Diary of Great Britain: Murray

Hey guys, here's an attempt at a short chapter for my book. Let me know what you think! :)

Murray

"Enough with the bloody drop shots already!"

I yell in frustration, and a comment like that can only mean one thing: Andy Murray is playing at Wimbledon.

As usual, he's not taking his opponent seriously, and my fellow spectators, Lewis and Antony, share my annoyance. We're sitting in their living room, watching the supposed saviour of Great Britain taking on Stanislas Wawrinka; a man who sounds and looks Polish, but isn't. Although we come in half-way through the fourth set, it isn't long before we think the same as everyone else: damn, this Wawrinka guy's good, isn't he?

We haven't even heard of Wawrinka and already we're impressed by his game. His serve is ferocious, his stamina impressive, and his aces threaten to overwhelm Murray completely. So how come we've never even heard of him, then? And how come he's only the 19th seed?

A Wiki search is called for: Lewis takes over. "Stanislas Wawrinka: Polish descent, born in Switzerland. Left school at 15 in order to pursue a full-time tennis career".

"How old is he?" I ask.

"Let's see: born in 1985."

Only 23? But still older than Murray, and wiser for it. The Scot throws away a break point and goes 6-5 down in the fourth set; he is clearly not in the right state of mind, and the expletives are flying thick and fast. Wawrinka, meanwhile, makes for a fascinating contrast: as cool as your average Swiss, his ace to take the set is unbelievable. So good is the shot that we unanimously shout for a replay, but time is pressing. The match has been going since 6ish, and it's definitely gone 9, though we've long lost track of time in this game. A subtitle insists that BBC News will follow the broadcast shortly, but my mind tells me a tie-breaker is on its way.

However, I'd forgotten Murray's determination. He holds serve well in the fifth set, then breaks serve even better: a lob shot by Wawrinka has us fearing the worst until Murray somehow scoops it back over the net to safety. Wawrinka has no response but to curse in disappointment; we have no response but to roar in hope. One game later, and Great Britain's lone standard-bearer is 3-0 up.

Game over?

We weren't counting on Stanislas: it seems no-one was, except maybe his coach and his father, who shares the same squashed profile. Wawrinka fights back mercilessly at first, and is soon 40-0 up in the fourth game. 3-1, surely? But no. Wawrinka has yet to develop that ruthless streak you see in such greats as Federer and Nadal, and he lets it slip to deuce.

Cue groans of despair from all: I actually punch the sofa as the horror of that scenario kicks in.

"What's worse than losing a game?"

"Getting to deuce."

"What's worse than getting to deuce?"

"Getting to deuce AGAIN!"

We laugh, but this is getting serious. Wawrinka not only holds serve, he breaks it too.

"I could play better than that!" roars Lewis, as Murray tamely smacks the ball into the net. In the next game, he barely moves: another Wawrinka ace makes short work of him.

"Pathetic." snarls Antony; 3-3.

Why do British athletes do this to us? And how come the Swiss are so good at tennis? You would have thought a country made up of lakes and mountains would be useless for such a game, but Wawrinka here is threatening to silence the hyped-up British press once and for all.

Until Murray holds serve, that is. Cue cameramen deliberately zooming in on any cheering female Murray supporter that happens to have a low-cut top. We are all agreed that most cameramen are peeping toms, and that being paid to perform such a task seems highly unjustified. Are they even watching this match?

The camera pans back to a girl with a low-cut red top. Nope, apparently not.

A few moments later and even the cameramen are focusing on the real action, as Murray finally breaks serve again and punishes Wawrinka for failing to show a killer instinct: the drop shots finally start to pay off, and his adversary's aces have long since vanished. As James returns to the house, I feel a stab of sympathy for both Wawrinka and his demise: he had nothing to lose, but the gratuitous whooping of Centre Court, complete with silly hats, threatens to tarnish the efforts of this red-nosed fighter. If Murray wants to go all the way in this contest, he would do well to copy his opponent's serve, and his temperament too.

A roar from the crowd: two match points to Murray. 40-30.

Silence reigns; through the house; down the street; and all the way to South-West London.

Thwock. Thwack. THWOCK.

"YES!"

The cry is in unison: the relief palpable. Murray has dispatched one Swiss: but as we decide a late snack is in order, and the pundits dash onto Centre Court, we all agree that there is much to be done before this hot-headed Scot dispatches the other one.

Is there anything more stressful than Wimbledon? After watching that performance, I doubt it.

Twitterpated! And other updates

Hey everyone! Thought you might like to know I've been Twitterpated...

www.twitter.com/madmadtourist

And that I've also set up a website.

www.madmadtourist.webs.com

Exciting stuff! Am also sorting out a visit to Suffolk, which should be sorted soon: have also been trying to organise my visits to West Yorkshire, Merseyside, East Yorkshire and Buckinghamshire, so am keeping myself busy!

Next stop tomorrow, Norfolk... Norfolk Road that is, as I'm staying with a friend for a few days. And yes, it is the friend who broke his foot on Saturday. Oh well, life goes on, n'est pas?

More updates soon!
Chris

Tour's on standby, folks!

Hey guys! I'm back in Cornwall for about a week now, so thought it would be sensible to inform you that I am the tour is on standby until then. This is partially because I've already done Cornwall, but mainly because there is the possibility that all this touring is going to wear me out: it certainly did last week, so I'm going to try and make sure that doesn't happen again by taking it easy for a bit.

Today for example was a rather slow day: browsed around Falmouth town for a bit and did some food shopping, watched some Dragon Ball Z (a seriously violent, yet hilarious, Japanese anime about martial arts and aliens), and went for a paddle round Gylly Beach, which was nice and peaceful. So nice and quiet, and I'm feeling much healthier as a result. Though the trip to Exmouth did me some good too, I'm sure: I shall be blogging about that in due course, that town is well worth a few hours of your time!

