Jenny and I had agreed that I could get the District Line to
Southfields where Jenny would meet me. She had to take into account the closed
roads of the cycle route through South-west London. I assumed that everyone on
public transport would be heading eastwards to the main Olympic venues and that
the tube to Southfieldds would be almost empty. Huh! It pulled into Sloane
Square packed to the hilt – or gills – or gunnels – or whatever. Why I had no
idea. I slung an arm around a metal upright for support and tried to text Jenny
that I was on the train, as the carriage swung wildly – hopeless to text. A
good 30 minutes with no reduction in numbers until, at Southfields, the crowd
disgorged. And finally it dawned – the first day of the Olympic tennis at
Wimbledon! It was interesting to see how
a little, suburban underground station coped. They dispensed with people
swiping their travel cards to exit – just kept the barriers permanently open
which sped up the flow of traffic. Outside broadcast messages indicated the
direction spectators should take to walk to the venue. All seemed to go
smoothly.
I walked to Combemartin Road where I met Jenny,
significantly disabled by a fall two years ago. We drove to her home and had a
full afternoon of catching up. I met Bill and Ben (‘Bill’nBen’) the two black
and heard the full story of Jenny’s fall and subsequent difficulties with the
health system. We watched the final leg of the cycle race through Kingston,
Richmond Park (not so far from us), Putney and on the The Mall. Back from a
still busy Southfields about 5.30pm and a later evening wander around the back
streets between the King’s Road and Fulham Road. Lots of people on the
footpaths outside the pubs in Fulham Road enjoying the balmy evening. And me
very pleased that Jenny and I had made contact and enjoyed time together.
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| Jenny |
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| Me at Jenny's front door |
Sunday 29th July - last full day in London. Sniff
- don’t want to leave.
At breakfast an update on the volunteering. The poor lass
driving the Mali contingent had had a tough day. I suspect people (police
included) may be forgetting that these are volunteers.
Got out early (Chelsea Public Library was closed – no
waiting to access wi-fi) and took tube to Westminster just to give the Houses
of Parliament, Big Ben and Westminster Abbey a wave. Saw again the magnificent
statue of Churchill. Trotted down to St James’ Park which was cordoned off for
the beach volleyball at Horse Guards Parade. Then Oxford Street, Selfridges with
its wonderful window displays and elegant yet edgy interiors. I happened see
the Jo Malone perfume display and as I was glancing wistfully one of the women
pounced on me and, before I knew where I was she had not only given me four
different sprays on slivers of card but she had me at the counter soaping my
arms with exclusive Jo Malone soap and then rubbing them with English pear and
something or other scented body lotion. I love the Jo Malone perfumes and still
have two at home (used very sparingly) from my last UK visit, but usually I
avoid getting trapped like this for fear of feeling obliged. However I decided
I wasn’t obliged to do or buy anything and that I might just as well enjoy
smelling nice (let’s face it when you’re travelling the way I do there are few
luxuries).
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| Part of a Selfridges' window display |
Walked up to Manchester Square to see the Wallace
Collection. A very grand and totally overblown (sorry) mansion containing a
very fine (but also rather overblown) collection of eighteenth and nineteenth
century art, ceramics, weaponry etc. Walked to Marble Arch where the bus I had
hoped to get wasn’t operating because of the road race so took the underground
to Knightsbridge and came up out of the ground right beside Harrods to find
myself in the middle of a thunderstorm and also in the middle of the road race!
Brompton Road was lined with spectators and umbrellas. Every time there was a
clap of thunder the crowd cheered (that’s the spirit that has been so evident
this week). Couldn’t get into Harrods because crowds were blocking the
entrances trying to keep dry. As I say, crazy!! I did eventually fight my way
into Harrods – where I nearly took a job for the summer sales back in 1979 –
just for a quick look through. Still gorgeous and staff still genuinely pleasant and helpful – even to
someone looking as rough and unpromising in the spending department as I
did/do.
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| Cycle race along Brompton Road |
On the streets and in the underground, despite the crowds,
the heat and the number of games visitors unfamiliar with the city, I have seen
very few expressions of irritation or anger. Under the circumstances people are
amazingly forbearing and tolerant. Everywhere in the tube stations, above and
below ground there are pink-vested volunteers there to advise on transport
routes. Above ground on the roads the police and army are much in evidence, not
in any way threatening, rather reassuring. It occurs to me that in many other
countries they would be carrying weapons (and maybe they are, but it is not at
all evident). A sort of low-key, paternal presence.
Monday 30th postscript
This morning one of the transitions that concern me a bit. I
need to get the bus to Sloane Square, the tube to Embankment where I change to
the Waterloo line and through to Waterloo Station to catch the train to
Southampton. My concern is solely with managing my luggage in the sometimes
quite long trots within and between change points and in the fast moving
crowds. It requires speed, stamina and strength and I am a bit lacking on some
of these fronts! But I will manage.
I’ve been pondering on why I love London so much. There is a
sense of home-coming for me. I know parts of the city well enough for it to be
selectively familiar. It’s a city I’ve returned to over the years after working
there in 1879/80. I like big, stimulating cities. I like exploring,
discovering, nooks and crannies (of which London is endlessly full),
interesting, eccentric people, wonderful art (in all its forms). London is
huge, and can be oppressive, but it is also a city of many parks and green
squares where you are never far from a quiet place. Several times in the past week
I’ve experienced moments of real joy in just being here. On the other hand, by
the time I left Oxford Street yesterday I was was weary and irritable. I always
believed that you had to be feeling good – to be on top of things – to cope
with London (I guess any major city). As I get older this is additionally so. I
haven’t always paced myself as well as I could have. I’ve sometimes walked too
long, not stopped to eat when I should etc etc. But I know these things – just
have to practise them! Allen Hall has been a great place to come back to. I
will leave it, as in 1993, with very fond memories.
