Imogen Heap Concert - London, November 2010

November 5th, 2010

Sometime in February 2010, Imogen Heap announced that she would be putting on a performance at the Royal Albert Hall on November 5th. As it happens, I had already booked to see Imogen in concert later in February when I went over for my birthday. However, the chance of another weekend in London and to see my favourite artist in a venue such as the RAH was just too tempting. I also managed to talk a couple of friends – Paul & Glen into coming, and then we decided that we would make it a long weekend in the capitol.

Basically, I’d been looking forward to this weekend for a very long time!

Friday 5h November

We arrived in Earl’s Court just in time for lunch. After dropping the bags at our hotel we headed off to one of the locals for a pint and something to eat. There’s something special about that first pint, particularly on a holiday. The drinking of this pint generally occurs at a time when one would normally be sat at a desk in an office. That, combined with the thirst that has built from catching planes, trains and then the bustle of checking in all combines to this point where you can finally sit back with a couple of friends; lift that drink to your lips take a pull of whatever the local brew is… and relax.

And relax is exactly what we did. In fact we relaxed for most of the afternoon. Our initial plan was to head off a visit one or two of the museums. However, Paul and I have recently been to pretty much all of the big museums between us. Glen was not particularly bothered about visiting one and myself and Paul couldn’t agree on a destination we decided that we’d just have a quiet afternoon frequenting the local drinking establishments. In all honesty it was exactly the right thing to do. I hadn’t realised just how stressed that I’d become over the last few weeks. It was only as I sat back in a comfy chair, ale in hand and just chatting with my friends that the stress just melted away.

After a pretty decent meal and quite a few relaxing beverages we made our way back to the hotel to check in. On the way we made a quick detour and popped into the local bookies. The plan was that we walk in, look at the next race to run and each stick £5 on the first name that jumps out at us. Fiver duly placed, we watched the race. Of course, none of us had a clue what odds we had, what our riders colours were or even if it was a flat or a jump race. None of won of course, and that sent Glen into a little moan about how he’s wasted his money and the whole thing was pointless. Of course he was correct if looked at coldly, but it was just about doing something stupid just on a whim. If his horse had come in, he’d have been the first to jump up and down in celebration. For a whirlwind couple of minutes he may have been quids in. He leant forward watching the race, he cheered when it made a late surge, and in finishing second he very nearly won. Wasn’t that five minutes of rollercoaster emotions worth five pound?

Our hotel was the K&K George at Earl’s Court. We initially walked past when originally making our way there. We’d taken one look at it and decided it looked far too nice to be our place and headed further up the road. Between the three of us the place was very reasonably priced. The location is excellent, and the rooms comfortable and clean. There was a buffet breakfast included and that was excellent. My only reservation was the price of the hotel bar. We had a nightcap there and the round came to over £18, when in the pubs down the road the same round cost £12.

After freshening up, we were dismayed to see the rain start pouring. We booked a cab to take us to the concert. Taxis are generally one of the things that I tend to avoid when I’m away due to the cost. However, between the three of us the cost was minimal and we arrived right at the doorstep and more importantly bone dry.

The Royal Albert Hall is on imposing building. Tucked tightly between the streets it completely caught me by surprise the fist time I saw it. I’d come from near the museums, just wandering the streets with my camera. I simply turned a corner and suddenly there is was. Other landmarks buildings make themselves known from a distance. The Capitol in Washington DC would be one such example. When I visited DC, the building dominated the landscape. No matter where you were on the Mall, the Capitol made its presence felt. Yet the Royal Albert Hall sneaks up on you and then fills your vision. It is a splendid looking building as well. A classic design with the arches and relief’s; yet with clever use of lighting and the glass entrance it looks surprisingly modern.

That feeling of modernity does retreat as you pass into the side entrance to the main hall itself. Small tight corridors were the last thing that I expected, and I was put more in mind of my old school then a world famous venues. Those thoughts disappear completely as you enter into the auditorium. We took our seats which were right in the centre of the ‘circle’, just a few rows from the stage. The huge cavernous interior, the boxes and seating surrounding the stage all beautifully lit, the giant cinema screen glowing overhead and the sounds of the orchestra warming up. This combined to leave an amazing impression, and give the feeling that this was not going to be an ordinary concert.

Some weeks beforehand, Imogen had made requests for video footage of nature. Her plan was that her and an editor would then take this and produce a short film. Imogen then wrote a score to be performed live alongside the completed film. The first half of tonight’s concert was to be the culmination of the project and with the first public performance of the film Love The Earth. Just to add a little extra pressure, the premiere was also being broadcast live on the internet.

