Sorry to have taken so long to write my post about my final day in London. I was on the move most of the day, and when we got back to the flat it was packing, dinner, and Downton Abbey. So, here's the belated recap.
Sunday dawned pretty grey and gloomy, with rain threatening, so I scurried down to Meanwhile Gardens for a bit of yarnbombing while Roger was up at the Queen's Park Farmers' Market. I left 3 flowers and a wee red bird on the railings in the wildlife garden:
I'm afraid that the rain that came later in the day probably wilted the flowers a bit, but I hope the staff found them on Monday morning and smiled.
The rest of Sunday was taken up with our visit to Crossness Pumping Station, a Victorian sewage pumping station designed by Joseph Bazalgette and known as the "Cathedral on the Marsh." I'd been wanting to see it for ages, but it's only open to visitors about half a dozen Sundays a year. I'd seen my Flickr friends' photos of the interior, and read about it in The Great Stink, a not-so-great novel about the sewers of London and the creatures who inhabited them in the mid-1800s. On Crossness open days, volunteers -- all dressed in waistcoats and bowler hats -- steam up the working boiler, called the "Prince Consort" (each of the four engines is named after a royal), and tell people about the history and technology. From 1865, when Crossness was opened by the Prince of Wales, until the 1950s when it was replaced by a new pumping station, the four beam engines pumped sewage from the lowest level of the gravity-fed sewer system up to a reservoir, from which it was dumped into the Thames when the tide was going out. This system, which utilized 450 miles of sewers, brought the sewage eastward, out of central London where it had previously flowed directly into the Thames and resulted in very smelly and unhygienic conditions in the city. It all ended up in the same place after the sewers were built, just further downstream and closer to the sea.
The building is a Grade I masterpiece, with lovely detailed brickwork on the outside and the most elaborate wrought iron inside. Since the 1980s, when volunteers began the restoration work, they've not only restored the Prince Consort, but have painted much of the ironwork in a fantastic color scheme of green, red, white, purple, orange and gold. Donning hard hats, we roamed around with hundreds of other visitors, seeing three floors, watching the beam engine and fly wheel put through their paces, and chatted with the volunteers. (FYI, it only smells of sewage outside, if the wind is in the right direction. Not smelly at all inside the pumping station.)
Cold, rainy, miserable weather greeted us when we exited the building and waited about half an hour for the shuttle bus back to the Abbey Wood station for the train ride back into London. While Roger made our dinner, I did my packing. You're probably all wondering what goodies I would be bringing back from the UK -- prezzies for all my friends? packets of Hobnobs and Ginger Nuts? a bottle of excellent single malt Scotch? None of these, I'm afraid. Stuffed into my suitcase were a very full plastic envelope with all the paper bits I'd picked up -- exhibition brochures, a few postcards, and a small print of Amy Winehouse doing the Hoovering -- and the arm of a wooden hall seat of Roger's. I remember the whole piece, which was about six feet tall and made of oak. It had belonged to his grandmother, and he moved it around from place to place when he lived in Massachusetts. On the last move, when he was putting his stuff into storage before leaving for the UK, the hall seat met with an unfortunate accident involving a pickup truck and the pavement, and is now in bits and pieces. Under mysterious and inexplicable circumstances, one of the bits (the flat and slightly curved right arm) made its way to England and surfaced in Roger's move to Maida Hill. So, into my suitcase it went, to be reunited with the other bits that are somewhere in Northampton, MA.
Despite not bring much tangible stuff back with me, I came home with lots of great memories and the sense of accomplishment of a trip well done. I ticked off most of the must-see things on my overly-ambitious spreadsheet. I didn't get lost once and I didn't lose anything. I spent about £230 for 9 days (cheap!), walked a total of 72 miles and took 640 photos. And I had some wonderful meetups and adventures with a bunch of lovely people who I count as good friends. Thanks to everyone who made UK Trip #10 so fab!
Stats:
10,995 steps (4.33 miles)
Expenses:
£1 for Crossness map and donation for van ride (Roger paid the five quid for my admission)
£10 to Roger for food and booze
$70 parking at the Massport lot in Framingham
$2.40 toll on the Mass Pike
Saturday was our day for a day trip out of London. I wanted to choose someplace where Roger hadn't been, which is getting harder and harder now that he's lived here for nine years. We decided on Rochester and Chatham -- two towns right next to each other, a short (and cheap) train ride from London.
