England

Much to my absolute delight the first words I took any notice of back in England were uttered by the security guard at the UK border control. Firstly, this isn’t border control a-la USA. No visible guns, or even people really! Strange for 11am. To picture this fella all you need to do is picture the chief constable from the film ‘Hot Fuzz’. For those who haven’t seen it, he is in his 60’s, white-grey hair over kindly eyes peering over the top of his half-moon specticles.

So he is telling of how the staff there had found a passport and returned it to the owner, who hadn’t so much as said thank-you before scurrying off. The border patrol gentleman was “a bit bloody miffed” with this, and I knew I was back on home soil!! Miffed, as far as I am aware, doesn’t translate across the pond. It means ‘to be (or have been) put into an irritable mood, and is quintessentially English. It is also sadly going out of fashion. My friend Jack (rightly so) holds that the script to V for Vendetta is let down by trying too hard to be English. I hear what he is saying but on this evidence cracks appear!

This is set to be a busy weekend but in a strange twist of fate i seem to have avoided jetlag. I had survive American cuisine for the whole trip, had finished everything put in front of me, with the exception of Sushi, which I had never had before, and won’t bother with again. It was interesting but I like the taste of cooked food. So as the dinners were handed I was concentrating on the in-flight showing of ‘Tron- Legacy’ and not on what I was eating. In hindsight the butter had a crumbly rather than creamy texture. So I spent the next two hours fainting into my own seat and trying not to throw up on the flight, and after this I was exhausted, finally fell asleep and slept until we were over Wales. Rested and recovered just in time for landing I was ready for the day, and the Easter weekend with my family.

First I dropped by on Matt, Suzie and my godson William. On Saturday we were off to visit my Uncle on his narrowboat. He has two blogs and has provided support with setting mine up. John has cycled round the world and is now travelling round England on his canal boat. Sounds a great plan for Easter, and I get to catch up with Mum, my brother and sister.

Chicago

Taking off from Jacksonville was a strange feeling. The place had come to feel almost like home. Even as I write, two weeks since leaving America, I still haven’t been away as long as I stayed in Jax, and at the beaches.

The plane headed through deteriorating weather and emerged out of the clouds near Lake Michigan. Chicago’s skyline is...impressive. The most dominating man made construction I have ever seen. Sure there are skyscrapers plural, but I use the singular to refer to the vast urban area that has built up on the shore of the lake. Usually everything looks small from a plane, but Downtown stood tall and intimidating, even more so against the flat water backdrop as the plane banked and approached O’Hare from the Northwest.

I hopped off the plane and headed Downtown. Great plan this- if you have to fly back to the UK or Europe for that matter, stop off for a few hours in your connecting city. Hopefully it tires you out a bit, you sleep on the overnight flight and arrive the next morning feeling...okay. The jet lag was certainly not as present as I was lead to believe it would be. I was tired, but travelling will do that for you!

I had travelled round parts of America and until the final plane journey no-one in this reportedly obese country had put anything in front of me that I had been unable to finish. Apart from Sushi. I tried that for the first time, (why not?) and I don’t want any more thank you. I prefer my food properly cooked to bring out the flavour. I tried to taste the differences but it was cold. Like hangover leftovers. Maybe it’s a culture difference because Brandon couldn’t get over my eating cold sausages (cooked...I’m not French hahaha! Oh... I might have started a rumour here). The pizza I ate in Chicago came close though. And it was only a small.

I wandered on my own about Downtown Chicago and made it to ‘The Oldest Bar’, of German origin, and sat with a ridiculously expensive bottle of average pale ale. Chicago was alright I suppose, but i needed company. I’m no good at doing the tourist thing on my own. This was a lonely end to my time here as I had no inclination to meet anyone. I was acutely aware that time was ticking for my flight home. Somewhere a plane was being ready that would carry me back to the land I had so fondly thought of during the first 3 days on the road. I don’t like wandering around London on my own with little purpose. I can wander hills and cliffs with nothing to do, but cities- no way, and Chicago, although mighty and foreign was really no different.

At ground level it is simply buildings, and they are nothing without people. Somewhere sit a bunch of folk, unconnected and unaware of each other, whose various lives and roles combine to promote this concrete leviathan. You need only to think of any song immortalising a city to understand what I see here. Recent popular artist have paid too much homage to New York in particular. I haven’t been. Maybe it has a special energy but I doubt it. In truth, it means something for those who love it, but it is just urbanisation promoted. The work is all human and the sight-seen buildings are nothing but shiny baubles on a planetary Jewel in the cosmos. Value- it comes from SELF.

Farewell to Florida, Friends and a Bike

It was an emotional farewell to each and every person as they headed home; Hong Kong, Melbourne, Manchester and other far flung cities. I sent the bike in for its service with Champion Cycles as I prepared to sell it.