Imogen, wearing a conductor’s outfit with ‘LTE’, came out and introduced the piece and the orchestra started to perform. The imagery was captivating and the music was arresting. I do not have the knowledge or the skill to critique the performance as a piece of classical music. However, I immensely enjoyed the performance, which at times reminded me considerably of Koyaanisqatsi. It was all the more impressive considering in how short a period of time the whole thing had come together. If I recall correctly the appeal for video was made when I was out in Kenya. Considering that the footage needed to be collected, watched and selected before finally being edited into the completed film and only then could the music be composed simply blows my mind. To go from an appeal to being performed in front of a huge audience in around 8-10 weeks is an amazing achievement.

After an interval, the 2^nd half of the concert was a continuation of the Ellipse tour which I’d seen at the Shepards Bush O2 in February. Even though I’ve now seen her perform live on two occasions, it still staggers me that we as an audience actually witness the songs being created before us. Prior to the first concert, I had presumed that due to the vast amount of samples in her songs; that she would sing to a prepared backing track. Instead, we would watch and hear as she would produce small objects and start making and recording the sounds we hear in the songs.

On a personal note, I was delighted to hear ‘Let Go’ performed live as I wasn’t expecting it. She also played Speeding Cars and Goodnight & Go which also rank up there with my favourites.

The concert closed with an alternate version of Tidal, and finally Hide and Seek. It was an amazing evening, and after having both the performance of Love The Earth and then the concert afterwards, it could be argued that we in the audience had enough entertainment for two evenings. As you can probably gather I enjoyed the entire evening immensely. Glen and Paul both enjoyed the concert which in itself was a relief to hear as they weren’t familiar with her at all. Paul seemingly going as far as to not listen to any of her music until the concert itself so it would all be new to him. I can think of worse ways to be introduced to an artist then a concert at the Royal Albert Hall.

After the concert we joined in with the giant procession making its way to Kensington Tube Station in the pouring rain. Despite the cold and wet conditions people there was a relaxed atmosphere as people discussed the concert. Eventually we found our way onto the tube and back to Earls Court. We found ourselves sat in a KFC, puddles forming around our feet from our rain-soaked clothes. I had to give a chuckle at the difference an hour makes. One hour earlier we were smartly dresses, and sitting in one of the homes of British Culture. Now an hour later we looked like we had been dragged in off the streets and sat in one of the least cultural places imaginable.

In all, one of the highlights of my year.

Yo(tel)

So a couple of weeks ago I was in London watching Fulham in the League. Now I’m in London again watching Fulham in the Europa League. Only this time I’m in a hotel in Gatwick Airport waiting to catch a flight to Marrakech.

This is the 2nd time I’ve stayed at the Yotel; the first when I returned from Turkey a couple of years ago. My fight out is at stupid o’clock in the morning which has resulted in my need to fly out the night before. Facing a choice of a night in the departure lounge or an airport hotel for the evening it was quite a simple choice.

I’m actually terrified of missing my flight. I’ve a horrible feeling that I’ll do something stupid like roll over and go back to sleep when the time comes. Staying up is out of the question as it is all go once I get to Morocco. I’ve set three alarms on my iPhone and I’ll set another on the computer. Chances are I’ll be wide awake having been unable to sleep anyway - ironically through fear of not waking up!

So what I’m doing in Morocco is participating in a photography retreat run by Creative Escapes. Hopefully I’ll learn a lot whilst I’m out there and get some really great shots. I’ve lot a bit of interest in photography recently. After having such varied environments in the USA, shooting in Guernsey has just not been the same. So hopefully this should rekindle those fires.

I’m taking my G10 with me, the camera that I took across to America. This time though it is my backup camera. My camera of choice is the Panasonic GF1, together with three lenses a 20mm prime, a 14-45mm and a 45-200mm. It will be interesting to see how it fits in with he course. The course itself recommends bringing an SLR. The GF1 is a micro four thirds camera. In terms of usage they will be identical. But my camera and lenses is a far more compact package - which is nice when walking around.

I’ll be writing about the experience when I get the chance. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get a wireless connection, so updates may not be regular.

Next stop Morocco!

Dragging myself out of my sickbed to watch Fulham FC

After my last entry, written from my hotel bed. I was feeling rather miserable knowing that I'd wasted an entire day of a trip that I'd been looking forward to for so long. I dosed myself up on medication and got my head down for some sleep.

The alarm woke me a 6pm, giving me enough time to shower and get changed. Despite feeling like I could sleep until 6m the next day I was heading to the football.

I'd asked the hotel book me a cab to the ground. The way I was feeling the last thing that I wanted to do was get on a crowded match day tube, and I'm sure that they wouldn't have wanted a germ ridden passenger along for the ride. The cab ride started interestingly; or rather it almost didn't start at all. Reception called me to say that the cab was outside. This was a good 15 minutes before I was expecting it. Luckily I was ready to go, and so pausing only to grab my camera I dragged myself down the stairs and out the door only to find no cab. I wondered up and down the street in search of my ride, but to no avail. Defeated and even more annoyed then I already had been, I went back to the hotel. The receptionist called the cab company, giving them a right earful. I'm sad to say that it made me feel a little better...

