Last night

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I'd type this: I have Tate Modern'ed myself out. I have the book I spied earlier and no more. OK, one more but it is really small. Jack Yeats,  brother of the poet, extraordinary painter. Got some scotch and as a result (and gratefully) have to check my bag. Everything else I can carry in my shopping bag, as planned.  And the plan on the flight is to dose for a few hours if I can.

The best part of this trip? The km's walked (about 60 so far), thus experiencing the city at a micro-level, of sorts. The mainly European languages heard; Spanish, German and Italian - all 3 plus English at the table next to me with kids. How rich an upbringing is that! The exposure to art, my new batik friends, my visit with old friend Liz, and, of course, the play with Dame Smith. And the trip back in time,  namely to the WW periods from the Imperial War Museum,  the eras from which my taste in culture has evolved. I don't know why, but I am saturated!

London Marathon was today...

It took me nearly 2 hours to get to what should have been a 39 minute walk from the Tate Britain to the Modern. I got trapped by the London Marathon and couldn't cross over and out from the viewers on the Thames side of the race. Had to backtrack a considerable trek - probably 3k. I DID see the guy who must have won 2 hours earlier before I did the Britain. My pace was considerably slow and more contemplative! And where some of them are downing water, I have "A Proper Job", a Cornish ale.

Hoped to see more at the Tate Britain, but also, no Auerbach.  Still, worth the visit - I'd never been before. The hoards of crowds were there to see the Van Gogh, which I passed on having invested all my allowance on the Maggie Smith play. Plus, I don't care for his work, except for his Iris's and those are stunning to my eye. So the gallery was practically empty!

After my pint here, and this well deserved sit down,  I'm heading back to the Modern for the rest of the afternoon. And for a book about Austrian painter Oskar Kokoschka, which caught my eye and is cheaper here than on Amazon. I have some scotch to taste and buy, which might mean a walk back to Soho tomorrow, and I can then turn my attention back across the pond. The office have not, as promised,  sent me my new contract, so I don't and won't know until Tues night if it's in my CBC email, if I'm due in there on Weds. morning or not.

Soho and Chinatown, just north of Trafalgar Square, were packed yesterday, where as everywhere else was dead quiet. Seems the locals retreat from their blue suits and nice shoes, to the comforts of home. Which are likely, not downtown. Very pricey here... a flat can set you back a few million (gasp). There are more people sleeping rough than I've seen before... I don't know if they have safe injection sites... or maybe even with my meandering, I have not stumbled upon a more challenged part of the city.

Sunday morning

(How did it get to Sunday morning?) The AGM in Brighton was terrific. What a lovely and passionate bunch of artists! I wish we had had more time.  Yesterday, I met up with trekking friend Liz and we had a great catchup as well. The Requiem was disappointing as the choir was not in sync with each other. Rather irritating. I bailed early and hiked it back to the hostel and a badly needed night of sleep. There’s an obvious American pretending to be whatever is not in the room. Canadian until I showed up and then German. The young woman from Taiwan is just lovely, though!

The bells of St Paul’s are in full force as the 11AM service will start shortly. I have the Tate Modern, just a short jaunt from here, and/or the Tate Britain on my agenda. The later is a considerable walk, which means, having done 17k yesterday, why, I might hop on a bus.... at least to get there. I can meander home. Whiskey shops abound, and I finally found the one I was looking for in Soho. Gotta go back there as well.

Hope you have a splendid day! xo

Thursday

National Gallery and then the train to Brighton. Not before I had a bite to eat and a long chat with a like-minded traveler who has been to Nepal. So many things did not have to be said... we both cried once we reached our vertical goals. Mine was higher, but I'm not competitive. (right...)

Everything is in bloom here and a lush green dominates up the ground to track side. I have been watching my sister-in-law and brother's photos for the past two weeks (they are over here as well), and am not surprised by this, so I haven't taken photos. My bad. They are now in the the Isle of Skye while I am in the south for 2 days. We, as a family,  are spread albout as thin as a tourist or 3 can be in the UK! 

The train took about 1.5 hours travel time this afternoon, then the huge, free Brighton map found me on North Street before I could check the sign! Everything is really close, and it's a pretty town. I will over estimate the amount of time necessary to return to the station, but that is good. Cobble stones are not friendly to carry on luggage wheels, and there is a hill to climb for an early morning departure. I didn't think that one through! The hostel is gorgeous. And 2 buildings deep from the beach. Seriously friendly people and like London without the blue suits, crowded just the same. I "get" where some people might find Toronto dense compared to other locales in Canada. 

By the time I upload this, I will have met my batik people! The AGM is tomorrow for the Guild, then a second meal and the train. I have a lower bunk this time at the hostel but that did not stop me from hitting my head on the nearest metal and horizontal structure when I arrived.  It's going to be the "trip of hitting my head..." 

