Sunday, 24 August 2014
Stille Tocht
Slowly they began to gather, coming together from the side streets, old, young, men, women, children. There was no rifle or bayonet prodding the unwilling residents of Aarschot on this the 100th anniversary of the atrocity that saw 173 inhabitants killed at the hands of the German army as they swept through Belgium at the beginning of World War 1. I cannot say whether the townsfolk on that evening of 19th August 1914 knew what was going to happen or not, I don't know if they struggled or just simply cooperated with the orders of the soldiers. This time, there were no orders, we were shepherded into the main square by our memories of the relatives that were lost.
We waited, probably much the same as they did 100 years ago, not quite sure of who was in charge or when things were going to start. We milled around, some of the people recognising each other. Edie, my mother-in-law whose grandfather was killed, is my particular connection to this act of remembrance. Her sister and brother were also present along with her sister's husband and my wife.
There was a big difference with our gathering, apart from the time and the circumstances of course, we knew where we were going and how things would end. We also knew for certain that we would be in the protection of our homes in the warmth and shelter at the end of the evening. Did the victims know that this would be their last evening?
Someone took charge of us, instructing us with gentle encouragement to file in rows of three abreast, we were getting ready to set our along the same route. There was no wind or rain, it was a pleasant summer evening, quiet too. For us there was no emotional goodbyes, no clinging onto loved ones, no tears, yet. I don't know if the victims a hundered years before had any idea that they would not be returning and if there were scenes or struggles. I do know that Edie's grandfather gave a purse to his son to keep hold of it, perhaps he knew or perhaps he was afraid of the Germans robbing him. It was a significant and powerful act that had an enduring impact on the young boy who took it.
We started off, ironically, escorted by the police. It was a somewhat solemn affair as we filed quietly on our way. This time the women and children came with us, I say children, there were children as young as 14 who were victims of this atrocity. Our column was maybe 100 metres long, as it wound it's way down the streets on out to towards the site of the first memorial. I cannot speak for the others but I felt very much like it was a final walk, gazing up at the windows and taking in the route in the most minute detail, more so than at any other time when I have passed, busily and thoughtlessly through the same streets.
I noted the occasional shifting curtain and slightly open door as the curiosity of the residents got the better of them, they tried to discretely catch a glance at us as we made our way past. I wondered whether the same had happened to the victims, indeed, did the women and children follow or were they kept away? I doubted whether many people outside our group even knew of the event or were aware of the lasting impact. The most powerful onlooker was a child looking through an upstairs window, no emotion in his face, just looking. I thought of the last time I had hugged anyone and I was grateful that I would get the opportunity to do so again, it would mean a little more than it had before.
As we made our way, the limited traffic was brought to a halt and made to wait for us. I wondered whether they knew what was going on or why. Perhaps they were irritated or were happy to patiently wait.
It was not long before we arrived at the first memorial and gathering in this cramped residential street seemed to be several hundered people around an otherwise inconspicuous monument. I was glad to see that someone had removed the broken rail and replaced it with some new posts that would protect the monument. Presumably someone had carelessly reversed into the old one and simply left it there. There was a short service and the names of the victims at this location were read out along with their ages. Arthur's name was read out, this was where Edie's grandfather had fallen, one of 75 to do so.
We filed on towards the second monument, where a chapel had been built as well as the memorial. Instead of standing outside we all filed into the church and a more lengthy service was held. This was the location where a further 25 were killed, including the mayor. At both services I paid particular attention to the details of my surroundings and observed the expressions of those present. Most were solemn but not tearful, maybe hardened by the years that have passed.
Although the services were given in Dutch, I knew enough to understand the meaning and impact of the event and I recognised the continuing importance to remember them.
I am glad I was there and I was glad I could hold the hand of An as we walked comfort that could be provided where I could.
Saturday, 16 August 2014
Suicidal Slugs and Snails
Once again I geared myself up to commence some sort of exercise regime and the latest target was to cycle for at least an hour at a reasonably high intensity. I donned my special lycra padded shorts, my luminescent top and, perhaps more importantly, my not too often used heart rate GPS watch. I always feel like I am strapping on a bra when I put the sensor round my chest. I then wait for the tell tale beep that it has been recognised by the watch. I had got my Ipod out of the car earlier on and loaded up some 'cycling' songs. Some of these songs are quite pacy, others are not really suitable but I like them, Insomnia by Faithless being one example and The Race by Yello another.
The bicycle is a purpose built hybrid bike complete with not so trendy shopping panniers. I pump the tyres up to a good hard pressure, which does not quite seem adequate when I mount it. I should wear my helmet but my route does not take me along too many roads so I just put on my Gran Canaria cap, there is a story in itself behind that but it is much too off putting to write it in a blog. I make sure that I have paid a visit to the toilet before departure, there is nothing quite so annoying and uncomfortable as getting caught short whilst on the move.
Opening the garage door, as though preparing to launch Thunderbird 4, I may as well be playing the tune as well. I don't of course that would be a bit too much... I also have the pregnant pause of waiting for the GPS to register on my heart rate monitor before I begin. The GPS records, distance, time, elevation, speed, heart rate and calories burnt. It is really a bit of a motivation tool to help me compare my performance with future trips. Once the satellites have been picked up I have the odd timing event of starting the music and the timer to make sure I don't lose any time, not that it makes a vast amount of difference.
The weather had been rather wet and it was still coming down a bit every now and again, but not so heavy. I turned right out of our street and then left towards the bank. This first kilometre or so is all road/cycle path and, as this is Belgium, I have a status on the road akin to the Man of Steel (Superman, in terms of invincibility), cars, lorries, buses and any other motorised machine on the road trembles at my sight and had best not get in the way! To fellow (more serious) cyclists I am Mr Magoo and I need to keep my wits about me as I fight the herds of lycra clad wilder beast that stampede their way along the paths and roads.
The aim of the exercise is to keep going, burn calories and get fitter and so as my journey continues I make my way to the riverside path, this entails passing under the railway line and then running parallel for a while before I get to the River Demer, there is a decent cycle path that runs alongside and for some considerable distance. There are several interruptions to the path in the form of bridges and, when I have run the same route I have only ever got to the third bridge before crossing and returning. That run is approximately 10kms. This time however my aim to was to get to the fourth bridge, which was some considerable distance further along, almost level with Rotselaar. The distances get progressively further between the bridges with the first two fairly close together. I have to cross the road to get past the first and this is still in Aarschot, near the industrial estate. The second I can sweep beneath the bridge and it is one of the two fleeting climbs on an otherwise flat route.
The real work starts as I get on towards the third bridge. Mentally, both for the run and the cycling, this is an aiming point, a marker. I am constantly thinking of my muscles and how I will cope, whether I am going too fast, if I will get a cramp or, for comedy value, trying to concentrate on the unlikely event that I would fly off either side of the bank and end up swimming or in the trees and bushes on the other side. It is a sharp drop on either side and with the disdain that other cyclists show you, there is the possibility that you could be pushed off the path in some Last of the Summer Wine moment. My field of view is quite narrow as I focus on the hazards immediately ahead of the bike, it is not a leisurely ramble through the countryside, I have no time to view the sights as I go by.
It was whilst keeping my head down that I first noted the suicidal slugs and snails. The wet conditions had clearly given them the opportunity, perhaps more so than they could otherwise take, to cross from the non-river side of the path to the river side of the path, but with it came the hazard of cyclists and remember, they stop for no one and would not hesitate to hurl their fellow cyclists into the nettles. I on the other hand was swerving in a vain and fruitless attempt to allow them just a few more moments of life. As I came close I was oohing and aahing as I narrowly flashed by their antennae with the force of a high speed train, comparatively speaking of course. To be honest they may as well have been doing pyramids in front of me and been lining up end on end. Eventually I just did my best but no doubt some ended up a little bit flatter and wider than they had started. The birds were enjoying the mashed slugs and snails and at least they could get out of the way in time!
