London Calling

I can smell spring! Confused?  We’re back and re-domiciled in suburban Melbourne.  This last entry is not one written from a place far away and in the modus holidayus (sic); I correspond from the kitchen table in familiar surroundings with mixed feelings of, well at least it’s Spring, tinged with a foreboding of the potential ennui brought about by the grind of routine. At what point does this cease to be a traveller’s blog? After I have accounted for our last week in wonderful London.

Let’s go back to Porta Susa, Turin’s main railway station, to catch the 7.30am flyer to London via Paris.  Ostensibly our last day in Europe; I say ostensibly because until Aunt Theresa and here bunch of risible clowns get their shit together our destination is still both theoretically and factually in Europe.  Let’s call it our last day on continental Europe then (is this acceptable to the homogenisers out there?).  So after a minor kerfuffle with a fellow commuter about personal space on a platform containing 6 people including the four of us, we depart (Julie got me thinking that perhaps Europeans still fear the big bad wolf, or indeed the burgeoning German machine and thus desire the propinquity of a burly ursine looking creature to salve their insecurities – in the end I felt sorry for the chap and offered to retract the f’wit and ugly wife comments).  Ah Julie, the great moderator who offers clarity amid discombobulation – though it is possibly this juxtaposition of talents that prevents the now effete British from telling the continentals to insert their unilateral unity up their fundament and becoming great again (not just in a titular sense). You can tell, can’t you, that the end of the adventure is nigh; even I have become somewhat irascible toward my fellow man!

Figuratively speaking, a long day in the saddle!  We firstly traverse through some beautiful country on the edges of both north-west Italy and south-east France where upon crossing the border there is some confusion around language and Julie consents to show an armed gendarme our passports, when in fact the chap was on-board looking for dark-skinned, bearded blokes and to greet who he mistakingly thought was Europe’s next messiah, Julie.  More trouble averted by our UN representative and after a clumsy body search I am allowed to continue the journey (skin not quite dark enough). So, on to Paris where we rekindle our love affair with the underground network to make our way to the romantic sounding Paris Gare du Nord, which really means north Paris. From here the screening of ne’er-do-wells and other nefarious characters gets serious – it appears there is some gravity about Britain wanting to ethnically cleanse itself under the aegis of Brexit.  Short of being strip searched and having my sphincter tickled by five digits in a rubber glove we are assessed for suitability to enter the now Great Britain and allowed to board the London bound train – I really need some personal grooming!

From Saint Pancras station (to be renamed Saint Horatio following Brexit) we enter ‘the tube’ where after 5 or so kilometres we are excreted in Kennington (luckily I checked the name; Julie thought Kensington palace had become an AirBNB location and we had “got it cheap”). Our accommodation is however very acceptable.

Just to be clear – London is awesome! Whilst the temperature didn’t reach the heights of late June it was nonetheless very reasonable for the duration of our stay except for Sunday morning when it rained and we, along with 2,547,185 people, visited the Museum of Natural History.

You may be aware that the boys and I are football (soccer) fans, and in particular follow the fortunes of the Gunners in the English league. A short trip to the north is Arsenal tube station and the impressive Emirates Stadium (ok, it hasn’t the history of Highbury but that’s business these days).  Not only did we visit the shop to upgrade our kits (the need to pay blokes huge sums of money for something we used to do for enjoyment dictates a slight shirt design alteration each season and if you’re caught with an old strip in the stands….), we also visited the museum and were fortunate enough to watch the Gunners play in a Europa League game where they dismantled a second-rate side from somewhere.  A great experience that Julie even enjoyed, though I think she thought the inclusion of the boys may have made the other side more competitive.

Did some of the usual tourist things:

View from the shard – pricey just to enter an office block but the views were certainly non-corporate.

Tower bridge – a bastion of the pre-Brentry era where the nation stood proud of and comfortable with its ability to exist without crutches.

Hyde Park, London monument, Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square, Covent Garden, Borough Market, Greenwich Village (a particular highlight if you tour the Royal Observatory and take in some of the history and science).

The National Gallery – strolled around by myself, had all the old masters then some, and it was free (take note Louvre).

Tour of Lords – a great insight into the stuffy, pompous world of the “home of cricket” (according to them); the game itself is however a great leveller, as a few past notables didn’t make the honour boards and a few blokes that just went, did!  A very worthwhile experience.

Sammy re-acquainted himself with the vibrant Uk pub scene; though he couldn’t understand why soft drink was as expensive as beer (told him sugar cost more than water). Callum meanwhile chased squirrels in the park – after cornering one and smothering it with love the epidemiologist thinks he managed to prevent a global pandemic.

Just as we were getting into the vibe but before I had a chance to take Julie by the hand and lead her through the streets of, we were on a packed train to Heathrow and asked to finally leave the continent, with the possibility of stamped papers suggesting a non-return unless behaviour and appearances improved.

Here’s the trite bit. What a great trip! What a great experience! What great fortune to be able to undertake the adventure, which, I am at least, keen to do again in some way, shape or form.

Bit tardy putting this out; something to do with adjusting and accepting reality…..