London Airports

I’ve entitled this ‘London Airports’, but that’s really going against my point (stick with me, there is one). Most airports near London have included the capital city in their name when, in reality, it’s a tenuous claim at best. Take London Luton Airport, for example. Well, to anyone from the UK that just doesn’t make any sense. Luton is a town in its own right and it’s a town which is not in London. Sure, if you look on an Atlas then they’re only about a centimetre apart but by that logic Bangkok’s only just down the road too.

People from outside the area consider London to be the chunk of land inside the M25 ring road (even though its not, it’s further in – Watford’s inside the M25 and that’s not London either). Luton airport is fifteen miles outside the M25 and, really, twenty miles from the outskirts of London. You’d be pissed off if you arrived in the centre of London, thirty five miles from Luton airport, expecting to find it around the corner.

Luton’s not the only culprit though. Gatwick is as bad, especially when its website proclaims it to be “Your London airport”. Cheeky bastards, my geography’s not that bad. If it were my airport I’d have put it in the right place, or at least given it a name that made sense. You know, something like “The 20 Mile South of London, Gatwick Airport”. I’m not sure it’s a very catchy name but at least it won’t confuse the foreigners who step off the plane expecting to be able to see Big Ben only to learn they’ve got a ninety minute bus ride before that’s possible. They must end up thinking that London’s the same size as Scotland.

Thankfully they’re not all at it (well, not as blatantly anyway). Stanstead Airport is only slightly further out than Luton and it doesn’t feel the need to plonk the word ‘London’ in front of its name all the time. It does seem like it's optional for them so maybe they just can’t decide. This is curious because it claims to be the third busiest airport in the country so surely it’d benefit from the prestige of having London in its name. After all, Stanstead’s only a small place – a lot smaller than Luton and no-one would know where it is if it wasn’t for the airport.

Even the small Oxford airport claims to be London Oxford Airport which is really taking the piss. It’s fifty miles from London for god’s sake! I hope the people who name these airports are not pilots, otherwise you’re likely to get on a flight to Paris and end up in New York.

You wouldn’t have Liverpool Manchester Airport would you, so why London Luton or London Gatwick? After all Liverpool and Manchester are close to one another. The reason, I believe, is simple: status. It’s almost a subconscious thing. If you live in the south and you’re looking to book a flight then you kind of expect these facilities to be centred around the capital. You might expect to have to travel to London, but not bloody Luton (who wants to go there?) or Crawley (where Gatwick really is). Stick ‘London’ in front of the airport name and all of a sudden it’s what you expected in the first place. It works even more for foreigners (or people from Wales on their first trip over the Severn Bridge). It’s still a bloody con though because they’re not in London, or even very close.

Vegetables

I hate vegetables.

Okay, I don't hate all of them, just a large proportion of them. This really is a non-subject for me but lots of people seem obsessed by it, like I’m going to keel over and die at any minute because I haven’t consumed a lump of broccoli in twenty five years.

Anyone who meets me goes through these questioning stages:

1. "You don't like any vegetables?"
2. "OK, what do you eat?"
3. "I’ve given you extra meat because your plate looked bare".

The latter stage is obviously the most important. You see, vegetables are a cheap filler which, incidentally, taste crap. No-one can honestly convince me that they enjoy the taste of peas. They taste of nothing and the squishy texture of them is horrible. When you eat out somewhere and your chosen steak is served with ‘potatoes or chips and peas’, do what I do and order the meal without peas. It might sound petty because peas can easily be avoided (it’s not like they’re mashed into the steak) but it’s not petty at all. Firstly, why choose to waste? Secondly, when they leave the peas off your serving in the kitchen your plate will look half empty. Like I mentioned before, they’re a filler. A pile of peas is cheap (cheaper than steak) and it takes up a fair amount of space on your plate. You've specifically asked them not to put any on your plate and now it looks empty. They can’t serve you a half empty plate so what do they do? Make up the difference with extra chips. Aha! You don’t think I’m picky now, do you?

Loads of foods get served with sprinklings of cress of them. It’s not there for any other purpose than providing decoration. You’re not supposed to eat it. You take it off and place it on the side of your plate. You don’t eat the little ribbon and plastic snowman atop a Christmas pudding do you?

I do like some vegetables, but the list is pretty small. For example, beetroot is great with cheese in a sandwich, garlic belongs on bread and potatoes are excellent just about everywhere but I really start to struggle much beyond that. It’s not my fault though, I blame my parents. Although I do have a physical reaction to eating many vegetables I’m willing to concede that it’s a psychological issue. I suspect I’m not alone in having being force fed vegetables when I was young. Your parents tell you they're good for you and that your head would fall off if you don't eat them. Being slightly more intelligent than that I figured I’d call their bluff. My head never fell off but the quantities of vegetables increased together with appearance of an ultimatum dictating I wasn’t allowed to leave the table until I’d eaten them all.

At this stage peas are the least of one’s concerns. Like I said, they don’t really taste of anything and the texture can be camouflaged with tomato ketchup. Lots of tomato ketchup. No, there are much worse relatives which can be served up in the place of peas. One of my all-time biggest hatreds when I was growing up was reserved for Brussels Sprouts. Who the hell likes these things? They’re presented with little tiny leaves on them; it’s disgusting. I wouldn’t ask someone else to sit in the garden munching on plants for dinner so why ask me? You can coat peas in tomato sauce and swallow them whole but you can’t do the same with sprouts, can you? Oh yes you can. I don’t recommend it but it’s the only way I got through them. I wasn’t going to chew them.

Yes, I could have choked with a blocked oesophagus and it would have all been the fault of my parents. Instead of treating me like an adult and helping me decide which vegetables I liked, I had them forced at me until I rebelled. Fast forward a couple of decades and here I am, psychologically damaged and still in utter and complete stubborn refusal.

