year?

Next week, the world will feast it’s eyes on one district of London in a global celebration of sport. It’s like a more expensive version of Eurovision for athletes, if you want to be cynical about things. It’s taken over the news here in the UK for the past few years, especially in the last few days as G4S truly messed up the security – but surely that was to be expected? It’s got to be said that we all hope the opening ceremony is without fault.

Then we can breathe.

After that, it’s life as normal, I guess. Or at least for the time being. I can imagine the underground falling to pieces and the whole transportation network crumbling with the volume of commuters in the upcoming weeks. It seems that it’ll fall apart just in time for my studies, but let’s not be too negative about the games. We do at least have some legendary artists performing in the opening ceremony. Or at least miming to a backing track. If that’s not good enough for the critics, then take the official soundtracks. Let’s think about Muse’s song for an example.

Okay, thought over.

I’m a Muse fan, and i don’t like it. Resistance was a fantastic album, as was Origin of Symmetry and Black Holes and Revelations. Showbiz too. In fact, they’re all great albums, but this Olympic theme? I’m sorry.

But enough of that, it’s time to enjoy the rest of Albion Sky and to prepare myself for what’s going to be an interesting end to the summer as I start what feels like a new life! Cheerio!

Small cars to flying cars

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One thing I failed to mention in yesterday’s post ‘Would you like petrol with that?‘ is the progression into cars that fly. I talked a lot about the future, where driving through your local shop could be part of everyday life. Except I forgot one thing. The whole idea of flight! The idea of being able to drive in the sky seems missions away, as it did in 1925 with this image on a postcard. But now that we’re in the 21st century, the concept of driving into the air is getting closer and closer all the time – and for some people, has already arrived.

In America, a team called Terrafugia have developed ‘The Transition’ which was driven to fly. After 20 hours of training, you too could become a sport pilot and take this to the skies at your local airfield. On the road, this is a rear wheel drive car capable of doing about 35 miles to the gallon. At the taxiway, you simply press a button to lower the wings and take off. The length of runway required to clear a 50′ obstacle is 1700′ (which is about 520 meters).

Of course this begs the question, is it safe? First of all, it features full automotive crash safety features. This would cover you from any driving instances. And when you’re in the air? Apart from the ‘glide to the ground’ idea and hope for the best, the light aircraft comes complete with a parachute. If all these aren’t enough to put you off making the purchase (after a deposit), then there is an extended list of gadgets you can also purchase to make it your own.

Sounds very exciting, but what does it look like? Well, this is the demo-video from the Terrafugia website, which you can visit here.

Would you like petrol with that?

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Instead of asking for fries with your meal, how about petrol? When we think of the term ‘drive-through’, we automatically think of driving alongside a window at McDonalds and asking for a medium cheeseburger with chips, however, what if it became more literal? Yes, you read that right, what if we could literally drive through?

Of course, you’re now thinking about the size of your car and yes, I can already say it’s far too big, despite having not met you. The point is, we live in the 21st century. Already we have the power of talking to somebody on the other side of the planet, while sending all sorts of data to and from satellites in space within a blink of an eye, so how far into the future is it going to be before we begin driving through buildings?

Back to the question of size, moving aside your typical family car. It’s too long, it’s too wide, and far too wide. Thats a given. I’m talking about something much much smaller. A sports car maybe? No. It’s still far too big. The Smart car? A little two seater car that will pretty much fit anywhere? Again, no. Like everything else, it’s far too big. If you’re thinking that this is all a joke, I don’t blame you, but I can confidently say that it’s not.

Meet Peel. In 1962, this engineering company released the smallest ever production car, at just 39 inches wide and 53 inches long. Completely road legal, the Peel P50 was designed to be a city car and was on the market for £190. For such an early car, this broke the boundaries of what modern cars should be and by rights, still does. The single seater three wheeler engine was capable of 100mpg and up to 38 miles per hour, enough for most city roads in England. Unfortunately, the car has no reverse gear but as you could imagine, the car is extremely light, so you could potentially pick it up and turn it around. In 2010, an electric replica of the p50 was started by a newly formed company named Peel Engineering Ltd (which is not to be confused with the original company), however this car was not road legal. In 2011, this same company released the petrol model which then became road legal.

