I couldn’t think of another ‘R’ word, OK?
Don’t make this weird.

Remember that strong onshore wind I mentioned in the previous post?
Yeah, well it came with some strong on-land rain in places other than Penzance.

I’d caught the 10am to London Paddington, and things were fine for a while, though we did have to slow down for a flooded low-lying bit.

Then we had to stop because a local service up ahead had reported water flowing through a tunnel, and it needed to be checked to make sure it hadn’t undermined the tracks.
It turned out to be OK.

Then a different local service reported a stream flowing through a different tunnel, and the train was diverted onto an alternate route. I did try to get a shot of the tunnel we passed through where a stream was running down the other tracks at maybe foot-arch level, but the phone was having trouble focusing through the window.

Then the warnings about how we might not be able to get past Bristol started.

We did get to Bristol, in the end, and stayed at the platform for a while as they tried to figure out a workable route.
Tried and failed, so we were all offloaded, some still clutching their plastic cups of wine from First Class, to wait for further announcements regarding ongoing transport. Probably coaches, which didn’t really thrill anyone.

I should point out that I had an open return ticket which, at that stage, nobody had looked at, so I was wondering whether I should just stay in Bristol, contact the hostel in London to ask them to hold the room, and continue when the waters receded; The ticket would still be valid, and it was for any permitted route between Penzance & London.

Didn’t do this, partially because we weren’t on the platform that long, and partially because I was hoping it’d work like airlines and I could reluctantly volunteer to be put up somewhere.

A train to London happened on another platform.
Not sure why that one could get through, but ours couldn’t, but I am sure that schlepping up the stairs with my big-ass pack was the right move, as I got a seat. Unlike the folks who arrived more than a minute after I did, who had to stand in the carriage end-bits and wait to pounce upon seats as people disembarked.

All told, the train was maybe three hours late, and after that, the tube ride to my hostel was a bit of an anticlimax.

I liked the Barmy Badger last time, so I stayed there again.
Same room as last time, grabbed the same bed as last time, and ended up with the same room-mate as last time.

How can you not appreciate a hostel with this set of rules?

The plan for the week was to use the availability of bank branches to take the advice of the Kiwis In London Facebook group, who suggested that trying different branches of one particular bank was the way to go; If you got someone who was stickler for having proof of address (tricky when you have no job to pay for an address, which is tricky when you have no bank account), you try the next one.

Got an appointment on the second place I tried, having learned what not to say, and as expected, once I was talking to an actual person, it all went very simply; Getting past the gatekeepers was the hard part.

The Christmas decorations are up.

Some of them are delicate and somewhat tasteful for it still being bloody November, and create mood.

And then some look like a Mardi Gras giant threw a handful of distressingly sticky beads at a building.

Sorting out the bank stuff took a day to get the appointment, a morning two days later to to meet with my account manager and do all of the things, and a whole lot of energy.

Re-charging said energy happened through the careful re-watching of season one of Killjoys, as season two had happened without me hearing about it, and I wanted to reacquaint myself with the show before going on to the new stuff.
Also, it’s a show that’s worth re-watching.

My new bank card & associated gubbins are heading to a location in Southern England, so it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to head out of London until I had them in a working condition, so staying in the city became the next thing.
The Badger, sadly, was booked up for the weekend, and like so many of the regulars, I had to find somewhere else, so I went back to St. Christopher’s Inn in Greenwich, where I’d stayed back in June, when I first got to the UK.

Here’s what I said then;

After a few days I moved to a hostel in Greenwich, St. Christopher’s, which is over a pub.
This becomes important later.
This was my first ‘bed in a dormitory’ stay of the trip, and indeed my first of that type of stay in a very long time.
I’ve stayed in hostels before, but had gone with private rooms. This wasn’t an option here.
The setup at St. Christopher’s was pretty good; You enter through the bar, but there’s a prox-card door to get into the hostel proper, another to open the door to the room, a specifically assigned bed, and a locker big enough that I could have fitted Big Red in there twice over without issue, in the form of a rolling metal cage which took up half of the under-bed space, with the other half being the locker for the other bunk. I got the top bunk, and it was pretty comfy, and also under a window, which was a useful thing, because holy crapballs did that place get hot. Even with a pedestal fan going and the windows open it was still too hot to need the provided duvet most nights, and I only closed the window when absolutely needed, such as heavy rain.
On the subject of that window … Yeah, the pub was loud. To the extent that there was a jar of earplugs in each room, provided for free, and on Friday & Saturday nights they were really needed, as the loud music didn’t stop until 2am. Rest of the time it only ran 10pm to Midnight.
This place had piped music running constantly, not at ear-splitting volume, but at a noticeable level, even at 7am during breakfast.