Despite having taken enough different cold & flu remedies to rattle when I walk, I'm still ready to drop. Devoid even of the mixture nervous energy and sheer terror that I usually experience when heading off to an even, I just wanted to go cut my losses and go back to bed. Just as I reached the decision to do just that, my taxi arrived.

For the second time.

I climb into the ridiculous 12 seater Mercedes mini-bus that the cab company have determined is the best vehicle with which to transport a single passenger through one of the worlds busiest cities. "I'veGoing to Chelsea Football Club, right" asks my driver. ìNope, Fulham FCî, I reply. After getting a grunt to the affirmative, we set off, pulling out into the nightmare that is London traffic. We make our way slowly and jerkily south; pausing every few seconds with a load blast on the horn and the occasional shake of a fist. I've no idea how Londoners cope with their traffic. New York was manic, but the traffic went in straight line and the intersections were wide and clear. London of course is not built on the block system. As a pedestrian this is part of the charm, that you can walk around a corner and be confronted with a building as large as the Royal Albert Hall ñ seemingly appearing from nowhere. With traffic however it just means that there are cars coming from every direction, every few meters bringing a new junction and fresh chaos.

I sat with my head rested against the window, my eyes lazily taking in the lights of stores and houses and generally being grateful that I didn't have to deal with this every day. I then happened to catch a glance at a sign that made me sit up ñ a Chelsea badge attached to a lamppost. I began to get that sinking feeling that means something is going to go wrong. Casually I pulled out my iPhone, bringing up our current location on the map. Now I know that Fulham and Chelsea are relatively close together, and I will be the first to admit that I don't know the roads as my driver did. What I did know is that if we stayed on this road then we would end up at Stamford Bridge rather than Craven Cottage. However, according to my map if we turned left then we would be on the road to the Cottage.

We went straight.

A minute later the driver pulls up outside the gates of Stamford Bridge. "Here we are mate, right across the road there "Chelsea FC". "That's nice I reply, except I'm watching a Fulham match not Chelsea". A short discussion now occurs in which I explain that I'd booked a cab to Craven Cottage, that I'd said Fulham FC when I got in the cab. That I have a ticket right here that is for Fulham, and does it even look like there is a match on tonight at Stamford Bridge!

Finally it sinks in that I'm not getting out of the cab and we find ourselves travelling down a now familiar road, only this time taking the turning.

Eventually all access roads become closed off to traffic, and I find myself looking that the short walk to the home of Fulham FC.

I'd never been to a match at night before and despite supporting neither team found myself quite excited. I walked down the road with the crowds, seeing the Cottage emerge from behind the rows of terraced housing. The stadium aglow from the floodlights and the noise levels rising as we filtered into the crowd outside the ground.

The experience of going to a match at an old ground like Craven Cottage feels so much more visceral then the relatively sanitised walk to a modern stadium. At Fulham everything is condensed into a small area. 20,000 people pushing past burger vans, ticket touts, program & merchandise sellers and even the opposition fans, shepherded towards their turn-style and into the ground as soon as possible. The contrast to Wembley and even the Denver Broncos Invesco Field is immense. With those stadiums there are big open boulevards leading to the stadium. The entire area is pedestrianised. There is nothing to draw your attention other then the architecture of the stadium itself. The primary focus is to get you into the ground as soon as possible, so that you can queue to buy your official program from a hole in the wall. So that you can pass the official fast-food sponsor of choice and hopefully spend some cash at the official megastore.

Getting into the stadium was very confusing. I knew that my ticket was for the riverside stand, and I had arrived at the opposite stand. I made my way along the length of the ground, resisting the fantastic smelling burgers and myriad opportunities to buy a programme. I turned the corner to be greeted by a small brick wall and the river. I Hadn't expected the riverside stand to be that literal! Making my way back, I realised that entry to all stands was through the same side of the stadium. Eventually I found the right turnstile and after passing through a series of passages came out pitchside.

I've previously mentioned that seats at Wembley are miles away from the pitch. There are no such complaints at Fulham. When I bought my ticket, the website showed that I was sat in the front row of the top tier. What I hadn't realised is that the bottom tier at Fulham is about three rows deep and roughly a foot lower than the top 'tier'. This was easily the best seat I've had for any event I've ever been to. Any closer and I'd have been on the pitch. To top it all the ticket was only £20! The players came out to warm up and were close enough that you could see the steam rising from them.

