And this is just to prove to you how chaotic my room is- and this is after one suitcase and several boxes are packed! Oy!
Well if you’re ever in a wardrobe and you meet an evil queen
She gives you loads of candy and treats you real mean
And a faun gets turned to stone and the beavers start to talk
And a lion gets his heart chopped out, a lion on a rock
Then you win a war and the people crown you king
The banner starts to fly and the bells begin to ring
The centaurs they all praise you and then call you Lion-Hearted
Then you find a magic lamppost and you’re back to where you started
Go find a neurosurgeon and have him check your frontal lobe
That’s the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
I just started reading At Home- the newest Bill Bryson book. This is a very clever concept, especially since his last book (A Short History of Nearly Everything) encompassed nearly everything. This time, he takes his own house and writes about it. He starts by setting the scene- what is going on in 1851 when his Victorian Norfolk house was built. Then he gets a little closer- what exactly makes a house or a home distinguishable from any other building and how is that reflected in history. Then we enter the house- what is significant bout the hall which at one time was the whole house and now is demoted to a place where you leave your hats and boots. Then we move into the kitchen. This is the chapter that I'm on right now. It's different from his usual travel books which are filled with funny vignettes and stories. Not that this is a bad thing- it's far more academic but it still has the Bill Bryson touch, which I look forward to in each chapter.
I was first introduced to Roddy Doyle's book in Brit Lit when I read The Woman Who Walked Into Doors for our final project. It was a harrowing experience, one that Sonya and I still laugh about now that we are years removed from it. But I was so glad to be introduced to his writing. I ate up his books that summer- Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, A Star Called Henry, The Commitments, the Snapper, the Van, etc. I discovered last summer that there was a sequel to The Woman Who Walked Into Doors called Paula Spender which was so great because I got to see what happens to Paul after her experiences in TWWWID. I found The Deportees in the short story section of the Summertown Library and picked it up. What is unique about The Deportees is that there are all stories that are less than 800 words and have the theme of race and racism in Dublin. There is a another sequel to the Committments where Jimmy Rabbitte gets a new band together- except that nobody can be Irish. One is about a daughter who brings home a Nigerian to dinner and the father has an internal conflict about possibly having a black son-in-law. Another one is an experience that two friends put on- she is black and he is white and in a wheelchair. Which one won't be followed while they attempt to shoplift? There stories were all unique- some were better than others but because they were so short, it was easy to move on from a story that you may not have liked. 
I found an excerpt of this book on the Inklings blog and a few months later stumbled upon it at the Summertown library. I picked it up anticipating to like it since I pretty much like everything that has to do with Narnia (except for that annoying love story between Caspian and Susan in the newest Narnia movie... ew...) and ended up despising it. The author is a literary critic who love Narnia as a child, then discovered its religious overtones, ended up feeling betrayed and started to hate Narnia. Now she's re-reading them as a literary critic. Now, I'm sorry that she felt betrayed and maybe it's because I love Narnia but I think you can still enjoy the books even with the religious themes. It doesn't mean that it's not a good story. That aside, I just didn't' like her writing style. There was no organization- I never knew where she was heading with her chapter groups. She was very critical of both Lewis and Tolkien and name-dropped every page it seemed. She just was non-stop whinging and about halfway through, I just wanted to throw the book across the room and return it to the library. I found that I was disliking the author so much that I couldn't look past her annoying-ness to even want to listen to her argument. Blech.
I tried, I really tried. I got through maybe the first 150 pages and just couldn't keep going. What the hell is going on in this story? Isn't it supposed to be a modern day Odyssey in Dublin? I got none of that, but maybe it happens after the first 150 pages. I still have twelve days before it's due so maybe I'll give it a try but really, will my life be more enriched if I do? Nay.
