Visit to the UK, 11-14 October, 2007And so the day came. It felt like I had only just returned to my host country when, having complained about the new hearing device I had been given a couple of months ago (read about that trip here) that I found myself once again at the wonderfully designed Helsinki airport. In true British Airways style, however, my flight was delayed. When I checked in, the woman explained that adverse weather had delayed the flight’s departure from London.
Leaves on the runway, maybe?!I called my friend Nick in London and, apparently, it had been a blue and sunny day. Do the airlines think customers’ are just plain stupid, or is it so that, in line with the modern British way of working, thinking up countless excuses to justify bad performance has become acceptable?
I had arrived at the airport more than two hours before the flight. Ahead of me stood ten or so passengers waiting to check in for the British Airways flight to London. To my left were some two hundred plus passengers checking in for an assortment of Finnair flights bound for various destinations in Europe. The queue of Finnair passengers somehow dwindled before the ten-or-so passengers in the British Airways queue. I got chatting to a Finnish couple standing behind me, who shook their heads and rolled their eyes in obvious disapproval. And how right they were to express such dissent. We joked that perhaps the system was in English and that the Finnish check-in woman was unable to understand all the various key-presses!!
Airport security was, as it always is in Helsinki, a breeze. Once airside, I was feeling somewhat agitated. It was three hours until the now-delayed flight was due to leave. I walked around the terminal with a frown, but I called a number of friends (Blue in Tampere, Red in London and Fred in Liverpool), which tends to make one think less of themselves and more of others. I whiled away one hour before grabbing some dinner, and undertaking some shopping.
Finally, I boarded the flight. Once seated, with my beloved complementary English-language newspaper in my hands, it was announced that there would be a further delay. During the flight, I switched from the newspaper to my current novel, Diana, A Troubled Princess. To my left, a guy dozed, lolling his head to and fro as he slumbered. At one point, he leaned in my direction and I was tempted to give him a slap.
Put your seat back, you stupid idiot!, my head screamed.
During the flight, they managed to make up some of the time. We landed at 20:30, an hour late, but were then taxiing along a dark runway for a further 30 minutes, in search of a free gate. The pilot’s frustration was obvious for he barked: “We told them we were coming, but nobody seems to have actioned our request!” I’m thinking to myself:
you don’t even need to tell them you are coming, they can see you coming on their big, fancy radars!When we finally got out of the plane, it took another 90 minutes for the luggage to emerge from the baggage claim area as BA struggled to deal with the backlog of 44 flights cancelled due to fog earlier that day. I left the airport at 23:00, feeling grateful rather than pissed off because, if I had been any later, I would have missed the last tube train into London. It wasn’t until just minutes before midnight that I had walked into my rather modest room at Hotel Ibis near Euston station.
That night, I had an awful dream. A terrorist of middle-eastern origin had infiltrated my hotel room. Somehow, I had managed to restrain him, but only after beating him to a bloody pulp. What happened then was I was arrested for grievous bodily harm. Over breakfast, I pondered on what the dream must have meant. I guess it must have been an exacerbation of flying with British Airways in that there never seems to be any justice when someone is treated badly!
After downing a hearty bacon sandwich drizzled with ketchup, I rushed off to the Royal National Throat, Nose and Ear hospital. Fifteen minutes later, seated in the waiting room that has not changed shape or design in more than fifteen years, I was waiting for my audiologist and my Advanced Bionics contact. On the other side of the room was a newly implanted Cochlear Implant user who was raving about his device to another patient who nodded his false interest. Hearing people take hearing for granted, they really do, but having been bought up in a hearing family and treated no differently than my siblings, my hearing was never really something I made an issue out of.
My audiologist suddenly appeared at the door, which would take me to her office and, to begin with, the soundproofed booths in which we would conduct an audiogram (hearing test). The results gave some guidance as to what could be improved for I had complained of high frequencies sounding unpleasant. Together, the three of us proceeded to re-map my hearing device. This involves listening to eight sounds over the same number of frequencies, and acknowledging when I could barely hear the beeps as well as when the beeps were comfortably loud. This was done for each of the eight sounds/frequencies, and the result is an algorithm, which brings all the data from the eight frequencies together to generate my own personal perception of sounds. It’s all dazzling stuff, it really is. When this new algorithm was uploaded to my hearing device, the initial reaction was that speech sounds were marginally clearer, but it was difficult to really tell if there had been a marked improvement.
By the time I left the hospital, it was nearing midday and I needed to check out from my hotel room. I dashed back to the hotel, checked out and then proceed along the busy London roads to do some shopping. The traffic didn’t sound particularly unpleasant, but police cars didn’t sound as shrill as they had done so maybe the device had bought about some changes. In Warren Street, I noticed a Sainsbury’s and, armed with a shopping list, proceeded to fill my basket with goodies to take back to Finland, including Branston’s Pickle, Seafood Sauce and teabags! Thirty minutes later, I made my way to the checkout, only to find that the queue contained more than a hundred people and stretched all the way to the back of the store. My initial reaction was of shock and I thought to myself:
I have better things to do than stand here! I dumped the basket of goods and walked out of the store.
Across the road stood Warren Street Tube station, which, on the Northern Line, was just two stops south of Tottenham Court Road. I bought a one-day travelcard and spent an hour at Blackwells book store in Tottenham Court Road where I bought a book on Origami for a friend and a book about Yoga for myself. I don’t quite see myself as a yoga person, but there’s so many books on all that bollocks so there must be some truth in it! Coupled with the books on Detox and Total Body Massage I had bought recently, I plan to at least ‘think’ healthily over the coming winter!
