I was a little anxious in the lead-up to yesterday's two- and four-week anniversaries of the London bombings. It's not just me though, as the news sites are reporting Thursday anxiety as a common feeling. As you've no doubt read, there were 6000 police men and women on the streets of London yesterday, which is the highest police presence since WW2. The English bobbies traditionally do not carry guns, but I am seeing many special forces policemen throughout London. They carry automatic weapons. As I've written before I don't necessarily feel safer being surrounded by people with guns. However, I do like everything else they are doing. Every tube station has at least one policemen on every exit watching everyone who enters. There are random bag searches, and I have seen the special forces people randomly board tube trains to check out who is riding. When I visited Paddington Station yesterday there was probably one policemen for fifteen waiting passengers. Some policemen had dogs too.
Unfortunately we will have to wait to measure the success of these methods. I was somewhat comforted today when I saw the Al-Qaida operations leader had released a videotape. Comforted because I figure that their two weapons are fear and bombs. So a videotape designed to foster fear wouldn't come on the same day as bombs. That's how I rationalised it anyway.
I've been avoiding cram-packed tube trains, but that has more to do with claustrophobia than the bombings. The tube trains are so small. I feel claustrophobic when they're half full. But the fantastic thing about London's underground is that the next train might be as little as a minute away. And more often than not, an empty train follows a packed one, so I'm happy to wait. This train scheduling so appeals with my sensibility. I have having to schedule my life around a half-hourly bus, which is so often the case in Brisbane.
So I went to Paddington Station yesterday to catch an overland train to Maidenhead. There I was to have a job interview with a large software house. This job, like a couple of recent offers, is located in an area that recruiters frequently describe as "West London". This comes from the same school of salesmanship who coin terms like "city glimpses" and "near mint condition". In my mind, West London is Fulham - which is 9-10 km southwest of the City. What the recruiters really mean is "West of London", because Maidenhead is 48 km west of Charing Cross Station. In my mind I am thinking this is a commutable distance, forgetting how often I failed to get from New Farm to Brisbane City on time to start work. But the job was interesting, the money could be good, there was a chance of overseas secondments, and I thought I should give it a go at least to be sure. However, the afternoon was an unmitigated disaster. Firstly, I scheduled exactly which train would get me to Maidenhead on time... then managed to arrive at Paddington Station exactly seven minutes after that train had departed. I called ahead to the company representative, and was informed it was no problem. I boarded the next train and almost fell asleep during the 40 minute journey. As the train flew past rolling farmland, I had to keep reminding myself that this was going to be my daily commute. I knew I was in trouble when the train stopped at Slough - setting for The Office - then pulled out to continue its journey. Maidenhead is about 50 km from London, and quite a way further than Ipswich is from Brisbane (although the comparisons are not unwarranted).
Instead of being met at the station, as originally planned, I was given ridiculous instructions of the "turn left, turn right, walk 200 metres, then left etc etc" variety. I don't know why I was not given an address, nor was I quick enough to ask for it. After 25 minutes of walking in circles, I summoned the courage to call the company rep (I tried not to think of him as a job interviewer by this point) to ask for new directions. All this time I thought I had screwed up. But he gave me exactly the same instructions. I later worked out that when he said right, he actually meant left, and vice versa. Fool. Anyhow, I made it to the office where I was asked to wait an hour while he conducted a half hour conference call (no, that's not a misprint). This was kinda neat because I had time to wander through the UK equivalent to Redbank Plaza, all the time reminding myself that this was going to be a daily plan if things worked out with the interview. After an hour I got the call to return to the office where I'd be met in five minutes. I arrived on time, but waited twenty minutes for the rep to show up.
The interview went well. He seemed keen for me to work for them, but by this time I couldn't wait to blurt out that I couldn't handle the daily commute every day. I was polite about it, of course, and thanked him for the opportunity to see it firsthand. I explained that I had come to London for a London experience. He nodded in agreement, but that remark seemed to confuse him. I still think he is under the impression that he lives in London. Still, it was a great experience. If I didn't do it I'd probably be wondering if I missed out on a good opportunity turning down these out-of-town jobs. And as we walked to the elevator he tipped me off about a place in London that may suit me perfectly. Sneaky guy. I wondered if he'd have told me about them if I accepted his offer. I almost ran to the train station, then laughed all the way back to London, all the more when the train made its one stop at Slough to pick up haggard burnt-out husks who had less life in them than a Romero zombie.
I can't believe this is my third London post and I have barely commented on the weather. Kurt tipped me off how the British men are obsessed with the weather - which is understandable as they have none. But I am becoming equally obsessed with it. The first few days I was here it was warm and sunny, with nice and cool evenings. Then last week we had three of the coldest days imaginable. Some days were like a Brisbane autumn. Others like a Brisbane winter. And they call this summer. But since last week it has been quite glorious. I've learned that overcast morning skies and cool weather means as little as it does in Melbourne. London also has the four-season-one-day thing. But the great advantage to the semi-frequent rain is that the skies often clear up to be remarkably clean and blue. So much easier to photograph London than New York for that reason.
Rounding out the title's alliteration, I never want to hear another thing about Sienna frickin' Miller. She is everywhere at the moment. In magazines, newspapers, billboards, West End theatre productions etc. EVERYWHERE! Denise has introduced me to a new British women's mag called Grazia. It's glossy, but just as trashy. Sienna Miller was literally on every second page in an issue a few weeks back... and that was before the Jude Law nanny fiasco blew sky high.
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