By the time I had made it to the third bridge my bottom was getting a bit sore and I started going numb in the tips of my fingers, which then turned to pins and needles when I tried to exercise them (in my fingers not my bum)! I had the sure knowledge that the fourth bridge was some distance off and in fact was the longest stretch. This time, not caring for the lifespan of the gastropod molluscs, I buttoned down to reaching the final marker before crossing and turning for home. After what seemed like ages, the Bailey bridge came into view. This bridge was laid down, presumably by British forces in World War Two at Rotselaar and has stood the test of time since. There are a number of such bridges in the country and the website at the last link is a bit of a spotter's guide.
Having crossed the river I now doubled back along essentially a dirt track. It is a good track with only one or two muddy puddles, but narrow due to the grass growing in the middle of two shallow furrows made by cars. Psychologically this was now easier as I was homeward bound, but the conditions were a bit more difficult due to the lack of smooth surface. By now my legs were getting tired but both the music and my recent reading of an exercise book gave me the motivation to keep going. I have recently read The First 20 Minutes - The surprising science of how we can Exercise Better, Train Smarter and Live Longer, I thoroughly recommend it to you.
As I got closer, there were more suicidal slugs and snails and even less room to avoid them, I had waypoints that signified that the ride was almost over. Passing each bridge on the return, going under the railway line, passing the school and the Knoet, getting to the bank and then finally drawing up to the house and quickly stopping the timer. Time to get my breath back, return Thunderbird 4 to it's 'hangar' and disrobe (not in the street I should add). I checked the watch and it indicated 1700 calories burnt over 22kms and the time of 1hr 2 mins. The last run I did I came in at 57 mins, so I am already improving. I will need to extend the distance as the good book tells me that to do endurance training you need to keep it up for more than an hour. The trick now is to keep the activity going and not let life or work get in the way of it! My last run was done after coming home from work before eating, it takes a bit of self discipline to do that.
The bicycle is a purpose built hybrid bike complete with not so trendy shopping panniers. I pump the tyres up to a good hard pressure, which does not quite seem adequate when I mount it. I should wear my helmet but my route does not take me along too many roads so I just put on my Gran Canaria cap, there is a story in itself behind that but it is much too off putting to write it in a blog. I make sure that I have paid a visit to the toilet before departure, there is nothing quite so annoying and uncomfortable as getting caught short whilst on the move.
Opening the garage door, as though preparing to launch Thunderbird 4, I may as well be playing the tune as well. I don't of course that would be a bit too much... I also have the pregnant pause of waiting for the GPS to register on my heart rate monitor before I begin. The GPS records, distance, time, elevation, speed, heart rate and calories burnt. It is really a bit of a motivation tool to help me compare my performance with future trips. Once the satellites have been picked up I have the odd timing event of starting the music and the timer to make sure I don't lose any time, not that it makes a vast amount of difference.
The weather had been rather wet and it was still coming down a bit every now and again, but not so heavy. I turned right out of our street and then left towards the bank. This first kilometre or so is all road/cycle path and, as this is Belgium, I have a status on the road akin to the Man of Steel (Superman, in terms of invincibility), cars, lorries, buses and any other motorised machine on the road trembles at my sight and had best not get in the way! To fellow (more serious) cyclists I am Mr Magoo and I need to keep my wits about me as I fight the herds of lycra clad wilder beast that stampede their way along the paths and roads.
The aim of the exercise is to keep going, burn calories and get fitter and so as my journey continues I make my way to the riverside path, this entails passing under the railway line and then running parallel for a while before I get to the River Demer, there is a decent cycle path that runs alongside and for some considerable distance. There are several interruptions to the path in the form of bridges and, when I have run the same route I have only ever got to the third bridge before crossing and returning. That run is approximately 10kms. This time however my aim to was to get to the fourth bridge, which was some considerable distance further along, almost level with Rotselaar. The distances get progressively further between the bridges with the first two fairly close together. I have to cross the road to get past the first and this is still in Aarschot, near the industrial estate. The second I can sweep beneath the bridge and it is one of the two fleeting climbs on an otherwise flat route.
The real work starts as I get on towards the third bridge. Mentally, both for the run and the cycling, this is an aiming point, a marker. I am constantly thinking of my muscles and how I will cope, whether I am going too fast, if I will get a cramp or, for comedy value, trying to concentrate on the unlikely event that I would fly off either side of the bank and end up swimming or in the trees and bushes on the other side. It is a sharp drop on either side and with the disdain that other cyclists show you, there is the possibility that you could be pushed off the path in some Last of the Summer Wine moment. My field of view is quite narrow as I focus on the hazards immediately ahead of the bike, it is not a leisurely ramble through the countryside, I have no time to view the sights as I go by.
It was whilst keeping my head down that I first noted the suicidal slugs and snails. The wet conditions had clearly given them the opportunity, perhaps more so than they could otherwise take, to cross from the non-river side of the path to the river side of the path, but with it came the hazard of cyclists and remember, they stop for no one and would not hesitate to hurl their fellow cyclists into the nettles. I on the other hand was swerving in a vain and fruitless attempt to allow them just a few more moments of life. As I came close I was oohing and aahing as I narrowly flashed by their antennae with the force of a high speed train, comparatively speaking of course. To be honest they may as well have been doing pyramids in front of me and been lining up end on end. Eventually I just did my best but no doubt some ended up a little bit flatter and wider than they had started. The birds were enjoying the mashed slugs and snails and at least they could get out of the way in time!
By the time I had made it to the third bridge my bottom was getting a bit sore and I started going numb in the tips of my fingers, which then turned to pins and needles when I tried to exercise them (in my fingers not my bum)! I had the sure knowledge that the fourth bridge was some distance off and in fact was the longest stretch. This time, not caring for the lifespan of the gastropod molluscs, I buttoned down to reaching the final marker before crossing and turning for home. After what seemed like ages, the Bailey bridge came into view. This bridge was laid down, presumably by British forces in World War Two at Rotselaar and has stood the test of time since. There are a number of such bridges in the country and the website at the last link is a bit of a spotter's guide.
Having crossed the river I now doubled back along essentially a dirt track. It is a good track with only one or two muddy puddles, but narrow due to the grass growing in the middle of two shallow furrows made by cars. Psychologically this was now easier as I was homeward bound, but the conditions were a bit more difficult due to the lack of smooth surface. By now my legs were getting tired but both the music and my recent reading of an exercise book gave me the motivation to keep going. I have recently read The First 20 Minutes - The surprising science of how we can Exercise Better, Train Smarter and Live Longer, I thoroughly recommend it to you.
As I got closer, there were more suicidal slugs and snails and even less room to avoid them, I had waypoints that signified that the ride was almost over. Passing each bridge on the return, going under the railway line, passing the school and the Knoet, getting to the bank and then finally drawing up to the house and quickly stopping the timer. Time to get my breath back, return Thunderbird 4 to it's 'hangar' and disrobe (not in the street I should add). I checked the watch and it indicated 1700 calories burnt over 22kms and the time of 1hr 2 mins. The last run I did I came in at 57 mins, so I am already improving. I will need to extend the distance as the good book tells me that to do endurance training you need to keep it up for more than an hour. The trick now is to keep the activity going and not let life or work get in the way of it! My last run was done after coming home from work before eating, it takes a bit of self discipline to do that.
Thursday, 14 August 2014
Wednesday, 23 July 2014
A Moment of Reflection
I was just thinking, a dangerous pastime if ever there was one. I was reflecting upon the microcosm that is my life, along with the trials and challenges that I face. No matter how trivial something may be, if you do not look beyond the boundaries of your own life then you cannot put it into perspective and learn to accept the situation for what it really is.
I have faced a rather stressful time at work recently, family challenges, the prospect of finding a whole new career in 6 months and a host of other bits and pieces. I have laid plans, as far as I can. I have taken account of what may or may not happen so that I can avoid threats and take advantage of opportunities.
We had a rather lovely family birthday party this weekend, with a small dark cloud which cast an unfortunate shadow on the event, but still we braced ourselves against the weather and made the best of it. Some of us laughed so hard, it has been such a long time since I have seen such laughter. I got mixed up between David & Goliath and Samson and Delilah when I asked if my wife could cut my hair. In my version David was clearly a hairdresser and Delilah was chucking stones at Samson... We played a fun game where we had to choose a cartoon character and the others had to guess who it was, this turned out surprisingly well and is a good game for a multi-lingual party!