Back in the early days, the Peel Trident was also released towards the end of Peel’s reign of microcars. Slightly bigger than the P50, the Trident was the two-seater “shopper” version. This sprung the idea of ‘driving through’ into mind…

If places such as McDonalds allocated a special lane in their restaurants, you could literally drive through to the counter, and pick up your food and drive straight out. It’d be one happy meal you’d have there. But these microcars aren’t limited to picking up your burger any quicker, they could be perfect for shopping. Imagine leaving your desk at work. Usually, you would walk down a corridor, into a lift, before either walking over to a car park or to the bus stop (or tube station). From there, you would make your way home. What if you stood up from your office chair, and your car was parked only 2ft away? Simply climb in, drive down the corridor and out the building. Quite often, people will stop off on the way home to do their grocery shopping because it’s convenient. While driving your microcar, you could wouldn’t have to get out. Try driving through Tesco in a soft-top version of what you see above, with a detachable trailer on the back. You could just drive through the store, filling the trailor. When you arrive at the checkout, you simply scan the items and drive out the store again.

Using all that fuel, you would then hear the phrase “would you like petrol with that?” coming into use more and more often, with petrol stations being replaces by refuel points at checkouts.

The idea is genius, but lacks one thing. Where do you put the kids?

Returning to London

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It’s been just over a month since I last visited the capital, with today’s adventure taking me across to my first choice University. Of course, instead of the daunting thoughts of travelling across the city alone, I was more anxious about my travel down from Birmingham. I switched the news channel off last night after seeing a yellow weather warning for snow, and predicted heavy rain and winds. Arguably not the best weather for travelling. I woke in the early hours of this morning, taking a spoonful of Corn Flakes with one hand, while the other was reading through travel updates on my phone. Everything seemed to be okay at that time, but there was still enough time for something to go wrong. Continue reading →

Flying a Robinson R22

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After watching the television series ‘Airworlf’ as a child, I have always dreamt of flying a helicopter. The idea of landing anywhere seemed to be the coolest thing in the world, but how difficult could it be? On my eighteenth birthday only a week or so ago, I opened up the booking letters for my trial lesson at a nearby airfield. I was speechless. I had a week to study a small book and video, to prepare myself for my hour long session.

On the journey down to the airfield, I read through my book one last time, before in front of me was an open runway. We hung around outside for a few minutes, watching the light aeroplanes taking off into an overcast sky. I was glad it wasn’t sunny because I thought the glare would maybe ruin the experience, so I was happy. It was cold outside on the ground, a gentle breeze calmly swept through my hair. I was hoping it would be windier higher in the sky, but before I could think about that anymore, I made my way into the office. Just outside the office windows, sat a red Robinson R44, the four seated version of what I would be flying. Behind that, the company’s hangar. After signing in, I was shown around the hangar with a group of people who were going to have a ‘thrill seeker’ flight on that day. Everybody was excited, and one by one, they were called out for their turn in the helicopter. It wasn’t long before I was called through, for a fifteen minute briefing session with my instructor.

She sat me down in a small classroom, and recapped on the fundamentals of flying. Seems as this was my first lesson, I was only going to be concentrating on the three main elements of controlling a helicopter, the cyclic, the collective and the yaw pedals. I knew what all these did before, but the adrenaline made remembering these patchy. I continued to listen, as the flight plan was discussed. Then, after all the safety aspects were finished, we made our way through the hangar and out the back entrance to my yellow bundle of fun.

I strapped myself in, and put my headset on. I sat on the right hand side of the fuselage, waiting for my instructor to take her seat to my left. Once she was in, the take off assistant cleared the area, as we turned the key in the ignition. The helicopter shook a little and the engine was on. After the light flickered on the central console, we began the rotors. Slowly they spun round, with each rotation getting quicker and quicker before the two blades became a single disk. With the thumbs up from the ground crew, my training pilot flew us over to a helipad on the other side of the airfield, away from the hangar. Here, she demonstrated the controls once again, before we shot up over the hangar and into the sky.

