Knew it was going to be a great trip when I got stuck in transit in Amsterdam. Was a late replacement for someone who had pulled out of the trip, but apparently, my name wasn’t on the boarding list. Luckily, dear old Barker---who offered to stay on with me in Amsterdam---finally sorted the problem out. Had to follow the Teachers-In-Charge around the airport while they were still ironing out the minor glitch. After getting things done, we sat down at the airport café for a cuppa. Found their conversation topic exceedingly queer---capital punishment (“they hang you by the back of your neck” and “the electric chair really fries your brains till your eyeballs dangle out”); and their personal collection of traffic accidents, which I thought to be aptly chosen, given that they’d be driving us around in England. After a grueling 12-hour flight, we finally arrived in Manchester airport. Whilst waiting for Mr Barker’s relations to pick us up, I went to the airport bookshop with Jiehao. Bought the week’s copy of 90 minutes (an essential football magazine) while some other guys gathered in a corner to drool over certain tasteful magazines from the top shelf. Spotted the only two sec 3 guys next to the counter, taking great care to put on their moisturizer lipstick. Hmm…… Eventually, Mr Barker’s brother and friend turned up in two mini-vans---our mode of transport for the next fortnight. Already some were turned off by the biting cold, but I rather found it refreshing. Remember the uncomfortable squeeze into one of the white mini-vans, with bodies scrambling to get in and bulky luggage so foolishly piled on top of us. Then the other mini-van drove by, and we saw luggage packed neatly at the rear, with plenty of space for the passengers. DUH… nobody was actually grimacing over there. Anyway, we couldn’t bother to get off again, so we just remained decadently crushed. Our driver was John Barker, who seemed to confound our misery further by lighting up a fag. Our persistent coughing (which I found rude) moved him to wind down the window before eventually ceasing the smoke. He wasn’t exactly embarrassed by it though.
We had an interesting conversation with John on the way to our motel. After a scenic drive through hideous uncompleted highways (“they’ve been working on this for two years now…”) and the charming countryside, we finally arrived at Yacht Bay View Hotel in Morecambe. It’s a cozy three-storeyed motel, complete with kitchen and a dining hall with a fireplace. Shared a twin-room with Jiehao on the second floor. The landlord, Mr Derick Woods, was a kindly old man who seemed genuinely pleased at having us. He spoke mostly in gibberish, but our ears all pricked to catch his signing off line, “I have two lovely young girls to serve your meals.”
football sessions, Chorley We had football sessions in an impressive sports complex in the Lancashire town of Chorley. First session was on the second day of our arrival, a serious kick-about with all the indoor court rules enforced (no kicking of ball above waist level, out-of-bounds penalty area…). Had a stinker for that session. Was tiring and running breathless, though I didn’t immediately realize it, as one doesna sweat in the cold. We all unanimously thought that the second session on the eighth day of the trip was the best, though it resulted from strange circumstances. On our way to Chorley, our mini-van broke down on the highway, so Mr Barker’s lot got to play first. Still remember the policeman strutting up to us on the road shoulder, popping his head into the van, looking around, and asking,” You guys speak English?” The party from the other van had already finished playing by the time we got there, so we had the whole indoor court to ourselves. With both sirs off to the bank, we decided to do away with all the court rules, and had a storming fun time. Played on the wing wearing long sleeves ala Kanchelskis, drilling in grounders from the flank. Thrilling shoulder-to-shoulder, end-to-end stuff. For the final session in Chorley, we lined up a match, Barker’s mini-van vs Mr Lim’s. ‘Twas a bit congested on the court, but had a fun time anyway. Shen Lin and Duan scored a couple each, Jiehao played a blinder on the wing, with me plugging in the defensive gaps as sweeper. They were the more talented team, so had lots of work to do. Anyway, we pulled off an upset win to crown ourselves CHAMPIONS OF CHORLEY. That dinner treat Mr Lim promised us never materialized though.
the Mini-Van A good part of the tour was spent in the van. Besides admiring the rustic countryside (was lucky enough to catch sight of the migration of thousands of birds, blanketing the entire sky), we whiled travelling time away listening to Longwave Radio Atlantic 252FM. "Joke of the Day" was my favorite part of the show. Also fell in love with "Stay (I missed you)" and "Jessie", as they seem to play it on air all the time. Not a good idea to read 90 minutes and tabloid football gossip though, or one would be vulnerable to developing motion sickness. Then when you wind down the window to garner some fresh air, you would be dammed for letting the cold draught in. The mini-van ride itself turned out to be an adventure too, when you least expect it. Besides breaking down in the middle of now-where twice, also got lost a couple of times when Mr Lim lost Mr Barker's trail. Driving hood to bumper, 'twas like spies following their subject, with all the waiting-in-obscure-corners and stealth tailing. Then there was always the company to liven a dull road journey.
Weijie---writes rubbish on frost-covered window ("I'm being kidnapped!") before wiping the words away. And starting over.
PULP FICTION One of our best days out was when we went to watch the brilliant "PULP FICTION" in Lancashire. Though I wasn't a willing cinema-goer initially. After a football session in Chorley, the non-football fans in the mini-van protested against going to Maine Road to watch Manchester City play Arsenal. (Hmm…come to think of it, at least they could tell a crap team when they saw one.) I was terribly disappointed to have had to watch one less live football match, and was still listless when we arrived in a shopping mall in Preston. Weijie was profusing some great tributes to PULP, strongly recommending the movie, but when we asked him if he had seen it, he said, "Err…that's what I heard…." to a chorus of jeers. Though an U-18 film, us youthful 16 year-olds were able to get into the theatre without any questions asked. As we strolled into the theatre, we were to know why. Besides our party of 19, there was only one other elderly couple seated at the back. They must've been thinking, "Good Lord! What if these under-aged Asian youths get influenced by the violence in the movie and start on us?" While most of us probably thought, "Oh bother, what if those two pensioners get inspired by the redemption theme in the film and start preaching to us (like Jackson's character)?" About the show…plenty of blood and violence; and a confusing plot. Thought Samuel Jackson gave a brilliant portrayal of a ruthless hitman who gave up his uzis for inner peace. Never seen so much rage in a person before. Just when the film was at last beginning to make sense, the ending credits scrolled up. Huh??? We discussed about the film back on the mini-van, and there sure was plenty to talk about. After a stimulating exchange of analytical theories with Shen Lin, he proudly proclaimed to the rest of the van, "As Zhangcheng said, you need to be over 18 to understand the plot." DUH! Anyway, I'll try to piece it together.
#x= order of appearance in film; (y= chronological order) Without doubt the best movie I'd ever seen. As we walked out, I heard the distinctive crushing of popcorn on the carpeted ground. The management must believe we Asian youths still abide by barter trade. They kindly give us PULP FICTION posters, we leave crushed tokens of appreciation all over their clean theatre. Sorry... After the sublime show with its colorful characters and even more colorful language, it's down to another part of Preston, to Tiggis, an Italian restaurant, for a lovely feast of a dinner. Mr Barker gave us an impromptu lesson on the finer points of table mannerism ("That bowl of water is for rinsing your hands…not drinking!"), as we all donned silly paper hats since 'twas only 13 days to Christmas. Had spare ribs, an out-of-this-world half-chicken, mushroom cheese and tomato pizzas, flushed down with two glasses of lemonade. Of course, the omnivorous Weijie was always around to lend a helping hand (and mouth).
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