Pass Go. Collect $200
We have witnessed the best of British. The glory, pomp, urbane vibe, grandeur, architecture, the power.
And yet I have struggled to write this blog entry. Not that there weren’t enough amazing experiences to recount. But I could not reconcile the appropriateness of talking about shopping, food, museums and culture at a time when pain, loss and agony were also very present.
And my biggest learning from spending a day and a half in London..there is beauty and good to be found from sorrow. That’s the foundation of the British culture.
We almost cancelled our trip, booked just a few days before the latest incident at London Bridge and Borough Market. All of a sudden the excitement of going somewhere new together (and especially finally being able to understand what the rest of our peer group was talking about when recalling time in London) vanished. If there were only the two of us to consider we would have forged ahead. But there isn’t. Four little people is a responsibility and we needed to make sure we weren’t taking unnecessary risks. But we did resolve to go, although I placed a rather large caveat on it - I would not use public transport - above or below the ground. Our feet are still paying the price!
I had already concluded that a lot of the beauty in London comes from sorrow or hardships. At every turn there is a statue celebrating a famous war hero, commemorating lives lost or celebrating a military win. And I was particularly conscious of what London must have been like in WWII times. These are the layers which give London its uniqueness. And this is the history that gives Londoners their unique grit, determination and resilience. They don’t cower against adversity - they face it head on, stick their heads above the parapet and in turn use that energy to create something powerful.
Then we wandered along the south side of the Thames, from London Tower Bridge back to the London Eye. I knew we would come across the flowers and notes for the victims of the recent attacks. I girded my loins ready for the emotional jolt it would give me. We would wander through the very area where people ran for their lives. Some sadly not making it. What we found was incredibly emotional. But it was more about the enduring good in people and society than the sorrow and loss. Messages of hope and faith and rising up as a community - a global community. It was a powerful experience.
In fact during our time there we were ever conscious of the challenges London faces regarding security. Police everywhere (although nowhere near the numbers we were used to in Paris). And bridges, walkways and public spaces had all been partially barricaded so as to stop the unsafe passage of cars. I felt comforted by their presence.
And to the fire. An horrific unimaginable incident. It was sobering driving to Heathrow on Wednesday morning - just 8 hours after the fire had started. As we were also heading out west we went by close enough to see the top of the tower and the black, billowing smoke rising up. It was a scene straight out of a horror movie.
Tales are now emerging of heroic bravery. Of kind, generous gestures, both big and small. Of final phonecalls - goodbyes, declarations of love. Of religious and ethnic communities coming together to help. Of hope. Love. Compassion. Resilience.
In time it will show the best of British. The fortitude and tenacity to soldier on and cling on to the good from bad.
And so I think the only appropriate thing to do now is to talk about the shopping, food, museums and culture. That would be a very London thing to do…
Jamie was beside himself with excitement about going to an English speaking country. He feels as though he hasn’t conversed properly with strangers for months. I was beside myself with excitement stepping on to the tarmac (EasyJet - cheap flight) that I needed to wear a sweater. My body is not made for the high thirties.
The silver lining of refusing to take the tube to the city was that we stayed above ground and got to take it all in. It’s a curious thing going somewhere that is new but strangely familiar. My university history papers (and indeed my International Relations degree) all came flooding back to me as we spotted prominent places, statues and buildings. Jamie’s historical knowledge is vague and fairly light. But like any Kiwi kid he’s played Monopoly. In the car he was excited to be listening to English radio, seeing road signs in his native language and being able to interact with the driver in something more than grand sweeping hand motions. But he was beside himself when it started to feel like we were driving around the Monopoly Board. It started with Marylebone Station and then the familiar places kept coming.
And when we realised we were driving up to Buckingham Palace it hit us that we were indeed in London. For real. The Mall was just as I had imagined it, except strange not seeing it on a television screen with a carriage and hundreds of people lining either side. We stayed in Northumberland Avenue (a pink square in the game, thank you very much) just by Trafalgar Square. What a buzz.
After a quick late lunch of Asian food (French food is world-famous but just a little break from baguettes was very very appreciated) our first stop had to be Liberty. I’m a dedicated follower not to fashion, but to the completely old-fashioned (I say enduring) Liberty style. This was my ahaaaa moment. I had dreamed of it. And it certainly delivered, especially the fabric and haberdashery section. Jamie very patiently stood by as I drooled over fabric on rolls, covered buttons, handkerchiefs and sewing patterns. I have big plans for my return to Wellington involving my sewing machine and three little girls. Heavenly.