I have been waiting so long for this and it didn't disappoint. God of the Hive brought back my favorite characters along with some new ones. It was definitely different than the other Holmes and Russell stories. I wasn't OK with how Russell and Holmes don't even meet face-to-face until the at least 200 pages in. The thing that drew me into the Russell books initially and not having that was hard. But, I was able to kind of look aside that, think of it as a different sort of book and enjoy the story. Laurie's descriptions were incredible and so visual- I felt like I was on the rickety ship over to Holland, I felt like I was in a plane crash (I think I may have had some bruises :) ), I could picture Robert Goodman's cabin and the surrounding wilderness and am really close to wanting to go and track it down and live with the Green Man (yes, I know that once again I am confusing fiction with reality). I didn't love how quickly the pace went- sometimes my head was spinning with keeping everything straight, especially with all the newspapers. Holmes would be reading a newspaper which Russell had read two days before and I'm sure it'll take another reading to keep everything straight. I felt that it was really creative how Russell and Holmes were kept in the dark for so long yet are still able to do their job- they don't know what the other is doing, they have no idea where Mycroft is, they don't even know that they're fighting a different villain than they think (the previous villain dies in like the first ten chapters). I just wished that we could have learned more about the new villain, the enigmatic Mr. West. (Also, an aside- anyone know that Holmes story the Greek family takes place in? I'm so bad with my original Holmes knowledge...) I was heartbroken when I found out about Mycroft. I knew that the things that he was involved in were never fully above ground- I mean, you can't have that much power and be able to just snap your fingers and get all this information in seconds without having some sorts of strings to pull- but at the same time, it's still heartbreaking to see the relationship between Russell and Mycroft ruined. He was always the solid member of the Holmes trio (Russell included) and they had gotten so close during Language of Bees. It's so hard to see their relationship broken. Overall, really enjoyed the new story and I'm excited to see what will happen in the next story with pirates and Portugal and Morocco. I first of all hope that Russell and Holmes get a long long rest. They've been run ragged since Letter of Mary and they deserve it. And as much as I like Damian and Estelle (although it's interesting that Russell doesn't really know what to do with Estelle but she seemed to have no problem with Jessica Simpson- maybe because Estelle is younger and also related to her), I'm hoping that it's back to Holmes and Russell, partners-in-crime (well, partners-in-solving-crime) with a great story with clues, maybe only a brief separation, some of that subtle husband/wife love that is so great in the Moor and Letter of Mary and Justice Hall (I love when she sits next to Holmes and rests her head on his shoulder when he comes back to JH after Marsh is shot), mended relationships and possibly some great costumes (I LOVE their costumes!). Overall again, though, bravo, Laurie, again you have given me a great way to spend several afternoons. I love your books!
According to one of my favorite books ever, Weird England, the M5 is the home for weird side of the road creatures. There's a large dinosaur, a camel and, my favorite, Willow Man. This was built by Sainsburys and another company who decided they wanted to create a road-side oddity. Willow Man was born. I'd give you even more info but the book is upstairs and I'm watching a young Ryan Reynolds on Two Guys and a Girl. So more info to come. Willow Man is just weird. End of story.
We drove through the Quantocks which is funny only if you're seen Peep Show. So basically none of my friends. But to those who have seen Peep Show, yes, this is where Jez and Mark get lost trying to find Sophie, who it turns out is back at the hotel the whole time.
The Quantocks led us straight into Exmoor National Park. There was a magnificent castle on the way inside to the park, which was just rolling hill after rolling hill after rolling hill of green-ness.
The only problem that we found in Exmoor was the free steam engine rides. Which we got stuck behind. Along with like fifty-thousand other cars. Therefore it was very slow going for awhile. And lots of swear words were uttered. Mainly by the driver. Well, all by the driver. Luckily it was only about a ten minute delay and soon we were along our way.
Our next stop by Newquay, which was Kristen's Waterford. Just like Waterford was my Waterloo. And Waterloo was Napoleons... well.... Waterloo. Newquay was the iconic "surfer's paradise". There was a beach stripe with a fun one and lots of bouncy houses for the children, right next to a large church which seemed like an interesting juxtaposition. There was a large sandy beach, which is the first large sandy beach then I've seen in England yet (there was one in Ireland though) and some rock/cliff formations. My favorite thing about the beach was the house up on the cliff that you could only get to by a bridge. See picture below. And then buy it for me so I can live there. K, thanx.
Epic, huh?
The problem with Newquay was the parking lot. There may have been a slight hit and run with lots of witnesses (the car was fine, no people were injured in the slight tapping of the car) and then we had to go up a large hill to get out of town. We were let through by a mustachioed man in a car who became scared for his life as we gunned the little golden car we were in (it's a manual which was the crux of our issues) and sped up the hill, jerking forward in the process. The expression on his face was priceless and I doubt he will ever be kind and let anyone else through ever again.
Now that the one place we had a deadline for was passed, we were able to make the drive slightly more leisurely. Which was good because the roads from the Theatre to Land's End were awful- tiny, high hedges, very sharp turns with no visibility, it was pretty crazy. We were able to make it to Land's End with no issues though, which was great. Land's End is the western-most point of England and looked out to sea. It was definitely a "fun-zone" type area too with lots of shops, playgrounds, jungle gyms, large ships and exhibits, restaurants, etc. There was also a sign post with how many miles to John O'Groats which is the northern-most point of the UK. The fellow in the picture below is biking from Land's End to John O'Groats for brain tumor charity. He was super cute- best of luck to him.
