Ah its been a time of upheaval dear reader, I am now well and truly out of my little Preston home and am living the life of a gypsy, hanging my hat where ever I can find space for it. Currently that space is in Bendigo, mercifully it is my last week of work otherwise I think I may fall over having to commute 4 hours every day. This is practise for what is to come though and I tell myself that everything can be survived if you focus on what comes after it.
So what does come after it? I have quit my job, packed up and moved out of my flat and in about 2 weeks will be heading off first on a big red plane to Sydney and then on an even bigger white one to Abu Dhabi, eventually making my way to London where I'll base myself for an as yet undetermined period of time. I will be back for next Christmas, that is a given, I might be back sooner, I might not who knows but I wanted an adventure so I'm making myself one.
This all started last Christmas in the baking heat, it had hovered somewhere around 40 degrees for entirely too long as far as I was concerned and I thought wouldn't it be nice to be somewhere cold, seriously cold, like the Icehotel in Sweden for instance, I had always wanted to go there and see the northern lights, hear if they really do hum or if that was a rumour spread by stoners.
I was tired of wishing for things, tired of thinking wouldn't it be nice and made a decision then and there to make it happen. That if I wanted to see the Icehotel then I should go see it.
So I am. A week before Christmas in fact. I'll be flying to Stockholm, wandering around for a day and then catching a plane up north into the arctic circle to potentially freeze my arse off in a rather unique hotel.
The idea that this is actually happening is still slightly surreal, but that may be down to the lack of sleep I've had even before exiting my little garret in the northern suburbs. Sleep has increasingly become consumed by the details of the trip. Time that once was spent sleeping now ticks past while I plot out details or arrange for books to be ferried back to Casa De Dad or throw out things that I had once decided to keep for some reason that now eludes me.
There might well be a benefit in this exhaustion though, it does leave me too tired to freak out or worry much. I just wearily trust that the plans I've made will come to fruition, trust in my own ability to find my way through tricky travel situations when they arrive and given that I've gotten myself this far with everything I'm prepared to continue to have faith.
It just feels like the right time to do this, global economies not withstanding.
I had thought I was rather a sentimental person but I extracted myself from little home without shedding a tear or feeling too nostalgic, maybe I had that feeling in increments over the last year, maybe it leached out of me in short bursts rather than in one big memorable moment as I looked for the last time on my scrubbed clean and vacant flat.
There is one thing I will miss though and I made an effort to spend a little time saying good bye to it. I've talked a bit about the Preston Market in this blog, one of my favourite places to go and wander. For as long as I lived in Preston I never went longer than 2 weeks without paying it a visit.
So on the day before I was to finally move out, a Saturday, I decided to pay it one last visit.
I wanted to get out of the flat to avoid the awkwardness of the open house that had been organised by the estate agent and I had found about half a dozen empty Rewine bottles that I decided to take back. Off I trekked, clinking like an alchie on my way down to the market. Found once I got there that the Rewine people cant actually take back the bottles apparently for hygiene reasons but they agreed to reuse mine themselves and we talked about my trip for a bit. Its my main topic of conversation at the moment, it must be getting really boring for my friends.
Coffee has increasingly become the glue that holds my personality together in these busy times and there is a fantastic coffee place just in the deli section that sells coffee beans of all types either whole or ground depending on your preference, all kinds of little biscuits and the most satisfying display of Italian chocolates all wrapped up in different coloured foils.
I skulked towards the coffee place and asked them for a coffee so strong it might kill me, I have it black with 2 sugars, as strong as they can make it. Oh dear god, awesome, awesome coffee but hotter than the sun. I grabbed myself some breakfast as it cooled, a bacon roll from one of the many stalls that ring the deli section. I stood there while the cooked it fresh for me, there is one thing I have to say about the market, this may be a good thing or a bad thing depending on your perspective, certainly it results in a bit of theatre which can be fun, but in my time going there I've noticed that the market is like a magnet to every whacked out, doped up crazy bogan within a 25 mile radius on Saturday mornings and one stood next to me with his wife/ defacto/significant other next to him. “Give us a chop suey roll” he drawled at the woman behind the counter “This” she said uncertainly pointing towards an egg and bacon roll “Nah, that” that he barked waving a tobacco stained hand at about 10 things in the bain marie. “A spring roll” the counter lady asked picking one up with her tongs “Nah” he shouted “A fuckin chop suey roll”. Counter lady was lost. “A chicko roll” his female counterpart interpreted for him a little too late I thought. “Yeah yeah, a chicko roll and some chips and a coke” he said suddenly feeling grandiose. Then he began a mathematical debate with the counter lady about why she thought that $2.80, $2.20 and $3.00 in her mind made $8 while in his head and his lady friend's head they only added up to $7.
That was the point at which I decided to take my bacon roll and coffee and move down to sit in front of the flower shop to eat in peace. I drank my reviving coffee and read the menu of the take away place on the corner, Cafe Latte $2.20, cappuccino $2.20, Long/Short Black $2.20, Instant coffee $2.20. Yep, somewhere in the world they still sell instant coffee, so if you are one of the rare breed who thinks 'Coffee from a coffee machine, pah, give me instant I say' you will be welcomed with open arms at a take away place in the Preston market as long as you are armed with $2.20.
I ended up buying myself a little carry on suitcase and some of those big plastic bags for my packing and allowed myself one last indulgence of a hot jam donut from the van near the fruit and vegie section before dragging myself home for the last of my packing.
This wont be the last of my posts by any stretch of the imagination, I'll still be cooking my way around the UK and posting to you about that, I'm also posting to a travel blog for all of your non food related needs, links to follow.
Bare with me, this might be fun.
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