First stop was Rochester. Lots to see here -- a lovely, pedestrianised High Street full of 18th and 19th century buildings (and a few that are much older), a cathedral and a ginormous castle. We ambled down the High Street, stopping into a couple antique stores and charity shops. We visited the Six Poor Travellers House, established in the 16th century and used by Charles Dickens in his story "The Seven Poor Travellers." The house provided accommodation to poor travellers, plus food, ale and fourpence, until 1940. The upper storeys are still in use today as an almshouse run by the Council. The residents maintain a beautiful little back garden that we were able to walk around in. Our next stop was Eastgate House, a Tudor home also dating from the 16th century. It happened to be one of their infrequent open days, so we got to see some of the rooms inside. Once used as a school for girls, Dickens incorporated it as The Nuns' House in The Mystery of Edwin Drood.
We arrived at the cathedral just after a wedding had started, so we killed an hour walking around the ruins of the castle and having a sit down and lunch at a little tea shop. When we returned to the cathedral, Roger did the audio tour while I went in search of the loo. I found it behind a tiny, unmarked wooden door that I think used to lead to a little hole where they put people to do penance. It was a nice loo, but I wouldn't want to be shut in the penance hole.
It was mid-afternoon by the time we reached the Historic Dockyard in Chatham. The place is vast, and you could easily spend a day there. Most of the families with kiddies had left by the time we arrived, which made for an ideal way to see a couple of the buildings. By far, the best part of it was the interpreted tour of the ropery, where rope is still being made in much the same way, although mechanised, as it has been for centuries, in a building that's a quarter of a mile long. We also saw a gigantic boat slip covered by the largest wooden-raftered roof I've ever seen. It's bigger than the cathedral, and looks a bit like an upside-down wooden ship's hull. We also got a personal tour of the submarine after all the other punters had left.
A bus to Rochester and train to Victoria got us back to London as the rain was starting.
It's now my last day in London. I'm going to do my yarnbombing this morning while Roger goes to the gym and/or the market. Then, we're off to Crossness Pumping Station.
Stats:
15,763 steps (6.21 miles)
Expenses:
£16.10 return train ticket for Rochester
£3.50 tuna & sweet corn sandwich and tea
£4.80 return bus fare for Chatham
£16.50 admission to Historic Dockyard
£10 to top up Oyster card
This pace is mad. I'm knackered. I have circles under my eyes and all my muscles are weary. Consequently, today was largely unplanned and a bit slower than previous ones. I played a game of Fortunately-Unfortunately in my head all day. It went something like this:
I got a late start, setting out at 11 a.m. Fortunately, I knew where I was headed -- Liverpool Street for the Bishopsgate Institute (the Spitalfields dioramas), Spitalfields Market to look for Amelia Parker's clay pipe jewellery stall, and the new Shepard Fairey show at Stolen Space in the Old Truman Brewery. Unfortunately, Amelia wasn't at the market this week and the Shepard Fairey show doesn't open until tomorrow. Fortunately, I got a nice lunch of lentil coconut carrot corn curry soup in Spitalfields Market. Unfortunately, it was raining pretty hard when I emerged from my sit-down. Fortunately, I hopped the No. 26 bus in Bishopsgate and it took me all the way to Waterloo. Unfortunately, mesh top Merrell shoes are a poor footwear choice for wet weather. Fortunately, Bedlam at the Old Vic Tunnels was good fun, and I'd e-mailed them ahead to say I couldn't book a timed entry because I didn't know what time I'd be there, and they'd said they would put my name on the list and I could come any time. Unfortunately, the walk across Hungerford Bridge in the rain kind of sucked. Fortunately, my friend Barbara who works at the Coli was able to pop out for tea with me. Unfortunately, by then it was really pouring when I crossed over to the National Gallery. Fortunately, I had a chance to spend an hour mooching around and looking at the masterpieces (ashamed to admit it, but it was my first time there). Unfortunately, I chose to go to Charing Cross station instead of Embankment to hop the train back to Queens Park (very long route to the platform; Embankment would have been shorter by far). Fortunately, the rain had let up by the time I got off at Queens Park and walked to Roger's flat.
Now I really need to crash and get my strength back for my final two days. I've still got yarnbombing to do!
Stats:
18,282 steps (7.21 miles)
Expenses:
£10 to top up Oyster card
£3.15 for soup at Spitalfields Market
£1.20 for a flapjack from a bakery in Lower Marsh Street
I'm surprisingly not too hung over, giving the amount of wine I consumed over dinner last night and then at the Jamboree Venue where we heard old time jazz. More on that below.
