When I was a toddler I had a jack-in-the-box which, on account of my early language skills, I named ‘Guggla.’ I don’t really remember him that much, he was just one of the many toys that I played with as a child. He shared my room with cars, trucks, fire engines, a parking garage, action-men, lego, a guitar and a whole host of other things that accompanied me through my early years. So when my Mom recently emailed me some pictures of my young niece and nephew, Jacob & Sumalee, playing with a wooden fortress that my Granddad had made for me, I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic.

I loved that fortress. It had a draw bridge that could be extended over the gloss blue moat, and turrets upon which my knights in their painted armor would brandish gruesome weaponry and cast imaginary arrows at the invaders below. It had no switches or buttons, cord or batteries, it was powered entirely by the imagination of a child. I don’t know how many hours I must have spent immersed in that medieval world, but I imagine that the fortress served as the seed for the fascination with castles that I have today.

My Granddad created a number of great toys from wood. He built my multi-level parking garage with it’s array of ramps and tricky walls. He made my action-men a home and a base from where they planned their various adventures, one of which involved parachuting into the pond, much to my Dad’s annoyance. And then there was the scale model of our family home, a dolls house built for my sister, Louise, which came complete with action figures of the five of us. It was amazing, and I’m not ashamed to say that I think I played with that about as much as my sister did (much to her annoyance too I might add!).

Mom also sent me a photograph of my niece and nephew playing in Jubilee Cottage, a wendy house built into the space under the stairs in my sisters family home. I first saw Jubilee Cottage back in 1977, the year of the Queens Jubilee when I was just six years old. It was another one of Granddad’s creations, built into a space in my sisters bedroom. Dad had painted the outside with red tiles, and flowers either side of the bright yellow toddler sized door. Louise and I played in there for hours, cooking on the hand made wooden stove and making imaginary cups of tea served in vivid orange and yellow plastic cups.

I’s funny how when I look back, it’s not the battery powered loud toys that I remember most. Instead it’s things like the fortress and the parking garage that are embossed into my memory. Even a stuffed cartoon style bird I named ‘King’ sticks in my mind. Made by my grandmother, whom we to this day still call ‘Yogi,’ ‘King’ was an exact copy of a stuffed bird that used to look out of the window of a house we used to walk past on the way to my grandparents who lived just around the corner. I liked looking at that bird and wanted one just like him. With a little neighborly help Yogi was able to make that happen, and ‘King’ looked out of my bedroom window for years to come.

Then there was the train set that my Dad built in my brother’s room. It included a model village complete with a pub called ‘The Swan’, a police station, and a farmhouse set on a landscape of trees and hills. It was a pretty impressive train set I can tell you, but Pete wasn’t always excited about having his little brother in his bedroom, and so began my education in boundary distinctions. Fortunately my Scaletrix set, wasn’t similarly fixed and therefore my brother and I were able to play with that in relative harmony.

I’m glad that my parents were able to hold on to some of the things of our childhood. Sure, they’re different now as I look at them through the eyes of an adult. But there’s something of that child in me that can still recall the wonder of these things. So when asked recently, I couldn’t resist an invitation by Sumalee to join her inside Jubilee Cottage for a cup of imaginary tea.

As for Guggla, my old jack-in-the-box, he wasn’t discarded either. When I grew tired of his wobbly ways he took retirement in a storage box where he remains to this day, quietly hoping perhaps to make a few encore appearances and once more feel the warmth of the sun on his wooden face before he’ll ‘guggle’ no more.

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Grandparents
So long Granddad

Sometimes I fall asleep on the couch. That’s not entirely an easy thing to do on my uncomfortable Ikea couches, but with my legs stretched out across the corner of the coffee table and a cushion propped behind my head I can just about float away like a twirl of cigarette smoke and disappear to napland.

I’m not big into napping; I’m a snooze button man myself. In the morning when my alarm tells me it’s time to get up I give it a wallop with an outstretched flailing arm and return to my dreamtime. I like morning dreams the best, you can wake up hit snooze and if you’re quick enough you can get right back to the dream. For example, yesterday I stirred to hit snooze then got right back to deciding if £1m cash-back at the supermarket automated checkout would take to long to collect or not.

