London
Streets of London
Landing in London
London by Night
Cemeteries of London
London Conversation
London Calling
London Underground
People say that London can be a little full of itself. Well let me be the first to say if I had so many songs written specifically about me I’d probably be pretty big headed as well.
But it’s not being conceited if it’s true.
London is so amazing it can park its huge head in my backyard anytime.
Friday morning I was on the train to London and arrived at Kings Cross Station a little after lunch (and a compulsory stop at Pret of course…man I love that place!) Surprisingly, I had arrived in London having planned very little. Which, for anyone who knows me, knows is very odd (I have been known to make lists of to do lists to make and am not the slightest bit ashamed to admit it). But having been in Newcastle the weekend before, and trying to madly finish some uni work (oh right that’s ACTUALLY what I’m here for…), planning was left a little by the wayside. So here I found myself, in London with the address of my hostel in Earl’s Court but without a single clue of how to get there.
Having luckily perused Google maps before I left I knew that Earl’s Court was south west from Kings Cross so I figured I’d just start walking, find a tube stop and get on the tube to the hostel.
Or perhaps not.
After walking for who knows how long, dragging my little suitcase behind me, not being able to feel my hands anymore in the -1 degree weather I came upon the Tottenham Court Underground station. There were people EVERYWHERE and I can assure you they do live up to their not so delightfully friendly reputation. I could feel it coming down over me like a plague, hovering above my head somewhere waiting to strike… a little thing I like to refer to as being OVERWHELMED. After failing to get hold of my resident London expert Louise who was at Heathrow picking up Andy, I had to resort to more dramatic measures. Calmly I ran my regularly used mantra through my head (‘suck it up sez’), took a deep breath and bought a London map. Then I ventured into the monster’s lair that is the tube and asked a nice man how I could get to Earl’s Court. And then suddenly, 20 minutes later I was there.
I should take up a motivational speaking circuit that’s all I have to say.
Dumped my stuff in the hostel and took a call from Louise, to whom I proudly relayed to my story about surviving my first hour in London.
Little was I to know the drama that was to come…
I had bought a ticket for Grease on West End for that evening (had to virtually sell my liver for it but hey you only live once right?) and met Andy and Louise in Earl’s Court for a pub dinner. The show began at 8:30pm at Piccadilly Theatre which the receptionist at the hostel assured me was a two minute walk from the Piccadilly Tube station, which was a 15 minute ride from Earl’s Court. So hearing my mother’s voice in my head and thinking ahead I left Earl’s Court at 7:30pm, just to be safe.
There is a reason why mothers are always right people.
I got on the tube at Earl’s Court. Fine.
The tube left on the time from Earl’s Court. Fine
The tube was going along well and I was going to be there in plenty of time. Fine.
The tube stops at Hyde Park Corner and does not move. At All. NOT FINE.
Have you ever had the experience of tearing up the stairs of a tube stop three stops from where you need to be, and running around like a madwoman trying to hail a taxi in the midst of crazy Friday night traffic?
No?
Well I have.
Luckily, I encountered the one Londoner who God graced with manners and he could see I was so distressed and gave me his taxi. Not so luckily, the reason my train had stopped was that the one in front of it was broken and therefore they had to block the traffic ABOVE ground to allow the maintenance men in.
I mean did I do something wrong in another life? Really?
Eventually I ran (no not power walked, RAN) up the stairs of the theatre, breathlessly waved my ticket in front of the face of the surprised adolescent theatre worker person and sat down in a flurry of hair, coat and stress.
Just then the lights went down and the first bars of ‘Grease is the Word’ began.
I wanted to simultaneously laugh hysterically and burst into tears.
Day 2 was dubbed ‘sightseeing day’ and with my walking shoes packed Andy and I headed in from Earl’s Court to meet Louise in the city. Had breakfast at Covent Garden, at this really cute little place. Strangely though, they served the hot drinks in a bowl. With no handles. Must be the London way I guess….
Once we were all topped up with energy the sightseeing marathon began. Firstly, to Trafalgar Square where Andy scaled the Lion monument like a monkey whilst Sarah (in a dress) thought it best not to subject the innocent London public to such a view. From there walked down past Pall Mall, some palace… (what was that called Lou?) and Downing St. Following this we turned left and suddenly there it was; a thousand times more amazing in real life: Big Ben!
Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament were perhaps my favourite attraction, they are almost more London than that old lady herself. On the other side of the Thames in London Eye which was just as impressive and I could have stood there all day admiring the view.
Alas, we moved on pretty quickly, because due to the breeze coming off the river, we were freezing all parts of our anatomy off. And I mean all parts. I have yet to be as cold as I was on that bridge!
Louise: ‘do you want another photo with Big Ben? That one didn’t really work’
Me: ‘I want a heater. Now’
After that we walked what seemed like a million km’s along the river (although we did bypass a Xmas Market which is always a bonus) and found a tube stop and caught it to Green Park to visit that old lady at her little home. Well by old lady I mean that Queen of England and by her little home I mean Buckingham Palace but I must say unlike the day before, I was feeling a little underwhelmed. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting and there was only one funny walking guard on the gate to point and laugh at.