Thursday was my day to take in art and good company with my friend Judy. Just as last year, we met up in the morning at Tate Modern. We looked at the installation -- not sure that's what you'd call it, as it was more of randomly choreographed event (is that an oxymoron?) -- in the Turbine Hall, some of the rolling exhibitions in the Tate Tanks (the best of which was Suzanne Lacy's The Crystal Quilt, which my quilter friends Shawn and Allie would enjoy), and a new exhibition of photography by William Klein and Daido Moriyama.
We then walked across the river and through the City to the Barbican for an exhibition of photography from the 60s and 70s called Everything Was Moving. This had to be one of the most amazing and powerful photography exhibitions I've ever seen. It brought together something like 400 photos by 12 photographers (none was anyone I'd heard of other than William Eggleston) from around the world, who each documented their unique eye-view of some aspect of these two tumultuous and world-altering decades -- from the Freedom Ride for voter registration in the southern states of the US, to the war in Vietnam, Chinese society under Mao, the brutality of apartheid in South Africa, the vivid color of India, and the expressive youth culture of Mali. Uniting them all were the threads of life under oppression and of the creativity, hope and human spirit that can emerge from/despite those conditions. Roger was so blown away by the exhibition when he saw it that he bought the book -- I'm going to have to leaf through it to revisit the images before I leave.
After saying goodbye to Judy on the tube, I took a long, rambling walk -- turning south and then east, south and east -- from Whitechapel station to the DLR station in Limehouse. Some of my walk took me through the noise and traffic of the modern Commercial and Whitechapel roads, and other times I turned into quiet residential side streets of Georgian terrace houses that looked like scenes of Whitechapel over 100 years ago. And I found a little street next to St Mary's Cable Street where a scene from To Sir With Love was filmed nearly 50 years ago in 1967. Walking these streets, you can easily imagine yourself in another decade or another century.
I met up with Roger, Greg and Esther under the arches of the DLR station. Note to self: if meeting someone at Limehouse station, be sure to specify which entrance to meet at. Esther and I saw a gorgeous sunset behind the Shard as we waited at one entrance while Roger and Greg tried to find each other at other entrance. On the map, the route to Narrow Street to the restaurant looked like just a doodle. Turns out it involved crossing the Rotherhithe Tunnel Approach at rush hour, which was just a little frightening. But having survived it once, we bravely did it again to get to Jamboree Venue to hear Dakota Jim and (part of) his orchestra playing old ragtime jazz (American and Romani) from the 20s and 30s. The venue is wonderful -- it's a small section of an old brick factory in Cable Street. The concrete walls are decorated with musical instruments and some large, odd paintings. Only about 8 tables, with utterly mismatched chairs. There's a little bar in the back, and up front a small stage with velvet curtains. The music was perfect.
Now I'm getting a really late start, and trying to work out where I'm going today. It's my catch-up day, one to work in things I've missed earlier in the week. I know I'm going to see Bedlam in the Old Vic Tunnels, but not sure where else the day will take me. It's lates at many of the museums, so I might just hop for one to another into the evening. Stay tuned.
Stats:
25,295 steps (9.98 miles)
Expenses:
£12 for Barbican Art Gallery
£1.80 for tea
£20 for pizza, wine, and more wine
This will be a quick update on yesterday's activities, while my clothes are spinning around in the dryer. I need to be out the door by 9:30 a.m. to meet my friend Judy at Tate Modern. It's another day that's starting out much better than predicted. I'm not taking credit or anything, but I do seem to have a way of making the rain hold off when I'm visiting.
Yesterday, I filled in a missing bit of the Regent's Canal with a walk from Camden Town to the start of the Islington Tunnel. I've now walked the towpath from Ladbroke Grove to Limehouse, which I think totals about 20 miles. My friend Malcolm joined me for this segment -- we met up at the Spanish School in the Portobello Road for a quick look at the new wall installation (large photos on a coffee theme) and then hopped the No. 31 bus to Chalk Farm and got on the towpath at Hampstead Road Lock. Not a lot to see along this stretch -- some new and converted housing on the opposite side from the towpath (I saw one sweet converted warehouse where I'd love to live), and the remains of the wall on which Banksy and Team Robbo carried out their graffiti feud. The most interesting part is at King's Cross, where there's been an amazing amount of development since I last poked around there about four years ago. The gasometers are now all gone (mothballed somewhere, with at least one to come back at some point and put to some unknown purpose), Central St Martin's College of Art has moved into a renovated warehouse, there are new steps from the towpath to a large square, and a bridge over the canal leading straight into King's Cross Station. There are various food vans and stalls between the bridge and the station that change every day, which made a great opportunity for us to get a bite to eat and have a sit-down. I had a Scotch egg (my first!), with a 3-bean crust instead of the usual sausage, from a stall called Eat My Pies. It was made by the mum of a Brit named Andy Bates who has a show on the Food Network in America (I've not seen it, but will check it out when I get back home). Good cooking must run in the family, because Andy's mum's Scotch egg was delish.