As it happens, it turns out that my sleep pattern isn’t all that good for me. According to a recent article in the Boston Globe we would all be better off if we took a twenty minute power-nap in the afternoon. Apparently doing this would enhance our alertness and concentration, elevate our mood and sharpen our motor skills! Drink a cup of tea or coffee before you take that nap and you’ll wake feeling extra alert too because the caffeine will be kicking in just as you emerge from your micro-slumber.

In a recent study of 23,000 men a women by Harvard University and the University of Athens Medical School researchers found the participants who took regular naps of 30 minutes or longer at least three times a week had a 37% less risk of dying from heart disease. Those who took shorter or less regular naps, maybe once or twice a week, lowered their risk of heart disease by 12%.

So, maybe I’m reading this wrong, but does that mean that instead of hitting the gym four times a week and working up a sweat pointlessly rowing or running to nowhere on a machine, I could be just as healthy if I took a nap and perhaps dreamed of the gym?

Maybe I’ll try a semi-scientific study and take afternoon naps instead of those morning snoozes. Though wait a second, has anyone studied the effects of a combination of long morning snooze sessions and afternoon naps? I think I might just have to try that, in the name of science of course. It’s a tough challenge I know, but I’d like to think that I might just be a good candidate for this most selfless of tasks.

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Boston Globe’s guide to better napping
Nap time
Napping benefits

So here’s a question you can ponder for a moment. If you could be granted an opportunity to have a conversation with three people from anytime in history, including the present day, who would you talk to?

I gave that question some thought when it was put to me a while back. I can think of a great many people that I’d like to have a conversation with. But how would those conversations go, what would I ask?

I’d like an opportunity to ask Jesus Christ if he’s happy with the things that are done in his name. I would search his every sentence and expression looking for proof that he was a normal guy and not the perfect virginal religious super-hero character of stain glass windows that seems absolutely unapproachable to me. “Are you happy with the way it’s all turned out Jesus?” I might ask.

Mahatma Gandhi is unmistakably one of histories most recognizable figures of peace, famous for his non-aggressive protests against the British in India. He was assassinated in January 1947 for essentially believing that no-one was better than anybody else. His is truly a David and Goliath tale and his influence on the world would surely make him a compelling man to talk to.

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” Said Martin Luther King, Jr. But had he not been shot and killed I think that history would likely look upon this man very differently. I’ve read and listened to many of King’s speeches and find him to be profoundly inspiring. “He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it.” I can pull these quotes from memory because I have at times leant on these words myself. “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” I’d be fascinated to have a conversation with the man who said, “Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men.”

There would be others if the list were longer. The Dalai Lama, Elvis, Tank Man (from Tianamin Square), Amelia Earhart, Henry Ford, even Hitler, if only to see if his dangerous lunacy is apparent in conversation. There are many more I could name, but I think the three I chose might not change for a long time. So given the opportunity to choose three people, who would you talk to?

Camden Market is one of London’s, and possibly Britain’s, most colorful places. Packed with stalls selling beautiful, unusual, obscure, and at times absurd items, Camden market is a ‘must see’ for anyone planning a visit to England’s capital city.

If you’ve never been to Camden Market before you’ll likely be a little taken aback as you emerge from Camden Town tube station. On any given day you’ll find yourself being swept like driftwood into a throng of people who might look like they’ve just stepped out of the Rocky Horror Picture show.

As the tide carries you toward the lock you’ll catch the smell of incense that will tangle and fade with the strains of music escaping from the various shops selling shoes that are meant to be worn but not necessarily walked in, jewelry that could wound, and clothing that has no real practical purpose. But keep walking. You’re still in the tourist trap area and haven’t reached the good stuff yet.

Yes, I know the entire market could be considered a tourist trap these days, but if you ask me the High Street is a soulless fraud that wears Camden’s reputation like a disguise. However, if you’re there on a weekend the Electric Ballroom market is worth a look-in. It was the first London Ballroom to have electric lights, hence it’s name.