But at least I can say I’ve seen ‘Bucks Pal’ as Louise calls it. Ha!
The rest of the day we spent in Hyde Park, eating cone fries from yet another German Christmas market and trying to fight our way through the weekend crowds.
I actually thought my blood was going to boil with how slow we were moving! Not a good place for someone with my tendencies to be! Made a pit stop to Harrods on the way home, the crowds must have read our minds cause they were all there as well.
Bought a Harrods bag tho! Miss Lia Harris if you’re reading this I have one now too!
Saturday night, the three of us spent a good few hours in a cute little Italian restaurant with amazing food, good wine and great company. I think it was at this point I was starting to get good at this whole London thing.
Sunday morning we got up bright and early and headed off for another of London’s well known attractions: markets! Being able to only do one that day we decided to bypass the more common Portobello and headed to Camden, to the Camden Street Markets. We were not to be disappointed. I have never seen anything like it: it makes Melbourne’s Victoria markets look like a yard sale. Everywhere you turn there is a new little lane with yet more stalls and there were several occasions where I had absolutely no idea where we were. And that’s exactly how market shopping should be. Bought a few things, including the BEST EVER present for Mum (haha don’t think I’m going to let the secret slip in cyberspace Mummy dearest…)
Ate dinner by myself in a restaurant in Earl’s Court, which was strangely nice. However, the waitress sat me next to this other business guy eating by himself. I didn’t realise we had to be placed together in a corner where everyone can look at us with pity and wonder why we have no companions…
Monday morning the news had come through that half of the Tube was on strike. Just. Great. Wanting to go to Harrods again and avoid the huge crowds I set off early and got off at the nearest Tube that was actually running and walked 20 minutes to the department store. To find it closed until 10am. And it was 9:30. Despite wanting to kill someone, I spun around and was graced with the best sight I could have hoped for at a time like this: a gorgeous little coffee shop. After a coffee and the BEST granola I’ve had EVER, Harrods decided it would open and I went in to purchase a few more presents… (o now I’ve got you thinking…)
My plans to get across to the other side of the city to the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge were a little derailed but after making three stops and catching three lines I managed to get there. Actually really enjoyed the bridge, because unlike the Palace, it really was as amazing as I thought it was going to be.
Unsure of where to go to next I sat down on a little park bench to get out my map and rethink my next move. Decided I would head back into the city and have lunch at London’s Hard Rock Café, I got up and headed to the Tube. Got on the train and was just about to sit down and made a mental calculation of all my possessions:
Wallet? Check
Phone? Check
Camera? Check
Harrods Bag? OH SHIT
Leapt off the train just as the doors were shutting, ran screaming up the stairs to the street, dashed across the road and luckily my little green bag of joy was still sitting exactly where I had left it.
To those who will not be named who are getting a Harrods gift… you better damn like it for what I had to go through to get it!
Lunched at the Hard Rock Café again by myself (I’m starting a new trend) and then walked around a little more exploring before heading down to one of the few stations that WAS still open and catching a line home. That evening I had tickets to the Brooke Fraser concert, a kiwi singer with whom I have been in love with ever since she first released a song over five years ago. Luckily for me, she has another couple of devoted fans in Pete’s English cousins Micki and Francesca and two of their friends, and so the five of us headed off the gig together. Despite making us wait in the cold for almost an hour, Brooke lived up to all of our expectations. We got great spots (especially for the vertically challenged Francesca and I) and she was amazing to say the least. Although, still SO jealous of the girls who got a photo with her after they had to go back for Micki’s missing glove… why didn’t I drop my glove! Grrrrr!
Tuesday morning was to be the last time I was going to wake up in the freezing London air… and it was snowing! A fact that I exclaimed a little too loudly at 8:00am to a room full of sleeping girls….oooppppsss…
Wasn’t going to have a repeat of the Grease Tube Incident of 2010, so I left REALLY early to make sure I wouldn’t miss my train. Arrived at the station, looked up on the board and lo and behold my train wasn’t on there. Of course it wasn’t.
Kindly asked the information man at the information booth why my train wasn’t on there. His response you ask?
‘Oh that train’s been cancelled’.
Me?
‘Oh has it now? Oh I’m so glad you told me thank you so much for your excellent help’
My real response?
‘I’m sorry come again?’
Lucky for me there was an earlier train that wasn’t cancelled because of the snow and I was able to get on it as I had arrived at the station so early. See this is why mothers are ALWAYS right.
Left London in a flurry of snow, sad to see it go.
Was London everything I hoped it would be and more?
DEFINITELY
Did I lose 5 kilos on our sight seeing marathon?
MAYBE
Thanks to me, is there a single souvenir left in the whole city?
PROBABLY NOT!
X
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