The atmosphere was electric, a genuine thrill in the air. Fulham vs Shakthar in the knockout stages of the Europa league, fighting to play one of the giants of the game in either Ajax or Juventus in the next round. Providing that is, that they could get past Shakthar ñ no small feat considering that they are the current holders of the cup. Despite my neutral status, I'd found enough reasons to cheer on Fulham. First and foremost they were the home team. Secondly, Shakthar put Spurs out of this some competition on the way to winning the trophy. A defeat that still rankles with the Spurs faithful as we played a 2nd string team ñ partly due to injury and partly to protect the fit first team players as Spurs recovered from the worst league start in their history. Finally, Fulham have a number of ex-Spurs players in their ranks ñ Simon Davies, Stephen Kelly, Danny Murphy and crowd favourite Bobby Zamora have all played at the Lane and receive a warm reception when they return.

Fulham got off to an amazing start, opening the scoring after only a couple of minutes. They then struggled to contain a very talented Shakthar side, who then bossed the game with creating many chances. Eventually Fulham's rearguard action was breached resulting in the the equaliser. From there it seemed that Shakthar would go on to dominate the match and eventually overwhelm their hosts. The crowd were fantastic, with nothing but encouragement for their team. Danny Murphy, who to this point was having a particularly awful game was excused major criticism with the consensus being that he is allowed one shocker every now and again!

Fulham did have one particularly annoying fan. A man with a loud nasally voice that reminded me of Harry Enfields 'Only Me' character, crossed with the vocal stylings of Alan Partridge. His pleas for Fulham to "play it on the grass, my boys" or shouts of "C'mon now, they're teaching us how to play" were repeated frequently. If he's a season ticket holder and hasn't been threatened with hanging by his own scarf, then I'll be shocked. You can hear this man clearly in the embedded video exhorting for Fulham to "get it in the onion bag" - a turn of phrase that I genuinely didn't know existed outside of old Roy of the Rovers comics.

Somehow Fulham managed make it through to half time without conceding a second. The relief could be felt around the stadium. The rain then started to fall heavily, but this did not dampen the atmosphere at all. Being so near the pitch I was only just under cover and remaining relatively dry. The row in front were not so fortunate. I overheard a couple of businessmen talking during half time. One of them, an American, announced to his friend/colleague that he had never experienced anything like this before - not in baseball or in football (NFL). I'd have to agree. This was the best atmosphere to a game I'd experienced with the exception of a 5-1 win for Spurs against Aston Villa. Spurs had high hopes for qualifying for european football, and it was coming up to the end of the season. The weather was glorious, Martian Jol had turned the club around the the place was buzzing with optimism. The crowd didn't stop singing the entire game, and I went home on the verge of losing my voice.

The teams came out for the second half and as they did the temperature in the stadium began to plummet. Steam was not old rising from the players, but from the mouths and noses of all in the ground. Surely these conditions could only favour the team from the Ukraine? Shakthars fans responded to the fall in temperature by stripping off. A group of them standing bare-chested with arms aloft with only their souvenir scarfs for warmth. Someone near me was looking at his mobile phone and announced that it was -2 degrees, but still the Ukrainian fans kept their tops off as they would for the remainder of the game.

The teams were more evenly matched in the second half, although Shakthar continued to look the more likely to score. Then on a break, a ball bounced kindly for Zamora just outside the area. He swung at it and connected beautifully, the ball taking off like a rocket and into the back of the net via the underside of the crossbar. An absolute scorcher. The fans were jubilant and suddenly no-one cared about the cold and rain anymore. Soon after, I was talking to he guy behind me who asked if I'd managed to get a photo of the goal. I was replying that it had happened too quickly for me to get it, when suddenly the ball was cleared into us with the woman sat directly in front of me grabbing it to lob it back to the players. As she held it aloft, I had a sly touch - well it would have been rude not to.

The match continued, but there was now tension in there air that had not been there previously. The last 10 minutes seemed to take an eternity to pass. Shakthar piled on the pressure deep into injury time with a series of corners and free kicks, but somehow Fulham held on. The relief at the final whistle was immense. 20,000 people unsure whether to sigh with relief or go mad with excitement. A combination of the two seemed to be the consensus.

I filtered out onto the rain road in front of the stadium with the others. Chatter filled the air - the chatter of teeth from the freezing cold, and happy excited chatter about the match we had just seen. I started to follow the crowd knowing that they would lead me to the tube station, the nearest of which was over a mile away. Thankfully the crowd was walking at a very sedate pace, otherwise I probably would have exhausted myself trying to keep up. The excitement of the last 90 minutes had kept me going, but now with the match finished and only the prospect of the walk ahead did the fatigue that I had been feeling all day catch up to me. I stopped at one of the vendors to buy a scarf. The temperature now being low enough to make me wish I had brought my own and a pair of gloves. Scarf now snug around my neck and hands deep in pockets, I began the trudge though a muddy and unlit park. Normally I'd avoid a situation like walking though a city park at night like the plague. But I was with a couple of thousand other people, so I figured that I couldn't come to that much harm!