Once we had reached 1000ft, she gave me control of each of the three controls, one at a time. Starting with the yaw pedals, she purposely flew at an off-central angle. As the air speed decreased, I used the pedals to balance the fuselage. It may sound unreliable, but the most accurate way of balancing a helicopter is by looking at two pieces of string attached to the front of the windscreen. It seemed unbelievable that these two pieces of string was keeping the helicopter in line, and potentially a life saving tool when flying.

Next, it was the collective. After taking back the yaw pedals, she demonstrated the use of the collective, before letting me take my turn. We increased the manifold pressure to 22 inches, before taking it back down to 15. It seemed like nothing at the time, but it would be more important to understand later on in the lesson.

Finally, she handed control of the cyclic over to me. The cyclic is the joystick which ultimately moves the helicopter in any given direction. It is also one of the more difficult controls to use, mainly for the sheer physical demand from it. The cyclic is a very sensitive piece of equipment and in the R22 it is linked directly to the rotors, without any hydraulics inbetween. This means, that the cyclic vibrates, making it more difficult to control as the muscles in the one arm numb very quickly if you aren’t used to it. It took a short while before I did, and once I had gotten used to it, I was manoeuvring the helicopter in all directions. It became easier as the flight progressed, and soon we flew back into the airfield and down to the helipad.

We didn’t land on the helipad, it was time to do some hovering. Once again, each control was demonstrated before she passed each one of them over to me one at a time. The easiest of the three was the yaw pedals, which while hovering, control the way you are facing. After keeping the helicopter still for a few moments, we did a couple of spins and bought the helicopter back to the starting point. The collective was then used to increase and decrease altitude, before the cyclic was used to keep us on the spot. While hovering, the cyclic became more sensitive and the vibrations shook more aggressively. On the first attempt of taking control of the cyclic, I put the fuselage into a sea-saw motion, before my instructor bought it back under control. I took another few turns with the same result, before we headed back up into the sky.

We reached 1000ft once again, before my instructor handed over full control of the helicopter to me. I had both feet on the yaw pedals, my left arm resting on the collective and my right arm on the cyclic. Once I accepted full control, she bought her hands and feet of the secondary controls and let me take over. We enjoyed the view for a few moments, before noticing a police car on a road below. The road was twisted, so we decided to follow the car. The cyclic gently followed my hand through the corners below, before we reached the boundary of the training facility. We bared left to remain on the course and practiced the auto-rotation into a field of sheep. After raising the collective at the last minute, we avoided any contact with the ground and continued to fly back up to our original height. After flying over a race course, and following another few roads, we set ourselves onto a heading for the runway at the airfield.

Because the airfield was used by aeroplanes too, we had to approach the helipads from the same angle. In front of me was the runway, and just to the left a grass strip for helicopters. It was like a scene from a movie, where the runway is lit up ahead. I realised that I still had control of the helicopter, with my instructor guiding me in. We flew closer and closer to the ground, the grass strip getting closer and closer. Her hands and feet were still off the secondary controls. She was calling out, “50ft, 40ft, 30ft” before taking control and bringing us to a hover at 5ft above the helipad. My nerves couldn’t take it anymore, and my arm was shaking, almost painful from the aggressive cyclic.

We had five minutes left of the lesson, so we decided to have another go at the hover. One at a time, I took hold of each control before taking on all three. The first time, I had to be rescued by my instructor. She then said that, when I’m ready, I have control. I wasn’t ready, but continued to hold onto the controls until I was. We were in a perfect hover, and after a deep breath, I looked over at her to see her hands were off the secondary controls. I had been hovering for ages, without realising! I had to do a double take, resulting in losing control, before she reached out and corrected the position of the fuselage. I was chuffed to bits, as she flew us over to the hangar for the landing.

It was the most incredible experience ever and I am left wanting so much more. While we waited for the rotors to come to a stop, my instructor explained to me about the cyclic being so aggressive. It was then that she told me that there was no hydraulics in between the joystick and the rotors in the R22, where as the R44 had these hydraulics so that you do not have the vibrations. It must be said though, that the R22 is a fantastic little machine, which is perfect for learning to fly.