The leg of the towpath from there to Islington was easy and uneventful. If it had been raining, I would probably have stopped at the Canal Museum just past King's Cross, but that can wait for another trip. After leaving the towpath and walking through Chapel Market, Malcolm and I went our separate ways, he to Jessup's to look at camera gear, and me to get on the No. 73 bus to Euston.
It was still sunny when I got off the bus and started to wander though Bloomsbury, but clouds began to roll in. My first stop was the crypt gallery at St Pancras Parish Church, where I saw a fab exhibition by women artists called Dare to Wear. It was by far the most colorful and fun thing I'd ever seen in the creepy crypt. By then I was in need of tea and another sit-down, so I wandered down Marchmont Street. Rain drops started falling when I reached the Brunswick Centre, and soon turned into a downpour. I took shelter in the caff at the Foundling Museum, a site which has a long history of providing refuge. When the rain let up, I pushed on to St Giles High Street, and looked in at the exhibition of Crossrail archaeology -- bits ranging from bison bones to Victorian pottery that's been dug up in the massive excavation for the new Crossrail system. This is really fascinating stuff, and well worth a look-see if you're in Tottenham Court Road (but hurry because it ends soon!).
Back on the Euston Road, my next stop was the British Library, where I looked at the permanent exhibition (Treasures of the British Library) -- a good way to kill the remaining hour before meeting Roger in front of the St Pancras Hotel at 6 pm. We wandered around King's Cross looking for a pub to grab a quick dinner, and ended up at Central Station on what clearly was drag night at the pub. The last destination was King's Place, where we heard Scottish contemporary folk/rock from a bloke called Roddy Woomble and band called Rura. Lovely venue, and Roddy and company made some nice sounds, but I thought his songs needed work (except for a very nice cover of John Prine's Speed of the Sound of Loneliness). We did not stop in the foyer to buy the CD.
Stats:
28,170 steps (11.11 miles)
Expenses:
£10 to top up my Oyster card
£2 for exhibition catalogue from Dare to Wear
£2.70 bevvies and nibbles along the way
£8.85 veg burger and half pint of bitter at the pub
£5 glass of wine at the concert
It wasn't a conscious plan, but Tuesday turned out to be a day of gardens. The plan was to meet up with Maggie at Putney Bridge station, for a stroll around Bishop's Park, then up the New King's Road to Chelsea. Since it was such a bright, sunny day when I woke up, I decided to seize the opportunity (with rain being predicted for the rest of the week) to first take a detour through Meanwhile Gardens on my way to catch the tube at Westbourne Park station. I wanted to check on the yarnbombs that I'd left there last year, and pre-scope some possible sites for this year's wooly creations. The striped yarnbomb is still quite bright, and easily seen from the towpath. I wandered through the wildlife garden, and ran into two of the gardeners. I told them that I was the yarnbomber, and their faces broke into big smiles. "We love it! We were so excited when we came to work and found it last year." I told them to be on the lookout for some more surprises in a few days. My second, green piece, is still where I left it, well hidden in the foliage.
It was a perfect day for a long, long walk with Maggie, which has turned into a bit of a tradition. We ambled through the walled garden at Fulham Palace and then eastward, past one of the oldest brick kilns in London, the remaining walls of an old penitentiary, an art nouveau temperance hall, some absolutely lovely almshouses, a fabulous (disused) Victorian power plant, into the (rebuilt) church where Henry VIII married Jane Seymour, looked for Queen Elizabeth I's mulberry tree (didn't find it), and saw dozens of blue plaques for painters, writers and suffragettes who lived along Cheyne Walk, and the Royal Hospital where the army pensioners live out their final days. Our stop at the Chelsea Physic Garden was well worth it -- what a great place, full of beautiful beds of flowers, medicinal herbs, veg and all sorts of plants from around the world. If I lived in London, I'd go there often and maybe finally learn to tell one plant from another.