Considering my own condition, the walk was surprisingly pleasant. Even more so when I realised that most people weren't catching the tube, but heading into the town. This meant that I could jump straight on the first train and the rest of the journey to Earls Court was plain sailing. Arriving back I realised that I hadn't eaten and so found myself in KFC ordering a 'gourmet banquet for one'. After the short walk back to the hotel, I jumped onto the laptop to read the match reports whilst eating my chicken. Two thoughts occurred to me. The first - that I always seem to have KFC on my birthday. A consequence of not having a branch in Guernsey and the amount of times I've been away from home for my birthday. The 2nd thought was despite feeling like crap, for the first time in ages I was feeling happy. The match had been great, I was in London eating a something that has effectively become a birthday tradition, that tomorrow I was going to see my first ever gig. I finished my meal, had another shower to warm up. Downed more cough syrup and cold pill and climbed into bed hopeful that I would feel better in the morning, but also excited about the rest of my trip.

Its all gone a little bit Withnail

One of my favourite movie quotes of all time comes from the film Withnail & I; “I’ve come on holiday by mistake”. Until today, I never though that I’d be uttering that phrase regarding my own situation.

As I wrote yesterday, I’m full of cold and am generally feeling like crap. what has changed since yesterday is that now I’m feeling crap in a small hotel room in London.

I awoke this morning and felt a little better then yesterday. My cough had subsided and my throat didn’t feel too sore. I went to the airport where I was robbed in broad daylight. Maybe not in a legal sense of the word, but when a bacon sarnie and a small bottle of water costs £6.58; then yes, I’m calling it robbery.

By the time I got to London, I was starting to feel awful. By the time I got to pick up my luggage, I really was feeling awful. Arriving at the hotel via the Gatwick Express and the tube, I was just about ready to drop. I don’t know what I looked like to the receptionist, but I felt like I was swaying and drowning in sweat. Finally getting into my room I crashed out. A couple of hours in bes was followed by a walk to the chemist, where I loaded up with medication. Just that short walk was enough to determine that I was in no state to do anything even as relaxing as visiting a meal. Loaded up on medication, hit the sack again. I’ve basically come on holiday and decided to stay in bed because I’m feeling so rotten.

Tonight I’m due to see Fulham Vs Shakthar Donestsk at Craven Cottage. According to Google the ground is a little over a mile away from the nearest tube, and three miles from my hotel. I’ve booked a cab. I’ll at least get to see a match that I’ve already paid to see. I’ll worry about getting later. Maybe a slow shuffle to the tube whilst trying not to collapse, or hail a cab if I see one. Of course the problem is that there will probably be 20,000 other people doing the same!

So, as I said yesterday - fingers crossed that I feel better tomorrow. I really don’t fancy spending another day in the hotel.

Dreading this trip

So it's nearly 1am and I've just finished packing for a long weekend in London. On any other occasion I'd be excited at this time. I've a lot planned and it should be a hectic weekend.

But I'm really not looking forward to this trip.

Over the last weekend I've managed to come down with a pretty nasty cold. I basically feel like death warmed up, and in no condition to be dragging myself around London. I could barely drag myself around the supermarket earlier today.

I've events lined up for the next three evenings. I had planned to spend the days in galleries and museums; or generally wondering around taking photos. I think those plans may have to be revised to late lie-in's and cinema visits before heading to my evening events.

Fingers crossed for a quick recovery, otherwise this could turn into torturous weekend.

The next adventure

Wow, it has been a long time since I had an update. Then again it has been a long time since I had any plans to go anywhere!

My next adventure will be to visit Morocco for ten days. Not as a traveller, or even as a tourist, but as a student. I will be taking part in a photography workshop in the time that I am there. This will be my first trip to the continent of Africa and it will mark my first time in that continent and my fourth continent in less then 24 months! I'm also hoping to go much further into Africa with a trip to Kenya in 2010, but I don't want to say too much just yet.

However, prior to this I have yet another trip to what is rapidly becoming my fall back destination - London. My birthday is in February and for the last five or so yers that has meant a trip to Jersey with my friends. Usually for me it is one of the biggsest days in the calendar. Not because it is my birthday, butbecause it is one of those occasions that everyone seems to turn out for. I think it is just that it sufficuantly far enought from Christmas that peopke just want a good time, rather then any affection. But then again, I have been told off for thinking like that in the past.

This year I am going to London for a few days. I'll be going off on the 18th February, and that evening I have a ticket to see Fulham vs Shakhtar Donetsk, at Craven Cottage. I'm not a Fulham supporter, but the chance of seeing a UEFA cup match was too good to miss. Kudos to Fulham for their ticket prices as well. A knockout tie at home for less then the price of a Spurs friendly? Thanks guys. I'll be cheeering for you, even if I'll be hoping we stuff you next week!