Putting it into perspective and bursting free from that bubble for a moment. I think of the Malaysian Airline that has been shot down and the 298 people who have lost their lives. More so I think of the people of Ukraine, both sides, who have also suffered and lost their lives. The pain that spreads across the world from the loss of that one aircraft, people who were, in all likelihood, going to have a birthday party this weekend and laugh as hard as we did as they played games and said silly things. But they won't now. I suppose the other advantage is that they will not have any more trials to face, except that is for their loved ones who are left to pick up the pieces and are reflecting themselves upon the challenges they faced, how their plans have been shattered and how they regret that the last thing they could have said was 'I love you, you are so important to me and I want you to know'.
What I am trying to say I suppose is that I am eternally grateful for the things I have, for the people I know and for the time I have. I aim, in so far as possible, not to let myself get hung up on the challenges of life, but I am human and I will err from time to time. I have recently learnt that breathing deeply can help to calm the tension, it is something I have really known for a while, but I did not know the science behind it. It is handy because, quite frankly, you need to breathe and so it takes no real effort to do it! I choose to reflect during those periods and I am sure it helps.
A serious one for a change, but then life can be quite serious at times.
I have faced a rather stressful time at work recently, family challenges, the prospect of finding a whole new career in 6 months and a host of other bits and pieces. I have laid plans, as far as I can. I have taken account of what may or may not happen so that I can avoid threats and take advantage of opportunities.
We had a rather lovely family birthday party this weekend, with a small dark cloud which cast an unfortunate shadow on the event, but still we braced ourselves against the weather and made the best of it. Some of us laughed so hard, it has been such a long time since I have seen such laughter. I got mixed up between David & Goliath and Samson and Delilah when I asked if my wife could cut my hair. In my version David was clearly a hairdresser and Delilah was chucking stones at Samson... We played a fun game where we had to choose a cartoon character and the others had to guess who it was, this turned out surprisingly well and is a good game for a multi-lingual party!
Putting it into perspective and bursting free from that bubble for a moment. I think of the Malaysian Airline that has been shot down and the 298 people who have lost their lives. More so I think of the people of Ukraine, both sides, who have also suffered and lost their lives. The pain that spreads across the world from the loss of that one aircraft, people who were, in all likelihood, going to have a birthday party this weekend and laugh as hard as we did as they played games and said silly things. But they won't now. I suppose the other advantage is that they will not have any more trials to face, except that is for their loved ones who are left to pick up the pieces and are reflecting themselves upon the challenges they faced, how their plans have been shattered and how they regret that the last thing they could have said was 'I love you, you are so important to me and I want you to know'.
What I am trying to say I suppose is that I am eternally grateful for the things I have, for the people I know and for the time I have. I aim, in so far as possible, not to let myself get hung up on the challenges of life, but I am human and I will err from time to time. I have recently learnt that breathing deeply can help to calm the tension, it is something I have really known for a while, but I did not know the science behind it. It is handy because, quite frankly, you need to breathe and so it takes no real effort to do it! I choose to reflect during those periods and I am sure it helps.
A serious one for a change, but then life can be quite serious at times.
Thursday, 26 June 2014
Circuits!
As I find myself struggling for breath and straining to push just one more repetition out I fleetingly wonder why I allow myself to be put through this torture week after week. For the most part all I have in my head is the determination to physically muster the strength to keep going and the knowledge that the trial can only last for an hour at most.
The subject to which I am referring is mandatory physical training (PT) that is held every Tuesday morning between 08.30 - 09.30. The session is led by a fully qualified and trained gorilla who is fully versed on how to drive the last vestiges of energy from your body and to ensure that muscles , which only ever get called upon in such sessions, are strained to the point of exhaustion and take upwards of a week to recover. The Geneva convention prevents the signatories from inflicting such treatment upon captives. It is almost like we are prisoners with the psychological gun against our head, and we endure it too. Mutinies have begun over lesser pain and grief. Am I overdoing it? Well there is always a bit of exaggeration but I am being deadly serious when I say that on most occasions I cannot physically lift a cup of tea to my lips, so tired are my arms.
Normally the session begins with the dread of not knowing which particular gorilla is running the session, we more commonly call the gorilla Clubs, in reference to Club Swinger. The Royal Navy PT branch has two crossed clubs as it's emblem, presumably from days when they used to do displays and before we moved to more technically advanced items of equipment such as the kettle bell (a cannon ball with a handle)! Other popular names are 'tit swinger' and 'muscle bosun', for obvious reasons. Some gorillas are more preferable than others but they are all experts at inflicting discomfort, only some do so in a polite if deceptively cunning way. Usually Clubs has set out the gym with their instruments of torture and this generates disquiet among the victims whilst we wonder what we will be asked (told) to do and how long it will last. Sometimes the equipment causes intrigue and sometimes we are completely wrong in anticipating the pleasure that will follow. For some it is obvious, I mean what else can you do with a large tractor tyre other than roll it end on end?
There are in essence two types of circuit, the first is one where there is a set time for each exercise and the other is where there is a given number of repetitions that must be achieved. I prefer the former as that means I can go all out and it does not matter how fit or unfit you are you can get maximum benefit from the workout. If you have a set number the fit people are finished well before the not so fit and the not so fit do not get a chance to recover before moving on to the next element of the torture.
The circuits start off and end with a warm up, which is almost a pleasurable experience. The gorilla offers motivational encouragement which is unintelligible to most but has somehow been indoctrinated into those of us who have endured this over the years. Before we engage in the main activity we are briefed as to the number of exercises, repetitions, time frames, whether we are acting alone or in pairs, how many times through the entire circuit, whether we have any injuries or missing limbs and finally if we have any last wishes (questions). Once ready the music is turned on and you usually begin and change exercise to the whistle blow of the tormentor. During the circuit the evil one is heard to berate the victims as a whole, but, in this world where bullying is frowned upon, rarely does the individual get a good blast. We hang on his every whistle blow as we fight our way through the circuit, more than most probably think he has forgotten the time or is in a bad mood as he prolongs the pain. I think for the most part this is all in our heads but then club swingers are not known for their mathematical genius or ability to read. In my case a pool of sweat often develops around the area where my head comes into contact with the mat or indeed the area over which my sagging head hangs over the mat. Some people do cruise but if this comes to the attention of the tormentor, then they just add to the agony as they let the time run or think up an impromptu additional exercise that seems 'fun'.
The circuits usually finish with a decent warm down and stretching exercise, which I am sure helps but still does little to prevent the cramps and stiffness over the following days. Maybe it is just me getting old? Apart from the health benefits, about which I am somewhat skeptical, the greatest benefit is that it takes you out of the office and away from the pressures of the job if only for an hour. Once you are engaged in PT, the priorities shift to very simple physical endurance and survival instincts and you share a common enemy for a while, which gives the team a sense of purpose and belonging. In the military you face lots of trials and experiences together, which separate you out from others and generates an understanding and sense of ritual.
I value the concept but I hate circuits!
Monday, 23 June 2014
London - 6 - 9 Jun 14
We had planned a trip to London now for, well a good few months at least, we were going with An's cousin, Eric and his wife, Isabelle. The trip really began with the planning phase where Eric, who is a bit of food connoisseur, examined a range of restaurants and pubs where he suggested would be good to visit. It was, as usual, going to be a feat of endurance as we squeezed as much as possible from the four days we were there.
Day 1 - 6 June 14
As if somehow connected to the D-Day landings 70 years ago, the alarm clock went off at the ridiculous time 04.45, which gave us 40 minutes to get ready, load the car and get across to Eric and Isabelle's place. The reason for such a start time was to avoid the rush hour traffic of a Friday morning and get to London with at least half a day to make use of. If you leave our house at any later than 06.30 then you will hit traffic and we would have to drive through the busiest stretch past the airport. The Eurotunnel was booked for an 08.20 departure so it would be tight. The drive was uneventful and we made it to the Eurotunnel check-in in good time. However, we had not accounted for French border checks, which were unusually stringent this particular morning. There were only two check points open both for the French and the UK and these would have been enough had they been processing the travellers at their normal pace. we ended up driving straight onto the train and were one of only 8 cars embarked.