The last stop on our ramble was the Saatchi Gallery in Sloane Square, to see Richard Wilson's oil tank, which I'd wanted to see for ages. It was even better than I imagined -- it totally distorts your sense of space, of what's up and what's down, and where you are in relation to floor and ceiling.
The day ended with a meet-up with 15 or so of my mates from Guess Where London -- a marvellous bunch of smart, witty, knowledgeable, and ever-so-quirky photographers. Big thanks to Maggie and to everyone who came to the meet-up for making it a memorable day in London.
Stats:
27,946 steps (11.02 miles)
Expenses:
£2.79 lunch from Tesco Express (tuna & sweetcorn sandwich and a beverage, eaten on a bench overlooking the Thames)
£9 Chelsea Physic Garden
£6.30 beer and nibbles at the Cross Keys
Monday's destinations were entirely on page 35 of my Mapguide (the one I thought I'd lost, but found wedged between my mattress and headboard at home). First stop was Somerset House, where I'd intended to see Night Paintings by Paul Benney, in the Deadhouse below the fountain court. After looking at the first four or five paintings, I came to a tape barrier. Turning around, I saw another tape barrier back by where I'd come in. I asked, and was told that they'd had a water leak in the lightwells and needed to close the rest of the exhibition, probably until the weekend. This was disappointing -- not so much because I was dying to see the rest of the paintings, which I'm sure were interesting, but because there are a bunch of 17th century tombs down in the Deadhouse that I'd wanted to see. With rain coming tomorrow and lasting the rest of the week, I don't think they'll be reopening any time soon. While I was at Somerset House, I also checked out the Nelson staircase and two small exhibitions (British illustration and Vidal Sassoon).
Next, the London Transport Museum, which I'd never visited before. Amidst the absolute din and chaos of screaming, running school children, I followed the history of London transport (boats, buses and trains) from the mid-19th century to the present. When I reached the final level, at last I was able to go to the exhibition I'd really come to see -- Mind the Map, about graphic design, maps and posters for the Underground. It was blissfully quiet in the exhibition rooms, as I was the only person there. It was well worth enduring the cacophony of kiddies to reach the exhibition, and the rest of the museum was pretty good as well, even for non-trainspotters like me.
I grabbed a quick lunch at Tesco Metro and ate in the churchyard of St Paul's Covent Garden. Then, on to the British Museum for Shakespeare: Staging the World, a fascinating array of paintings, printed material, and artefacts related to Shakespeare's times and to the subjects of his plays. This exhibition was crowded with pensioners, who are quieter the school kiddies, but due to their failing eyesight (and the general dimness of the lighting), they tend to stand about 6 inches in front of every piece. It's amazing that some of the things they had on display have survived all this time, particularly the tapestries and clothing.
It was 4:30 when I left the BM, and I figured it was best to get out of central London before the rush hour, so I hopped the No. 7 to Paddington Station and then the No. 36 back to Maida Hill.
Today, I'm off to Fulham Palace, then bits of Chelsea, and ultimately to the Guess Where London (Flickr group) meet-up at a pub in the City. I'll be wearing my best walking shoes (blister update: it's much better now).
Stats:
13,747 steps (5.42 miles)
Expenses:
£13.50 admission to the Transport Museum
£2.15 lunch (egg and cress on brown bread and a beverage)
£1.89 pint of yogurt from the supermarket since Roger's supply was running low
(Used R's BM membership card to get into the Shakespeare exhibition free)
This year's Serpentine Pavilion, designed by Ai Weiwei and Herzog & de Meuron, was a bit of a disappointment. The concept is intriguing -- they dug down to reveal the foundations of the eleven previous pavilions, and incorporated them into the design of the tiered subterranean seating, covered with cork. There are also some little stools (probably the tops of foundation posts, that look like mushrooms or champagne corks. The "roof," about 4 feet above ground level, is a shallow oval pond. I'm sure that the space functions far better than last year's pavilion, with its four dark wooden corridors, but I missed the fun of the color and reflections of previous pavilions. But it was a beautiful day for a walk through Kensington Gardens, so I'm not going to complain too much.
I got my chance to photograph some really ace reflections when we strolled down Exhibition Road. Tony Cragg's sculptures -- including one super shiny, curvy-wurvy one -- dot the road. I do love me a good reflection.
Next stop was Christie's in Old Brompton Road, where we went to see the Multiplied 2012 contemporary print art fair. Tempting as it was, we didn't buy anything. But I really loved the pop art prints of Amy Winehouse, by Gerald Laing, especially one with her hair tied up in a bandana, cigarette hanging out of her mouth, and pushing a Hoover. I got the postcard.