Then we wandered across the river to the London Eye. I had read that Londoners come out in droves when the weather starts to turn after a long cold, dark winter. And indeed they do. Post-work they were all out wandering, eating, drinking and feeling the sun on their skin. Amazing to see the city from up high and brilliant to get our bearings before a big day’s sightseeing the next day. We wandered back to Piccadilly Circus over the Westminster bridge (with me clutching Jamie’s hand very tightly - I had vowed only to go on pedestrian-only bridges) to go to Jamie’s Italian for dinner. A little predictable I know but we were keen to try one of his restaurants and it was a perfect easy solution after a long day.
Our one full day in London needed to be a big one. We won’t be back for a long time, and even when we do productivity levels with children are much lower than what we could achieve ourselves. We had a rough idea of what we wanted to get through - a nice mixture of tourist spots, food and art. We were focussed - and this time I had my trainers on (shame, now that I am back and have the photos to prove it).
I had never expected to go to London. Of course we toyed with the idea before we left New Zealand but more in a Barcelona vs London fashion. Never in my wildest dreams did I think we would be fortunate enough to do both (thanks to generous grandparents) and certainly never did I think I would be brave enough to fly over water and leave my children behind in a different country. Perhaps if I’d anticipated going we would have done some research and had a clearer idea of how to fill a day and a half. In Barcelona it didn’t really matter as we went there with no knowledge and no expectations. But the more we were in London I remembered iconic places that I would love to go to. Some of them will have to wait a few more years.
We knew we couldn’t do two churches. Something had to give. We chose Westminster Abby over St Pauls. Obviously I have nothing to compare, but I am happy with our decision. In fact I still feel slightly shocked about what we found when we entered. Firstly, relief that we could not take photographs. It is nice for someone to almost give you permission to focus and absorb your surroundings rather than obsessively getting that perfect shot. But I did not expect to see all those memorials and grave sites inside the church. I still can’t quite believe it to be true. Perhaps it’s because none of us walks out of there with photos that it was totally surprising - it’s a special treat for each person as they enter seeing something in the flesh rather than first witnessing it through others’ lenses.
Lunch was special. While Liberty was top of my list an Ottolenghi eating experience was right up there. Salads to die for. If only I could follow through his recipes in the book I own to even marginally reflect the real thing I would be a happy woman. Helped of course by the fact that we went to his deli in Belgravia. I am completely obsessed with house watching and being one of the wealthiest suburbs in the world there was plenty of material for me to work with. The white stone. The symmetry. The perfectly manicured gardens. Even the painted street numbers. This was the stuff of my dreams.
I was unsure about whether to go to Harrods or not. I had read it is full of shoppers with a lot of money and no taste (sounds like Singapore) but as we were already close we decided to get it crossed off the list. The place is obscenely large. Never before have I seen a children’s department so comprehensive. Shame I could not have afforded anything in it, although a lovely girl’s dress with tulle skirt was a huge temptation in Molly’s size. And at 2995 pounds an absolute steal. Perhaps in another lifetime!
Even with the trainers our feet were starting to suffer and the Tower of London did not look like a short stroll on the map. London cabs are so iconic that we felt it only sensible to jump in one to get to our next destination which took us all along the northern side of the Thames (another area we could now tick off the list). We confess we were too tired to line up to see the Crown Jewels but we saw all the rest, wandered over the London Tower Bridge, took the obligatory hundreds of photos with all the others and started our march down the southern bank. It was at this point that we realised we had to decide between Tate Modern and National Gallery. Which would be more inspirational? Jamie was quizzed. It is a creative sabbatical after all. What a great decision we made. The Tate was certainly food for the soul. Plenty of inspiration for professional and personal use.
Jamie was pleading mercy at this point. But I was a woman on a mission - shops were still open and must be made the most of. We were being picked up at 10am the next morning so this was our last chance. Fortnum and Mason, Regent Street, Oxford Street, Carnaby Street. We were barely able to walk by the end of it, like a couple of old ladies hobbling along, weighed down by the immensity of our purchases. We were keen to purchase something special to remember our time in London. Many people would consider art, perhaps a special book. But we did the only sensible thing you could do when visiting a city with a reputation - we bought raincoats. I’m hoping they’ll still do us when we are sixty - get us through the Wellington winter. Or Autumn. Spring. Summer. We’ll be well prepared for the wet days at home now. And every time I put mine on the corners of my mouth will turn slightly upward as I remember our special time in London. The places, the people, the proud flag. I’ll also remember the victims of recent attacks and the fire. They all seem to be part of our experience - for good and for bad. What amazing people and what an amazing place. I have certainly left a tiny little part of my heart there.