On the other side we were also lucky and did not get held up at all, although I did decide to stop for coffee not long after we got across. An recommended a MacDonald's coffee, which I was surprised at but then I did not know any better. Apparently she had tasted a fine MacDonald's coffee in Germany and thought, quite reasonably, that the same would be available in the UK. It was awful apparently and Eric was also unimpressed with it! I had an Egg McMuffin meal, breakfast in a bap!
We got to the Premier Inn hotel in Ealing and had a rather bizarre encounter with the lady behind reception. We arrived maybe around 10.00, which was way too early to check in. The receptionist told me that I could check in early for a cost of £25, I have never come across anything like this before, so I declined. She then said that this 'fee' was in fact a contribution to a charity they were collecting for, even stranger I thought. Anyway we did arrange a sort of check in which did not attract a strange charity fee and I paid the bill, including the parking, accommodation and half of the breakfasts (she had misheard me and not charged me for Eric and Isabelle). I was relieved that we were able to leave the car parked up in the secure hotel car park, I had a fear that we would not be allowed in until 14.00, not good! We departed the hotel for our first foray into the city.
First stop was acquiring the Oyster cards for the trip. If you go to London then this is the best way to make sure that you do not pay too much for your travel on the Underground and buses. You buy a card leaving a £5 deposit and then you top the card up and pay as you go. In short it will cap the costs as the cheaper of the actual trips made or the cost of a travel card for the day. The only thing you must do is ensure that you properly scan in and out of each station otherwise you will pay the full standard price. I give it a good rub against the sensor and wait for the beep before going through.
I was burdened by my camera, complete with excessive heavy equipment, which I would come to regret. Our target was Camden Town Market followed by the British Museum. I had set out in my own mind to visit two particular places at Camden Town and as for the rest I was happy to go with the flow. You can spend so much time going around the shops and markets that less than a day seems insufficient to take it all in. There is the usual range of clothing and shoe shops, but there are also specialist shops that have Gothic and punk clothing and paraphernalia. There is art of varying types and also there is a range of food outlets with a huge variety or world foods that you can sample and enjoy. Here is a handy link that gives you a better description: Camden Town Market.
My aim was to buy a pair of Dr Martin's boots and although I did not have a particular kind in mind I was determined to get a pair. As you leave the Camden Town Underground station you turn left and come to The British Boot Company, it is easy to miss and is maybe 30 metres from the station entrance. The shop is small but has some interesting designs. The staff will give you the background to DM boots and the heritage of the company and brand. There are boots that have been signed by bands, notably Madness, but there are others. The pair I got were of a light brown swede ankle length type. I consulted with my specialist fashion advisor to make sure they were right for me, An approved! It was a typically male purchase, efficient, quick and to the point. They were selected, fitted and purchased maybe in under 5 minutes. With this additional burden to carry for the rest of the day, we left to head towards the main market.
I must warn you, and I am being utterly serious for a moment, the link I am about to share contains somewhat disturbing material. Be prepared for a shock and genuinely I feel it is not suitable for children. I do not normally take such a strong view of art but this is one I feel I must express. In one of the markets there is an American artist called Jeff Michalik. Jeff is responsible for what I can best describe as the shocking and thought provoking art he brands under Killer Bunny. His website is KillerBunny.co.uk. So having had a quick look at the site, you can see what I mean.
I decided to buy a bit of his work, now, this raises a number of questions. You can take a view on the artist, the buyer and of course the art itself. What does his art say about him? Well, if you stand by his stall for any length of time you will hear the comments from passers by about the mental state of the artist. Then you turn to the buyer, who in their right mind would buy something like this? Is it something dark within or is it a curiosity? Is it a message that I want someone to see? I can tell you this that I am apprehensive about displaying the artwork I have bought and I have no intention of gifting it to anyone. My view is that it is radically different and thought provoking and this is coming from someone who is not quick to appreciate the finer points of art. People often have a morbid fascination with gruesome things and maybe there is a bit of this involved here. Anyway, after a further peruse it was time for food!!!!
There is a wide range of foods available and it is worth having a sweep past all of the stalls and not just diving into the first one you see. Incidentally, Eric brought my attention to Churros, which is a deep fried batter based sweet. We both got a portion during one of our many rest periods during the wander around Camden. However, I digress, we settled for some food in the hot afternoon sun. I had a duck wrap with some sangria, An had a Mediterranean vegetable salad and some water, Eric and Isabelle ended up with another exotic dish, whose name escapes me and they also had a glass of cava too.
I was trying to take pictures on the move and I was messing about with a range of settings and light conditions but here is a sample from Camden:
From Camden we decided to head off, by foot, to the British Museum. This was not a wise idea due to the heat and distance involved but we set out regardless. During this walk I acquired my blisters, which was to make the rest of the visit a tad uncomfortable to say the least. I thought I had chosen sensible shoes and socks but clearly not! I think it was the poor socks that did it but I was not sure and now it was too late.
When we arrived at the British Museum it was very busy and we were both hot and thirsty. The Museum is definitely worth a visit but I could not help but think of whether or not some of its treasures should be back in the countries from which they have been removed. What is impressive is the covered courtyard. Again you need a fair bit of time to do the place justice. I took a few photos in the museum, the first of which was the Totem pole was in the covered courtyard.
Once we had finished up there the plan was to get back and freshen up at the hotel, in my case it would involve airing and nursing my feet too! We were staying approximately 600 metres from Ealing Broadway Underground station and the plan was to eat at Wagamama and then go to a wine bar called Crispin's. Wagamama is a chain of Japanese restaurants, of which there is one in Antwerp. The food is of a high standard, although the main utensils for eating are chopsticks, which require a certain level of dexterity.
We ended the evening in Crispin's and after having established which wines on the menu were not available we made our selection. By the way we also bought some Adobe, having tried some at my Brother-in-law's place and found it to be quite nice. Sadly the version in Crispin's was not so pleasant. Still it was a nice way to round off our first, long, day.
Day 2 - 7 Jun 14
Day 2 started with breakfast, this was when we noticed that we had not been charged for 4, but just 2. I tried to bring this to the attention of the staff but they were busy with the large influx of teenage One Direction fans milling about in their pyjamas and other inappropriate clothing. We had been told the day before that the hotel had stopped serving continental breakfasts but that the all inclusive price had gone up! When we got there we found that what we had been told was what can be technically referred to as bollocks. There was the full range of cooked and continental that we had had before. You could eat as much as you liked for £8.75, realistically I don't think you can eat that much so I am not sure it is value for money. Mind you with London prices it probably is. Breakfast was not a peaceful and pleasurable experience due to the volume of other customers and their desire to let everyone else know they were there.
As best we could, we planned our day. Not long after, we set out.
We struck out for the far side of London towards Brick Lane. We took the tube through from Ealing Broadway to Liverpool Street station and then walked towards Brick Lane. There was a route marked out on a tour map, which was supposed to take us past some points of interest. In essence for my feet it was another feat (forgive the pun) of endurance. My blisters would end up with blisters as I walked like I had a small Christmas tree inserted into my bottom, just far enough that it would not quite dislodge itself. The rest of the group were not fully aware of my discomfort. Our first real stop was Spitalfields market, where Isabelle bought a man bag for Eric, for his birthday and An and I had a cup of tea. Spitalfields is a covered market that has some interesting, mainly fashion type stalls and it is not so well known for its food. This was not really a planned stop as we moved on towards Brick Lane.
As we progressed to Brick Lane we came across an 'event', in essence a group of home owners had opened up five of their gardens to the public for a small fee. Perhaps what was more interesting is that the houses dated from around the 1750s and therefore their interiors were of more interest than their gardens in some cases. Both An and Eric are keen gardeners and thus we had a look around. I can best describe them as peaceful and very well designed. Considering the location and the limited space, they are places I could easily relax in and read a book. There was also plenty of shade too. One particular feature was a mirror that someone had placed into a wall, it looked like another garden as the mirror was the size of a door and crystal clear. It was very effective and I only stopped when I noticed my reflection. Again this was unplanned but then the interior of the houses was also very interesting. The buildings are grade II listed, which means the owners require special permission to make changes. A lot of effort is also put into keeping the exteriors authentic, even with the application of special paints. My feet were complaining and the Christmas tree was more than irritating...