Oh yes, and the person who's house I'm staying at for a few days next week has broken his foot while swimming near some rocks: double fracture = very painful. Get well soon, Lewis!

Signing out,
Chris

Michael Jackson

Hey guys, am in Exeter now, but don't really feel like doing travel writing atm, because something rather shocking has happened: Michael Jackson, aged only 50 years old, has died. At around 9pm GMT - 12pm in Los Angeles - he stopped breathing, went into cardiac arrest, was rushed to hospital, but was pronounced dead on arrival.

My friend James Hartley and I really can't believe it: we've said "No way" at least a dozen times, despite listening to BBC News 24 and reading the word "dead" as many times. The shockwaves will of course be deeply felt in America, but his impact in Great Britain was huge, and his impact in my life was pretty big: such hits as "Thriller", "Beat It" and "Bad" are undoubtedly fantastic singles, and many is the time I have tried (and failed) to moonwalk.

Admittedly, his personal life decisions were regrettable at times: he clearly had significant issues; I detest plastic surgery purely because of how it disfigured him; and his lifestyle clearly affected his health. But the thing I admire about him is that he was able to make such good music despite his obvious flaws, and that he was able to show the world his potential: and while I would never try to copy or worship the man, his determination to make the most of his talent is distinctly admirable. For that, he has my respect as a fellow musician.

Rest in peace Michael, and thank you for the music.

Going to bed now. Shall wake up hoping it's not true. :(

Chris

Update: Hampshire and the Isle of Wight

Morning all! Am just getting ready to head out of Cornwall again: of course, the next time I leave here will be a somewhat more permanent exile, as I'll be away until late September, sniff. 'Tis a shame, but as I've already discovered, there are some other very nice counties besides Cornwall; and in any case, the majority of my friends are going home as well, so you'll excuse me for jumping on the bandwagon!

Anyhoo, just got the date for my visit to Hampshire and the Isle of Wight confirmed: I'll be heading there straight from Wiltshire before heading back to London. So a busy couple of days there! Here's my July itinerary so far, starting on 9/50:

9/50: Greater London
10/50: Wiltshire
11/50: Hampshire
12/50: Isle of Wight
13/50: Bedfordshire
14/50: Kent (tbc)
15/50: City of London
16/50: Scotland
17/50: Northumberland
18/50: Cumbria
19/50: Lancashire
20/50: Greater Manchester
21/50: Merseyside
22/50: Cheshire
23/50: West Yorkshire
24/50: South Yorkshire
25/50: Derbyshire
26/50: Nottinghamshire
27/50: Lincolnshire
28/50: Leicestershire

To put it mildly, I'm going to be very busy: that little lot starts on the 4th July and ends on the 21st, so that's 20 areas in 18 days. And, as you will have noticed, that still leaves 22 areas to go, on a current budget of 400 quid.

Should be interesting, n'est pas?

Right, time to pack and head off to Penmere station: I shall be arriving in Exeter in just under a few hours, mainly in piratical attire. Yarr! I best be gettin' into character, Jim lad.

Castin' off shipmates,
Chris

Back to the Exeter

Blogging frenzy! And I haven't even had a cup of tea...

Even though I've already completed my Devonian part of the tour, I'm heading back up to Exeter tomorrow, as those crazy but loveable Extunes people have invited me to yet another concert. However, in a marked change from the joys of choral music, this one's all about film scores, with Harry Potter and Pirates of the Carribbean on the billing, hence the piratey fancy-dress theme: quite frankly, I couldn't say no!

You again?

If I get the time, I might shuffle down to Exmouth on Friday and do a brief tour before heading back to Falmouth. I haven't been there before, but Exmouth does seem like a decent seaside town; and it also has beaches, which should make a nice alternative to built-up Exeter! Or possibly Torquay, that would be rather awesome now I think of it. The possibilities are endless! :)

The weather in Cornwall, by the way, is gorgeous, which makes you wonder why we're all starting to leave. Have been bumping into a few people who are off pretty soon: my good friend Elliott Sutcliffe was testing out my new Saxon acoustic guitar yesterday, and is doing his dissertation on how 60's Britain is represented in film. Interesting stuff, to say the least!

Right, back to these taster seconds for Third Year. First rule of Third Year, don't talk about Third Year. Second rule of Third Year...

Chris

Update: Bedfordshire and Wiltshire confirmed!

Brief update on where I'm going, and when! This comes as I've definitely sorted my visit to Bedfordshire: I am visiting Mr Edgar "Smaz" Duncan in order to rummage around Bedford, where no doubt we'll be doing something amusing involving John Bunyan. Bedford is also the birthplace of the late great Ronnie Barker, so hopefully we'll find a few reminders of him kicking about the place.

I've also sorted out my visit to Wiltshire, courtesy of one of the many Emmas I know, Emma Preuss, who has kindly agreed to give me a lift from Salisbury to Stonehenge: I haven't visited either of those places before, so it should be fascinating stuff! And we'll also be popping into the rather small village of Burbage, which should make quite a peaceful change from the noisy din that is London Town.

Other than that, my trip to Hampshire and the Isle of Wight is waiting on an amber signal at present, as my "tour guide", Emma Bennett, is waiting to see if she's working or not. And the same goes for my visit of Kent, where Sarah's checking to see when she's free to show me round Royal Tunbridge Wells, and possibly Sevenoaks. So all in all, busy busy times!

And after supposedly shaking off this cold, I sneezed three times in quick succession prior to this post. Stupid man flu...