On the Friday is my reason for the entire trip. I'll be seeing Imogen Heap's last night of her UK tour. Anyone that has read this blog beofer may understand my 'obsession' with Imogens Heaps's music. I've managed to get afew of my friends intersted in her music (funnily enough all those that have listened to her. I've not had one person come back and say it was shit.

Then on my birthday itself, I'll be heading of to see another of my idols - the one and only, the legendery Jimmy Greeves. Greevesy and I share a birthday (I'm sure he's honoured). Greavsy is giving a talk/show at the O2, for his 70th with a lot of the old Spurs footballers that I've grown up idolising.

I can't stress how much that I am looking forward to this trip. Since I've got back from the States, I feel that I have slotted straight back into the groove that I occupied so well prior to going. Money has been exceptionally tight since returning, mainly dur to rent having doubled. This has thrown all my plans out the window. Hoprefully, London will give me that reminder/kick up the arse that I need to remember what it is that I am working for.

NFL International Series: Patriots vs Buccaneers

The problem with these flying visits is that they are over all too soon. Barely 24 hours after arriving in London, I found myself sitting on a plane heading back to Aurigny. These short breaks have All the efforts and frustrations of travel, with very little of the experience that makes me love it so much.

I’ve now visited London so many times, particularly in the last few months that the actual experience of visiting London is no longer the excitement. I used to find getting the tube fascinating. The escalators, the rumble of an approaching train and working out the connections. Now I know this all in advance and there is no romance left in the journey. Traveling to Wembley this time was the ultimate example of this. A taxi to the airport, jump on a plane, stop off at the toilet next to Boots (I don’t even have to search for a toilet now). Straight down the steps and onto the Express. Then arrive in Victoria and use the ticket machine and head to Green Park on the Jubilee. The directions now seem as familiar as explaining to a visitor the quickest way to a Town.

But of course on trips like this the journey is not really part of the experience, and the experience itself retains its excitement.

This trip was a little different as I had company in the form of Jeff. Knowing how much he loves football I was almost as excited to witness his first reaction on seeing Wembley as I was to see it myself. He didn’t disappoint, twisting on his seat to try and get a better look as we saw the arch loom into view over the surrounding houses. Arriving at Wembley Park this time was a far different experience. Where were the police? At the Wembley Cup they were out in force lining the station and encouraging everyone to move along and clear the area. Their presence was also felt along my walk to the hotel. But this time the station appeared empty and on the walk to our hotel I certainly didn’t see any police. In fact this reminded me more of seeing the two events in Denver where despite thousands of people lining the streets, police presence was at a minimum and the atmosphere was relaxed.

Walking to the stadium we were surrounded by so many fans, all wearing different team colours. There seemed to be no trouble whatsoever with fans of all teams mingling and looking forward to the match. Occasionally we would hear an American accent. These would be the real die-hards - fans that have travelled thousands of miles at considerable expense to see their team at Wembley. I saw fans in fancy dress - knights in shining armour, pirates and even Captain America heading to the stadium. This felt like more like a carnival then football matches that I have been to. I think part of this is simply because to the majority of people this was not a game that mattered to them. We weren’t here to see our team play and so the result would not be immediately important to us. Instead we were here to celebrate a sport that we all enjoy - this would be theatre and entertainment.

There was another match being played this day, one to which the result would matter a great deal - Liverpool vs Manchester United. As I would be attending the match with a supporter of each, a great deal of importance was placed upon finding a decent place where we could stop and watch the football and then move onto the, er... football. Our match tickets allowed us to enter Wembley early, and we could then get food and drink from the outlets dotted around the concourse. Unlike when I last visited, we would be sitting in the middle tier of the ground along the touchline - otherwise known as the expensive seats. Rather surprisingly, once we entered Wembley there really was not that much to do. The main bar required reservations, and the public bar did not have a television set. The home of English football and you can’t even watch the footy on the TV in the pub. We did find one television, all on its own in the concourse and fairly near our gate. After a quick stop at the bar for a round of £4 lagers we stood to watch the match. The strangeness of Wembleys attitude to the game came to the fore once again. the TV picture was adjusted so that we could not see the score, or the match clock. The volume was also turned to zero. Watching Man Utd vs Liverpool as a neutral is quite an amusing pass time. The match wasn’t too bad, but more amusing was watching the tension mount up. As more time passed the crowd around this solitary television grew larger and larger and with it so did the anti Man Utd sentiment. When Torres scored the roar was defening. It would be very accurate to say that London is not a Utd city. The game ended 2-0 Liverpool, putting one of my companions in a good mood, and another in a foul mood. Guess which of these people I was sharing a hotel room with.

Stopping off for some disgustingly priced food - some fairly nice chips and a completely dried through Cheeseburger in my case - we made our way to our seats. Excellent seats they were as well - front row of the middle tier. We weren’t that close to the action, but having now been to Wembley twice I’ve come to the conclusion that this is just a characteristic of the stadium itself and my being used to the Lane, and the feeling of being practically on the pitch. That an American Football field is narrower then a normal pitch contributed to this as well. The seats were nicely padded. Given the length of an American Football match this would prove to be a blessing.