The first true market space you’ll come to will be on your right as you head toward the lock. Buck Street Market has some fun stuff, but don’t get carried away, in my opinion this is still not the ‘real’ Camden. It’s mainly just stalls selling a lot of the same T shirts and clothes which might be cool, but really, how cool can a T shirt be?

As you reach the heavily studded metal bridge that crosses Regent’s Canal you’ll see the Canal market to your right. It was recently heavily damaged by fire on the eve of my last visit here, but it’s being rebuilt so maybe when you visit it’ll be open once more, if so check it out.

Cross the road here and walk into Camden Lock Market, a mixture of indoor and outdoor stalls selling an array of goods from around the world. Now you’re in the heart of Camden Market. This is the most craft based of the markets and it will likely be teeming with shoppers and tourists moving slowly through the maze of merchandise like icebreaker ships making their way through the arctic seas.

If you’re feeling hungry you can grab a bite to eat from one of the food stalls, then maybe try to find a place to sit by the lock where you can bask in the sun and people watch. On sunny days you’re sure to be entertained.

Moving through the Lock Market you’ll eventually find your way to the historic Stables Market, very close to the blue bridge that crosses the road and reads ‘Camden Lock.’ The market was built in the one time Midland Railway stables and horse hospital for the horses that pulled barges along the canal.

This ever increasing market is rammed full of traders and it will take you an age to explore. You’ll find a variety of stalls and small shops selling a wide range of antiques and furniture, arts, crafts, and clothing.

There is talk of the local authorities allowing chain stores and outlets like Starbucks to occupy an extension to this market, but to do so would be nothing short of a catastrophe. Camden Market has built its reputation on the back of the small independent traders who bring their own unique character and personality to the area. There is simply no way that a big brand like Starbucks or HMV could ever achieve or even mimic the flavor of these small traders, and frankly, to allow them an opportunity to try would be scandalous.

As you leave the Stables market and old Horse Hospital to make your way back toward the lock and the underground station, stay on the right side of the road because you’ve got one last market to see. A traditional street market for over 100 years, Inverness Street Market still has a fair few ‘fruit’n'veg’ stalls, though unsurprisingly they’re outnumbered by the more typical kind of stalls you would expect to see in Camden.

And that’s it, you’re done. Your Camden experience is over and in all likelihood it’s taken far more of your time than you expected. If you need a little rest before you once more take on the tube you could stop in at the Worlds End pub just over the road from the tube station.

Whatever happens, I’m sure you’ll be glad you came here, if not for what you bought, instead for that stories you will have collected along the way.

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Camden Market
Camden Markets guide
Camden Guide
Lonely Planet podcast : Camden Market

I got a speeding ticket from Heddlu Gogledd Cymru. That’s the North Wales Police to those of you who don’t speak Welsh. I don’t speak Welsh either, but maybe I look Welsh in the picture taken by the speed camera that was cleverly obscured by the leaves of an overhanging tree, because the ticket I’ve been sent to my English home address is written entire in Welsh!

Araf is one of the few Welsh words I know. It means Slow the f*ck down! I know this because it’s written in huge letters on many of their roads and signs. Those who live in or near to North Wales know that you need to heed those warnings too because the Heddlu (police) enforce their speed limits with a merciless ferocity that Darth Vadar would envy.

For that reason I watch my speed on the popular tourist routes of North Wales where orwellian speed cameras stand beside the roads in strategic positions to catch even the slightest infraction. The camera that snapped me caught me going 47mph in a 40mph zone. However, my annoyance was that I was under the impression the road was a 50mph zone. On later inspection I had failed to see a heavily obscured change of speed limit sign shortly before the ’safety camera.’

I could go to court armed with evidence that the sign was obscured and therefore at 47mph I thought I was within the limit, but it would likely be a fools errand and if found guilty the fine would increase, plus I would have to pay court costs. On this occasion I can avoid penalty points on my licensee if I agree to pay the £60 ($120) fine and attend a speed awareness course. I’ll take that offer of course, but I’m no less annoyed.

I’ll suck it up of course, but getting this ticket just reminds me that in the UK you’re never far from a camera watching your every movement. We are the most surveilled country on earth, and that makes me feel more than a little uneasy.

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Looking at this site made me feel a bit better
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