As I mentioned at the top, it really causes me little concern. My biggest headache is with food companies who don’t feel it’s relevant to mention vegetables in their ingredients. I’ve bought a sandwich before only to discover that ‘ham and cheese’ actually means ‘ham and cheese with some hidden bits of lettuce you can’t see in the packing window and we won’t mention in the description’. Bastards. Also, every catering company on the planet seems to believe that buffet sandwiches are incomplete with more greenery than an Amazonian rainforest.

Lots of animals get by without eating ludicrous amounts of mud coated leaves so don’t, for one second, think I’m going to be any worse off in the long run. Humans are omnivores by nature, consuming meat, plants etc. but there are plenty of carnivores which survive on nothing more than a good steak. Your dog might be dopey enough to eat left over vegetables but your cat won’t. No, your cat wants meat. I am not a cat (this much is certain) and I don’t share the same digestive system and nutrient requirements but that is not going to convince me that the route to happiness and long life resides in a stick of celery.

Public Transport

Apparently the world is going to implode sooner or later and it’s all the fault of people who drive cars. Mentalists point out anyone who doesn’t drive a hybrid and blame them for everything which can even vaguely be associated with global warming. The Government jumped on the bandwagon and seized the opportunity to levy additional taxes on anyone who drives anything more powerful than a lawnmower. They were particularly happy because they can tell Greenpeace they’re saving the planet while simultaneously ordering a swimming pool for their second homes with the extra cash. Officially, at least, the Government would rather we all left our cars at home and took public transport.

I won’t mince my words here; I hate public transport. It’s never ready when you are and it’s slow, expensive, dirty and full of other people. The only thing public transport has going for it is the fact that it takes no effort on your part once aboard. But even then it never seems to take you where you want to go. How often have you caught a bus or a train and it’s dropped you exactly at your destination? Never is the answer. Unless your final destination was the train station (and if it was you need help, and probably a girlfriend too). So, you then need to find another way to complete your journey.

My last use of public transport was the train (into London). I had to drive to the train station, which is about 15 miles, and pay a fortune for the privilege of leaving my car there before I even got on the bloody thing. Once I arrived at Paddington Station I needed to get off the train and get on an underground one. When that finally reached its destination I had to disembark and catch a bloody taxi because it was about two miles from my meeting location and I was late. What a massive pain in the backside.

I like to get in the car (at a time of my choosing) and head off where ever I’m going under my own pace without any external constraints. I don’t want to plan my day around specific, timed departures and I don’t wish to spend an hour surfing the net trying to work out timings for several different methods of transport which, combined, will cost more than it would have done to drive.

A return trip from Oxford to Manchester is around 300 miles by car. In my car that’s over half a tank of fuel – about £45 worth. Cost on the train? About £10 to park the car and £70 for the train fare. I realise my fuel costs don’t include car running costs but still, the train is almost twice as much. A couple of years ago I was looking for the best way to get to Scotland and it was cheaper to fly than it was to get the train. Ludicrous.

Of course it doesn’t end there. Once you’re on the train you have to try and find somewhere to actually sit down. Ah yes, let me mention First Class train tickets. I’m guaranteed a seat then aren’t I? Probably, and the aforementioned ticket to Manchester rises in cost to £180 (which is four times more expensive now). So I had to stand up for about half of the last trip I took on a train. If you’re going anywhere near an underground train in London at rush hour then forget it. If it’s a hot, summer’s day then you’re really screwed. You can look forward to having a couple of sweaty armpits aimed in your general direction as you continually get bumped into by the bloke who (evidently) consumed the world’s strongest curry the night before.

Buses are often worse and, depending on the time of day, are more likely to be utilising by drunks or screaming kids. I’m all for the use of an iPod, for example, to drown out the noise but not when you sit within earshot of me. My hypocrisy knows no bounds, sure, but I don’t want to listen to the metallic tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk baseline coming from your headphones.

I’ve covered the fact that none of these public services will take you anywhere close to your actual destination but I’ve yet to mention an additional point; the weather. Nothing says ‘professional’ better than turning up to your important meeting looking like a drowned poodle. No, I refuse to carry an umbrella with me everywhere on the off chance that it might rain. Similarly, I don’t carry a gun just in case we’re invaded or a Swiss Army knife for when I bump into a horse with a stone in its hoof. Call me unprepared if you like, but my car has a roof, and that stops me getting wet.

I’m also guaranteed a seat (which won’t have discarded chewing gum on it) and I’ll be free of interruptions from random members of the public. No-one smelling of urine will come and sit next to me and no sweaty person will attempt to suffocate me with their armpit. I won’t be able to hear kids screaming at each other any more than I’ll be subjected to hanging around in the cold while the public transport of choice is late.

Sure I’ll have to put up with traffic in the car, but buses don’t get around that problem either (that’s what motorbikes are for). Trains are obviously pretty good for avoiding congestion, as mentioned, they’re extortionate and I have to somehow travel 15 miles before I can even catch one.

So the Government would have us use public transport but won’t invest in it until we all do. Catch 22 eh? Not really. Don’t ask me to do something and then promise you’ll improve the service after I’ve done it. That’s a leap of faith I can’t make, especially when it’s a bunch of politicians making the promise. The US Government didn’t ask NASA to put some people in space and, after they’ve done so, then provide the resources for the actual rocket. On that basis I’d like to start a nice new glossy magazine. If lots of big companies could plough money into advertising up front I’ll make some vague promises about filling it with articles and millions of people will buy it. It’s not much of a business plan is it? Are you listening Mr Cameron?