Wembley when full looks stunning. I already thought this was an attractive stadium when only 3/4 full at the Wembley cup. But Wembley decked out in its finest is a sight to behold. Giant NFL helmet balloons, painted endzones, combined with the myriad of team colours and thousands of red & white Buccaneers flags - one of which had been left on every seat. I had a red flag, but I swapped it for Jeffs white flag. Well a Tottenham boy can’t be seen with red now, can he!

Pre-match entertainment was provided by Calvin Harris. I won’t pretend that I’d heard of him before, and I won’t be seeking out any of his records any time soon. Just not my cup of tea I’m afraid. He got off to a dodgy start as he came out and implored the crowd to ‘rock’. This was done by screaming into his mic and we were treated to the unmistakable sound of a breaking voice. Myself and Simon both shared the same opinion - that didn’t bode well for the singing. The immediately forgettable set was saved by a few treats for the eyes, rather then the ears. First the army marched onto the pitch and unfurled a giant Buccaneers banner. I had to laugh at the thought that these trained professionals were basically playing the ‘parachute’ game, but can’t deny it was an amazing spectacle. We were also treated to Calvin’s backing dancers, the delightful Buccaneers cheerleaders. Finally to top it all we got to witness people desperately trying to remove the huge helmet balloons from the pitch. For some reason rather then carrying them off when inflated, they were partially deflated and dragging along the ground. Combined this all made for a rather wonderful if slightly surreal feast for the eyes.

Of course this being American Football we weren’t quite ready to start yet. First came the spectacular entrance of the players. The Bucs arriving in smoke, fireworks and thumping music. As this was taking place, servicemen & woman carrying alternating American and British flags lined the pitch. We were then treated to a truly stunning rendition of the American national anthem by Toni Braxton. I’d previously heard the anthem sung in Denver at both the baseball and the football. But this rendition was perfect. Topped off by supporters at each end of the ground holding coloured card to create giant British and American flags. The American anthem was followed by the God Save the Queen as performed by Katherine Jenkins it was certainly a good performance, but boy had she been given a tough act to follow!

Still the build up continued as the honorary team captains were introduced. First “one of Britians best loved entertainers” was met with warm if slightly bemused applause as we realised the announcer was referring to Vernon Kaye. The other captain, unsurprisingly, was rather more warmly and enthusiastically welcomed. Well you don’t want to piss off the great Joe Calzaghe do you?

Finally we could begin. Wave your flags and make some noise we were encouraged. This we did willingly and so into our flag waving were we that we completely missed the kick-off.

Any hopes for a close contest were quickly extinguished. The Patriots picking off the opening pass and returning it for a touchdown within the first three minutes. That was as close the Bucs would get the entire match. The Pats looked a different class which given the form that they and Tom Brady have been in recently, did not come as a shock. They still lost to the Broncos though. The Bucs did put up a good fight, picking up a few interceptions and one fantastic touchdown.

The biggest problem was that Brady just looked different class. When the Bucs tried their passing game the QB Johnson seemed to have zero time before the defense was on him. Brady on the other hand seemed to have all the time in the world. I saw an interview after the match in which Johnson stated that he put himself under pressure by always looking for the big play, and that he’d learn from this. I hope he does because he never seemed to recover from the opening interception, whereas Brady just shrugged his off.

So the game itself wasn’t too close ending with a 35 - 7 win for the Pats. But it was a thoroughly enjoyable time. A great friendly atmosphere and the crowd getting behind the underdogs at times, but always applauding plays from both sides. It didn’t quite match the experience of seeing the Broncos in Denver, but then I never expected it to. I do know that I hope to be able to make it to next years game or another game in the states.

One last trip for the year

So, I'm currently sat at the airport waiting for Jeff. Today we are heading up to Wembley Stadium to see the New England Patriots take on the Tampa Bay Buccaniers inthe NFL international series.

Five months ago I'd never been to wembley or seen a live american football match. Now I'm about to do both for the second time.

I'm intregied to see what the atmosphere is going to be like. A stadium packed to watch a regular season match of a foreign league. I wonder what the make up
Of the fans will be. I expect most teams to be represented. No one team in particular to have all the support. Most people I expect will be there for the experiance rather then the specific teams.

I'll be wearing my broncos shirt. Which is something i'd never do at a normal football match. Imagine turning up at Spirs vs Arsenal in a Chelsea shirt. Both sets of fns would lynch you!

Mobile Blogging from here.

London - Video

One last day in London and returning home

After losing much of yesterday to delays and sleep, I was determined to make the most of the last day of my adventure.

