Tuesday. The usual early morning cuppa to coax the little grey cells into action, then onto the TFL app to sort my route out for the day. Boring to some but I do enjoy planning days and trips out. Apps and the like make things so much easier, you can almost pretend you’re a local as everyone else is staring at their phones too!
It was set to be a later finish today so I wasn't in a rush to get out. There was one last thing to prep for the little slow cooker, and yet another new recipe, this time Hawaiian Pork, for which I'd had to procure some sherry at the weekend - not a drink I'm a fan of.
That having been done, this time I made a point of clearing the washing up - as some lazy sod had left it the day before - before doing all the usual caravan jobs.
I headed out just before lunch, sporting my high Doc Marten'esque boots - a much cheaper alternative. I knew that there'd be a fair bit of walking and these had proved themselves to be very comfortable indeed and looked good too - in my opinion anyway - which is what matters as I was wearing the damn things.
Eschewing bus no.3, once again I headed down the hill to Sydenham, taking the Overground up to Canada Water, then the Jubilee line to Canary Wharf.
Apart from passing through on a train occasionally, I'm pretty sure I'd not been here since I was a kid. A Geography field trip, around the early 80's when the landscape was much different.
Once I'd got my bearings it was a short walk to my first destination - the Museum of London Docklands - housed in an old warehouse across the water of West India Quay.
Entry was free - always an appeal - and the exhibitions were held over three of the floors, a large area being devoted to slavery.
Uncomfortable at times but it's important in my view that the less palatable passages in our history are not swept under the carpet.
My visit was shorter than I intended - not because I didn't enjoy it but because it was so incredibly warm in there. Uncomfortable enough for me to take my coat off! There was a special exhibition on executions back in the day that you were advised to book, and had to pay for. I'd debated whether to prior to leaving in the morning but glad I didn’t to be honest.
It was somewhat of a relief to get outside into the relative fresh air and I found a bench by the waterside to scoff my packed lunch.
Lunch duly scoffed I set off again, heading west on the Thames Path in search of two more er, 'research venues' recommended in my Liquid History pubs guide. Progress was halted as some un-forecast rain arrived and I sheltered for a few minutes under the bridge at Westferry station. I go to all the best places you know.
I was mentally composing a terse letter of complaint to the Met Office when the rain eased off and I continued my journey.
First up, along Narrow Street was The Grapes. Said to have been visited by the likes of Dickens and Pepys it is now co-owned by old Gandalf himself, Sir Ian McKellen. Though he was not in residence on my visit you might just see him on quiz nights apparently. No fruit machines, no telly, no music just ale, conversation and food - what I saw coming out looked pretty good.
Suitably refreshed I continued my trudge along the Thames Path, admiring the row of cottages at Albert Mews before I crossed the inlet to Limehouse Basin.
Shortly after I was diverted off the Path for a bit – an unsafe structure apparently – passing through King Edward Memorial Park before crossing the bridge over the old entrance to Shadwell Basin.
The next item on the agenda was in sight – The Prospect of Whitby sitting right beside the Thames. There was a Porter on that I hadn’t tried and I took a pew in the garden overlooking the water. The sun was out and in truth a kip wouldn’t have gone amiss!
I had two booked activities lined up for later and had some time to kill, so brought into play something that was on my reserve list. A bus, the stop handily placed just a few yards from the pub, conveyed me west and then north and closer to my next destination – Brick Lane, or more accurately the old Truman Brewery.
The bus dropped me in Whitechapel then it was a ten minute walk through a housing estate to Brick Lane itself.
I felt more than a little self conscious again, passing through streets the likes of which are seen on gritty police dramas, I stood out like a sore thumb in more ways than one.
It was during this period that Google Maps decided to inform me that my intended destination – the market held in the old brewery building – was shut and only open at the weekend. Of course had I done some proper research rather than the usual ‘research’ I would have known this. Dipstick.
No matter, there was a vintage clothing market so I took a look at that. Nothing took my eye but a glance at a few price tags revealed that ‘vintage’ is a good way to mark up the price on something essentially second-hand.
I took a slow saunter up Brick Lane, taking in the sights, sounds and smells. It was a colourful area and the good weather – and half term - had brought people out. I resisted the temptation to stick my beak in a couple of leather shops, the smell emanating from these being the best of all.
I continued up Brick Lane, turning right on to Bethnal Green High Street where I caught another bus that would convey me to my next destination in Hackney.
The Viktor Wynd Museum of Curiosities had been on my radar for a while. I’d pencilled it in for my February trip, then had to come home early due to the weather, then my May trip which I’d decided to cancel because of the Jubilee carry on, so was determined to tick it off this time.
At ground level is the bar specialising in Absinthe which was my first port of call. Quelle surprise.
I’d never tried the stuff before and there was a bewildering array of concoctions to choose from based on the two styles of absinthe on offer – traditional or spiced. I’ve never really done cocktails – you know me, simple tastes – so opted for the spiced over ice. Yum. I may have had another and am seriously thinking about procuring a bottle for Christmas, though it ain’t cheap.
Whilst there are a few weird and wonderful artefacts on display in the bar area, the museum proper is down below, via a spiral staircase. It’s a small space and entry is timed but there is a lot to see and I have to say it’s the weirdest, most bizarre collection I’ve ever come across.
There is a gold plated hippo skull which once belonged to drugs baron Pablo Escobar. Word is that he was an animal lover and had four hippos imported to South America. One didn’t survive the journey so to commemorate said hippo he had the skull gold plated.
There is whip favoured by the clients of the legendary Miss Whiplash, made from a bulls’ penis, shrunken heads, skeletons of some weird looking creatures, vintage books on a er, variety of subjects and even what is claimed to be erm, celebrity poo. Yes, you read it right. A truly eclectic mix of oddities but perhaps not for everyone.
A saunter, then a bus brought me back to Whitechapel where it was time to find some grub and a loo. I’ve no idea why I settled on a Burger King rather than seeking out a boozer but the chicken whatever it was bared little relation to the display above the counter, looking more like it had been fished out of a bin. Taste wise it was pretty forgettable and the other matter that was now at the top of the agenda had to wait – the loo was out of order and locked.
Fortunately a Costa came to the rescue in that department and a strong coffee helped get me shipshape.
Shortly before 7pm I made the short walk to Aldgate East station for the final event of the day, a Jack the Ripper Tour. We were divided up into groups and our designated guide led us off to begin our tour.
Much development work has gone on and little of the original Whitechapel from back in the day remains, however we were able to visit a few of the sites and our guide was superb, painting a picture of what Whitechapel was like during the Rippers’ reign of terror.
She didn’t hold back on the details but spoke sympathetically of his victims. Her depth of knowledge was clear and her enthusiasm infectious. A superb experience that I would recommend and at twelve quid for just shy of two hours, well worth it.
The Overground from Aldgate East took me back to Sydenham, then a bus up the hill brought me back to near the site.
Patsy was smelling lovely thanks to the Hawaiian Pork in the slow pot. I divided it up into plastic tubs then set them on the side to cool whilst the slow pot was filled with soapy water.
Another mild day meant only a short burst of heating to make Patsy comfy whilst I shed the real and fake dead cow before climbing into bed. Another fab day and I contemplated a nightcap but it was going to be another prompt start in the morning....
Public transport: Bus 450 to Sydenham, Overground to Canada Water, Jubilee line to Canary Wharf, Bus D3 to Whitechapel, Bus 388 to Hackney, Bus 254 to Whitechapel, District line to Whitechapel, Overground to Sydenham, Bus 122 to Crystal Palace, capped at £9.10.