Taking the Tube

The London Underground was the world's first underground railway, opening as the Metropolitan Railway in 1863. It had gas-lit wooden carriages powered by steam engines, and reportedly, it was not a pleasant ride, due both to the inadequate ventilation and the fact that men (and it was men at that time) were allowed to smoke on the train. I'm glad that's no longer the case.

We're big fans of the Tube, because we seldom have to wait more than a few minutes for a train, especially during the daylight hours. However, to be fair, I must mention one criticism: not every Tube station is friendly to those with mobility problems. Granted, the newer lines are much more accessible, and it can't be easy to add lifts (elevators) to stations that are more than 150 years old. Fortunately, there is a map that shows which stations have lifts and escalators, and often it's possible to plot a course to a station that has an interchange, if you need to change lines, or you can catch a bus to a more accessible Tube stop.

I mention this because my wonky knee acted up last week from taking long walks and climbing multiple stairs. As a result, I had to use my cane for a few days and avoid staircases. Wouldn't you know, our closest station had closed the lifts to one of its two main lines for repairs. The lifts won't be serviceable again until after we leave!

Note: Having had various knee and ankle surgeries, I have a fervent wish that everyone would have to use crutches or a cane, temporarily, at least once. If that were the case, I think accessibility would improve immeasurably. The U.K. isn't alone in failing to meet the needs of those with disabilities, however. Once, when I was on crutches, I found the SeaTac elevators shut down with no signs advising passengers with mobility problems how to proceed. And, at another airport, I waited in the rain for a requested wheelchair that was not there when I exited the plane. That gives me a lot of sympathy for people with permanent disabilities.

 

Are you sure you're in reverse?

This is a short post, but I just had to share the photo that I took when Kevin and I got into our friend's car for our weekly food shopping run to the Tesco supermarket. Because we mostly take public transportation, Kevin hasn't driven the car that much and had an initial hiccup with the gears the first time he drove it. Look closely at the photo and you'll know why I asked, "Are you sure you're in reverse?" Of course, we burst out laughing! 

Our friend's car is a little Fiat, perfect for parking on crowded London streets, but even it could do some damage to a  Lamborghini. Fortunately, Kevin is a careful driver.

What? Wild parakeets in London?

Kevin and I were walking on Brompton Road, when I spied a flash of green overhead. It reminded me of the first time I saw wild parrots in Tobago. "Are those parakeets?," I asked incredulously. "In London?" And then we spotted them again, and this time, we were certain. "They are parakeets!"

That's when the internet comes in handy. A quick search, and I discovered that London's green residents are ring-necked parakeets, sometimes called rose-ringed parakeets. You can easily identify them, for as the Londonist website says, "they are the only large green birds in the kingdom and they shiek like throttled muppets."

The site also revealed that the parakeets like to hang out in Kensington Gardens, so I cajoled Kevin into going to the gardens with me. And there they were, getting handouts from avian enthusiasts, along with some savvy hangers-on (pigeons).

I couldn't wait to meet the green beggars.

I don't much like the way I look in the photo, but the birds are photogenic. 

Apparently, the parakeets have thrived in the city because they are not a tropical species. No one is exactly sure where they came from, though there are several theories. What makes the most sense is that a few escaped from aviaries in Surrey during the Great Storm of 1987, because by the early 90s, sightings in London were becoming common. 

It's not known yet how they are affecting native species, though, in the city, it appears that they mostly compete with pigeons. I know some people, understandably, dislike introduced species, but I have a lot of sympathy for displaced animals and birds. After all, humans are the interventionists who have ruined more habitats for native species than any others. That's why I don't agree with those who want to kill animals that are in "the wrong place," or who have become overpopulated. For me, the best choice is relocation or contraception. (But I digress.)

In any case, like "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill," depicted in the wonderful film of the same name, the parakeets of London are adding vibrant color and beauty to the urban landscape--and maybe a touch of wonder too.

A Grand Day Out

Weather forecasters warn that the "Beast from the East," the notorious cold spell that Britain faced last winter, could reappear in days. That was all the excuse we needed to take advantage of the sun while it lasts, so we made a jaunt to Brighton.

In all the trips we've made to the U.K., we've never been to Brighton, so it was new to us. It's only about an hour from London by train, so it's an easy day trip.

We had plenty of time, so we ambled through The Lanes, the narrow, winding passageways pictured on the wall mural below, where antique shops, jewelers, and others ply their trade.  

Kevin's Sad Email Exchange

Kevin and I have been dreaming of returning to a restaurant in the town where we lived in 1989-1990. So as soon as we were settled, he fired off an email to the fondly remembered Pipe of Port:

Before long, Kevin had a reply:

Kevin responded right away with an email that included photos.

The final text below Pogo's photo (and, of course, he's not with us), said, "Even Pogo is sad."  Then Kevin had appended one of his signature off-beat self-portraits:

He probably scared poor Heather at the Pipe of Port. But she did reply:

Alas! What are we to do? Dealing with Brexit news and the U.S. government shutdown is bad enough, but no pork-and-plum pie? I don't know if we can handle it.