Chris

Bonus Feature: Cheltenham, Gloucestershire

I'll never forget my time in 'Nam... I've always wanted to say that. Yesterday, whilst on my way back to Cornwall, I decided to spend a few hours pottering about this rather gentrified town: as Tewkesbury is the place I'm visiting for Gloucestershire, my exploits here didn't take me any closer to the 50 mark, but I felt Cheltenham merited a visit anyway. The great thing about Cheltenham is that it doesn't feel like it should be part of Gloucestershire at all: partly because people from Cheltenham don't always get on with people from Gloucester, but mainly because the majority of Gloucestershire did not benefit from the Regency era, something that cannot be said of Cheltenham. You get the feeling that someone decided to spend a lot of money on this place in a short amount of time, which certainly sounds like something George III would do, but the result gives you the impression that, this time at least, he knew what he was doing.

The caryatids (armless statues) of Montpellier

So, what is there to do in Cheltenham? Well, because of the fact that it really was rather small until the 1700s, there isn't a huge amount of history here: but if you're a fan of visual sights and shopping, you may not find anywhere better. The best way to arrive here is by bus, as most take you to the heart of Cheltenham, the Promenade: full of leafy trees, the usual shops and a sculpture of a hare and a minotaur, this is perfect for just ambling along on your way to either the High Street to the north, or the Town Hall gardens to the South.

They're here all week...

The Regent Arcade is also good for shopping (and is set to improve over the next few months, judging from the scaffolding), but even better for eating: the Viennese-style Druckers will have your mouth watering for some Apple Strudel, whilst at the north end, Butler's do a very reasonable cooked breakfast special for a mere £1.50. Millie's, an Ice Cream parlour, is also worth a look, with such amusing names for its milkshakes as RaRaRaspberry and Minted: I went for a Starvery Cool, which was well worth £2.49: compliments to the creator, Fi!

The Everyman Theatre

Like Bath, Cheltenham doesn't appear to be very diverse, but its capacity for letting people enjoying themselves is impressive. Want to go see a play? The Everyman Theatre on Regent Street is well worth a look, with regular big names in attendance. Is reading your thing? There's the Literature Festival in October with such names as Simon Armitage and Anthony Horowitz attending this year. Fancy a picnic? Montpellier Gardens, just south of Cheltenham town centre, is an ideal location, and there are plenty of other parks to choose from. And if you're a sports nut, there's Cheltenham Racecourse to the north, though football fans may wish to steer clear of Whaddon Road: poor old Cheltenham Town do not get very high attendances, and have just been relegated to League Two. Still, what Cheltenham lacks in footballing prowess, it more than makes up for in music: Gustav Holst, who composed The Planets Suite, was born here in 1874.

So all in all, Cheltenham makes for a nice break from the stress-filled routine: unless of course, you try walking with all your luggage from Cheltenham Spa railway station to the town centre, which is at least 20 minutes' walk. Definitely worth taking the number D bus instead!

Oh, and rather fittingly, I saw two people playing tennis in Montpellier Gardens, just as Wimbledon was kicking off. On the evidence I saw, British tennis is in trouble...

Chris

Back from the dead (and by dead I mean man flu)!

Hello! Sorry for the brief pause in transmission: after all the travelling I've been up to my immune system decided to shut down and thus I spent the entirety of the longest day of the year in my room, recovering. How you get colds and the like in such a month as June is beyond me, but I would guess that the 14 hours' sleep in 3 days combined with 200 miles of travelling may have had something to do with it. However, after several Beechams and a healthy amount of sleep, I am recovering fast, and should be back to my mad mad self before too long!

Talking of which, it appears that I've returned to Cornwall (where madness is usually tolerated) with an acoustic guitar in hand: Dad has very kindly lent me his for the summer, and with any luck I will be able to play a few tunes before this touring lark is over! In any case, guitars are great fun to just idle about with, and they usually come in handy at parties. It could be a while before you see me busking with one, however: I can do a few chords, but much practise is needed!

Also briefly visited Cheltenham in Gloucestershire and Taunton in Somerset today before returning to Falmouth, and shall hopefully be doing mini-blogs on all three. Taunton was caught in one heck of a heatwave, I don't mind telling you: perfect weather for cider, too.

Take care, and avoid man flu at all costs: not only does it make you feel rubbish, but you get zero sympathy. At least with some illnesses they send you a card...

Chris

8/50: Bristol/Clifton, Bristol

Bristol, like Bath, is one of those places that refuses to be placed in a specific area. It has been part of Gloucestershire, Somerset, and Avon, which gives you the idea that it moves around a lot: and its proximity to Cardiff, as well as its controversial links to the Carribbean, give you the impression of something that's been cobbled together rather quickly. Is it a port, a gateway to Wales, an upper-class Victorian haven, or a tribute to Isambard Kingdom Brunel? The answer, as you may have guessed, is all four, and this is what makes a rather fascinating hotchpotch of a city, despite its arguably chequered past.

While it is theoretically possible to visit Bristol by car, the traffic in South-West England's biggest city occasionally threatens to become chaotic: it is not necessarily jam-packed, but it is rather hectic. The main train station, Bristol Temple Meads, is about half a mile from the town, and if you're there for more than a few hours, it's best to get an all-day bus ticket for £3.90 into the centre, thus avoiding the busier roads. Either the 8 or 9 bus services from Temple Meads will take you to the main attractions and both are generally frequent and reliable.


Like Exeter, Bristol is very well sign-posted, and the city centre is not hard to find: once there, however, you may find yourself getting lost in a shopper's paradise, as various malls surround the busy streets. Fortunately, Bristol has much more to offer besides its compact centre, especially in the nearby suburb of Clifton Village, most famous for its Suspension Bridge, designed by a certain Brunel. As both I and my official tour guide Frances were quick to note, the area does at times feel like a shrine to Brunel, with many other buildings referring to, or named after, the English engineer. Clifton itself blends nicely with Bristol: important and wealthy, but with hints of originality, and in the case of Frances' house, memories of both Bristol's happier and darker times. The house itself is fantastic, but behind it is a rather deserted bunker from WWII: a stark reminder of how Bristol was heavily bombed. Incidentally, the house itself actually suffered a direct hit, but was later rebuilt.