It’s much cooler now?

The nice folks at the Badger offered to let me store my bag there, as I’d only be gone for the weekend, so I took them up on it and only packed what I thought were the basics‡. In hindsight, I wish the basics had included a warm layer, because there’s a cold snap on, and my grey hoodie has become the best thing ever.

I tried for a panorama, but it didn’t work out so well; Still, it gives you a sense of the layout of the room.
Each bed has a panel with a wee light (rigged with a prism/louver thing to cast most of the light down at about 45° onto the bed), a couple of USB ports for charging, and a couple of power points/hotpoints/receptacles – I did have to move the bed along a bit to make the power point accessible, as the frame was right over the one I wanted.

I was the first one in on Friday, and wondered if I’d have the place to myself, but a couple of family groups turned up:

• Parents+Son from somewhere in East Asia, who stayed one night and were replaced for the next by two West Asian guys and an Italian Stonemason who’d learned his trade in Perth, Western Australia.
• Mother+Daughter from Turkey, who were doing the tourist thing during one of the daughter’s University breaks – University in, or maybe of, Bournemouth?

Greenwich continues to be interesting, and the markets are everywhere.
In this case the Christmas lighting is serving a dual purpose of decoration and compensating for the 4pm sunset.

The Cutty Sark, looking like Santa has chosen a more Nautical approach for this year’s transport.

I’m pretty please with that last shot – It looks, to me at least, like the ship is raising some very odd sails and getting under way on a reflecting sea.

Arrr! Hoist the mistle-mizzen!
We’ve a yule-tide to catch!!

And a view across the river.

Remember this? → ‡ 

I’ve been traveling & living out of Big Red since mid-April, and what felt back then like an impossibly tiny amount of stuff now feels like I’m dragging a huge amount of crap.
Some of that feeling may well be accurate, and I did have to upgrade my day pack on my way out of the USA, because a 15 litre bag was just not cutting it.

The process of packing up for a few days away from The Barmy Badger reminded me of the One Bag school of thought when it comes to travel; Folks who will do an extended trip, where extended might mean a Long Weekend Away, or might mean an Around The World trip, with what amounts to a single carry-on sized bag.

I’ve got to say, the idea is growing on me.
I did meet someone in Reykjavik who was traveling in that manner, admittedly from a home base in Taiwan so she only needed to pack for a known quantity of conditions, but she was quite keen on it as a way to simplify travel and never lose your luggage.

Don’t think I could go Zero Bag, like some folk do, but I’m right on board with the idea of not carrying as much stuff.

I think, when the opportunity presents itself, I shall spread out all of the stuff I’m carrying around and try to classify it by “When Did I Last Use This”, “How Often Did I Use This”, and in some cases “Have I Ever Used This”.
Hopefully I won’t need “This Isn’t Mine” or “What Even Is This”.

And the last thing is this.

It’s … like the capsule hotel of co-working spaces, as near as I can tell from the Pod Works website.
Only one of them looks finished, and I’d personally hope for a seat, or at least something to perch upon, but the idea seems to be that it’s a very small private workspace. Not certain who their market is, though it might be the sort of place that’d be good for recording a podcast if one were staying in a hostel dorm.

That said, it’s also really exposed, and even if it’s code-accessed, you’re still in a wee box with windows, letting everyone know what technology you’ve got with you, and only one possible exit.
Also, I keep wondering how they got the pee-smell out of the old phone box.

This one’s a wrap-up of the Penzance Experience, mostly in the form of things I photographed because I thought they were interesting at the time.

Things like the shopfront on the uphill side of Market Jew Street, which is somewhat higher than the road.
I’m assuming that this is because it’s on a hill, and shopkeepers didn’t want stairs up to window-eye-view level.

My other theory is that the water level was once much higher, and this is the old waterfront.

Speaking of the waterfront;

My last full day in Penzance had some strong onshore winds, which lead to the rolling waves you can barely see in the photographs, and the surfers who are indistinguishable from grit on the lens.

Can anyone recommend a good compact camera with a lot of zoom and anti-shake?
Asking for a friend.

You can’t see it in the photo of the shopfronts, but this is what a lot of the footpaths around Penzance look like, at least in the steep bits. Which is most of them.

