So, after everything going on back home I have never needed a visit from Rebecca Lorraine more in my life. I was sooooooo looking forward to her heading down here and us being able to hit the sights for a little bit. She came over to he UK from the UAE, where I visited her in the first part of my trip, so she could renew her visa and visit her Nonna in Cambridge and her trip to London to see me was kind of a spontaneous bonus.
I raced up to Kings Cross on the Friday after work, getting from Chelsea Manor St to South Kensington station in a time that may have qualified me for the Olympics if there was an event for getting to tube stations, the next ones are here some one really should suggest it.
Kings cross is nuts on a Friday night, lots of people commuting out for the weekend to various points of call in the UK or trying to connect to other points in London on the tube. Its a sea of people all quietly and politely resenting you for being in their way and I knew Bec would hate it,
so my plan was to get her out of there as soon as possible. And after a brief but unexpected detour which I shall only be published in my unauthorised biography we arrived at Acton Central.
We grabbed dinner at the pub where Bec had some amazing salmon and I had a damn fine burger and then I proceeded to show Bec all the highlights of Acton which happily took about 30 seconds and we could do while standing in front of the pub.
Next morning after some military like planning we left home and made out way onto the district line towards Westminster. We had two things we wanted to achieve this weekend and they were touristy sightseeing and a visit to the westfield. Saturday, giving the more optimistic weather forecast was given over for touristy sightseeing. We got out the tube and looked up and lo and behold there was big ben. Then I said something stupid. We were standing in front of the ticket booth to buy tickets to cruise up the Thames to Greenwich and Bec asked me if we had time to go take some pictures of Big Ben before we got on the boat and my response was “Sure, what time is it?” . Its like walking into the Sistene Chapel and saying where's the art, sometimes thinking doesn't come before saying for me. We got on to our boat after many contradictory and directionless signs steering our way and puttered off down the Thames surrounded by couples. Valentines day, from deaths dark heart I stab at you. It was at this point that the camera died. Damn. We passed the Tate, the London Eye, tower bridge, the tower of London all without being able to take a single shot. Were it not for the existence of a Boots in Greenwich we'd not have got any on the way back either. As it was though we still managed to snap away about 260 shots before enough was enough.
We were starving by the time we got to Greenwich and after a little wander around, ended up at a cute little pub called The Gypsy Moth again good food and somewhere I could indulge my sudden craving for meat. After much needed refreshment we wandered back through the naval college, there were these signs out pointing the way to something called the painted hall. Oh yeah, thought, painted, huge attraction, bet there's doors and windows too, someone hold me back.
But then I walked towards the doors leading to it and caught a glimpse inside. Its the kind of sight that provokes mindless expletives, from which I generally don't hold myself back except, I've learned, when there is an echo. Never mindlessly swear in a big echoy place because then you're just the slack jawed yokel who said “Faaarrrrkkkk” and will have to listen to it over and over as it seems never to die out while all eyes turn disapprovingly towards you. Its hard to look at pretty things once you've done that. Or so I'm told....
I grabbed Bec as I stood at the front door and mutely pushed her inside, those are the things that stay with me about trips I've taken. The unexpectedly beautiful things that have been sitting around, sometimes for hundreds or thousands of year, sometimes its just something that happens everyday. Suddenly you're there and this thing that you never knew existed just tattooed itself to your brain.
That happened in the Chantry in Tynemouth and on a street early one morning in Bergen out the front of a bakers shop.
If I ever got married that would be one of the places that I'd want to do it, the humbly named Painted Hall. After walking in and out of a few less painted buildings we made our way through the Greenwich Market. Busy, busy market. Bec and I swigging on waterbottles with Berroca in them elbowing our way through people, but Bec did buy a bamboo saxophone which is actually much more impressive than it sounds and we heard someone getting engaged which was actually quite sweet. It was a couple of the stall holders and a few of the other stall holders had gotten together and written it for the potential groom. The guy who rang the old brass printing plate stall told us this as he almost talked me into paying 40 pounds for an art deco printing plate.
With our camera juiced up on batteries and some baked goods from one of the cake stalls we made our way back on to the boat and proceeded to take far too many pictures of everything.
I think we have now conclusively proven that you can have too many pictures of the tower bridge.
There can also be too many pictures of Big Ben, which was the next thing we proved.
After listening to him chime we made our way in the fading light towards Buckingham Palace through St James' gardens. Betty wasn't home that day so we turned and wandered down to Trafalgar Square where I stopped to get yet more batteries and Bec bought some souvenirs to take home. After taking even more photos we stopped in at a little pub for dinner and then afterwards Bec made me stand in front of it while she took ages to figure out how to use the Zoom and a crowd built up behind her while I stood face frozen in embarrassment, arms flung wide like I was presenting the show case on wheel of fortune.
It was definitely time to go home.
Sunday we took our time getting up and then headed out on the bus to Westfield which is about 15 mins from me. Did all the normal girly shopping things and I fell in love with a dress I couldn't afford while dressing Bec like I was either Trinny or Susannah.It was nice to have a bit of a girly shopping trip though, every so often it quells an urge. Dinner was at the Meat and Wine company at Westfield where I had been looking forward to steak. I'm sure later in life when I develop mad cow I may regret that but until that day, I can tell you it was divine. Mash potatoes and a three course special that included crème brulee and they only ended up charging us the 2 course special price on.
It was too late to tell them, we'd already gone, or we were about to leave I don't remember, either way we'd all move on emotionally and that's the important thing.
On Monday we trekked up to Acton Town and Bec went to Kings Cross while I made my way back to work. A fantastic weekend, if only we could do it all the time. xxx
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