Onwards to Brick Lane! We found it and started to walk the length of it. The last time An and I were here we missed the Old Truman Brewery, despite the large sign and buildings. Perhaps it was the distraction of trying to find shoe shops the last time? An and Isabelle were doing their best not to go into every fashion boutique, although it was tough. In the Old Truman Brewery there is the Old Boiler House, which has a range of stalls that sell what I can best describe as world foods. It is a bit of a treat to the pallet to be able to try some of these things, but we decided to wait until lunchtime before eating. I was genuinely not hungry so I could wait. It is worth a visit though. Getting back onto Brick Lane we started to carry on walking the route with the aim of eventually getting to the White Cube Gallery in Mason's Yard, sadly it was closed by the time we got there. Anyway I am ahead of myself! Before then we came across The Blues Kitchen where we decided to have lunch. I was a bit cautious about having lunch here as we were due to go to the Red Fort restaurant later on and I was not sure if we could cope with the volume of food! The Blues kitchen, apart from having nice food and probably nice music, if you hit it at the right time, also has interesting décor. The restaurant has a theme that can be best described as auto mobile in nature. The waiting staff are very friendly and the service is good. An was impressed with the quality of the fries/chips and the rest of the food was also very good.
When we had finished and were suitably refreshed there was an idea to go to a pub, but by this stage we needed to get to the Box Park, which was on our list and then start to head back towards the hotel. The idea was to refresh ourselves ready for the evening, but this would add at least an hour to the timings, to go to a pub was therefore inviting disaster...
In the end we didn't, we just got on with the forced march and found the Box Park. In essence the box park is lots of boutique type shops that are comprised of shipping containers that have been put together and fitted out. You are kind of limited in size but then it does make use of these containers. One particular shop stood out,Tusch Und Egon. I particularly liked their fire extinguishers, which you can see directly at the link. I also bought a small rubber Clown Fish, so I could do some Finding Nemo photographs such as these:
Time was pressing and so we could not spend too long looking around here, the trek continued (the pine needles were beginning to sting a bit).
We managed to get back in good time and I contacted my mate Sam to see if he could make it into Ealing to meet up. Sam would make a great Belgian as his timekeeping is loose to say the least. We managed to get to Ealing by about 17.35 with the aim of starting the inbound trip to Soho at around 19.00. After a quick squoosh and change of clothing we headed to a place called Bill's just along the road from the hotel. Sam made it just in time for a quick drink and a brief chat, this was fortuitous as he had a few recommendations on where to go and what to do. We took notes and consulted the map. We left a little after 19.00, fashionably late. I have to add that I was the acting guide for the trip and I brought along the ultra modern and technologically advanced A-Z of London, which used to belong to my Grandad I think. I was forever checking and double checking where we were.
It was not a bad ride in but the place was heaving and it was starting to look lively. We managed to get there pretty much on time for our 20.00 reservation. The Red Fort is a pleasant typical Indian restaurant, apart from the excessively priced drinks menu, which is par for the course. We chose (I was swept along) to go for the set menu. We were presented with a range of dishes and starters which we worked our way through. There was a degree of choice on the set menu but all said it was a great variety and the quality was also very good. The biggest shock, and this went for all of the main restaurants that we visited, was the standard 12% service charge. I did stress that we did not have to pay the service charge but what we thought was a suitable tip. When you are spending upwards of £270 per meal for the four of us the service charge ends up costing almost as much as a meal in a 'normal' restaurant. Even Eric thought that this was a bit too much. We did the full Monty and I noted that at the end they did not have the hot towels to clean your hands and face, not so posh after all...
Just to make sure that my feet were not overly rested and the tree fully bedded in, we proceeded to try and find a Blues Bar to get some live music. This entailed going from Soho to Carnaby Street, just a short trot. We did find the bar and indeed another interesting place on the way, Kingly Court, this is somewhere we could have wiled away the hours and was lively. In the end we did not go into the Blues Bar as there was a queue and we did not fancy hanging around until late. We reluctantly headed back to the hotel for a drink there. We made it back and settled down for a pint in the bar. There was a football game on the TV which I think was warm up match with England playing. I forget who the opposition was, not that it matters. Once again it was a late finish and at last I could remove the tree and tend my feet.
Day 3 - 8 Jun 14
The hotel staff finally realised we had not paid for the additional breakfasts and so we paid for those. I think that although her badge indicates that she speaks English, this must be pretty basic, hence the confusion over continental breakfasts not being provided, it is easier to say no that to commit to saying yes and having to go back on it later!
The third day was meant to be a trip to the Victoria and Albert and Natural History Museums, but, having discussed the options with Sam, we elected to go to Portobello Road Market. How can I best describe this place? Well it is a row of shops, but quite a long row and there are some interesting antique and art shops, I use these terms loosely. The first one we came across contained lots of metal signs as an example there was one, which I did consider buying, that said "Parking for Jaguars Only" or words to that effect. An thought that the neighbours would not appreciate that. There were a range of other signs. There was a shop entirely dedicated to fittings for doors and cabinets. If you want something special for your set of drawers then this was the place to get them. We stopped at an antiques shop and bought a brass aeroplane for the father-in-law. it was a decent price and he even gave a slight discount. The shop was full of interesting articles including aircraft propellers, telescopes, old leather suitcases and trunks, pictures, brass fittings and, well, too much to list here. Further on there was a good photo/art shop, it was good inspiration if you are a photographer. Many of the images looked like they were taken down the street. Oh we also passed a house where George Orwell used to live too. The houses themselves make for an attractive setting to the market, you can feel the wealth in the area.
One of the treats was The Humming Bird Bakery. We bought some rather nice cup cakes and a couple of drinks. We did intend to have them there and then but Eric had patrolled ahead and we needed to catch up. This market was more difficult for An and Isabelle to get through without some serious browsing. Towards the end of the market we came across The Spice Shop, which you could smell before you could see. Once you entered it was almost an orchestra of senses for the nose, it is worth it just to walk in and spend a minute of or two taking in the aromas. Of course An and Eric took the opportunity to stock up on some of the rarer spices. I also spotted a branch of Whittards and took the chance to show Eric and Isabelle the coffee they sell (despite being a tea shop). The staff were extremely helpful and even made up a sample of Oolong tea, which I had never tasted before. I asked the assistant what her favourite tea was and if we could try some. Oolong smells very creamy and it is just slightly bitter, not as strong as regular tea and you drink it without adding milk. I had made a discovery and I was very pleased too. Eric had also discovered a new type of coffee, I forget the name, but he was chuffed.
It was time to get on and so we caught the tube on the way in to Oxford Circus, the next stop was going to be afternoon tea at Fortnum and Mason's. Opulent, that is the best description I can give to Fortnum and Mason. The staff are very friendly and when we turned up for tea they made the effort to squeeze us in and we are grateful that they did. The staff all wear traditional uniforms and are very knowledgeable about the product. If you have any questions that they cannot answer then they find someone who can help. You have a choice of menus with sweet and savoury items, we elected to go for the set menu, which comprised of finger sandwiches of salmon, coronation chicken, beef, cucumber and egg (I think). We also had scones with jam and clotted cream and then the most exquisite and rich cakes you could imagine. It really was an experience and it did not end there. We were offered more sandwiches, cakes and scones and if we wanted, cakes from the trolley. I opted to have a piece of Battenberg, but was struggling to find the room. We did not have a second round, we just didn't need to. It was also interesting to observe the other customers and the staff, it is another world that we had a short glimpse of. The cost of the menu was between £40-45 each, worth it though. The store itself is also a place to behold and is worth visiting. We ended up buying some additional tea, in our case Russian Caravan, so named because that is how it was transported to the Tsars of Russia.
There now came a trek to the next destination, Harrods. It was a long walk down past Green Park towards Hyde Park. We took this route to look at some artwork that artists display by the side of the road. We had greater expectations of this so either that day was a bad day to see it or there is not a great deal to be seen there. It was the right weather for a beer in the park though.