Best guess is that it’s for grip.

Cornwall has a pretty damn good, or at least extensive, bus system; Here’s the timetable for the local area, which in this case means all of Cornwall.

Page one of at least four, maybe six.

The buses go to many places, but the schedules are … sparse … at times.
It might have just been a winter thing, but the consequences of missing the bus in Land’s End were either a multi-hour wait for the next and last bus, or a long walk.

This happened to the AirBnB host; She’d taken her dog to Sennen Cove, out near Land’s End, and he’d had a wonderful time running around.
So much so that he didn’t come back when called, and they missed the last bus.
She had to ask … well, anyone she could see … for a lift back to Penzance, and the dog was unrepentant.

As you can see, the bus service has a tolerant policy regarding the species who can take it.

The point of going to Penzance was to relax a bit, not think about jobs+banks+tax, and try to make some plans about what to do next.

Solid partial success, I think.
I had some moments of waking up at 3am with my brain buzzing with concerns about what happens after this place, but I chased them away by watching season one of Stranger Things.

You can’t go to Cornwall without going to Land’s End.
That’s … just how it works.

So I took a bus.
Double-deckers, it turns out, give an excellent view, but magnify the sway on narrow country lanes.
That guy on the left isn’t just resting his hand there; You did need to hang on.

As near as I can tell, their method of keeping the trees back so that the bus can get through is to … drive the bus through.
There were a number of solid ‘thwack!’s on the windscreen.

After about an hour, you reach Land’s End.

In summer there’s probably a fair bit of tourist bustling, and the 4D cinema would be showing “Shaun The Sheep” (there were signs), but this was winter, so they were running a stripped down operation and a bunch of maintenance.
The souvenir shop was open, as was the restaurant/bar.

This is one end of the Land’s End to John o’ Groats route across Great Britain; Depending on the route you take and the method of transport, it’s somewhere between 850 & 1200 miles.

It’s on the windy side, and I’m very glad I went for the soft shell jacket over the hoodie; There was rain at times, and the wind was damn cold.

There’s not a whole lot else to say; The photos give a better idea of the place than I can give by typing.

The wind howls through, and I was having to put in a little bit of effort to walk against it at times.
Taking that selfie nearly cost me the cellphone, because the screen was face-on to the wind, and a gust just after I took that shot nearly took it right out of my hands.

Any plants here are the sort that can cling to the soil for dear life. I’m assuming that any tree which gets too big finds itself carried off inland.

If you were starting the end to end walk … this is what it looks like.
You see the sign pictured earlier, turn around, and … there it is.

While waiting for the bus (there aren’t that many of them, so I made sure to get there in plenty of time – one of the others from the bus was already waiting) I wandered around to look at the side of the headland, which looked marginally more green than the raggedy edge of the thing.

On the way back, I spotted the lurking dinosaur.

I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.

OK,so the first thing is that Mousehole isn’t pronounced like the thing mice live in. It’s closer to Mowzel, where it’s ‘ow’ in the I Just Dropped Something On My Foot way of saying it; Only found that out after the fact.

I hopped a little bus from Penzance to Mousehole.
At the time I assumed that it was a little bus because it’s a pretty regular trip, so they only need a shuttle. I think I was half-right.

The big thing in Mousehole, practically the only big thing, is the sea wall.
Probably there to protect boats from being smashed into tiny little splinters in storms, but it sure as hell looks like it’s there to keep the pirate menace at bay. Or maybe protect the pirate menace?

In any case, it’s a big damn wall, and the entrance is boarded up, presumably for winter, as I saw no sign of that thing being easy to move. Also, the ten-foot branch stuck through one of the gaps suggests that it’s been there a little while.

A very convoluted plaque.

It was somewhere around here that I saw, but did not photograph, the sign warning folks about waves overtopping the wall during storms. Bear in mind that, scaling off the photo, the wall in question is at least ten feet above the top of the seawall, and you can see the tidemark, so those are some big damn waves.
Then again, any storm probably came in off the Atlantic, so there’s a lot of reach out there for the rollers to build up.

Remember the little bus?
This is why.

The streets are so narrow in many places that you have to step into doorways to let vans past, so the bus is only just making it through; One corner in particular looked as though they’d taken a chisel to the edge of a building to buy a few more inches of clearance.

Also, there was an orange cat who wandered over to say ‘Hi’, then ambled off up the road.

