We’d had a fabulous time as always, seeing new things and creating some happy memories. I caught the bus by the side of the station and headed north to get my Camden fix.
I do love the area, busy as it was and had a good mooch around the stall in the Stables market. The Cyberdog store is a stalwart of the Camden ‘scene’ and I decided to take a look. Garish fluorescent garb is hardly my thing and the clientele, along with the ear splitting music was making me feel somewhat ancient and I’d have stuck out like a sore thumb if only leather had glowed in the dark. The Over 18’s section in the basement was a little more interesting though…
Heading back across the bridge there were a couple of suitably garbed punks swilling Stella and brandishing hand written notices encouraging tourist to ‘help a punk get drunk’. Such is Camden. I declined the invitation and instead partook of a real ale overlooking the canal. It could, with a certain generosity of spirit, be considered lunchtime. It was cold but the sun was out and my usual layers of dead cow kept me warm.
A little more mooching then it was time to catch a bus into town. After numerous visits to the Smoke I’m starting to learn some of the bus routes and don’t immediately need to reach for the phone and the TFL app to find my way.
Next port of call was SomersetHouse, by Waterloo Bridge. I was early and for about a millisecond contemplated what to do before grabbing a pint of a deliciously dark ale at the Wellington and sat outside watching the world go by for half an hour or so.
The Horror Show was ‘a landmark exhibition that invites visitors to journey to the underbelly of Britain’s cultural psyche and look beyond horror as a genre, instead taking it as a reaction to our most troubling times’ according to the blurb. I’d pencilled it in for my last October visit and as it was soon due to finish, wanted to knock it off the list.
It was, of course, weird but to be honest I felt a little short changed. Even reading many of the cards accompanying the exhibits I was out in less than an hour. Maybe I shouldn’t expect more for sixteen quid but it was somewhat underwhelming. What was there was interesting though.
I could have got a bus back to the site on the neighbouring Waterloo Bridge but instead headed along the Strand, drawn by the knowledge that one of my favourite London Boozers – the Nell Gwynne – was not far away. I partook of a pint that cost less than a fiver – increasingly rare for London.
We came to halt approaching Herne Hill – the aforementioned temporary lights very much making their presence felt. After what seemed like an eon - at least to my bladder – we got through. Things were now getting urgent and I played back the route in my head, trying to figure out if there was anywhere on the way I could hop off and deal with the matter in hand – there was nothing obvious. Eventually we turned into Crystal Palace Parade and I jumped off the bus and set a very brisk pace back to the site. Not easy in my ridiculously impractical Cuban heeled winklepickers. The toilet block came into view, however joy at the prospect of impending relief was short lived – the keys being back in the ‘van. By now I was seriously thinking what a good idea Tena Man is as I ran the last stretch, door key in hand, thankful that I’d not utilised the additional lock – every second was going to count.
Well, I made it just but it was too close for comfort – much too close. My own fault of course and lesson well and truly learnt. I nabbed a beer from the fridge to celebrate. Phew.
Wednesday and another sunny if chilly day. My chosen destinations were both East – happily avoiding the number 3 bus and more specifically the roadworks at Herne Hill. First up was the Museum of the Home, right next door to Hoxton Overground station, easily reached from the site via a bus down to Sydenham station.
This was another place I’d visited before – on a school trip many years ago when I recall being bored shi – er witless. Back then it was called the Geffrye Museum, named after one Robert Geffrye who built the alms houses in which the museum is housed. Geffrye amassed his fortune from investing in the slave trade which, I would imagine, played a significant part in the change of name. The museum is quite different now, featuring Home Galleries and Rooms Through Time, as well as a pleasant garden. I found it absolutely fascinating and can’t recommend it highly enough. It’s also free though there are plenty of opportunities to make a donation. Well worth it.
Next up was Three Mills Island, which involved a reverse ferret along the Overground to Whitechapel, then a transfer to the Underground, to Bromley-by-Bow.
It’s a little oasis with cobbles and a beautiful Georgian Mill House, beyond which is a circular green with views towards the Olympic park – in fact Danny Boyle based himself here whilst planning the opening ceremony and it was the location for the original Big Brother house. There are still film studios here too.
I’d passed a Tesco’s on the walk from the station and called in on the way back to procure some meat and veg to bung in the slow cooker.
Once back in Patsy, said meat and veg was duly bunged in and I settled down for a lazy afternoon and evening.
Thursday and a bit overcast. I was feeling the effects of a busy few days so decided to have a ‘van day’ – lots of reading, general pottering and, at intervals, a go around Patsy’s mucky exterior with the waterless wash.
I do like days at the ‘van and the relative rest was most welcome, but late afternoon I began to get itchy feet so fired up the laptop to get some inspiration.
By 5pm I was tarted up and heading back into town – and back on the number 3 bus, ensuring that the bladder was emptied prior.
Swapping to the Underground at Brixton – along with half of London it seemed – I was grateful to emerge at Green Park into relative fresh air and headed to The Clarence, another Nicholson’s pub, a couple of minutes’ walk away. Time was marching on but service was swift and the food was decent, and a little cheaper thanks to another email address and discount voucher.
Our tour took us through Green Park, past St James Palace, complete with gun yielding coppers, then across St James’s Park, stopping at various points to hear gory tales from days past.
The tour continued along past Parliament Square and the Palace of Westminster, boarding one of the scheduled river cat services to Tower Hill. It was nice to take the weight off for a bit.
Our last stop was by the Tower of London which looked fantastic all lit up. More tales of gruesome carrying’s on then it was time to depart.
I doubt it was the gory tales that contributed to a poor night’s sleep but after initially thinking about doing a walk around Borough I decided to stay put and have a lazy day, though I did manage a saunter up to the Triangle for a lunchtime pint in Westow House.
With my usual early start home planned for Saturday morning I began packing up before enjoying a portion of chicken casserole, cooked in the slow pot a couple of days before.
Saturday and by 8am I was on the road, having hitched up as quietly as possible. It’s always worth the extra effort to depart early as I know from experience how grim the Purley Way can get later on.
Patsy was back in her resting place by 10am and I was home a little while later. It had been another fabulous if exhausting trip. There’s so much to see and do and the list is already growing for my next trip to Crystal Palace in October.
Coming soon though is the Easter break, when I’ll be heading up to North Yorkshire, another trip I am very much looking forward to.
If you’ve made it this far without nodding off, thank you for reading!
Until the next time,
Rich