Showing posts with label Hertfordshire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hertfordshire. Show all posts

Back to School

Closeup of a copper rivet on blue jeans.Image via Wikipedia
Summer holidays have finally come to an end and I am teaching again. The difference in atmosphere between Australian schools and English schools hit me straight away. First of all was the lax dress standards. On my first day teaching in England I wanted to make a good impression on the new school and therefore came in a collared shirt - so much for my standards of looking presentable, I was “busted” for wearing jeans. Dress standards at my Hertfordshire school were strictly slacks and collared shirt, on top of that I noticed ties were more or less obligatory as well, judging by what all other male teachers were wearing.

I told a this story of my surprise to other members of staff when in England. Explaining that the only time I ever felt out of place for wearing jeans in an Australian school was when every other male member of staff were lounging around in t-shirts and shorts. Of course, I got the impression that English teachers just considered this a wild exaggeration of the notorious “she’ll be right”, “no worries” attitude of Australians. In fact, by the end of my year in Hertfordshire, I’d even begun to doubt the veracity of the story myself.

But sure enough, walking into the staffroom this morning, on a 36 degree day, what sight do you imagine met my eyes? Yes, shorts and t-shirts!

“Mate, you’re gonna have to lose the tie.”

Was the reception I got entering the staffroom. On the other hand, female members of staff complimented me on the collared shirt and tie and took jabs at the other men to follow suit. But the banter was playful and self deprecating throughout. I’m not sure whether to continue trying to maintain a good standard of dress code or to just cave in and go back to jeans and a polo (I was never really t-shirt and shorts material).
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Four Fantastic Hotels

Image via Tom Häkkinen
Tea on the rooftop terrace, Hotel de l'Horloge
1. Hotel de l’Horloge, Avignon

Fantastic hotel in a fantastic location. This hotel is situated in the Place de l’Horloge - in the centre of Avignon, in the heart of Provence. It is a good base from which to do tours of Provence and the city of Avignon itself is a beautiful city retaining lots of its old medieval character.

The rooftop terrace rooms are outstanding, the hotel is one of the taller buildings in Avignon and the views across the red-tiled roofs of Avignon out over the rest of Provence are incredible. Avignon is also a great city to amble about, even without the Palais des Papes the city has enough medieval character to charm you over and there are delightful shops all about, from designer boutiques to shops selling Provençal soaps and lavenders etc.

I also found the service standard and professionalism of one member of staff especially memorable and I wish I had enquired as to his name so I could mention it in this blog post. When we first arrived, it was very late due to train strikes on the way from Bordeaux and we were a party of four with my aunt and Esther’s mum sharing a room - obviously it would have be twin beds. However, for some reason, it could even have been my own negligence although I thought I remembered that detail, the hotel had received no such request. It was late, the phone was constantly ringing, the computers were down and there was only one member of staff on duty. To put my relatives up in a room of a lower standard than that which we had paid for - “out of the question” - so sweat running from his forehead, the man from the concierge went upstairs himself to find an available room with twin beds and of comparable or better quality than what we paid for. Outstanding. Although, as to the management decision to put only one member of staff on duty on a busy Friday night, not quite so well thought-out.

A fantastic stay in a fantastic city!

2. Silky Oaks Lodge, Cairns

This is a great hotel in the far north of Queensland - cane country. The hotel itself is just outside of a sleepy agricultural town called Mossman, twenty kilometres up the road from Port Douglas and 50 odd kilometres further North of Cairns. It is in fact situated in the Mossman Gorge in the heart of the Daintree Rainforest.

If you’re going to the far north of Queensland chances are you’re going to see the Great Barrier Reef and the Daintree Rainforest and this hotel has good access to both. It is in fact in the rainforest and your rooms are self-contained bungalows amidst the trees, some of which are up on stilts so as to literally be in the rainforest. The restaurant is on a balcony overlooking the Mossman river and there is also an adjoining bar and some old board games including chess. You can swim in the river, play tennis or go for walks in the bush or along the river. If you’re only interested in the reef then maybe you could find better hotels in Cairns or Port Douglas, but Esther and I found it easy to organise a trip on a boat leaving from Cairns to see the Outer Reef and the hotel staff are more than willing to organise any tours or day trips you might have in mind for you with pick-up from the hotel.

3. Crowne Plaza Gold Tower, Gold Coast

A spectacularly ugly sky-scraper along the edge of Broadbeach, Surfer’s Paradise. But the advantage of staying in an ugly hotel is that once inside your view isn’t spoilt by the ugly building that you’re in and the Ocean View rooms in this hotel are incredible. In late January when I stayed here with Esther we left the balcony doors wide open all night, we fell asleep with the sound of the surf in our ears and awoke with the sun rising through the morning mists of the Pacific Ocean ready to hit the day.