Keep yourself to yourself

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Many people have expressed their feelings towards fellow commuters on the underground, picking out all of the things nobody wants on their journey. Of course, after Another day in London, I have decided to put my own input on things. So here is my list on what rules I believe should be in place for the underground system in London, after experiencing the troubles myself.

  • Wear deodorant. If you’re on the train at rush hour, the chances of someone’s head being under your arm is highly likely, so make sure you’re clean.
  • Raise your hand to cough. It might seem a silly thing to mention, but this small polite gesture is forgotten amongst many passengers. We don’t want your germs thank you. The same goes to sneezing too. It’s one breeze you don’t want to feel on the back of your neck.
  • Screaming children should be banned from entering the station, let alone boarding trains. The carriages are hot and stuffy as it is, so most of us probably have headaches. The last thing we want is to suffer from a screaming child. Same goes to adults too, we are all children at heart!
  • Food is okay, there’s nothing about about eating your lunch on the tube. What’s not nice, is the person in front of you chewing a sandwich with their mouth wide open. Please don’t remind me that it was a cheese sandwich, shut your face.
  • For those people with seats, please for goodness sakes, give them up for someone who is struggling to stand! Some people can be really selfish on the train, don’t let it be you. If there is an older person standing, at least offer it to them, that way nobody has an excuse to give you evils.
  • This is mainly for the men here. No fondling.
  • If you chose to stand on the escalator in the station, stand on the right. Like everybody else. This means that people can run up on the left if they’re in a hurry. That also means that you need to make sure you’re not blocking the other side with your bag. It’s not going to be their fault if they accidentally catch your bag and send it flying.
  • Let people off trains first, before you board them. How would you feel if you wanted to get off a train, but instead, were pushed further in? Yeah, it’s not nice.
  • If you’re standing, hold tight to a handrail. Nobody wants to have somebody come crashing down on their lap. But then again, it’s rather funny to laugh at. Maybe best to hold on though…
  • One of the most criticised noises on public transport, is the sound of music from other people’s headphones. It’s always being called awful, and other similar words. And actually, I agree. If you’re not going to play decent music loud enough for us all to enjoy, while also paying out for your PRS licenses, then keep it to yourself.

There are hundreds more things to say about the underground, but to summarise it; don’t be annoying. Or loud. Or disgusting. Keep yourself to yourself.

Just another day in London

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Today was the third time that I travelled down to London this year, with this morning being the earliest start yet. I usually try to avoid the morning rush hour in the city, by arriving late afternoon between ten and eleven, however I arrived just before nine o’clock, at what seemed to be the end of a flooding of commuters. I had exactly two hours before my appointment in Elephant and Castle, which situated at the bottom of the Bakerloo underground line and with me standing on the platform at Marylebone, it seemed the obvious choice to go straight there. But what was I going to do for two hours?

I bought myself an all day travel pass for zones 1 and 2 for the underground. It cost me £8.40, which back here in Birmingham would buy you not only the equivalent ticket, but also a decent lunch. The next train braked heavily into the platform, and the doors shot outwards. Nobody got off, there wasn’t going to be any room whatsoever. I began walking towards the next set of doors, with the tiniest gap I jumped in. The doors slammed shut behind me, almost claiming my shoulder bag which followed me in. I reached up for the rail and held on tight. I still hadn’t planned how I was going to kill two hours, so I had a look at the route diagram.

Since I first walked through Piccadilly Circus, I have felt the true vibe of London. So, every time I visit the city, I try to pop my head around to feel the excitement once more. It was the next stop actually, and I didn’t quite fancy keeping my nose under this fellow’s armpit for much longer. The light blinded me through the window as we pulled up into the station, a bulging train exploded as the doors open. People fleeing from their seats to escape the shuttle. I found my way onto the concourse, and up a flight of stairs to the surface. A vibrant coke-cola advert lit up above me, the scene below filled with red buses and black cabs. It was quiet at this time, the space between working commuters going to work and and tourists arriving. I headed out of the area, following my instinct over to Trafalgar Square. It was half past nine, just a handful of people walking about. I noticed the Olympic Clock, reminding us all that in only a few months time, the whole world will descend on the city. Are we going to be ready in time? I’m a little unsure at the moment, but who knows? We’ll have to wait and see.