This is St. Michael’s Mount, accessed by causeway in good weather and low tide, boat in ok weather and high tide, and not accessed at all when the storms roll in.

I walked up from Penzance to Marazion, and had breakfast in a place with the view seen below.
They have some sort of winter works program going on, so there were a number of vehicles going back and forth along the causeway.
The lump of rock with the skeg of causeway going to it is apparently where the boat docks in summer; you can see the channel they dug reaching out to sea, and maybe the little pier on the other side of the rock.
In winter they use an amphibious vehicle and just drive into the carpark of the pub.

Yet another thumping great seawall.
The thing at the top of the boat ramp is their ‘Amphicraft’, purpose built to be able to drive on mud from the look of it. It’s visible in some of the pictures of the harbour, as they took it out for a spin while I was there.

Looking back towards Marazion.

Like most places around here, it’s been a lot of different things over the years.
They do run tours of the castle and gardens, but I timed it badly and just missed the first tour, and didn’t feel like waiting hours for the second one of the day; One of the disadvantages of tourism in winter is that websites don’t always spell out the limited hours/access/services available.

This was the closest I could get to a shot of what the harbour has probably looked like for decades.

There are a number of people living on the island, not just the Lord & Lady in the castle, but also folk who work there and their families, and their access to the mainland is very much dictated by the tides and the weather; On ‘black flag’ days, nobody comes in or out.

Looking back from the walk back to Penzance.

And here’s ‘my’ room in the AirBnB – I found that this was the best setup for WiFi signal, and started watching ‘Stranger Things’.

Me being me, I got to the station far too early. This, I’m sure, comes as no surprise to anyone.

I tried to be as quiet as possible getting showered and moving out, and hopefully was successful, though all of the other inhabitants of the room arriving back at midnight did reduce how concerned I was about accidentally making noise by a solid amount.

Still, I found all of my stuff (packed everything I could the night before) and made it to Paddington Station with a couple of hours to spare; Bearly missed the previous (non-direct) train which could have taken me to Penzance.

And I got this rather nice picture of jet trails in the sky.

Photography from trains is annoying; The trees leap into shot at the last moment. Thus, I didn’t bother, and just watched the scenery go by. And napped.

And had a spot of pseudo lunch. Took a picture of this because of the phrase “Hummus Shovel”.

This is only my second AirBnB, the first being a place on the Isle of Dogs which was realistically being run as a share house with high turnover; I get the idea that the owner of that one rarely visited, just sent the cleaners around when someone moved out.

This one, on the other hand, is a downstairs room in someone’s place, and comes with a dog who has a good line in hopeful looks as regards the ‘walk’ situation.

Finding the AirBnB I’d booked was simple, mostly because the host had a solid set of directions. Unlike many such directions, these were actually needed, as the place is effectively in an alley off of an alley; I have no idea how mail delivery works.

Spent the weekend not doing much, which was just as fantastic as it sounds, though I did take a wander along to Newlyn, which is somewhere between a suburb and a village.

Naturally, I took some photos, and this is probably your last chance to bail out before they’re inflicted upon you.

Penzance waterfront, with St. Michael’s Mount way the hell off in the distance. The look of the seawall and setbacks suggest to me that the waves come powering in here in stormy weather, and some tourism photos and harbour warning signs seem to confirm that.

A wee riverlet running through the town, possibly to allow for extra charming quaintness to happen.

Panorama of what I hope is the Newlyn harbour, otherwise I have no idea where the hell I walked to.

There’s an extra-wide green seawall or breakwater visible in that panorama, with grass growing on it. Took this shot from there, to try to show how the area is put together; The road is at the top of that grass bank.

That same riverlet, but from a different narrow stone bridge.

St. Michael’s Mount in actual sunlight.

And the main drag of Penzance, Market Jew Street. The bit I’m standing on is maybe four feet above the roadway, so there’s a railing and regular stairways to get down from shop level to street level; I guess it’s the sort of thing you have to do when building a town on a hill.

Looking up the street at night.

A

This one’s in a few sections – it covers some time in London, a trip to Essex, and then back to London

I still haven’t done a review of the B&B I stayed in, primarily because I’m not sure how to write it. There’s nothing wrong with the place, it’s just that it’s been overtaken by … Well, everything.

I never stayed in a 60’s or 70’s B&B, but I think I have now; The place felt like it was running to a procedures manual which hadn’t changed in many years.