OK. Off to meet my people. Talk to you tomorrow!

What day is it?

After my 9AM nap, I wandered over to The Imperial War Museum, a lovely walk south, which had a sobering and very impressive holocaust exhibit. Then, on my way to an evening out, I took in some of the Tate Modern. Had a lovely little vegan lunch in-between. In a roundabout way, I found the a new and small theatre for a one-woman play about Goebbel’s secretary during the war. Set in the present, she recalled her youth and those times, in character with a little memory loss. The last time I saw her was with Mom in 2003, sharing the stage with Judi Dench. Riveting. I couldn’t remember those lines let alone talk for that long (1.45 minutes) without a break or a drink of water, but she held us in the palm of her hand. And that is why she is a Dame. Smith, that is. Maggie Smith. Trip highlight! I’m stunned I was able to see her again. Put an invigorating 15k on the soles of my feet.

Off to Brighton on the train tomorrow afternoon for a couple of days and the trip’s true mission; the Batik Guild’s AGM. I’ve met some of these women over Messenger but only Rosi in person. So, I’m quite looking forward to this! Then, back here for a few days, though I hardly know why, having enjoyed tonight so much! But there’s the Tate Britain and the National Gallery to go, and probably a trip back to the Modern.

Tuesday.

Earlier… 37,000ft over an Atlantic in a 767 that is mostly behind us now. Smooth flight except for brief pockets of jelly-jostling turbulence. Nothing to speak of, really. Tons of leg room so I was able to stretch at my leisure. Got some sleep I think.

Walked from the train station to the IYH (youth hostel, a converted choir school for St Paul’s Cathedral) dropped off my luggage and dropped off myself into a very comfy chair, snagging a solid hour of nap time. Tempted for more, I hustled up and headed to the London Museum, which is within spitting distance of the hostel, with the intent of learning about Roman and Medieval times, and in particular, the remains of the original city wall.  What a dense museum that is, complete with parts of the wall that originally marked the city, and saved structures beyond it during the Great Fire of 1666. Most impressive! Took in an Evensong service at St. Paul’s , that was a bit of a challenge acoustically, as I’m not sure the choir was together combined with the organ and an enormous delay. Loved the organ.

Now, I find myself this evening in a pub that was rebuilt after that fire mentioned above, which is down a cozy lane and up the stairs. Broken into smaller rooms with rich wood paneling, a creamy Samuel Smith bitter quenches my thirst, while I wait to see if this fine establishment serves food. Water, is plentiful at the hostel now that the broken pipe has been repaired. I love that place. It’s my go-to hostel anywhere. (Gosh, I hope they serve food! There is salt and pepper on the table…) It’s the kind of place where spirited philosophical conversations echo in the storied walls and rough floor boards walls. Kind of place where I could imagine Beethoven frequenting before deafness completely overtook his essence. And the glass in the windows is original and sagging. It’s perfect.

After some time, I found the food 1.5 very low basements beneath the philosophical discussions of my highly educated floor mates upstairs. The young man down here, who seemed delighted to have an order, gave me a sensor-like thing, sorta like Alexa without the voice, that will “go mad when your food is ready”. So will I, fine chap, so will I!

The day before I take flight..

Midweek, I developed a robust chest cold, however, the contagious period will have mostly subsided by the time I get on my flight. And why else do large pharmaceutical companies make extra-strength cold syrups/meds but for the likes of this! I’ll be fine.

Engaged now with packing activities, I found a multitude of small things in our unorganized basement which are permitted on flights: single-use shampoos, soap, conditioner, short power cord (have the convertor), spare librarian-like neck cord with which to hold my glasses, and a fabric throat/neck warmer thingy Pat gave me that will serve nicely to keep my mandible attached to my cranium while asleep on the flight. Nodding off while upright always forces my mouth open; my teeth organize and rumble given the opportunity to escape, I then tumble forward and awake. Not on THIS flight. Not if I can help it. The only thing missing is my travel towel, which is likely with the camping gear…

I’m also busy editing the collection of tunes on my iPod. What I REALLY need, is a hologram that will flash in front of me to tell me what tune is playing next and identify the composer. And that is a first world problem.

Books collected for the journey include “Bringing Columbia Home” (the space shuttle lost in 2003, coincidentally while Mom and I were in the UK), the memoirs of an EMS turned mortician, “Silent Siren”, and “Footprints in the Dust” – the account of a nurse who has worked in war-zones and her compassion and hope for refugees from around the world. There will be research to undertake each day as my itinerary unfolds. Large parts of this trip will pay homage to my recently departed Mom, but more on that as this evolves. That’s enough