In a moment of uncharacteristic sensibility, I actually organised most of my day whilst sat waiting for my flight at San Francisco airport. Because of this I finally got around to visiting a London attraction that I’ve been meaning to visit since it opened. I’ve had lots of opportunities, but just never seemed to get around to it - to go on the London Eye.

There is something pleasurable about seeing a large queue in England. Theres something even more pleasurable about spending a whole £3 extra when purchasing your ticket on the internet to enable you to bypass that huge queue. Ah the decadence of the act, walking straight past the queue and onto the ride - in England of all places, the motherland of queuing.

The London Eye is very impressive. I know its just an overgrown fairground ride, but with the views that you get I don’t care. It was a shame that the weather didn’t decide to play nicely - all murky grays and a reduced viewing distance.

It made me feel very childlike to play spot the landmark. Everyone else was obviously playing the same game. I heard one guy quite excitedly exclaim that he’d seen Wembley Stadium and reel off a host of facts about it. This interested me greatly as I’d been scanning the horizon looking for the arch, and I knew I was looking in the right direction. This guy was at the other end of the gondola. I shuffled over and asked him to point it out for me. Excitedly he pointed it out. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he wasn’t looking at Wembley - or indeed any football ground at all. The stadium he’d discovered was The Oval. I did point out the Emirates Stadium for him, even if I’d only spotted it because I was trying to spot White Hart Lane. Alas it was too gloomy to see the Lane, or Wembley. Great views of Westminster though.

Something else I managed to do was at last see District 9. I’d wanted to see it in the States but never got the opportunity. I went to Leicester Square and saw that it had started 20 minutes earlier. Knowing just how many trailers they seem to stick in front of films nowadays I asked if I could get in anyway. The woman behind the counter just laughed and told me it only had a few minutes left. Sensing my confusion she asked what time I thought it was and then laughed even more when I told her. Somehow I’d managed to set my watch to completely the wrong time when I adjusted it after getting off the plane. Not just a few minutes wrong, but a couple of hours. I hadn’t even noticed up to now. Luckily for me there was another showing starting in 15 minutes and so I eventually managed to see the film I’d been looking forward to for ages. It was worth the wait.

My little misadventure in time keeping had thrown my plans for the rest of the afternoon out. Leaving me just enough time to get grab a McDonalds on the way back to the hotel, get changed and then get out to Covent Garden for the final act of my adventure.

I wanted to end the trip on a high, so I bought a ticket to the Lion King in the West End. In the good seats. I really enjoyed the show, but felt more of a fish out of water then I had in a very long time.

I was sat front and centre of the balcony. Glancing around me I realised that I was the only single person there. Literally every other person within eyeshot was part of a couple. That theatre know that they are onto a winner showing the Lion King. I lost count of the amount of men I saw come back after the interval with a beer in one hand and a cuddly Simba in the other. The cynic in me would conclude that the tactic worked. During the ‘love’ scene (or as close as your ever going to get to a love scene in a Disney musical), I glanced around to notice female heads resting on male shoulders in all directions. Cuddly Simbas no longer in male hands. The couples to my right had the man on the right, the woman on the left and so leaning away to the right. On my left this was reversed, and so everyone appeared to be leaning off to the left. With myself in the middle, when viewed from the stage it must have appeared like some strange parody of the parting of the waves. I’d never felt like such a leper at that moment. I half expected to have the house lights come up and for the performance to be stopped whilst the relationship police removed the ‘single’ person. I had to stifle a laugh at the thought of the same thing happening at a showing of ‘The Producers’ - men appearing after the interval with a Frankfurter and a cuddly ‘Springtime Hitler’. Mel Brooks, if you’re reading..... The non cynic in me would have liked to have had someone with me for whom I could have bought a cuddly Simba myself.

The next morning the journey home was depressingly simple and familiar. I’m now back home, the clothes are in the washing machine. I’ve a glass of orange juice in my own glass, and I’m already planning the next adventure. I feel very tired, but satisfied. I went in search of a little adventure and with a million questions and doubts. I’ve returned with some answers and million more questions, but crucially with some clarity as well. Nothing has been solved, but doubts have been assuaged. More importantly, I did learn one vitally important lesson about myself. That lesson is a private one, but remembering it will have a huge impact in times to come.

I’ll probably write more short pieces. But for now I’ll end this journal with the following:

Only in Gatwick airport departure lounge did I finally meet an American that wanted to talk about America. Approaching me initially to ask about my laptop, we chatted for an hour about my trip and what impressions did I form about America. His advice for when I return:

“We’re mostly friendly people, but if you want someone that calls themselves American to give you an opinion, just wear a badge with either a Donkey or an Elephant on it. The assholes will be lined up round the block to tell you what to think whether you want to hear it or not”.

Neil Blakely
September 2009

Somewhere to Rant

A random assortment of writing, photos, videos and whatever else takes my fancy.

Filed under: London