After a while I stopped doing breakfast at the place, because it was just too frustrating to watch people screw up that badly; The food was fine, but as near as I can tell the only language all the staff have in common is ‘some English’, so the whole system went off the rails as soon as someone went off the expected script.

Enough about that.

I ended up taking a walk in the evening, and got a few good photos of the London Eye looking all spectacular.

This one I’m particularly happy with.

As seems to be the way of it, there were internet connection issues, so I did some of the Big Red Couch stuff from the British Library, with their wonderfully free WiFi, and some from the mezzanine level food court at King’s Cross, with its wonderfully unsecured WiFi.

I’m only mentioning this because, while at the station, I got a picture of their pigeon-control system.
Slightly before it buzzed someone on it’s way to a different part of the hall.

The London Canal Museum was nearby, so I had an entertaining time there.
They’re mostly about the canals, but have a sideline in the history of the ice trade, as they’re based in what was once an ice storage facility; You can still see down into one of the ice wells.

Also took in a conveniently timed exhibition at the British Library.

There’s not a huge amount to report, to be honest.
The wee church across from the laundromat was quite pretty, in a gloomy sort of way, but not easy to take a photo of, as it turns out.

Similarly, this couple taking wedding-related photos in St. Pancras were a challenge, though they were also finding it a challenge to get photos without extraneous bystanders.
Or pigeons.

I visited some friends out in Essex, but took no photos, and as the majority of the newsworthy portion of that trip was board and card games played, it can be it’s own post at some point.

Post-Essex, I was back in London for a couple of nights, then off to Penzance in Cornwall to … Clear my thoughts, I guess?
Figure out how to approach the job thing, and the related stupid bloody administrative systems things, and generally plan out the next bit.

Accommodation this time was at the Barmy Badger backpackers, in Earl’s Court, and I think it’s my go-to place in London from now on.
I’m not certain how many floors the place has, to be honest; It’s the classic ‘old terraced house conversion’ style of hostel, so the layout is a bit odd.
The general vibe of the place was relaxed, which is always nice, and in general it seems friendly, which is a good thing.

I did have to pick up my rail tickets from Paddington Station, so I walked most of the way back, via Hyde Park.

Where this whatever the hell it is was deeply unconcerned by my being there.

And the squirrels paid no attention because I wasn’t doing anything edible.

And this Stealth Squirrel did it’s best to be sneaky while I took a photo.

I thought I’d end with some pictures of the Christmas offerings from a couple of coffee places, because, as we all know, the first day of Christmas is in early November.

• Bank Account, in-branch attempt.
  Nope, an appointment for an interview won’t be until next week, but you can use our online service instead.
• Bank Account, online attempt.
  Nope, you’re too much of a risk to grant an account with no credit or overdraft facility to.
• National Insurance number, first attempt.
  We need an address to post things to.
• National Insurance number, second attempt.
  Our system is down, please call back later.
• National Insurance number, third attempt.
  That address isn’t just for postage, it’s also used to refer you for an interview at a jobcentre.

Do you want people to work under the table and pay no tax?

Because that’s how you get people working under the table and paying no tax.

I’d just always assumed that’s what St. Pancras was; A gigantic Victorian Folly which they’d turned into a railway station.

I’m hoping that’s enough warning that this isn’t a particularly serious, content-filled, or indeed coherent post.

I’d like to point out that, while the folks here at the Fairway B&B have an entire sensible name for their network, someone out there is having a bit more fun with it.

In my wanderings around the area (For the record, the street the B&B is on points straight at St. Pancras) I saw what may be the greatest accidental restaurant re-naming I’ve ever seen; Pasta Hose.

I can’t decide whether they’re spraying pre-mixed pasta+goo out of a firehose, or dumping the pasta on you from a monsoon bucket, blasting you with a firehouse spraying marinara sauce, and then finishing it off with a dry powder fire extinguisher filled with parmesan.

Yes, this is a firefighting themed restaurant.
Just go with it.

More wanderings, in which I decided to see whether I could walk to the Thames and back, took me past street art which I think is telling me to up my job-networking game.

Laundry day happened, and did so on a foggy morning when there were few people around.
It’s been commented that this looks like a scene from a zombie film; The narrow streets off to my left looked even more that way, but I didn’t think to photograph them.

Ended up wandering through Green Park as the sun went down.
Daylight savings time had just … checks … ended, so the sunset rather crept up on me.

I’d thought, from a distance, that this might be a sort of whimsical monument, like some of the ones in Wellington.
Well, it’s really not; It’s the Royal Artillery Memorial.