I have to say I have mixed feelings about Harrods, it struck me as being a bit bling and the staff seemed disinterested and lacking in knowledge, almost shallow. The store is of course full of luxury but I felt that the character of the décor and staff reflected the owner, not unreasonable I suppose. The highlight, and it was a highlight, is the Halcyon gallery. I am not an art guru or can I express a passion for it either, but I saw pieces here that I would genuinely buy, the problem is, of course, that I do not have the money for such things. To give an example the least expensive piece was about £21,000 and the most expensive, that I saw, was £410,000. They were nice, very nice, but I probably would not have the right sort of place to put them!
We again made the trip back to the hotel to freshen up before heading out for Rules, which is the oldest restaurant in London. We were pushing the limits in terms of time to get there, but we made it okay. We booked a table on-line for 20.00 and again the décor and atmosphere was something special. The food was very traditional, especially the desserts. I had the steamed steak and kidney pudding, An and Eric had the Lamb chops and Isabelle had fish. The starters were equally as good, Eric and I had duck, Isabelle had herring and An had oysters. We shared a dessert and I recommended Summer Fruit Pudding and I shared a Lemon Polenta, both were very nice. We were stuffed and I would also recommend that you check out the toilets too, they are worth a look. There are pictures and items of interest surrounding you, including stained glass windows.
After Rules we decided we definitely needed to go to a pub, so we headed to Covent Garden and the Punch and Judy. Now either I had seen this in better days or someone had just had a pub fight and devastated the place. It was a bit of a mess and in hindsight I would not go back. We left after 1 drink and elected to go to The Harp, a recommended pub. We got there and they helpfully told us they had stopped serving. Homeward bound then. There was the option of taking in a bar on the way back but I think we were all seriously flagging by then so the hotel seemed the best bet.
Day 4 - 9 Jun 14
This was always going to be a tough day for me, as the driver I would not get much rest. The aim of the game today was to get to the Tate Modern, have a quick look around and then skidaddle back to Belgium. I wanted to be on the road by about 15.00 and so I was keen to push along. The trip in was not too bad but we did have to cross the Thames over the Millennium bridge. Cue the first unusual obstacle. We selected a route which took us towards the riverbank, the problem was it was not suitable in any sense for pedestrians and in fact it was part of a dual carriageway. There was nowhere to cross, but that did not stop us. We were not alone, there were several other sheep with us, bloody tourists. We crossed the dangerous road and came to a low wall, well it was low on our side but a bit of a drop on the other side, it was like being part of a well, if inappropriately dressed, gang of kids. Isabelle did well to maintain her dignity as she sort of got over and down off the wall. I did try and guide them to a more manageable section but they just fancied the challenge and the prospect of a visit to casualty.
Once we had done our assault course and yes my feet were still hurting, we crossed the bridge and made it to the Tate. Now, most will know that I am not really a fan of art unless it is truly stunning and meaningful. An and I split off from Eric and Isabelle as we worked our way through the gallery. An and I started at the top and I think Eric and Isa started from the bottom. There were shedloads of kids around and some were quite young, a bit noisy but then that's kids for you. I was perusing the fine pieces of junk on the top floor when I noticed some grills in the floor, I spent some time carefully studying them and wondering what the artist was thinking of when it dawned on me that these were ventilation grills! Funnily enough I saw a few more of them. To be brutally honest, how on earth can you tell? There was a 'sculpture' which consisted of two flat plates of steel balanced one on top of the other to form a T, that was it, rusting, dangerous scrap metal. There was another piece that was just a mirror, you, the viewer were the art! I mean what? How on earth does that qualify as anything? Did he or she (I could not be bothered to check) just get up in the morning, look in the mirror before farting and think ah haaaaaaaaaa!
I did come across many other pieces of worthless art including a set of three ventilation trunks, people have been paid for this and received awards. I have to say that I was not inspired at all, but then I am hard to please when it comes to art. We chose not to visit the Matisse exhibition. I did try and expand my horizons and I will continue to make the sacrifice of visiting in a bid to become a little more cultured in my outlook. The highlight of the visit for me was waving to some kids on the first floor, I always remember it being nice when people waved back when I was a kid.
We set off for what was to be the last trek, thankfully it was not too long. We were aiming to find a pub called the Gladstone, which featured in the guide books. Here we had pies and it was relatively cheap compared to where we had eaten during the week. I had a moo pie (beef) and An and Isa had a Heidi pie (goats cheese). Eric I think choose venison pie but I cannot remember. We all had mushy peas, if only to see the look of disgust on An's face. It is a real spit and sawdust pub, which was pretty basic and full of character. Apparently they have live music and the staff were very friendly. I recommend a visit, it is easy to miss though as it is slightly off the beaten track.
Time to make our way back to the car. We had been allowed to leave the car at the hotel and so it was a trip back over to Ealing Broadway to get on our way. Incidentally, we had bough the Oyster cards and we ran out of money on them, this was in part due to not swiping in and out correctly. we had to get the cards corrected. If you use these you really do need to make sure that the barriers record you entering and leaving. An incomplete journey results in the maximum charge, not good. You can check the history of the card and see where you have been.
Anyway, home! We got to the tunnel in good time but could not catch an earlier train, the net effect was that we were held up and entertaining ourselves in the terminal building for a while. We scoffed the Humming Bird cup cakes, which were divine. When we did get across and started out for home it was a fairly routine drive, except that at one point all of my passengers were asleep! We eventually made it back to Aarschot for around midnight and An and I did not get to sleep until about 01.00. I elected to drive into work at 07.00, knowing full well the traffic delays likely. They met all of my expectations and I took 2 hours to get into work.
I did go and see the nurse about my feet after I noticed a particularly foul smelling puss oozing from my blister. I was a bit worried about infection but she said it was fine.
That was our trip to London.
Day 1 - 6 June 14
As if somehow connected to the D-Day landings 70 years ago, the alarm clock went off at the ridiculous time 04.45, which gave us 40 minutes to get ready, load the car and get across to Eric and Isabelle's place. The reason for such a start time was to avoid the rush hour traffic of a Friday morning and get to London with at least half a day to make use of. If you leave our house at any later than 06.30 then you will hit traffic and we would have to drive through the busiest stretch past the airport. The Eurotunnel was booked for an 08.20 departure so it would be tight. The drive was uneventful and we made it to the Eurotunnel check-in in good time. However, we had not accounted for French border checks, which were unusually stringent this particular morning. There were only two check points open both for the French and the UK and these would have been enough had they been processing the travellers at their normal pace. we ended up driving straight onto the train and were one of only 8 cars embarked.
On the other side we were also lucky and did not get held up at all, although I did decide to stop for coffee not long after we got across. An recommended a MacDonald's coffee, which I was surprised at but then I did not know any better. Apparently she had tasted a fine MacDonald's coffee in Germany and thought, quite reasonably, that the same would be available in the UK. It was awful apparently and Eric was also unimpressed with it! I had an Egg McMuffin meal, breakfast in a bap!
We got to the Premier Inn hotel in Ealing and had a rather bizarre encounter with the lady behind reception. We arrived maybe around 10.00, which was way too early to check in. The receptionist told me that I could check in early for a cost of £25, I have never come across anything like this before, so I declined. She then said that this 'fee' was in fact a contribution to a charity they were collecting for, even stranger I thought. Anyway we did arrange a sort of check in which did not attract a strange charity fee and I paid the bill, including the parking, accommodation and half of the breakfasts (she had misheard me and not charged me for Eric and Isabelle). I was relieved that we were able to leave the car parked up in the secure hotel car park, I had a fear that we would not be allowed in until 14.00, not good! We departed the hotel for our first foray into the city.
First stop was acquiring the Oyster cards for the trip. If you go to London then this is the best way to make sure that you do not pay too much for your travel on the Underground and buses. You buy a card leaving a £5 deposit and then you top the card up and pay as you go. In short it will cap the costs as the cheaper of the actual trips made or the cost of a travel card for the day. The only thing you must do is ensure that you properly scan in and out of each station otherwise you will pay the full standard price. I give it a good rub against the sensor and wait for the beep before going through.