***

Addendum: Given the upheaval over Brexit and the shutdown, Kevin told a man in a pub that "We decided to come over here and watch the E.U. fall apart instead of staying home and watching the U.S. fall apart." (And yes, all that is sadder than losing our favorite meat pie.)

Songs for Nobodies

Photo courtesy of Kevin G. Imper

Kevin and I intend to take advantage of the theater during our time here, and aided by a generous gift from our family, we will be able to see several first-rate London productions. 

We attended our initial performance during our first week, when we experienced the remarkable talent of Bernadette Robinson, an Australian singer and actor whose one-woman show, "Songs for Nobodies" amazed us. The show, which was written especially for her, featured vignettes of women in mundane jobs (a washroom attendant and usher among them), and how the encounters these "nobodies" had with famous singers affected them.

Robinson sings in the style of five famous singers--Judy Garland, Patsy Kline, Billie Holiday, Edith Piaf, and Maria Callas. Reviewers commented that she didn't just imitate those singers, at times she seemed to actually become those singers, as though she were channeling them from the beyond.

We had to agree that if we closed our eyes, we would have thought we were hearing the original, especially her versions of Edith Piaf, Patsy Kline, and Billie Holiday. I've seen other people "do" Judy Garland, so while Robinson was impressive, the other songs stirred me more. As for Maria Callas, I'm not familiar enough with her recordings to say, although others said she was credible as she sang one of Calla's most famous arias, Puccini's Vissi d'arte. Whether or not she matched the great Callas, it's indisputable that she provided us with an exceptional evening, and her Piaf is only matched by Piaf.

A Winter Walk Along the Thames

Nothing beats an introduction (or re-introduction) to London like a walk along the Thames. Every time we visit, I like to renew my acquaintance with this vast city by coming to the river. London stretches far from its banks, but its history began there, and it's along the Thames that the city becomes approachable and more human in scale.

That's why Kevin and I put a walk along the river at the top of our list of things to do. But our usual view of the tower that houses Big Ben was not what greeted us as we emerged from the Underground ("the Tube") to begin our walk. Instead of something like this (photo from www.parliament.uk website):

We instead found the tower sheathed in scaffolding:

The mechanism of Big Ben, which is actually the name of the bell in the clock tower, is under restoration along with the clock faces and tower. The bell will only toll on special occasions until 2021. (Big Ben weighs 13-1/2 tons. The foundry that cast it also made our Liberty Bell.)

Kevin and I enjoyed our stroll in the brisk air, crossing to the South Bank and wandering past the art galleries, cafes, and the booksellers near the National Theatre. 

Across the river, we caught a glimpse of St. Paul's Cathedral, bathed in the golden light of the winter day.

We encountered some river residents too. These beautiful Egyptian geese seemed not the least perturbed when we stepped down to explore the shingled and gravelly bank.

And Kevin got his first taste of mudlarking, or scavenging along the river mud to find items of interest or value. 

He did not find any of the thousands of old clay (smoking) pipes that are supposed to lie buried in the mud, nor did he find any Roman coins or Anglo-Saxon treasures. But here is what he did find:

Kevin, like the artist Henry Moore, is fascinated with flints and accretions, and now he has new ones in his collection. He also found what we think is a bone, which possibly could be very old, from the days when butchers threw bones and offal into the river. We saw a similar bone used as a scraper in the London Museum, which dated from prehistoric times. But it's doubtful that Kevin's discovery is that ancient.

Still, you can be sure there will be more river walks and more mudlarking. I think I may try it myself, just in the hope that I might find a precious Anglo-Saxon brooch. But, alas, if I find one, it must become the property of the British government. (There's always a catch, isn't there?)

Living Like a Local

Welcome to our London blog!

When our friend Shirley asked us if we would like to house-sit for her this winter, we leaped at the opportunity. (Of course, we first made sure that our much-loved cat, Pogo, could be cared for by our kitty-sitter and friend, Jane, "the Mary Poppins of Cats.") And that's how we found ourselves on a quintessential London square for nearly three months.

Shirley's flat looks out on a leafy park, green even in winter.  

Kevin and I can watch the activity in the park while we eat lunch and quaff a British ale. And although the park looks deserted in the photo, it is normally buzzing with activity. Parents look on as their children race around the paths and,when it's warm enough, retired folks sit on the benches and chat. In summer, we're told, it's busy with picnics and sun-seekers. (I'm not revealing the name of the square to protect our friend's privacy--that's priv'-a-see, of course, not prive'-a-see, as we Americans pronounce it.)

As you can see, we could hardly be in a better spot. The actor Hugh Grant once lived on this square, and I imagine he could have had his pick of locations.

The one caveat I would make about this blog is that you will not find a strong focus on tourist activities. Having lived in England years ago and having visited frequently, we covered most of the tourist sights years ago. 

Our goal for this stay is to explore lesser-known locations, to take advantage of cultural opportunities, to mix with locals, and to spend more time in the places we have loved. And yes, we intend to savor our favorite British foods: fish 'n chips, bangers and mash, pork-and-plum pie, full English breakfasts, and sticky toffee pudding. Finally, living so close to the Thames, we plan to try our hand at mudlarking. (And if you don't know what that is, stay tuned.)