Makes you glad we didn't live through the Blitz...

When it comes to the darker side of Bristol's history, however, most do not centre on the bombings: instead, much more focus has been put on its involvement in the slave trade during the 17th & 18th Centuries, as it appears to have been what made Bristol both bigger and wealthier. Certainly, Bristol benefited a lot from this inhumane industry, but the idea that it did not expand as a result of other factors, or that no-one in Bristol was against the slave trade, is perhaps taking things a little too far. The controversy still rages on to this day, but the museum on the British Commonwealth apparently does a good job of handling the issue: it's right next to Temple Meads station.

While it's important not to ignore the darker parts of a city (especially if you don't know it that well), not all of Bristol's landmarks are linked to the slave trade, and therefore can be celebrated: this applies in particular to perhaps Bristol's best attraction, the SS Great Britain, which is worth a day trip in itself. Launched in 1843 and returned to Bristol in 1970, this magnificent Atlantic liner is best accessed by a small ferry from the docks near the Cathedral (60p single fare), the ship has been brilliantly restored, and although the entrance fee of £10.50 (£8.50 for students) seems rather steep, it also gives you free access for the rest of the year: a definite advantage, because you will probably find it warrants a return trip!

Thar she, er, dry-docks!

The scale alone of the ship is impressive, as it was one of the largest of its time; anyone who is interested in either science, engineering or history will find it fascinating; and of course, the various hats and mannequinns dotted about make it amusing for kids and anyone who enjoys a good laugh! Unless the weather is horrendous, it's always best to walk around the deck itself and get a feel for what it was like to travel long distance by boat: and below decks, you also get a feel as to how much shorter the Victorians were compared to us, with even the first-class beds proving a bit on the small side! Elsewhere, the gift shop is worth a visit, doing a range of seafaring souvenirs: as my souvenir of Bristol, I bought a box of 50 SS Great Britain Tea Bags, which should keep me going for a fair bit of the tour yet!

An ingenious disguise...

Frances meets Brunel (former Blues Brother)

Not so much liner as whopper...

If you don't manage to visit the SS Great Britain, don't worry: Bristol still has much to offer, especially between Clifton and the Shopping Centres. College Green is the perfect spot for a picnic, and has the advantage of being right next to Bristol Cathedral: which, like Bristol itself, is a wide mix of different styles, and has the advantage of being practically free (a donation is suggested). It does not necessarily blow you away, but the stain-glassed windows of such famous people as Henry VIII and Lord Nelson make it worth a look-round, as does the Lady Chapel, which is surprisingly modern for a building that has existed since 1180. Indeed, the area around this part is particularly good for students, as the University is based around here, which has lead to a wide variety of good eateries, particularly Cafe Gusto at the top of Park Street, near the impressive Wills Memorial Building.

The Cathedral, right next to College Green

These days, however, the main draw to Bristol is not its architecture, but the man who's made a name for himself thanks to his skilled graffiti: the anonymous Banksy, whose recent exhibition at the Bristol Museum was so popular I didn't even bother trying to queue, as it would have taken an hour or so just to get in! In any case, as this is where he grew up and started his trade, you still can find a lot of his works on various streets, such as the one below, which we saw on Charlotte Street: some argue he's a genius, others that he makes outrageous profits from pure vandalism. Proof then, that to this day, while having a lot to be proud of, Bristol can't help but keep on courting with controversy...

Only a British person would use such awful puns...

Thanks to Frances for being a fantastic tour guide, to the people of Bristol for being a generally friendly bunch, and to the man who made my chicken and mayo baguette at Cafe Gusto: tasty doesn't even begin to cover it. And finally, a warning to cyclists in Bristol: in order to stop you going down pedestrian walkways, Bristol has a number of concrete "turnstiles" that are guaranteed to stop anyone on two wheels rather quickly!

Oh, and Happy Birthday to my brother Al, who turns 23 today. I'm back in Gloucestershire at the moment visiting him before heading back to Cornwall: not sure where I'm going on the tour next, but I'll let you know when I do!

Thanks for reading,

Chris

7/50: Exeter, Devon

What do people think of when they think of Devon? Perhaps unfairly, it has been described to me as an inferior version of Cornwall, or the bit that holds the rest of the West Country back. Both seem to me to be unusually harsh, and suggest that Devonshire people are unfortunately skilled in the art of annoying their local neighbours. But when you actually consider that this county contains both Dartmoor, Exmoor, the English Riviera that is Torquay and such cities as Plymouth and Exeter, it seems foolish to dismiss Devon so quickly: though to make one thing clear, Cornwall does Cornish pasties better. It would just be weird otherwise, wouldn't it?

Exeter, in particular, is worth at least a few hours' of your time, and not necessarily because it appears to be city on the up. Exeter City have just been promoted to the third tier of English football; the University of Exeter are 9th in the official tables; and a rather gigantic Next store has recently been completed. But, at the risk of offending the Grecians, my lecturers, and various shoppers, this isn't what makes Exeter, or indeed Devon, great. Instead, what should strike you about both this city and county is the innovation of Devonshire people, and indeed British people in general: and occasionally, the lack of it.

As you approach Exeter St David's (the main railway station) from the South-West, you see the city's own Millennium Bridge, with a medieval church in the background: however, on exiting the station, you are confronted with some buildings that can only have been built in the two decades immediately after the war. Exeter was bombed on the 4th May, 1942, and whilst enough of the original buildings have survived to make the city well worth visiting, there is the odd concrete monstrosity kicking around. Still, once you head into the city centre - a 15-minute walk, which is well signposted - the general surroundings improve.