At the edge of the world!
On the way to Plymouth for the night, we stopped at Penzance, home of the Pirates (not Pittsburgh, the Gilbert and Sullivan ones). Penzance had long stretches of pebbly beaches, which reminded me a lot of Butterfly Beach in SB, just with pebbles. There was another great boardwalk with lots of chippies, a pool, lots of pirate ships (natch) and cafes. It was pretty empty on a Saturday night so clearly the boardwalk in Penzance is NOT the place to be or to party. Still, it was nice to have it all for ourselves, for rock skipping contests, jumping pictures and exploration. (And apparently to see a near-naked man like Kristen did.)
We eventually made it to Plymouth quite late (and on the way I had an interesting conversation with the proprietor of the hotel we were hoping to stay at) and got our room key. The girls headed down to the pub to get us some pub grub before the place stopped serving food since Kristen and I were definitely craving fish 'n chips but it was apparently way too loud there so we headed to a Chinese restaurant instead and ate family style. Delicious, since we were starving.
And then, it was all about Dartmoor. Amazing, magnificent, awe-inspiring, Dartmoor. I've loved Dartmoor since I read Laurie King's The Moor and then later, the Hound of Baskervilles and it was nothing like I pictured it. It was even more. There were some issues with getting some maps and walks, like Kristen almost running over some old ladies in Tavistock (in her defense, they were blocked by a car and she did not deserve the drubbing that she got.... "well you better! concentrate!") and the information centre being closed up tight. But when we finally drove onto the moor, the fog had come down and it was even more than I had pictures. We saw some little ponies that I imagined were just like Red, there were large tors that loomed in the horizons. Everything was green with the rolling fog coming over towards us. I was just waiting for a spectral hound or a large dog or a carriage with a white Lady Howard come over the ridge that we were on. We were able to just park on the side of the road at a little car park and wander around wherever we wanted to. It was so fantastic and more then I could have asked for.
We stopped momentarily at the Old Dartmoor Prison, which still houses prisoners but was also featured in Hound of the Baskervilles. It was a little sketchy though, mainly because of the car park and the sketch van with five people inside so we left quickly and headed onward to Widdecombe-on-the-Moor, which of course made me think of Sabine Baring-Gould collecting Widdecombe. The best part of this little chapel, other than the Green Man on the ceiling decorations, was the poem at the back of the church describing the time when the church was hit by lightening, thus causing the congregation to worry that it was a sign from Satan and become better Christians. I would have called foul play but it happened in the 1700s and I don't think they had Franklin's grasp on lightening yet.
It was clearly lunch time (3 pm again, our usual time) and by this time the sun had come out and was shedding its glorious light over all of the moor. We were next to two different tors- one that really looked like the Pyornkrachzark, the Rock Eater from the Never Ending Story and one was just a big pile of rocks. We climbed up to the very top of the first one and got this gorgeous view of the surrounding moor. Then we climbed up every higher to the other one- I had a harder time since I had making leaps of faith (just like the dang high ropes course!). There was a lovely bloke who gave me a hand on the way down, which was lovely. I always underestimate myself and want to give up but sometimes all it takes is one big kick. Anyway, I made it to the top and it was so worth it. I really can't describe the majesty and beauty but it was absolutely glorious. Give me a tent and a sleeping-bag and I really could live here forever.
I've wanted to go to the Isle of Wight for a long time so when we didn't get the car sorted out in the time to go down to Sussex and the Long Man, we changed plans and I booked us tickets down to Lymington and then a ferry from Lymington over to Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight. We packed our lunch the night before and got up on the early side to walk down the canal to the train station. We reached Brockenhurst a little on the early side so we were able to get to Lymington Pier on the early side. We caught the ferry, which started out as the slowest moving ferry I have ever been on. We were crawling out of the harbour- I probably could have swum faster!
We did stop for the toilet and found the greatest little "sink"- just push the buttons for water, soap and air. So much better than silly taps.