People often put a face or name or personality to vehicles. I’m in two minds as to why this is. Perhaps just for fun but this seems... not quite the reason. Vehicles become part of the family. My mum used to call the old turquoise blue Peugeot ‘Suzie’. Cars are often ‘she’, as are Ships. I am tracing this thought back generations now, where sailors would not put to sea in an unnamed boat. Superstition was rife on the high seas, and you can understand why. 400 years ago, life on the seas was precarious. Naming a boat gave the boat a personality. Of course all these vehicles have traits that make them unique, and we all learn how to handle them as we drive/pilot our way on journeys.

Giving the vehicle a name and associated personality is a comfort ideal. We can reason and persuade other members of our family. That we know very little of engineering or mechanics matters a little less to us now. We can coax the vehicle to last, or have a personality to converse with as we travel. I wrote in ‘The Edge’ of the bike seeming to want to come with me. Later still I wrote of how I don’t get precious over ‘things’. Of course I still have tools and toys that are more valuable than others.

The bike was going to be sold on consignment, but this isn’t possible anymore. Perhaps you are all willing me to keep it but alas, it isn’t so. Maybe it is the work I currently do, where surfboards, boats and bikes etc all have a useful lifespan, but can outlive their time and then we sell them on. The bike is a great model and has travelled superbly but I will still sell it. Brandon is helping me out with this one. Keeping it serves no purpose at this moment in time. I have other adventures to pursue, but they don’t involve a bike. In truth, not having the bike means only that I won’t cycle much at the moment and although this is disappointing I am approaching the idea of cycling where I live with an American attitude. In all of England, the South West and the far North are the most isolated parts of the country. A car really is the only way to travel effectively, and I need a new one.

So what of MY bike; am I sad to leave it?

Honestly no. It was a great buy but I can find another. The adventure was not down to the bike but to me, and I think I feel that even if I brought the bike home as a trophy, the fondness i have for it would start to decay. I don’t have another trip planned and so it would sit in the bike shed, occasionally carrying me to the shop and back but this would seem paltry. In the end I bought two-wheeled freedom, and I don’t wish to chain that back up. Perhaps it is more romantic to stay in ignorance of the bike’s destination, and hope that it finds a new owner who has a trip planned and so the bike’s journey continues.

I am not too materialistic. Child of my time of course, but I don’t subscribe to particular brands, or have the drive for wealth that Kerry and others do. I need only as much money as it takes to survive, preferably with surfboards and petrol (gas) as extras. Of course it could be argued that I to climb the materialistic ladder by wanting luxuries such as a car and surfboards. My argument is that these things keep us sane and focused. To cite times past and say that these things were not needed by our ancestors is a redundant argument that I have also been guilty of using. Of course they didn’t, but the point of evolution is surely to find a happy balance with life, where we can afford not to struggle all the time. Swing too far and we risk becoming the lazy, lacklustre, stale and weakened society of dire warnings in science fiction novels such as the Dune series or more pertinently, H.G Wells’ ‘The Time Machine’.

When you read this novel and realise that in the 116 years since its publication the beginnings of H.G.Wells’ bleak outlook are playing out now, in our time, you should stop and wonder. Fortunately however, materialism is already dying. We just haven’t realised it yet. A new social epoch has emerged yet remains quiescent for the moment. The moment we work out how to harness more of the natural energy reserves available, human exploration of the solar system will be a step closer. And genetic coding to strengthen the species...it’s already out there. This isn’t a conspiracy theory but an observation of our times. We know what is possible, yet for the first time in history we are actively trying to cease evolving. Science and technology are held in check by an outdated ethical system. They have grown exponentially faster than our outlook has. Our human lives now span several radical scientific advances, and our social conscience does not yet evolve at an equal pace.  

This is not a call to abandon faith or any other governing principles, but to look forward more often than we look back.

I had only met Steph in the last few days, yet she offered to drive me to the airport. We hung out on my final day and spent a great day chatting about this n that. I had decided some months previously to fly back via Chicago, giving myself an afternoon in the city. I had this to lookm forward to, even though leaving Florida felt like closing a book on my tour. Every trip should have one last hurrah if at all possible.

The Wedding

The day itself starts with Chuck having stayed the night with Brandon, Matt and myself, all at Brandon’s place.