At Café Nero in Old Compton Street, I settled down with a cup of black coffee and got chatting with Sam, a masculine Scotsman who caught my eye. What? I can look, but not touch, can’t I?! Afterwards, I checked out the fashions of Abercrombie & Fitch in Burlington Gardens (off Regent Street) before buying BootyLuv’s album, Boogie 2Nite, at Virgin in Piccadilly. Later, I passed YoSushi, a sushi restaurant chain which reminded me of an episode of AbFab when Edie claimed that “if they keep sending food round, of course I’m going to keep bloody eating it, sweetie!” I checked out the saucy cards at Prowler in Brewer Street before watching a children’s entertainer shoot a scene for a future TV show in Soho Square, on my way to the Sainsbury’s in Tottenham Court Road.
I did my shopping, also buying food to make Chicken Tiikka Masala for our evening meal. By ‘our’, I was referring to my good, old friend Nick, who I met at Victoria Station just after 5pm. We travelled to West Norwood in South London and, over tea, Nick told of his recent trip to Australia to see mutual friends in Sydney. I told him about my plans to go to Australia and he admitted that he was starting to reconsider his future plans. In true Australian style, we watched my favourite episode (‘Party’ from Series 1) of Kath & Kim followed by Ugly Betty on C4. In totally unfamiliar style, I found myself in bed before midnight, totally exhausted, and hoping that the terrorist of middle-eastern origin would not make an appearance.
I woke up the next morning, bright and early at 9pm, sunlight glaring through the blinds on the bedroom wall. I studied some of my photography course material I had bought along with me to fill any of the quieter moments, before making a cup of tea and listening to music. By 11am, Nick had woken up and we were about to embark on a day of walking around London’s theatre district.
Once again, we checked out Abercrombie & Fitch near Regent Street before checking out the newly opened - and rather impressive, I should add - Apple store. Afterwards, we stopped for a drink at Costa Café in Old Compton Street, which appeared to be run by three blond, bright-eyed girls from Lithuania.
Later, we checked out the saucy t-shirts at the outdoor stalls in Earlham Street before indulging in some clothes shopping at H&M, Gap and Next down Long Acre, not far from Covent Garden. We spent a lot of time outdoors, surprised somewhat – but grateful - by the unusually warm weather at this time of year. Nick sped ahead, impatient with the crowds of people lolling about to and fro. His impatience surprises me because, living in London, you would have thought he would have got used to by now, but he just can’t stand it and I really didn’t know what to say.
We walked around Apple Market, which was buzzing with tourists being entertained by street performers. After a brief visit to HMV, we stopped for dinner at Porters in Henrietta Street, a personal favourite of mine which sells ‘traditional English food at reasonable prices’. I indulged in a Chicken and Mushroom pie followed by Sticky Toffee Pudding with custard. Yum, man!
It surprised us that it was nearing 7pm so, back at home, I took a nap to prepare myself for a late night out. I woke up at 8.30pm to find Nick in the living room, listening to Kylie’s Showgirl concert on TV. It turned out that our song was Hand On Your Heart which we would also sing on our way to XXL near London Bridge later that night.
After a couple of glasses of wine, we took the train from West Norwood to London Bridge, bound for the nightclub. Inside, Nick and I danced alongside the beefy and the brawny and, unfortunately, the blubberly and the smelly! The music was very good and it really put my new hearing device to the test. After a couple of drinks, with my head swimming a bit on the dancefloor, I consciously asked myself ‘is this hearing device better than the older one’? I still didn’t know for sure, but later, when Nick popped to the toilet, another thought entered my mind: ‘Am I ugly, or do I have ‘married’ written all over me?’ One thing that has dominated my adult life is that very rarely does someone make the effort to talk to me. I always seem to be the one taking the initiative. Perhaps I just look scary?!
After 3am, we made the trip home. We took a taxi, which cost a whopping £25! After we arrived, we down the pork pies, which Nick had bought on our sojourn into town, which were well yum! In bed before 5am, I rose again at 8.30am for tea with Nick. Feeling somewhat numb from the tiredness, I put on a brave face, zipped up my case and went about the journey that would take me back home. I took the bus to Brixton, gazing out of the window and up at the sun in the sky, the heat of which was magnified by the windows. I could have stayed there all day, but at Brixton I hopped onto the Victoria Line to Green Park, then took the Piccadilly Line to Heathrow Airport.
When I arrived, I checked in for my flight, went airside and gave Bree a call. He warned me to prepare myself for while it was 18°C in London, it was O°C and snowing in Helsinki! What would you have done? Would you have got on the plane?! I had no choice for my love, countless friends and my work were waiting for me at the other end.
As the plane departed and I was seated in an aisle seat, I pondered upon the future, which I often like to do. This visit would be one of the few visits to England prior to my departure to Australia in less than a year. Nick’s interpretation of Australia, together with input from others, assured me that Australia would be a good country to visit. So, the year ahead is looking a bit like this: photographic studies during the Autumn, a trip to South Africa in December, a health focus in the Spring, Summer in Finland, a quick visit to England and then I’m Australia-bound in September. Never in my life before has the next year or so seemed so certain. And so, on this flight, I relaxed, looking forward to the future!