St. Peter's Cathedral

After meeting up with my official tour guide, Mr Phil Tyson (who does Maths at Exeter Uni), we proceeded to one of Exeter's key attractions, St. Peter's Cathedral. As we were students, entry was only £3, which compared to some is quite reasonable: adult entry, however, is about a fiver. It's still worth going in though, because Phil and I not only found a great deal to see, but also got told some interesting stories by the Cathedral staff, who definitely know this place inside-out. Like many other Cathedral workers, Devonshire stonemasons left amusing mementos: some would just leave their initials, whilst one decided to carve a gargoyle sticking his tongue out at a presumably unpopular bishop! We also found out that one of the Bishops, Bishop Oldham, actually came from Oldham, which was originally called Owldham: hence, of course, the owls around his tomb! Devon also appears to share in Great Britain's habit of coming up with silly names... poor old Nutcombe Nutcombe...

Oh, the cruelty of parents...

It has to be said that Devonshire people are happy to help tourists: with all the signposts and maps dotted around, you'd be hard pressed to get lost in this city. Unless of course, you tried to navigate the unique underground passages by yourself! This is Phil and I went in the mid-afternoon, and is definitely Exeter's main attraction: the exhibition probably needs a bit of work, but it was interesting learning about how they were built, and why. Basically, the passages were built as an easy means of getting to the Cathedral's water supply: the pipes were laid down using the cut-and-cover method they used with much of the London Underground. Indeed, the paralells between these passages and the Tube are striking: firstly, both have been used as an air-raid shelter during WWII; and secondly, both have a long history of problems with the infrastructure! In Exeter's case, the pipes were badly built, and leaked quite a lot. Still, when you stand underneath Fore Street and can hear the traffic rumbling above, and imagine the bombs dropping, it is rather thought-provoking: definitely worth the entrance fee of about £4, and easy to find: it's on Paris Street, near the shopping centre.

Hold on to your hat, Phil!

As well as having a fair amount of history, both Exeter and Devon seem to be good at unearthing musical talent: perhaps most famously, in the case of Chris Martin, who was born in Exeter and is best known for being the lead singer of Coldplay. Also famous around these parts are Muse, as the band formed in nearby Teignmouth, having grown up in the area. With this in mind, my souvenir of Exeter and Devon was Coldplay's double-disc album, Viva la Vida: the title track alone has almost 50 million hits on Youtube, a feat which modern Devon can be proud of.

In addition to breeding musical talent, Exeter also attracts it: I spent Wednesday evening attending a concert at the University, where the Exeter University Singers put on a decent showing, especially with their renditions of such West Side Story songs as Maria and Make of our Hands, as well as a spine-chilling performance of Karl Jenkins' Adiemus. I am horrendously biased with regards to my opinion of anyone involved with music at Exeter Uni, as I attended their Orchestra Week in 2007, but I think everyone would agree that they are worthy of saluting. Well done guys, and in case you'd got this tune out of your heads, I say: Chilli Con Carne! If you want to find Exeter's main campus, also known as Streatham, there are plenty of signs: either head up the hill from St. David's turn left after The Imperial Pub, or head west from the High Street along Queen Street and New North Road: either way, it takes about 20 minutes, and is rather hilly!

You can't go wrong with Leonard Bernstein...

If you get as hungry as I did in Exeter in the evening, you could do worse than heading west of the Bus Station along New North Road and getting some pizza at the Firehouse: £6 for 9 slices, all of which are absolutely delicious (but piping hot)! The pub itself is a joy to behold with candlelit tables and it's a popular student haunt. The Imperial is probably the best Wetherspoon's I've ever visited, the Ship Inn is where Sir Francis Drake presumably had a pint or four, and Pitcher & Piano's has some excellent cocktail bar staff: proper pros, those guys!

It would take me forever to fully describe everything to see in Exeter: Drake's Coffee House is worth a look, as is the Quayside; ultimately, this is a city that is not as rich or important as it used to be, but is starting to become its old dominant self after a period of largely unsuccessful post-war reconstruction. It is quite different from North Devon and areas like Dartmoor, but all of Devon shares the habit of both attracting and breeding talent, whilst generally being quite laid-back with regards to life. Busy enough to keep you on your toes, but peaceful enough to make it much less stressful than most built-up areas in Great Britain. But then again, as a University of Exeter student, I might be just a little bit biased.

Thanks to Phil for showing me round, and for letting me stay the night in the spare room: all the best, Phil! And to Fred, who kept me company on the journey up there, and drew me a fantastic Batman photo :D

I'll try and get the blog on Bristol up either today or tomorrow: thanks for reading!
Chris

Broken Bed, Anyone?

Hey guys. Am writing this at some insane time in the morning because I've just been fixing my friend Phil's bed: one of his housemates broke it in a fit of drunknosity, and you can bet they're not particularly happy with each other. I seem to attract madness everywhere I go, don't I? Anyhoo, I thought it would be nice to do a post where I'm actually talking about how I feel rather than just telling you about places. To be honest, after what's just happened, I have to say that I am never, ever getting drunk like that.

SERIOUSLY.

Maybe it's just Great Britain's culture, but I swear someone needs to teach at least half our population the severe error of binge-drinking. I'm not saying we should all go teetotal here, but breaking somebody's bed, denying it, not knowing what year it is because you are that far gone: this is not what most British people are like, and it annoys me that the world sees us as a group of idiotic drunkards, but if you're going to hand people evidence like that...

Anyone who knows me will know I don't generally drink that much, if at all (though I had a glass of California Rose tonight and a bit of Pimm's, so better than usual), generally because I hate seeing what it does to people, especially if I care about that person. Too much of anything that belongs to this world is not good for you, and alcohol not only proves this point, it blasts this point home through several walls. Poor old Phil had just had his bed fixed, and now has to try and get it fixed again.

Not that this post's supposed to put you off drinking: heck, I heartily recommend a glass of Pimm's, and you can't beat Kopparberg Pear Cider sometimes. But tonight has definitely reinforced the truth I already knew: there is so much more to this life than getting hammered off your face; Great Britain knows it; I know it; and so help me, this tour is going to prove it.