Not knowing where I my actual destination was on foot, I thought it would be best to leave Nelson behind and start making my way over the Thames. I had an hour left, which seemed plenty of time really. I found Charing Cross Station, the station which seemed to have more tunnels than any other station I have walked through. With entrances that seem miles apart, I eventually made it to the concourse and down the escalator I went.

The best thing about the underground, is the waiting times. Every time I have been standing on a platform, I have never waited longer than two or three minutes for a train. Of course you hear about delays and unreliability on the tube all the time, so I guess I’m just lucky. Elephant and Castle was the final station call on the line, with a connection to the Northern Line. I really had no idea where I was going, so I followed the crowds of people towards the lifts, and then up to the exit. From the doors of the station entrance, I could see my destination over the road. Well, it wasn’t quite over the road. It was across an island. Doesn’t seem like much, but the roads joining the island are four lanes wide, filled with buses racing through. I played safe, thinking the subway was going to be the safest option, so I glanced about to see what was around.

A tall blue gate stood above everybody, marking the entrance to the nearest underpass. It was only a few feet away, there was no hesitation. I went for it. I knew the direction I wanted to head in, so I ignored the sign on the way down and continued into the artistic tunnel. Out the other end and up into day light, but I was back where I started. I headed back down, but the sign wasn’t there. I climbed back up to the top, but I found myself in a small market – nowhere near the island. I squeezed through the market stalls, to catch a glimpse of the road to get my bearings. It was no use, I was pretty much lost. I span round on the spot and headed back to where I came from, asking stall owners for directions. Nobody had a clue where I was going to, I felt the pressure as I had already spent fifteen minutes walking around, with only twenty left before I’d be late. I found the entrance to the subway again, following the numbers on the floor which seemed to be location markers.

A map caught my eye as I was walking around a corner. I ran over, locating where I was before working out my route out of there. It’s frustrating to think that from the tube station, it could have taken two or three minutes to walk slowly. Instead, with half an hour of panic over, I arrived.

I was back outside in time for lunch, with food in my bag I wasn’t planning on stopping. I knew my way around the subway pretty well by now, putting the two minute walk to the test. And yes, it took two minutes. I kicked myself up the stairs, entering my card in the machine and down the lift to the platform. I wasn’t sure what to do next, my train home wasn’t for another three hours. I quite fancied seeing somewhere I hadn’t yet seen, so again, I got off the tube at Piccadilly. It was a bit of walk to the BBC Broadcasting House, but I quite fancied it. It was straight down Regent Street, taking about fifteen/twenty minutes.

I sat down on the steps on the building opposite to catch my breath and rest my legs. This was the first proper sit down I had since arriving into Marylebone, so it was well deserved. I took a sip of a bottle of Sprite I picked up earlier, and began munching on my crisps.

Well, I had seen the broadcasting house, what else could I do in two and a half hours? Back on my feet, I walked back down Regent Street to Oxford Circus underground, and jumped on the central line to Queensgate. It was Kensington Gardens that I was interested in, the large open space. One of the royal parks too, so it was going to be nice. A thin layer of mist lay in the distance, as I found myself a bench to relax on. There was a cool breeze, rustling the branches on the trees above me. The wind blew in my hair and the fresh air was certainly felt. It tasted so much better than the gas fed down on the underground, which got unbearable sometimes.

I sat and appreciated the park for as much as I could, before I would have to make my way back to Marylebone for my train home. I watched as a group of cyclists passed, all seven casually cycling together with their matching electric bikes from stations around the city. I took one last breath before standing from my bench, finding my underground ticket and putting it to hand ready for the barriers. I went down in the lift and across to the platform, to see yet another crowded train waiting for me with the doors wide open. Not knowing how busy the next train was going to be, I squeezed on. With one arm clutching hold of my bag this time and one reaching up above me, I was on.