The words “Ocean View” can’t properly convey the serene atmosphere that reigns in the rooms of this hotel. Soaring above the Gold Coast these rooms have views of the Pacific Ocean, sounds of the Ocean - the surf and the gulls and the salty sea air of the Ocean whilst remaining at an appreciable remove from the traffic and the day-to-day din of the streets below.

Image via Tom Häkkinen
A wintery Letchworth Road
4. Mercure Letchworth Hall, Letchworth

I was originally not sure if I would include this hotel in my list, only because Letchworth in North Hertfordshire is such an unassuming and out of the way location. But the reality is, I had to stay here for work and it really was a charming country hotel. The hotel is a converted old country manor house called “Letchworth Hall” which in fact well predates Letchworth Garden City. Being built by Sir William Lytton in 1620. Arriving from Australia in the middle of one of Britain’s severest winters for many years, the roaring fireplace in the main hall adjoining the bar was a delightful place to sit down with a pint after having to commute home through the snow (and in my particular circumstances for commute read “walk”).

Although there’s not a great deal that Letchworth has to offer, the hotel sits amongst idyllic surrounds, overlooking English fields criss-crossed by hedgerows to the south and only a short walk from the old English village of Willian, a tiny village consisting of a church, post-office and two pubs that has probably hardly changed since being first assessed by William the Conqueror’s “Domesday” assessors.

The icing on the cake: the hotel has a swimming pool and gym and isn’t of the miserly variety that charges for access to its wi-fi.
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Drunken John

My first encounter with the town's "Drunken John" was on the first night when we moved into our flat on the Close. He was hanging around outside on the corner of old Icknield Way near the railway bridge. Apparently he'd lost his cat - or his dog, or something. Foolishly we stopped and listened to his garbled story. The dog never existed; he forgot about his dog-ploy in ten seconds. Esther apparently "looks beautiful", although too bad for John, because as he stated himself she "belongs" to me (quote unquote). He was wearing jeans I think, and a crusty old jacket under which he clutched onto a clear plastic bottle without any label - just water he claimed. And on top he wore an equally crusty old hat with a creased and broken peak which he repeatedly took off and put back on.

He introduced himself as "John", but apparently he's a well-known personality because a passer-by who was witness to the difficulty we had trying to politely tell John to go away informed us that the kids call him "Drunken John". As it happened she was a parent to one of my pupils at school so it was a happy coincidence bumping into her and having a ready-made conversation starter - even if the conversation starter cost us twenty minutes in the freezing cold with a crazy man of dubious personal hygiene.

The following day at school:

"Hi Oliver, I spoke to your mum last night."
"Yeah, she told me at dinner - you were being harassed by drunken John."
A student asks incredulously "You've met drunken John?" and then all of a sudden, "Hey, sir knows drunken John."
"Yes, I've had the misfortune of bumping into drunken John - I met him last night with my girlfriend."

Apparently John is well-known personality in this corner of Hertfordshire. He used to get in trouble hanging around outside the local Morrisons supermarket. In fact, as we were talking to him, every passing car made him nervously check if it was a police car. So I'm not sure just how appreciative all of the Letchworth locals are towards the aimiable town drunkard. Back in school one of my year 11's sagely informed me:

"The thing to do when you meet drunken John is take his hat."
"What?"
"Yeah, take his hat. He gets really angry and comes running after you. Jack and I did that one week it was really funny.""Just for laughs hey?"
"Yeah exactly, it's really funny."


Seeing John, occasionally under the railway bridge and along Station Way I've never tried my students' advice. Although I can't help feeling that there's something quaintly Anglo-Saxon about "harmless" old drunken John. Under the entry for "Town drunk" Wikipedia authoritatively informs us:

"The town drunk typically dwells in a small enough town that he is the only conspicuous alcoholic. Larger cities may have more than one, but this term appears to come from around the 17th century; in the stereotype, when a city grows large enough to house a sufficient mass of town drunks, the area where they congregate becomes known as Skid Row."

Fortunately Letchworth is sans Skid Row. In fact, if Wikipedia is to be believed English town drunks don't congregate because to my knowledge "Skid Rows" are a purely American phenomenon. In any case Wikipedia continues to inform us that in fiction "the town drunk may serve as a semi-comic proxy for the Wise Old Man. He may disrupt public meetings, either for comic effect, or by dispensing what proves to be wisdom in a garbled and comic form."

So perhaps far from taking ol' drunken John's hat - I should be taking his advice.

"If you need anything, or anyone gives you any trouble, just come and see John. I've forgotten you're name but I know that you've got a heart of gold."
(To Esther): "He's got a heart of gold... And you're beautiful. But even though he's ugly he's got a heart of gold this man."


Hmmm...


Image courtesy: Tom Häkkinen