I was burdened by my camera, complete with excessive heavy equipment, which I would come to regret. Our target was Camden Town Market followed by the British Museum. I had set out in my own mind to visit two particular places at Camden Town and as for the rest I was happy to go with the flow. You can spend so much time going around the shops and markets that less than a day seems insufficient to take it all in. There is the usual range of clothing and shoe shops, but there are also specialist shops that have Gothic and punk clothing and paraphernalia. There is art of varying types and also there is a range of food outlets with a huge variety or world foods that you can sample and enjoy. Here is a handy link that gives you a better description: Camden Town Market.
My aim was to buy a pair of Dr Martin's boots and although I did not have a particular kind in mind I was determined to get a pair. As you leave the Camden Town Underground station you turn left and come to The British Boot Company, it is easy to miss and is maybe 30 metres from the station entrance. The shop is small but has some interesting designs. The staff will give you the background to DM boots and the heritage of the company and brand. There are boots that have been signed by bands, notably Madness, but there are others. The pair I got were of a light brown swede ankle length type. I consulted with my specialist fashion advisor to make sure they were right for me, An approved! It was a typically male purchase, efficient, quick and to the point. They were selected, fitted and purchased maybe in under 5 minutes. With this additional burden to carry for the rest of the day, we left to head towards the main market.
I must warn you, and I am being utterly serious for a moment, the link I am about to share contains somewhat disturbing material. Be prepared for a shock and genuinely I feel it is not suitable for children. I do not normally take such a strong view of art but this is one I feel I must express. In one of the markets there is an American artist called Jeff Michalik. Jeff is responsible for what I can best describe as the shocking and thought provoking art he brands under Killer Bunny. His website is KillerBunny.co.uk. So having had a quick look at the site, you can see what I mean.
I decided to buy a bit of his work, now, this raises a number of questions. You can take a view on the artist, the buyer and of course the art itself. What does his art say about him? Well, if you stand by his stall for any length of time you will hear the comments from passers by about the mental state of the artist. Then you turn to the buyer, who in their right mind would buy something like this? Is it something dark within or is it a curiosity? Is it a message that I want someone to see? I can tell you this that I am apprehensive about displaying the artwork I have bought and I have no intention of gifting it to anyone. My view is that it is radically different and thought provoking and this is coming from someone who is not quick to appreciate the finer points of art. People often have a morbid fascination with gruesome things and maybe there is a bit of this involved here. Anyway, after a further peruse it was time for food!!!!
There is a wide range of foods available and it is worth having a sweep past all of the stalls and not just diving into the first one you see. Incidentally, Eric brought my attention to Churros, which is a deep fried batter based sweet. We both got a portion during one of our many rest periods during the wander around Camden. However, I digress, we settled for some food in the hot afternoon sun. I had a duck wrap with some sangria, An had a Mediterranean vegetable salad and some water, Eric and Isabelle ended up with another exotic dish, whose name escapes me and they also had a glass of cava too.
I was trying to take pictures on the move and I was messing about with a range of settings and light conditions but here is a sample from Camden:
From Camden we decided to head off, by foot, to the British Museum. This was not a wise idea due to the heat and distance involved but we set out regardless. During this walk I acquired my blisters, which was to make the rest of the visit a tad uncomfortable to say the least. I thought I had chosen sensible shoes and socks but clearly not! I think it was the poor socks that did it but I was not sure and now it was too late.
When we arrived at the British Museum it was very busy and we were both hot and thirsty. The Museum is definitely worth a visit but I could not help but think of whether or not some of its treasures should be back in the countries from which they have been removed. What is impressive is the covered courtyard. Again you need a fair bit of time to do the place justice. I took a few photos in the museum, the first of which was the Totem pole was in the covered courtyard.
Once we had finished up there the plan was to get back and freshen up at the hotel, in my case it would involve airing and nursing my feet too! We were staying approximately 600 metres from Ealing Broadway Underground station and the plan was to eat at Wagamama and then go to a wine bar called Crispin's. Wagamama is a chain of Japanese restaurants, of which there is one in Antwerp. The food is of a high standard, although the main utensils for eating are chopsticks, which require a certain level of dexterity.
We ended the evening in Crispin's and after having established which wines on the menu were not available we made our selection. By the way we also bought some Adobe, having tried some at my Brother-in-law's place and found it to be quite nice. Sadly the version in Crispin's was not so pleasant. Still it was a nice way to round off our first, long, day.
Day 2 - 7 Jun 14
Day 2 started with breakfast, this was when we noticed that we had not been charged for 4, but just 2. I tried to bring this to the attention of the staff but they were busy with the large influx of teenage One Direction fans milling about in their pyjamas and other inappropriate clothing. We had been told the day before that the hotel had stopped serving continental breakfasts but that the all inclusive price had gone up! When we got there we found that what we had been told was what can be technically referred to as bollocks. There was the full range of cooked and continental that we had had before. You could eat as much as you liked for £8.75, realistically I don't think you can eat that much so I am not sure it is value for money. Mind you with London prices it probably is. Breakfast was not a peaceful and pleasurable experience due to the volume of other customers and their desire to let everyone else know they were there.
As best we could, we planned our day. Not long after, we set out.
We struck out for the far side of London towards Brick Lane. We took the tube through from Ealing Broadway to Liverpool Street station and then walked towards Brick Lane. There was a route marked out on a tour map, which was supposed to take us past some points of interest. In essence for my feet it was another feat (forgive the pun) of endurance. My blisters would end up with blisters as I walked like I had a small Christmas tree inserted into my bottom, just far enough that it would not quite dislodge itself. The rest of the group were not fully aware of my discomfort. Our first real stop was Spitalfields market, where Isabelle bought a man bag for Eric, for his birthday and An and I had a cup of tea. Spitalfields is a covered market that has some interesting, mainly fashion type stalls and it is not so well known for its food. This was not really a planned stop as we moved on towards Brick Lane.
As we progressed to Brick Lane we came across an 'event', in essence a group of home owners had opened up five of their gardens to the public for a small fee. Perhaps what was more interesting is that the houses dated from around the 1750s and therefore their interiors were of more interest than their gardens in some cases. Both An and Eric are keen gardeners and thus we had a look around. I can best describe them as peaceful and very well designed. Considering the location and the limited space, they are places I could easily relax in and read a book. There was also plenty of shade too. One particular feature was a mirror that someone had placed into a wall, it looked like another garden as the mirror was the size of a door and crystal clear. It was very effective and I only stopped when I noticed my reflection. Again this was unplanned but then the interior of the houses was also very interesting. The buildings are grade II listed, which means the owners require special permission to make changes. A lot of effort is also put into keeping the exteriors authentic, even with the application of special paints. My feet were complaining and the Christmas tree was more than irritating...
Onwards to Brick Lane! We found it and started to walk the length of it. The last time An and I were here we missed the Old Truman Brewery, despite the large sign and buildings. Perhaps it was the distraction of trying to find shoe shops the last time? An and Isabelle were doing their best not to go into every fashion boutique, although it was tough. In the Old Truman Brewery there is the Old Boiler House, which has a range of stalls that sell what I can best describe as world foods. It is a bit of a treat to the pallet to be able to try some of these things, but we decided to wait until lunchtime before eating. I was genuinely not hungry so I could wait. It is worth a visit though. Getting back onto Brick Lane we started to carry on walking the route with the aim of eventually getting to the White Cube Gallery in Mason's Yard, sadly it was closed by the time we got there. Anyway I am ahead of myself! Before then we came across The Blues Kitchen where we decided to have lunch. I was a bit cautious about having lunch here as we were due to go to the Red Fort restaurant later on and I was not sure if we could cope with the volume of food! The Blues kitchen, apart from having nice food and probably nice music, if you hit it at the right time, also has interesting décor. The restaurant has a theme that can be best described as auto mobile in nature. The waiting staff are very friendly and the service is good. An was impressed with the quality of the fries/chips and the rest of the food was also very good.
When we had finished and were suitably refreshed there was an idea to go to a pub, but by this stage we needed to get to the Box Park, which was on our list and then start to head back towards the hotel. The idea was to refresh ourselves ready for the evening, but this would add at least an hour to the timings, to go to a pub was therefore inviting disaster...