The doors began to close, another passenger leaped through the gap packing us in even more. I felt sympathy for sardines as the train pulled away, speeding through the tunnel. A sigh of relief every time the doors opened, but nobody left. Nobody could. Instead more people piled onto the train, pushing us all in further. I had found myself further away from the doors and wanting to get off in two stops time.

The train screeched to a halt at Bond Street and the doors slammed open against the side of the carriage. I wasn’t sure if the train was being evacuated as so many people barged their way off. I looked about, but people remained seated, the announcement was made to shut the doors so I guessed it was safe. A little girl was asleep, stretched across two seats down by my knees. Her mother sat next to her reading a book. I don’t know how she stayed asleep through all that, the noise was thundering.

I leaped out of the doors at Oxford Street, changing line to the Bakerloo and catching the first train back to Marylebone. It was pretty much empty, which surprised me. I’m still unfamiliar with the busy periods on the underground, so I wasn’t sure what to expect.

My train home was due to leave in half an hour, enough time for me to get a bagel and a quick drink from the newsagents. The cafe was the the left of the ticket machines, in a long line of different food outlets. I approached the opening in the gateway, as the doors were pulled shut and the lights flicked off. I wasn’t going to be able to have one of the famous bagels. Disappointed, I began looking around for a replacement. Next best option was next door, with a cheap bacon and cheese burger and chips to see me through the journey home. I was expecting something a little bigger to be honest, and instead of queueing up for a drink, I ended up looking around for snacks. This was the shop that doesn’t understand that opening more till’s can cut the length of a queue. With a handful of staff chatting in the corner of the shop, one man on the desk and then a nice healthy queue of five people, you do think to yourself.

I perched myself on a seat on the train, the furthest one down from the doors. Pulling out my iPod and a magazine to read. I was absolutely shattered, but it was so worth it. As I arrived back into the Midlands, I knew I would be back again soon. I just need another excuse…

Hanging out in London

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In the last couple of weeks, I have had the opportunities to pop down to London a couple of times and I just thought I would share two of these with you. I live along the Chiltern Mainline, which is basically the train line from Birmingham Moor Street to London Marylebone. It takes about an hour and a half to travel down to London from my station, from where I usually pop straight down onto the underground to wherever I fancy going.

On the first of my trips, I arrived at Marylebone at about half past ten in the morning. It was surprisingly busy for what was after the morning rush hour. I made my way down the platform with my printed ticket that I had bought online only a few days before. Handing it in at the security barriers, I then sped through the crowds to get hold of my underground ticket. Down the escalator I ran, with my brown leather jacket flung open. All the daily commuters stood to the right, I felt my own adrenalin rush as I moved swiftly through the passages to the platform. I was traveling southbound, straight for the city.After a couple of seats, the carriage emptied out and I managed to find myself a seat. I still had over half the journey to make, so why not? The tube experience was fun, different to the usual commute into Birmingham I usually make for college by a long way off. The names of passing stations came into view through the windows, Oxford Street, Piccadilly Circus. They were landmarks underground, each station name being a picture moment itself.

My aim for the day was to see as much as I could in one day, so it was planned to work backwards from the furthest point away from the station, which seemed logical. It made more sense when I thought the off peak ticket wouldn’t be valid the two hours before my train home – so I didn’t want to be stranded on the other side of the city.

The painstaking journey underground was soon to be over, as I popped up to the surface at my first destination. I had arrived at Tower Hill. I walked across to the Tower Bridge, before walking the circumference of the Tower of London. I had only spent half an hour in London by this point, with a further five and a half left I got back on the tube and headed back into the city centre to Westminster. It was precisely 12 o’clock when I arrived, picture perfect. The gold around the clock face were highlighted ready for the Olympics which begin in a few months time. Everything was clean, it was a giant show case. In just a few months time, the whole world will descend on the city. The whole world will be watching us.

I hung around Westminster for a little while, admiring the Houses of Parliament and the London Eye. It was when I started getting hungry that I began to walk up to Buckingham Palace. I didn’t fancy the tube, plus it was a nice walk. I was guaranteed to walk past a Subway or McDonalds at some point, so the walk didn’t phase me.

