Well the last day was a long one but not much to report except several hours in the Galleries First and then a pretty smooth flight home. An early check-out unfortunately, an uneventful cab ride to Paddington, a delayed express to LHR, an easy fast track through security, then several hours in the BA lounge.
An empty platform midday. Imagine that. First thing, in the blaring sun, I went to Camden Town to run an errand. The 46 gets there in about seven stops from the flat. I had to see someone about a parcel; a long, convoluted, Royal Mail, eBay story that is too tiresome to relate. Then
It was the second double double header of tennis. The morning crowds were not as thick and testy as Tuesday: Monfils had dropped out of the tournament due to his lingering rib injury. But at the year end event, they replace injured players. So David Goffin (not next in line, Berdych would have been, but
That was my favorite random sign of the day, Wednesday, November 16, maybe the week. Most of the day I spent walking anyway; no lifts required. It started sunny, like Tuesday it was mild, 15 or something. I stopped at an outpost of Bill’s (sort of the Australian Jamie Oliver) for scrambled eggs and bacon
I had an affair with a tennis pro once. Love meant nothing to him. It took me 45 minutes to walk to Waterloo, 15 more minutes to walk to the Jubilee line, 12 minutes to walk from the arrival platform to the 02, and another 47 minutes to get through the two security gates and
A trip to London without a stop at the V&A is criminal. So I waded through the Theobald’s Road traffic towards the West End and took the tube to SW10. Of the three current exhibitions, two appealed to me: A Brief History of Underwear (geddit?) and You Say You Want a Revolution? Records and Rebels
And just like that it was Monday. The weekend was positively somnolent. I put a load of laundry in and accidentally somehow entered in a code for the “childproof lock” which I solved after an hour on Google (and now that brand of washers keeps popping up in my mail ads; how boring these algorithms
Remembrance Day: Friday was set to be glorious. I dragged my sorry jetlagged ass out of bed and did something I’ve never done in London: Took the train to Hampton Court, then walked the Thames Path to Richmond. I was under the impression this would be a seven and a half kilometre walk, a breeze.
…didn’t get to bed last night.” Flying is a drag. It doesn’t matter where you sit or what they feed you the human being is not meant to spend much (if any) time at 39,000 feet, let alone nine hours. Although seamless, and with a German crew that was so friendly and helpful it seemed