Oh, the rantnosity of this post. I love you all really, even when you're a bit gone. Just don't smash up someone's bed, please. My temporary fix of several large economics books may be working so far, but it won't wash with the landlord...

Chris

P.S. Exeter's awesome by the way, well worth a visit. Shall be blogging about it and Bristol in full detail very shortly!

6/50: St Ives, Cornwall

"As I was going to St Ives, I met a man with seven wives..." Of all the places in Cornwall, it is perhaps St Ives that has the most worldwide recognition: this famous riddle has even featured in Die Hard III, giving this Cornish town a somewhat unlikely connection with Bruce Willis and Samuel L Jackson. Personally, what I want to know is why so many people were going away from St Ives, because after visiting it twice within the past month, it doesn't seem like the place that people would want to leave. Except if they've had a bad seagull experience, but we'll come to that later! I first visited St Ives the day after my exams, as I thought it would be a nice day trip for several reasons. Firstly, it was a lovely day; secondly, I hadn't been there before; and thirdly, because it was a break from the old routine. Admittedly, I wasn't sure what to see there - I had heard it was a very arty place - but I thought it deserved at least one visit.

Having travelled there by train and by car, I can safely say I preferred the train, mainly because the roads around St Ives are very confusing! Whilst map-reading for my "chauffeur" Sarah Adams (who hails from Cornwall), we saw a sign that said "Welcome to St Ives", only to find that it was actually Lelant, and that the real St Ives was at least 3 miles away: possibly the most misleading sign ever! The train line does admittedly involve more changes, but the branch line is very picturesque, and the journey from St Erth to St Ives is only 15 minutes: most trains from London and the South-West will stop at St Erth.

The railway station: conviently located!

If you arrive by train, as I did the first time, you will immediately notice a rather large beach to the right: this is Porthminster Beach, which along with Porthmeor Beach (on the north-west side of town) vies for the title of the town's best beach. Having visited both, it's pretty tricky to pick a winner: the sand on both is excellent, and both get rather busy in the summer! At the moment, Porthmeor is my favourite, because that's where I indulged in a spot of sand-writing (see above), but if you've got the time, it's best to check out both. St Ives also has two smaller beaches ,Porthgwidden and Harbour, which are perhaps more enjoyable if you want some peace and quiet.

Porthminster Beach: ain't it a beaut?

Heading straight-on from the train station, which is right next to a large car park, you soon find yourself in the middle of town: the great thing about St Ives is that it's not difficult to get your bearings, especially if you follow the crowds to begin with! Most people go up the steps on the left and head straight along the main road until it forks into Bedford Road on the left, and the High Street on the right. It's always advisable to keep an eye out for St Ia, the Church in the middle of town: but in any case, this is a well-signposted town, and you shouldn't get lost unless you're trying to figure out the complexities of the road system, which probably needs some work!

One of the things I really liked about St Ives is that you can do a wide variety of things: you can just head to the beach and enjoy the surprisingly cool water; you can explore the many different shops; you can help yourself to some Cornish cuisine; you can go trekking up towards the small Chapel on the Island; or you can simply marvel at all the artwork on display in the town. West Cornwall benefitted hugely from the flood of artists that came to the region looking to capture the magnificent scenery of this part of the world, mainly as a result of the arrival of the railway. Barbara Hepworth, Alfred Wallis, and countless others have made a living out of creating masterpieces, some of which are on display in the Tate St Ives, next to Porthmeor Beach. The displays are pretty good, though whether they're worth the entrance fee could be debated, especially when you can look around most of the town galleries for free.

Just as well I paid student fare, isn't it? But worth a peek!

Just one example of the excellent artwork this town's produced...

What particularly struck me about St Ives was that, unlike some parts of this county, it had both a Cornish and an International feel, which for an area that supposedly yearns to be separate from England, seems a little surprising. Perhaps it's because of it's international reputation for art, and its unique climate, but this seemed the sort of place that revelled in being part of a group, rather than yearning to distance itself from the rest of England. There was no resentment of tourists or students here either, which is not entirely the case in my student town of Falmouth, but that may be because the residents direct their anger towards a different target: seagulls.

An "evil, evil seagull"... at least this one can't steal your food!

Most British people would probably agree that seagulls are a bit of a nuisance, but the ones in St Ives are apparently so bad that, in the words of one ice-cream vendor, an RAF detachment may be required to deal with the bloody things. A couple of people who accompanied me on my second trip had horror stories to tell of their ice creams being snatched, and there is actually a sign near the station warning visitors to shield their food: good thing I had a hat to protect my cornish pasty, then! But don't let them put you off, just remember that it's often safer to enjoy St Ives' excellent cuisine (try the chips at the Lifeboat Inn on the Wharf!) inside a restaurant.

You have been warned...

And in terms of shops, I suggest you spend at least an hour just browsing in Fore Street, north of St Ia: there is something for everyone along this street, from the delightfully hippy No Worries (which sells camper van mugs) to I Should Coco, the originality of the shops here will mean that when the time comes to leave St Ives, you will feel a little saddened, and determined to come back again before too long. Unless of course, you take your eyes off that ice cream of yours for so much as a second.

Mug of awesomeness!

Special thanks to all my UCF friends who recommended visiting in the first place, and to Sarah for driving me there. And for those who wish to know the answer to "How many were going to St Ives?", consider this: there are two St Ives in Great Britain, the other being in Cambridgeshire. So maybe they were all going to St Ives after all...

Listen to Kenny, he speaks the truth!

