Last of London

Friday July 2nd is the last day I have in London on my own. So much to do. So little time. With Amy’s Globe Theatre membership card in my hand I headed to the Globe for a free guided tour. I highly recommend this one. Lots of interesting facts to learn about the Globe. Did you know that they were only allowed to have a thatched roof (banned in London since the great fire of 1666) after agreeing to have sprinklers installed in the roof, fire-resistant material between the roof and the people sitting below and a fire crew on duty for every performance? Or that the seating on the top floor was often used by prostitutes? Well now you do and there are many other exciting things to learn too.
There’s also a exhibition about Shakespeare and the Globe but my time was too precious to do anything but a quick lap around.

I then headed back to the Tate Modern (only a few minutes walk away) to do the 5th floor that I didn’t have time for when there with Peter. Overall I’d have to say that I preferred the 3rd floor. On the 5th floor I came across a most perplexing installation of two cylinders of light which one could walk into. The larger of the two had a light that changed from pinkish white to bluish white. The smaller cylinder had a warmer white light. I didn’t think much of it until I walked out of the cylinders and into the room and the walls were pink. I thought it was interesting to have pink walls in an art gallery instead of white. I had a last look in the cylinder and when I came out the walls were white again. I’m still confused about what was going on because I couldn’t get the walls to be pink again. Maybe I was just imagining all of it.

I left the Tate Modern to catch the Damien Hirst (so called because he decorated it in big colourful spots) Tate-to-Tate ferry. The original Tate is quite magnificent. It has a whole section devoted to Turner including a room upstairs devoted to materials from teaching he did at the Royal Academy as Professor of Perspective (I wonder if such a position still exists). All lines, angles and circles. This room was empty except for the security guard.

Somehow the day was almost over and I had to get back to Amy’s soon as we had tickets to see the Beta Band that evening at Brixton Academy. I quickly check email then stop at the Borough Food Markets near London Bridge en-route to Amy’s place. London Bridge is a damn big station. Almost every time I was there I exited a different way. As I rode up the huge escalators I had my fingers crossed that I’d come out at my favourite exit but no such luck. I take a punt on which direction to head in rather than waste time looking at my London A-Z. I don’t recognise where I am but I wouldn’t dare risk my pride by asking someone for directions in London. I overhear somebody else asking for the direction to the Tate and realise that I’m heading in the opposite direction. Oops.

I finally get to the pretty flower shop I’d spotted in the morning just as they were closing and grab some tulips for Amy (we’d previously discussed how horrible we both find mixed bunches of flowers). I then make a quick stop at the fish market next door to get a snapper for the feast I was to make that evening before having a quick wander through the food markets as they were closing. I was sad to not have been there when everything was open but it was probably best for my bank account that I wasn’t.

As I was boarding the bus at North Greenwich station to get to Amy’s place she calls me to tell me not to rush because the Beta Band has been cancelled. What? Due to nervous exhaustion of one of the band members she says. Nervous exhaustion before they’ve even played the gig? Interestingly enough, I’ve just read on their website that it was cancelled because Steve Mason lead singer and guitarist had a sprained wrist. Who is to know? After our rage died down we both realised that we were exhausted and a night in wasn’t such a bad thing. Especially when we had such a big weekend planned ahead.

Oh and yes, the snapper was excellent ;)

Tuesday 29th – Friday 2nd

Currently at Tokyo airport awaiting a connecting flight but more about that later. Back to where I left off.

Going all the way back to my second week in London now. On the Tuesday I decided to fit in yet another gallery, this time a Tracey Emin exhibition at a gallery off Bond St. Unfortunately it was closed for a private function so I wandered up and down the street window shopping because I was too scared to go into the expensive stores. The Vivienne Westwood store was particularly appealing but I was strong and kept walking.

I instead headed over to the British Museum via another Muji store where I bought yet another item of Muji clothing. Amy introduced me to Muji and I’ll take it over Top Shop any day.

I went to the British Museum specifically to see an exhibition of Alexander Walker’s private collection. I think the story goes that he was a highly esteemed film reviewer for a London newspaper and also a avid art collector. When he died he left all of the works to the British Museum. Nice guy. Great exhibition of mostly prints, drawings and watercolours.

I then headed back to the National Gallery for a wander around but once I got there I decided that I didn’t really have time because the tube strike was only an hour or so away and I need to get to Kensington to meet Chez. The tubes were packed thanks to a strike starting at 6:30 but I manage to make it across town before they stopped. Chez was late getting in from Wales due to extra traffic because of the strike so we didn’t meet until 8 or 9pm. In the meantime I had some dinner in a modern looking Chinese restaurant called Bowl and Stick (or was it Stick and Bowl?). The funny thing was that my dinner was served on a plate with a fork.

Chez was in the UK taking a group of about 60 of her music students on a world tour. I won’t name the school so as to protect her identity (so she can keep her job). Anyway, I met up with her as well as some of her other ex-students – Matt, Jeff and Nick. We got a cab over to Covent Garden and there was a lot to fit into the short time before the pubs closed at 11pm. We sampled beers at four different pubs before the final bell rang to tell us to go home. Home? No, the night was still young. And it’s not as if I spent the afternoon at an internet cafe working out what bus I could get back to Amy’s place around midnight or so. To make a long story (or is that a long night?) short I’ll just say that we danced along to bad music (`My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard…‘), in a dodgy looking nightclub until it was so late that a cab was the only option. Purple monkey dishwasher indeed.

I didn’t quite realise that I had to get up so shortly after going to bed on Wednesday. I was heading off to a village called Harpole which is near Northampton to visit relatives. I was quite impressed with my skill of getting from the south east of London where Amy lives to Euston Station in the north without the use of a tube because of the strike. I risked buying some sushi for breakfast from Marks and Spencer and I wouldn’t suggest that anyone else tries it. I was picked up at Northampton station and then headed out to Altrope for lunch (where Diana is buried). Yes, the lunch was much better than the sushi.

Harpole is a lovely little village. There’s nothing like these villages in Australia. There’s only one road in and out of the village and everybody knows everybody else. And of course, no English village would be complete wtihout three bars. The house was a gorgeous 300 year old three story thing. We laughed at the fact that Australia doesn’t have any buildings over 200 years old. We went to the only decent pub in the village of the three. I tried Pimm’s which seems to be everywhere in the UK at the moment but wasn’t all that impressed. The fun began when we got into a cab to head to a nearby Italian restaurant for dinner. This wasn’t just any cab: this was Disco Cab. It was a black cab and I think the driver lived in the village. He loved his stereo and proceeded to pump out classics from Locomotion to Come on Eileen while flashing the interior lights on and off in time with the music. Maybe he needs to get out more.

I didn’t get much accomplished on Thursday after a late night and then a train trip back to London. I headed straight for Sainsbury’s for some potato bread and eggs. If only you could buy potato bread in Australian supermarkets. The afternoon went quickly and in the evening I met up with Geraldine, an old uni friend who is currently doing the working in London thing. She’s also doing the going to every festival in the UK thing. This included making me jealous of her weekend in Glastonbury. We tried to find a pub dinner but weren’t successful so we instead found a good Indian restaurant near London Bridge. Once again I found myself rushing to get the last train home even though we both agreed to have an early night. Ah well, that’s what holidays are for.

Friday was my last day on my own in London. Hard to believe I’d run out of time to do all that I wanted to considering that when Peter left, a week earlier, I didn’t know what I’d do with myself.

But that will have to wait until the next post because duty free shopping at Tokyo airport is calling. Stay tuned for some very funny stories from Ireland (`Murder, and I mean murder’) and a lovely few days in Paris. And of course more London. There’s always more London.