Friday 11th July 2014
I finished the last update talking about English food. I start this one on the same topic. My mother will be very disappointed in me, but after going to have my blood test that morning, I stopped off at Gregg’s to get an egg mayo and watercress sandwich, a sausage roll and prawn cocktail crisps. At 9am. Delicious, I know. It may explain why I put on a few pounds while back home. They are my guilty, guilty, guilty pleasure, and while maybe I don’t miss these glorious food types while in Honduras, it does give me great satisfaction to feel bloated from eating shit. Pasty tax maybe, Mr. Cameron, but it certainly seems that you’ve been packing away a bit too.
After, I took Pamela to see my home city. We’d done Hall Green. Now it was the city centre’s turn. So off we went to Hall Green Station only to find the ticket master had locked himself out of the office. When we were finally on the train, Pamela sat in awe of the place, pointing out Mosques in Small Heath, the Railway Museum in Tyseley, St. Andrews Stadium (in fact that was me), the colours of the Great Western Railway, vast industrial and urban landscape that is Brum, until we got to Snow Hill, which I told her was my route everyday to the Refugee Council. Sun, wind, rain, sleet and snow. I went through it all, delays through leaves on the track (a suicide or two as well). Memories!
Our first stop was St. Phillip’s Cathedral. It’s a beautiful landmark. There was a school trip walking by from Manchester going by the accents. Pamela’s face distorted a bit. Not everyone speaks like Harry Potter in England. But I found it quite amusing that she turned her nose up at the Manc accent, especially as Mancs like to turn their nose up at UK’s official second city, Birmingham. Hearing her say, “What a weird accent!” struck arrows to my heart.
We went into the cathedral, there seems to be some furniture moving and the man of cloth stood at by the door by directing the goings on. Pamela saw him and went right up to him with the mother of all questions, after asking if it was a Protestant Cathedral, “What’s the difference between the Catholic and Protestant church?” His face looked a bit worried, lookingly sneakily down to his watch. He answered it in the shortest and most politically correct way he could about the traditions and hierarchy of the church and no one walked away offended. I only thank God she didn’t ask the question to a priest in Northern Ireland.
We then walked down to Victoria Square starry eyed at the business district and the mixes of new and old architecture. I then explained to her what the Floozie in the Jacuzzi was. If you don’t know what a Floozie is exactly, Google it. It sits in front of the council house and town hall. A few years ago it was where I used to have my lunch while working not far away. A busker would blow his sax with beautiful sounds echoing around the square and make my hour pleasant.
We then went up to Centenary Square, past the old Library and it’s butchery, and up to the new library. I don’t know how much it cost, but it’s impressive inside, for sure. It’s quite intrusive on the square. But the views are fantastic.
Then through to Brindley Place and Ikon Gallery. The best thing there was family friend Meg Purvey. It’s very much touch and go with that gallery, but usually go unfortunately. The tapas used to be good, the Spanish guys who ran the place have left. The building I really like though, as well as the shop.
Later we went to the Sealife Centre, but I’m feeling very hungry and it will have to be saved for the next update. Here’s another picture of us. In Brindley Place.