Sods law took charge, not a food outlet in sight. After arriving at Buckingham Palace, and taking a couple of pictures, I headed up the Mall to Trafalgar Square. I completely missed Nelson’s Column and the National Museum, there was food. My McChicken sandwich went down a treat, putting some energy back into my mind. I was set up for the rest of the afternoon where I had Piccadilly Circus and Oxford Street planned before the walk back to Marylebone.

For anybody who knows London, or has seen a map of London, you will see the kind of distance I saved myself walking by getting the tube from Charing Cross to Piccadilly Circus. To be brutally honest, I spent longer walking around the station’s passages than I would have done walking straight there. But I arrived, and I was happy. After spending a couple of days in New York City a few years ago, I have had a thing for busy places. Walking through Times Square as I did is something I dream of doing again. The lights at night were incredible, the atmosphere was just as manic. It was only about two o’clock by now, still daylight. I wasn’t sure what time it would be dark and instead of risking missing my train home, I moved onto Oxford Street.

I had a couple of hours left, allowing myself enough time to walk back to the station and grab a bite to eat before my train left. Oxford Street was the last point of call, but before I began walking over, I stopped off at a shop I visited a very long time ago. I have vague memories as a child, walking through this shop in particular. Wanting to explore the other floors. Looking up at the counter of sweets, oblivious to the price tag next to them. Fortnum and Mason was somewhere I wanted to visit, so I did. I dragged myself up the floors to see what was around. It was January, Christmas sale period. I wanted a laugh. On the top floor, Christmas decorations were for sale at discount price. I was carefully browsing. I say carefully, because I didn’t want to look like I was about to make a purchase. My wallet wasn’t big enough for these prices, especially when a box of 4 crackers cost £270.

I doubt you’ll get a flimsy pen in them…

Shopping has always taken up lots of time, souvenir shops were a painstakingly slow process. Should I buy this sicker? Or that drinks mat? It’s a tough call. I ended up with the pen and key ring, a post card too! I spent more on a bagel back at Marylebone than I did in that shop, although it has to be said, it was one bloody nice bagel.

After spending almost six hours walking around the city, with so much of a half hour pit stop for lunch, a bbq chicken bagel with melted cheese was the way forward. It has become a ritual now to me, that whenever I wait for a train at Marylebone, I will have a bagel. Simple as that really.

Only a week and a half later, I was back in the city. My reason for travelling down this time was for a hour-long meeting over by Kings Cross St Pancreas, but it wasn’t going to stop me seeing a couple more sights. In between my visits, I had found out that the underground ticket was valid all afternoon without restrictions. This meant that I had no limits. My day, was my day. I did exactly what I wanted to do.

I knew what to expect at Marylebone now, so before the train arrived, I shuffled through the carriages to the front, ready to rush through the surge of people to the ticket office for my underground ticket. I was travelling an hour early, arriving in peak time still. People everywhere, you had to walk with a purpose. I learnt that in New York, from my tour guide.

“You don’t get mugged if you walk with a purpose. Tourists are too obvious, they walk around with their heads in the sky taking photos. Pick-pockiters just walk around looking for you…”

Ever since I heard that, I have always walked with a purpose. I also find that walking faster makes you ‘one of them’. I don’t know who they are, but you seem to fit in with the city vibe better. It helps having a long black coat too, and a scarf. A shoulder bag is also necessary for the look too. I think I qualify for the role as arrogant commuter then, as this is exactly what I wore.

My first stop today was in the opposite direction than before, I had dreamt of living in Maida Vale for years. I just had to see what it was like there. Maida Vale was also home to the Abbey Road Studios, made famous by the Beatles, who walked out on the pelican crossing just outside.

It was a busy junction, cars passing all the time. There were plenty of tourists too, waiting for an opportunity to take a photo of themselves on the famous crossing.

I walked through the district once more, back to Maida Vale station where I boarded the tube to take me into the city. After a change, I popped back up at Wood Lane, directly opposite the BBC Television Center. The building appeared to be smaller than I anticipated, with the ‘Prank Patrol’ van driving into the gates. I hung around for a bit, waiting to see if I could spot any celebrities. It didn’t take very long for me to give up, looking at my watch I didn’t have a lot of time left and the sky was getting darker. There was one thing I needed to do before I left.