5/50: Bath, Somerset

Think Bath, and the chances are you won't immediately think of Somerset. After all, Somerset evokes thoughts of rock festivals, cider, an obsession with the letter z, cheddar and the Wurzels, none of which really seem to apply to the history-obsessed, Jane-Austenised, regency city of Bath. Indeed, there is a definite sense of separation between Bath and the rest of the county: partly because it appears to be on the "wrong side" of Bristol, and partly because it has a much higher student population: two universities, compared to er... well, does Somerset actually have any other universities?? Add to this the high number of tourists Bath attracts compared to the rest of what is a rather quiet county, and you see why Bath seems to be in a county all of its own.

Here, this ain't no comboine 'arvester...

Of course, there are some things that link Bath to its county of origin: Bath Abbey and Wells Cathedral, near Glastonbury, were linked for a long time under the Bishop of Bath & Wells, which for me evokes memories of Blackadder II, which had an episode based on said bishop. Fortunately, neither Bath nor Wells have since attracted a reputation for eating babies, which is probably just as well! You can still hear the classic Somerset accent - or should I say, Zummerzet accent - around here as well if you pay close attention, but it is hard to show how Bath and Somerset are one and the same when Bath will insist on being so fantastically different.

"And did you tell him about the baby-eating Bishop of Bath and Wells?"

Take, for example, Pulteney Bridge and the Weir: there are not many bridges I know that have a wide variety of shops on them, nor do I know of a weir that is quite so ferocious. As my good friend Tom Murphy (a student at the University of Bath) explained, you would be mad beyond belief to attempt to kayak down the weir, as the sheer physics of it alone would leave you somewhat doomed. Strangely, this does not stop the odd madman from trying: but judging from the comedy show we walked past near the Abbey, Bath is full of a few wonderfully mad people.

Pulteney Bridge, complete with riverside cafe!

Looking along the bridge itself

My capable guide, Mr Tom Murphy.

As Tom pointed out to me on our way south towards the bus station, there are signs of the weird (and therefore wonderful) everywhere you go in Bath. Near Pulteney Bridge, there is a house with three different styles of roof...

You can walk from the majestic splendour of such Regency streets as the Royal Crescent and The Circus to the Roman Baths in less than 10 minutes, via some truly magnificent parks and gardens...

There is a delightful shop on Cheap Street (west of the Abbey) called December 25th, which presumably does not actually open on the day itself...

And the road system is so chaotic that it actually makes a great deal of sense to get off the stop BEFORE the bus station! Though in fairness, this only applies to the city centre: transport to and from the suburbs is both quick and reliable, and the rail service is pretty good when you consider that Bath wasn't on any of the original main lines. And compared to the madness that is Stroud Bus Station, the only one I know that lies either side of a MAIN ROAD, it wasn't really a huge inconvenience.

I don't really feel I can make a full assessment of Bath without visiting it again: Tom certainly made for a good guide, and it definitely left a good impression on me, but it felt like a place you need to experience quite a few times before fully grasping its many features and contrasts, which is usually the case when there's a high student population kicking around (student housing, incidentally, is not to be sniffed at in Bath). In any case, I didn't actually go to the Roman Baths, which seems beyond belief when you consider how the place got its name. Shocker!

4/50: Oxford, Oxfordshire

The last of my January visits, Oxford is a place I know very well in ways, but is not a place that can be easily sterotyped: and I therefore felt it deserved to be on the list. In any case, it seems a bit bizarre to try and sum up Oxfordshire without visiting Oxford, especially as it contains so many of the county's characteristics, whilst having a distinctly different side to it. Even without its much-lauded university, Oxford has a number of key attractions: it is one of the many passing points of the River Thames (it's also known in Oxford as the Isis), it was the host of a vast number of burnings that took place during the reign of Mary Tudor - hence the memorial to Thomas Cranmer, Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley - and it served as the Headquarters for King Charles and the Royalists (that most famous of pop groups) during the English Civil War. However, to try and sum up Oxford without mentioning the University is a thankless task, especially when there are so many University colleges in the city centre alone. The fact that Oxford University is the oldest of its kind in England alone speaks volumes about its history, not to mention the fact that it has seen the likes of Thatcher, Rowan Atkinson and Samuel Johnson pass through its doors as students, which gives you a glimpse of its diversity.

The Oxford Ox (and Brian)

However, if you arrive in Oxford by train, as I did, the first thing you see is not a University building, but the statue of an Ox just outside the station: as the logic behind place names goes, Oxford's is pretty clear-cut. Heading east towards the centre, you soon pass over the Thames, as well as getting a glimpse of Oxford Castle, which sadly does not compare well to its peers. Shortly after this, the shopping centres loom, but it is only after Queen Street that Oxford really becomes enticing, as the "city of dreaming spires" comes into its own. An interesting mix of shops, pubs and colleges, Oxford's centre compresses itself into a cross between Touristville and Studentville: no souvenir too tacky, no shop devoid of student discounts, no street too pedestrianised! Thankfully, the latter makes the city relatively car-free, though some would argue that the many cyclists are a constant menace. Opposite Balliol College and by these pedestrianised streets, the Tourist Information Centre is definitely worth a peek, not least because of the amusing fridge magnets, which include a wobbling don on a spring next to the iconic Bridge of Sighs.

The River Isis

Although January is not always the best time to visit Oxford - punting on the Thames isn't available in the winter months - it is significantly cheaper to visit the colleges at this time, and you get to experience the colleges when they are full of students, rather than full of tourists. Some colleges stand out more than others, though they are all worth a peek if you have the time: Christchurch is the location of the Cathedral, whilst St. John's and Merton are usually seen as the big hitters, due to their size, prestige and vast wealth. However, colleges such as these usually require a map (it is very easy to get lost in St. John's!), and you may find smaller colleges such as St. Edmund Hall and Oriel more appealing: St. Edmund's is one of the smallest colleges, whilst Oriel is medium-sized, and is right next to Merton and Christchurch. Also of interest are Jesus College (it is a running joke that hundreds are rejected by Jesus every year), Balliol (one of the oldest colleges) and Magdalene, which has its own deer park. Apparently every don gets their own deer, and if the don dies, then the deer is killed. Which makes you wonder what happens when the deer dies...