We then walked down to Brompton Cemetery, so that I could tick another of the Magnificent Seven on my list. (This was the fourth for me, having done Abney Park, Kensal Green, and part of Highgate.) Not as overgrown and creepy as Abney Park, nor as full of over-the-top Victorian tombs as Kensal Green, but the late afternoon light was glowing and lovely for a few moments so there were a few nice photo ops.
I started this post with one whinge, and I'll end with another: I've got a blister on the ball of my left foot. I've slapped a blister plaster on it, and will carry more with me in case the other foot goes down the same path. I'm getting soft in my old age.
Today, I'm heading out on my own for Central London to take in some museums and stuff.
Stats:
18,836 steps (7.43 miles)
Expenses:
£1.50 for apples at the Queen's Park Farmers' Market
£4 for sandwich in the caff at Christie's
£1.50 for 2 cans of coconut water
They should make me the poster person for JetZone, the homeopathic jet lag prevention "medicine" that I impulse-purchased at Deals and Steals and tossed into my carry-on bag. I chewed the little tabs (sugar pills) as directed before, during and immediately after my flight. It didn't help me to get more than 2 hours of sleep on the plane, but it -- plus a mighty big cup of coffee -- kept my alert and moving all day Saturday until I finally crashed around 10:30 pm. I did wake up in the early hours of morning and couldn't get back to sleep for 2 hours (I'm putting that down to all the spicy food I ate at Tayyab's as much as to jet lag), but then slept till 9:30 am, and now feel that I'm successfully adjusted to BST.
We worked in everything on my Saturday list, and then some. Starting our adventures at Old Street, we made our way towards the Moniker Art Fair at the Village Underground, zigzagging through Hoxton and Shoreditch to see street art, including several pieces by Stik, one of my favorite street artists. We saw some new things (Hoxton Square, Rivington Street, and the Leonard Street carpark), and some new-to me pieces (Stik's studio in Pitfield Street, and a community centre in Parfett Street). We also saw a paint-not-quite-dry mural by Shepard Fairey, called "Shoplifters Welcome," in Ebor Street, very near Boxpark, which was another of my destinations. Boxpark is a condensed shopping area, with small stores all in a series of shipping containers assembled on two levels. I was interested in seeing it because of my current penchant for creative reuse and because the Pie Minister is there, and I've been thinking all year about that lovely Heidi pie (winter squash and goat's cheese with savory herbs) that I had last October so I needed to pick one up to eat later in the week.
Of the indoor art we saw at the Moniker Art Fair and at the Whitechapel Gallery, my two favorite works involved small taxidermied mammals. I usually don't go in for that sort of stuff, but these were great (and I'm just telling myself that the wee critters were road kill, not intentionally sacrificed for the art). At Moniker, Nancy Fouts, a 68-year old American artist who works in the UK, had a piece called "Rabbit with Curlers." At the Whitechapel Gallery was Maurizio Cattelan's Bidibidobidiboo, a miniature family kitchen with a squirrel that has committed suicide slumped at the table. There, we also saw some conceptual stuff, which I don't pretend to understand -- this year's Bloomberg Commission by Guiseppe Penone, and paintings and installations by Mel Bochner, the best of which was a series of colorful word paintings (imagine Sol LeWitt works with text instead of lines).
An early dinner at Tayyab's finished off our day out in the East End.
Stats:
20,659 steps (8.15 miles)
Expenses:
£20 to top up my Oyster card
£4 for two tote bags at Moniker Art Fair
£3.50 for Heidi pie
£1 for postcards at the Whitechapel Gallery
Spooner treated me to mid-afternoon tea and to dinner
Tenth trip to Blighty, and one of the smoothest journeys so far. I landed at 6:25 am and was at Spooner's front door by 8:15. Absolutely no queue at immigration, which is unheard of. There's something to be said for coming into Terminal 4, though I'd still rather be on Virgin Atlantic than on Delta (DEfinitely Lacking Travel Amenities).
I'm now cleaned up and caffeinated and ready to head out to explore. We're off to the East End to go to the Moniker Art Fair, to see the new streetart in Shoreditch, possibly to take in whatever is at the Whitechapel Gallery, and then to eat at Tayyab. It's a bit chilly, but the sky is blue and the sun is shining. Full report to follow.
Yesterday's stats:
3127 steps (1.23 miles) and a lot of sitting
$2.40 for Mass Pike toll
$22.00 for return ticket on Logan Express airport bus