We all head for breakfast at Denny’s- big greasy food! I am educated on the differences between Biscuit, Cookie and other such foodstuffs. The words are familiar but as often happens the meanings change. So I had to try Biscuits and gravy: a very novel idea to an Englishman as our biscuits are traditionally sweet. And I ordered the Grand Slamwich. That sort of idea is very American! The waitress noticed my accent an asked if I was English, which was nice as it isn’t everyone who can place my accent right away. When I answered

“Sure” She hit me with

“Oh, I’ve been to Italy”

“Yeah that’s close” came the instantaneously condescending reply. I couldn’t help it, the poor girl! Chuck, Brandon and Matt dissolved into laughter. It was an easy start to a wedding day- which could always turn into several hours of high tension. I didn’t believe that Chuck would become stressed, he just isn’t that guy. But nervous and tense-sure- who wouldn’t be on their wedding day?!

The rest of the day involved setting up the venue, so we headed first of all to the beach house and wished the father’s an enjoyable afternoon watching the FA Cup Semi-final, and waited for word that Gemma had left the Serenata Beach Club and the way was clear for us. As tradition dictates, the groom wasn’t allowed to see the bride until the ceremony. As a result the journey to the club was amusing, with Chuck hiding behind my backpack just in case Gemma passed heading in the opposite direction.

The Wedding planner was suitably disorganized, but we had plenty of ‘cooks’ as the old proverb goes, and weren’t unduly worried. By 4pm, there was nothing left to worry about and after G+T all round, Chuck went to get ready while the final touches were sorted by Brandon and Matt.

Only that morning, Gemma had told me that I would be on videocamera duty. Brilliant- don’t get me wrong, I was honored- but to be in charge of capturing for posterity one of the defining moments in marriage…whoa hang on! Gemma’s dad and I get along well, but if I mess this up....was the train of thought in my mind. In truth, I relished the task, and simply thought ‘what would James (my bro and a talented film student) do?’

So I went outside and picked my locations, and watched where the official photographers were taking stands. At 5:45pm I headed for the entrance ready to capture Gemma as she arrived. The Mustang pulled up with Gemma flanked by her brothers, wearing Jono’s aviators to stop the mascara running in the wind! Such a cool bride! The rest of this story is best told in pictures and many of you will have access to these already. When Gemma and Chuck return from the honeymoon I will catch a few more from them then. As I was holding the videocam, I didn’t get many still shots myself and will have to borrow some.

I did see a scene worth describing though, as I don’t think it could be captured by any other means.

One Moment

Looking above the lense of the videocamera I was holding, I managed to catch a moment that spoke volumes. I was expecting Chuck to shed a tear or two, and in fairness, I had already choked in the little message I left both of them at the start of the video footage. I was behind the camera all night and I know Gemma well enough to know her likely reaction to me not being present on camera at all.

So as she walks between the aisles of chairs set out on the beach and arrives at Chuck’s side, she blanches ever so slightly. Finally a nerve shows in an otherwise serenely composed girl, no- woman, (it’s been 10 years phlaris, as she had said a couple of months previously).

Gemma looks down at the sand between Chuck and herself, and swallows gently. Her gaze travels up and meets Chuck’s. As their eyes lock they both smile at each other, Gemma takes a breath and straightens. This couple have been perfect for each other for years now, and the shared look strengthens them both. I don’t think the camera caught what I could see here, encapsulated in one moment.

After the ceremony everybody retired to the tables and the wine began to flow. The best man had to shoot off to get the cake topper and as speeches were called he wasn’t yet back, so Matt had to encourage a tactical newlywed kiss and had the happy couple visit tables to stall the proceedings. So fluid was this tactic I didn’t even realize it was unplanned until a couple of days later.

Soon we were at the first dance, and I filmed. Soon enough I was seized and dragged to the floor to encourage everyone else, who needed little encouragement! Camera down I could relax, and despite my hesitation at being early to the dancefloor (my traditional dance moves leave a lot to be desired, as I don’t practice often!), I was glad to join in fully with the rest of the evening. Of course there was a dance off, and later at the beach house the party continued with Keg-stands and cigars, cocktails and laughter and friendship.

On being a best man:

I have this role to play for a great friend of mine in September so I asked Brandon for a little advice. Brandon says that he didn’t really do much. That might feel true but I disagree. By his presence he did all that Chuck needed of him. Chuck knows that Brandon is the guy who will get stuff done if he is asked. That is the example I intend to follow. Although I believe I am already that guy, the lesson is in recognizing how useful this is, rather than feeling the need to dash around and create a ‘too many cooks’ situation.

A week beside the beach

The days building up to the wedding also involved some of the following:

Hanging out at Lillies (formerly and famously Shelby's)

Driving around in the 'stang, and getting the wedding licence

And finally...here are the couple who's wedding was the catalyst for my tour.
I picked a less than brilliant photo, sorry guys, but it
kinda works as a great intro to you both though!

Chilling (maybe not the right operative!) at the beach

his n hers helmets