I hopped onto the tube at White City. After all, it was only a few minutes walk away from Wood Lane and on the central line.I headed up to Oxford Street, changing back onto the Bakerloo line. Instead of heading to Marylebone, I went back to my spot. Piccadilly Circus. It was dark. The lights were vibrant, it was the atmosphere I love. Streams of colour lit the area, the rush of people flooded the streets. A clear night’s sky was a beautiful blue, contrasting to the red on the advert. This was always going to be my spot here in London.

Time was pressing on, a countdown echoed in the back of my mind. ’18:07′ flashed throughout my head, the time of my train. It was half five now.

The tube took me direct to Marylebone, my final destination of the day. I ordered my bbq chicken and cheese bagel, as promised, eating it on a bench to the side of the ticket office. I had also bought a bottle of lemonade and packet of crisps for the journey home. Two items cost me a fifteen minute wait. The cash register seemed to break every couple of minutes, with the cue of people growing by the minute. I was lucky, out at ten to six, I sat and waited for the platform number to be displayed.

A large group of people were hanging around, all waiting for the same train. It was busier now than last time I came down. I was unsure I would get a seat and for an hour and a half long journey, I wasn’t going to let myself suffer. I quite fancied a table too! Being the cheeky little kid I am, I discretely made my way over to one of the platforms early. Preying it would be my train. It was a chance I was willing to make, something which was well paid off. The platform was announced, and the swarm of people headed in my direction from the concourse. I was right by the doors, first pick of the seats. My legs took no more stress, I was relaxed, ready to go home. Slouched in my seat, the luxury from the silverline service comforting my aching body.

It was a day well spent, I was dead chuffed.

I will next be visiting London on the 2nd March, travelling down during the morning peak. It is going to be fun…

Weather warnings

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For the previous few days,  England has seen a blanket of snow fall upon the country, putting us into the ‘cold weather alert 3′. This means nothing to most people, however I can confirm that there are only four levels to this system.

With the majority of the snow effecting weekend services, many people are left wondering what the week ahead will look like for daily commuters. According to the Met Office website, the weather warning has dropped to level 2, with ice warnings throughout the rest of the night and Monday. There will then be no further warnings until Thursday, the last day on their forecast.

The advise is still out to be extremely careful when walking out and about, and also for drivers where ice may still be present.

The temperature will still be quite low, so make sure you are wrapped up warm. If you are able to, check the Met Office website (link below) yourself every couple of days so that you can be prepared for any changes.

For the Met Office website, click here.

Previous articles on the snow this week include ‘You need to see it to believe it‘ and ‘Snowfall in the Midlands‘.

You need to see it to believe it

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Yes, I’m talking about the snow.

Across England in the past week, there has been warnings for snow all over the news. “Where ever you go, be careful of the snow”. Of course, it’s difficult to adhere to the advise when there’s none of the stuff about. Sure it’s been bloody freezing, but we want to see it snow!

And for me, today was the day. It attempted to snow yesterday, failing miserably. In the last few hours, I have gone from being able to see green outside my bedroom window, to walking in a nice blanket of snow covering the ground in a glistening manor.

There is always something quite magical about walking in fresh snow too, especially while it’s still coming down. Now, back in the warmth of my bedroom I sit and stare out of the window. It’s a peaceful scene, picture perfect.

It’s a shame my phone doesn’t have a better camera really, but here’s the view of the front right now. Such beautiful, but so so unpredictable.

Yesterday I briefly mentioned in the ‘Are our priorities in the right place?‘ article that a train had derailed itself and caused chaos for daily commuters between London and the North via the Western Mainline. Today, the repair works on the tracks have been continuing and are said to continue through tomorrow. It’s at times like now that you wish it didn’t snow, especially if you’re one of those commuters on a Monday morning.

Advise is always the same in wintery conditions, for a very good reason. Only go out if necessary and if it can be helped, stay inside. Wrap up warm too, even indoors. The ideal temperature to live in, is between 18 and 22 degrees, so get your thermometers out!