We walked around the tiny little town of Yarmouth (at least what was in the local area) and walked right past the castle. That's not a very fortuitous sign to say the least. The sign to the castle said that it was open on Mondays but it was clearly shut up tight (although there was a nice mosaic on the wall and the a really cool large wooden castle door). Then we noticed that it didn't open until 11 am so we went to the pier first. The pier was quite rickety with names and organizations on the slats of the boardwalk and took us out into the harbour. That's when we noticed that there was nothing anything castle like about the area where the castle was supposed to be. There was kind of a lame cannon and that was about it. We dubbed Yarmouth Castle the lamest castle in all the land. At least there were some fun Supernatural style names on the slats.
Plans now slightly changed and several extra hours added to our day, we decided to walk down the coastal path to Needles. It looked like about 4-5 miles, so less than two hours trek. The path stayed next to the coast for almost all of the trip, except for a little area by Colwell Bay. The trek started out fine- we walked right up next to the sea, passing Victoria Fort before cutting in a little bit before Colwell Bay. The only problem was that the signs weren't totally clear but there were some wooden posts we got to walk on first and a wooden dolphin made out of drift-wood.
We followed the path away from the sea and through a little village- lots of beach houses and cottages to rent (like the Beatles song). We tramped through fields and orchards and got a little too far away from the coast for our liking but we kept seeing signs for the Coastal Path so we assumed that we were still in the right direction. The best part of that little area was the neighborhood of more substantial houses (not little cottages) that had beautiful lawns, great names and cute signs.
Finally we found ourselves back on the sea. The only problem was that the couple with the two dogs that we had passed way back near Victoria Bay had gotten ahead of us again. How had they done that? Where had they been walking when we were trekking through the fields? What the heck!? Concerning but on the other hands, the sea and the boardwalk were absolutely beautiful and there were delicious smells of fish 'n chips and various baked goods from the restaurants and pubs on the seaside. 
Once again, we were faced with the dilemma of leaving the seaside again while following the coastal path or picking our way along the beach. There really didn't look like there was a path along the beach so we took the steps back up and found a sign for a path to Alum Bay, where we were heading. This was clearly false. We found ourselves in the middle of a jungle that was like the lovechild of the Great Woods of Narnia and the Forbidden Forest in Harry Potter and possibly some of the Jurassic Park Island forest. There really wasn't a discernable path anymore and we had no idea where we were going. Fingers crossed that Aslan was going to come and find us and thank goodness there were no Telemarines coming after us because we really were going in circles. Each path that we thought was a path really wasn't. Every once and a while we would emerge for the forest, walk through waist-high plants and then re-enter the forest. It was hilarious for about twenty minutes and then it stopped being funny as we felt like we were going around in circles. Finally, finally, finally, we emerged onto a brush filled flatter area that looked a lot like El Morro and wandered around there, hopefully trekking in the right direction, although frequently we ran into prickly plants and bushes that stung and caught us. We had lost sight of the Needles what felt like hours ago and the joy and elation we felt when we finally caught sight of them again was palatable.
But finally, finally we arrived! We made it down to the beach and nearly collapsed. I love pebble beaches (just not barefoot) and we settled down on the rocks and ate our lunch. The sun was out, it was warm, I lay down and took a nap with my head against my sweatshirt- it was absolutely lush. Except now I had a wicked sunglasses tan on my face. No pictures of that- nice try! So nice to just relax in the warm sunshine and then dip my feet into the ocean- the salt water didn't sting my legs like I thought it would and it was actually quite refreshing!
We hiked up to Needles Park, which was like a little carnival- a carousel, mini golf course, food, t-cup rides, lots of food, etc., pass through and headed down the now clearly delineated coastal path to the old and new battery. The cliffs were certainly a sight of sea- chalk white on one side and a gingerbready- brown on the other side. They were just absolutely beautiful and sheer and it was so much nicer to be able to walk and enjoy the view instead of stressing about where on earth we were precisely. Unfortunately the battery cost money so we couldn't actually go and look down over the needles, which was absolute rubbish and by that time, we were kind of over it, so we saw a short little exhibit about the rocket and space work that used to be worked on at the battery and then caught the bus back to Yarmouth.
We got seats on the top of the open bus, which was great because it wasn't too cold at all. The only problem was that the branches of the trees alongside the road came about two millimetres away from decapitating me. I couldn't even enjoy the fields of sheep without cowering in fear for my life and my head!
We got ourselves some ice cream from a place called "Scoops" on the bay and then took the ferry back home. We ended up getting home an hour early (thank you for all-day tickets!) and collapsed, absolutely exhausting. Being lost takes a lot out of you! Next time I go to the Isle of Wight, I think I'll go over with a car- much easier to see everything. Oh, and stay out of the woods.