Magdalene College... where the deer and the graduates play?

My particular interest in Oxford is that I am an honorary member of one the University's many societies: namely, Oxford University Light Entertainment Society (OULES for short). OULES are one of at least four Drama Societies, but unlike the others, they are dedicated to putting on performances for those who aren't able to attend theatre performances, such as the elderly. They are also dedicated to having a laugh, randomly bursting into song, and (in some cases) gin. I had the honour of co-writing one of the plays they performed in 2005, and both my brother Al and my sister Rose performed in it: indeed, Rose has been a member of OULES since 2001, when she started studying at Balliol. We met up in the Four Candles for lunch: sadly, this Wetherspoons pub has not taken the opportunity to exploit the reference to that most famous of Two Ronnies sketches, but it is a decent enough pub, and has the advantage of being both "town" (non-student friendly) and "gown" (student friendly), which isn't the case with most Oxford pubs.

"No, fork 'andles... 'andles for forks!"

Whilst most pubs in Oxford do a good lunch, the best places to eat are arguably the cake shops, particularly the Vaults, which on location alone is worth visiting, as it is right next to the Radcliffe Camera, and is only a stone's throw from the aforementioned Bridge of Sighs, a brilliant copy of the Venetian original (as might be expected, Cambridge also has a copy). Although the cakes do seem a little pricey at first glance, you cannot complain about the quality, and the friendly staff are a credit to the city. Shopping is also decent, particularly if you're a fan of bookstores: but it is interesting to note that Oxford City Centre never had a Woolworths, though this isn't as strange now as it was a few years ago!

The Radcliffe Camera

The Bridge of Sighs

Like many of the places I've visited so far, what strikes me about Oxford is the contrast: this is a place where it is not uncommon to see a magnificent piece of Gothic architecture shunted into the background by the presence of a kebab van. The colleges may give the impression that this city is thriving, and in terms of tourism it most certainly is, but a brief foray into the residential areas shows that Oxford is still struggling to recover from the decline of one of its main industries: automobile production at Cowley, in the south-east of the city. It would be going too far to say the area is deprived: however, some of the residential areas appear to be suffering from gradual decay, and you sense that this is an area where the recession could bite with some force. Both Oxford and Oxfordshire have been faithful servants to England's history, and both are a credit to the country, but stereotype either at your peril: this county is so much more than a hotbed for students.

3/50: York, North Yorkshire

January was quite a busy month as far as Let's Go 50-50 was concerned, and the day after Durham, I decided to head home to Gloucestershire: but first, I took a few hours out in order to visit my good friend Andrew (also known as Andy) Hartley in York. Andy and I have known each other since Year 7, which is going back far enough to make me feel nostalgic! As members of our school's Railway Society, York was familiar territory to both of us: even more so to Andy, as he studies Archaeology at the University of York, and is in his 2nd year there. I very nearly ended up going there with him, but was put off by the Uni's attempt to offer me Historical Archaeology rather than History and Archaeology: the former seemed a bit too specialised for my liking.

My trusty guide, Mr Andrew Hartley

As you may have guessed from the photo, we started (and indeed finished) by going round the city walls, which are almost completely intact: they're also a good point for shooting Scotsmen with a crossbow after dark if they go within the city walls, which is still perfectly legal! Considering York has been around for so long (Romans, Vikings, you name it), it's a wonder that you're still able to navigate most of the original wall structure: and they offer pretty good views to boot! The best bit is probably from Petergate (NW York City Centre) to Monkgate (NE York City Centre), which is excellent if you want a few photos of the Yorkminster: Monkgate also houses the Richard III museum, who is perhaps the most misunderstood Yorkist ever, courtesy of The Bard. Micklegate, south of York Railway Station is also worth a look: turn right on exiting the Station onto Queen Street, and it's the first on your left. In my honest opinion, the name Micklegate alone justifies checking it out.

Monkgate

The Yorkminster is definitely an impressive sight, not least because of its immense size: it really does dominate York's landscape. Indeed, it's one of the biggest Gothic Cathedrals in the whole of Northern Europe, the other being in Cologne, Germany. Small wonder then that it's able to house the Archbishop of York, second only to that bloke in Canterbury! The interior is also impressive, though beware the price: Andy and I found £5 for students (and £6 for adults) a bit much, and decided that having Cap'n Brian pose with a statue the Roman Emperor Constantine was much more fun, not too mention economically viable.

Yorkminster (not a Bond film)

Constantine: on first-name terms with Cap'n Brian

Perhaps one of the nicest things I can say about York is that I immensely enjoyed my visit despite the fact that it rained for the whole two hours I was there, which does say a lot about what it has to offer. In particular, there are a wide range of pubs dotted about within the network of narrow streets such as The Shambles and Stonegate, which contains the Evil Eye Lounge, which contains, among other things, four-poster beds that you can lounge in for a while, complete with cushions. Some of the pubs also have caverns, which were a welcome refuge from the constant drizzle!

You can't say no to four-poster beds, can you?

One of the things I like most about York is that, despite the name, it is not what the average tourist would call typical Yorkshire. And that is because Yorkshire has a lot more to offer than what Emmerdale appears to imply: you do not immediately think Vikings, Opera Houses and Ghost Hunts when you think of Yorkshire, yet York offers all these things and many more besides. I have been at least three times and still have a lot more to experience, though I can at least claim to have walked every part of the City Walls, which is enjoyable in almost any weather. All in all, you could do a lot worse than visit the place that puts the York in Yorkshire: just don't expect too much in terms of sport, as the once-proud York City F.C. has hit a decidedly rough patch. Kit-Kat Crescent, anyone?