Oxford

This is Oxford's newest hotel: Malmaison. In the foreground is Becky - say hello, Becky. You might be thinking, hmmm, that hotel looks suspiciously like a prison. That's because it IS a prison, or was, I should say. HMP Oxford was closed in 1996. The Council had to decide how to preserve this piece of heritage and in the end chose to sell it to a hotel chain. A great idea - the result is a wonderful piece of architecture. The hotel rooms are made up of two or three cells knocked together, and use the original three-inch thick doors. All the old stairs, exercise yard, corridors have been kept intact. Go Oxford.

Goostrey to Wembley in Eighty Days

What an astonishingly exhausting day. Some people will go to the most extraordinary lengths to see the bands they idolise - and now I'm one of them. I'm not sure I've ever done so much travelling or been on so many delayed trains. Goostrey-Wembley is not a journey I would recommend to anyone.

When Becky and I stepped off the tube at Wembley Park we were rewarded by the sight of the new Wembley Stadium with it's glorious arch stretching across the skyline (I should stress that I didn't take this picture!). Ah, football... but of course we had to turn aside and proceed to the much smaller Wembley Arena next door.

We stood pretty near the front, feeling very chuffed with ourselves, until we discovered we had to stand waiting a further two hours before Muse came on. By this point the crowd was rabid. We barely had any room to move. And when the first chord was struck, everyone surged forward crushing us in a heaving mass of 17-year old A Level students. We didn't last long before we were fighting our way to the back!

All in all, it was an excellent show. The audience alternated between a state of possessed exuberence and bored dehydration. I was no exception. Unfortunately, Muse themselves didn't seem very excited by the occasion, but that didn't stop them putting on a good performance. Yes, we all had a good old sing-song. And next time I go to Wembley, it'll be with Three Lions on my shirt.

Light and movement

Yesterday I went to another careers fair. In Birmingham this time - the National Exhibition Centre. Birmingham's actually harder to get to than London. I had to change trains twice both directions. It wasn't a bad day, but I've nothing exciting to report so I experimented with my digital camera instead.

These are three photos of the same walkway in the NEC, but taken with different settings. Cool, no? I can't remember which settings go with which picture though , so I've still got plenty of room to improve!

Three things about Cheshire

I am starting to reflect more on Cheshire since the Goostrey exhibition. It's not my favourite county, but I'm becoming a little less cynical about the place. Here's three things to ponder.

1. Goldplated: the new Channel Four show about the Cheshire high life. What nonsense. Avoid at all costs. This isn't about Cheshire, it's about the parlous state of modern TV drama. Cheshire is much nicer.

2. Old People: there's plenty. I catered for the Natwest Pensioners coffee morning yesterday. What wonderful people they are. Very demanding about their coffee, but a cornerstone of society. I can't wait to be one.

3. Nantwich: lovely. I never give it a second thought, but I went with my Mum today and it's a beautiful little town. Tip: don't eat at the Cafe de Paris.

Ok - it's not much, but it's a start.

London (again)

Look where I've just been. Flashy, eh? Back to London for the second time in four days. Except on this occasion I took the train - and I didn't get the wrong day! It was a careers fair for working in the not-for-profit / public sector.

I've never properly considered working for a charity. I assumed they wanted volunteers, not employees. So it was quite enlightening to discover that Cancer Research UK has a graduate training scheme for corporate services and marketing. I felt like I was talking to someone from Deloitte.

A career in transport?

What an amazing day, yesterday. I got to mess around in London. But why was I there?

I went to attend an Open Day for "Transport for London" (TfL for those in the know), who are the body responsible for... well, yeah, you got it. It ran from 10.30-3.30. I knew from many childhood trips that the journey to London takes about three hours, so I set forth at half six in the morning. Half six, you hear me! That's earlier than seven! But not early enough. By the time I got to Birmingham I was stuck in traffic.

The problem with traffic jams is not that they delay you - you expect them to do that, and deep down you're glad for the excuse to be late for something. The problem is that you just get bored. I was stuck all the way from Birmingham to Luton. I felt like just turning round and going home.

By the time I got to the edge of London I was already way late for the event. I hurriedly tried to find a spot to park, but London isn't designed to be helpful for people who don't know what they're doing (like me). It took another half hour before I sighted a tiny spot by the side of the road and performed, under pressure, the most exquisite parallel park London has ever seen. As any man will tell you, nothing can give you as much pride as a perfectly executed parallel park.

It was about 12 by this time, and when I got off the tube at London Bridge I realised that I didn't have a pen and paper. Of course there were no newsagents in sight, so I was forced to dart into the London Dungeon gift shop, against the protestations of the staff ("this isn't the entrance"). Fortunately, the venue for the TfL conference wasn't hard to find. It wasn't until I walked confidently into a Lloyd's TSB business meeting brandishing my sharpened Jack the Ripper pencil that I realised I'd got the wrong day.

Still, who can complain about having an unexpected day out in London? I didn't leave empty-handed. Here you can see my certificate for climbing all 311 steps of The Monument (that's its full name). Maybe there is something that can make a man more proud than parallel parking.

Manchester united

I spent the day in Manchester. It's starting to look familiar now - I can even find my way around without a map. It's a pretty decent city, all in all. Makes me wonder whether I need to go to London after all.

I had a bit of a wander around and came across a Mongolian restaurant. Cool, eh? I've never seen a Mongolian restaurant before. I thought Mongolia was the backwater of all backwaters. What is it doing here in Manchester? On the door was a map of the Mongol Empire, which I just happen to know is the second largest empire in history (and the largest contiguous empire in history), so there. They let you select all your meat raw and cover it in sauces and then they cook it for you. Might be worth a try.

Then I went to a church service (my main reason for going into Manchester on a Sunday). I feel like I haven't been to church in months. It was called King's Church (yeah, I've figured out hyperlinks, too). It was the most multicultural event I've ever seen - fantastic. They had all these flags up from all around the globe, and practically a cross-section of the world's population singing on stage. And the first person I met there? A Mongolian.