In the end we didn't, we just got on with the forced march and found the Box Park. In essence the box park is lots of boutique type shops that are comprised of shipping containers that have been put together and fitted out. You are kind of limited in size but then it does make use of these containers. One particular shop stood out,Tusch Und Egon. I particularly liked their fire extinguishers, which you can see directly at the link. I also bought a small rubber Clown Fish, so I could do some Finding Nemo photographs such as these:
Time was pressing and so we could not spend too long looking around here, the trek continued (the pine needles were beginning to sting a bit).
We managed to get back in good time and I contacted my mate Sam to see if he could make it into Ealing to meet up. Sam would make a great Belgian as his timekeeping is loose to say the least. We managed to get to Ealing by about 17.35 with the aim of starting the inbound trip to Soho at around 19.00. After a quick squoosh and change of clothing we headed to a place called Bill's just along the road from the hotel. Sam made it just in time for a quick drink and a brief chat, this was fortuitous as he had a few recommendations on where to go and what to do. We took notes and consulted the map. We left a little after 19.00, fashionably late. I have to add that I was the acting guide for the trip and I brought along the ultra modern and technologically advanced A-Z of London, which used to belong to my Grandad I think. I was forever checking and double checking where we were.
It was not a bad ride in but the place was heaving and it was starting to look lively. We managed to get there pretty much on time for our 20.00 reservation. The Red Fort is a pleasant typical Indian restaurant, apart from the excessively priced drinks menu, which is par for the course. We chose (I was swept along) to go for the set menu. We were presented with a range of dishes and starters which we worked our way through. There was a degree of choice on the set menu but all said it was a great variety and the quality was also very good. The biggest shock, and this went for all of the main restaurants that we visited, was the standard 12% service charge. I did stress that we did not have to pay the service charge but what we thought was a suitable tip. When you are spending upwards of £270 per meal for the four of us the service charge ends up costing almost as much as a meal in a 'normal' restaurant. Even Eric thought that this was a bit too much. We did the full Monty and I noted that at the end they did not have the hot towels to clean your hands and face, not so posh after all...
Just to make sure that my feet were not overly rested and the tree fully bedded in, we proceeded to try and find a Blues Bar to get some live music. This entailed going from Soho to Carnaby Street, just a short trot. We did find the bar and indeed another interesting place on the way, Kingly Court, this is somewhere we could have wiled away the hours and was lively. In the end we did not go into the Blues Bar as there was a queue and we did not fancy hanging around until late. We reluctantly headed back to the hotel for a drink there. We made it back and settled down for a pint in the bar. There was a football game on the TV which I think was warm up match with England playing. I forget who the opposition was, not that it matters. Once again it was a late finish and at last I could remove the tree and tend my feet.
Day 3 - 8 Jun 14
The hotel staff finally realised we had not paid for the additional breakfasts and so we paid for those. I think that although her badge indicates that she speaks English, this must be pretty basic, hence the confusion over continental breakfasts not being provided, it is easier to say no that to commit to saying yes and having to go back on it later!
The third day was meant to be a trip to the Victoria and Albert and Natural History Museums, but, having discussed the options with Sam, we elected to go to Portobello Road Market. How can I best describe this place? Well it is a row of shops, but quite a long row and there are some interesting antique and art shops, I use these terms loosely. The first one we came across contained lots of metal signs as an example there was one, which I did consider buying, that said "Parking for Jaguars Only" or words to that effect. An thought that the neighbours would not appreciate that. There were a range of other signs. There was a shop entirely dedicated to fittings for doors and cabinets. If you want something special for your set of drawers then this was the place to get them. We stopped at an antiques shop and bought a brass aeroplane for the father-in-law. it was a decent price and he even gave a slight discount. The shop was full of interesting articles including aircraft propellers, telescopes, old leather suitcases and trunks, pictures, brass fittings and, well, too much to list here. Further on there was a good photo/art shop, it was good inspiration if you are a photographer. Many of the images looked like they were taken down the street. Oh we also passed a house where George Orwell used to live too. The houses themselves make for an attractive setting to the market, you can feel the wealth in the area.
One of the treats was The Humming Bird Bakery. We bought some rather nice cup cakes and a couple of drinks. We did intend to have them there and then but Eric had patrolled ahead and we needed to catch up. This market was more difficult for An and Isabelle to get through without some serious browsing. Towards the end of the market we came across The Spice Shop, which you could smell before you could see. Once you entered it was almost an orchestra of senses for the nose, it is worth it just to walk in and spend a minute of or two taking in the aromas. Of course An and Eric took the opportunity to stock up on some of the rarer spices. I also spotted a branch of Whittards and took the chance to show Eric and Isabelle the coffee they sell (despite being a tea shop). The staff were extremely helpful and even made up a sample of Oolong tea, which I had never tasted before. I asked the assistant what her favourite tea was and if we could try some. Oolong smells very creamy and it is just slightly bitter, not as strong as regular tea and you drink it without adding milk. I had made a discovery and I was very pleased too. Eric had also discovered a new type of coffee, I forget the name, but he was chuffed.
It was time to get on and so we caught the tube on the way in to Oxford Circus, the next stop was going to be afternoon tea at Fortnum and Mason's. Opulent, that is the best description I can give to Fortnum and Mason. The staff are very friendly and when we turned up for tea they made the effort to squeeze us in and we are grateful that they did. The staff all wear traditional uniforms and are very knowledgeable about the product. If you have any questions that they cannot answer then they find someone who can help. You have a choice of menus with sweet and savoury items, we elected to go for the set menu, which comprised of finger sandwiches of salmon, coronation chicken, beef, cucumber and egg (I think). We also had scones with jam and clotted cream and then the most exquisite and rich cakes you could imagine. It really was an experience and it did not end there. We were offered more sandwiches, cakes and scones and if we wanted, cakes from the trolley. I opted to have a piece of Battenberg, but was struggling to find the room. We did not have a second round, we just didn't need to. It was also interesting to observe the other customers and the staff, it is another world that we had a short glimpse of. The cost of the menu was between £40-45 each, worth it though. The store itself is also a place to behold and is worth visiting. We ended up buying some additional tea, in our case Russian Caravan, so named because that is how it was transported to the Tsars of Russia.
There now came a trek to the next destination, Harrods. It was a long walk down past Green Park towards Hyde Park. We took this route to look at some artwork that artists display by the side of the road. We had greater expectations of this so either that day was a bad day to see it or there is not a great deal to be seen there. It was the right weather for a beer in the park though.
I have to say I have mixed feelings about Harrods, it struck me as being a bit bling and the staff seemed disinterested and lacking in knowledge, almost shallow. The store is of course full of luxury but I felt that the character of the décor and staff reflected the owner, not unreasonable I suppose. The highlight, and it was a highlight, is the Halcyon gallery. I am not an art guru or can I express a passion for it either, but I saw pieces here that I would genuinely buy, the problem is, of course, that I do not have the money for such things. To give an example the least expensive piece was about £21,000 and the most expensive, that I saw, was £410,000. They were nice, very nice, but I probably would not have the right sort of place to put them!
We again made the trip back to the hotel to freshen up before heading out for Rules, which is the oldest restaurant in London. We were pushing the limits in terms of time to get there, but we made it okay. We booked a table on-line for 20.00 and again the décor and atmosphere was something special. The food was very traditional, especially the desserts. I had the steamed steak and kidney pudding, An and Eric had the Lamb chops and Isabelle had fish. The starters were equally as good, Eric and I had duck, Isabelle had herring and An had oysters. We shared a dessert and I recommended Summer Fruit Pudding and I shared a Lemon Polenta, both were very nice. We were stuffed and I would also recommend that you check out the toilets too, they are worth a look. There are pictures and items of interest surrounding you, including stained glass windows.
After Rules we decided we definitely needed to go to a pub, so we headed to Covent Garden and the Punch and Judy. Now either I had seen this in better days or someone had just had a pub fight and devastated the place. It was a bit of a mess and in hindsight I would not go back. We left after 1 drink and elected to go to The Harp, a recommended pub. We got there and they helpfully told us they had stopped serving. Homeward bound then. There was the option of taking in a bar on the way back but I think we were all seriously flagging by then so the hotel seemed the best bet.
Day 4 - 9 Jun 14
This was always going to be a tough day for me, as the driver I would not get much rest. The aim of the game today was to get to the Tate Modern, have a quick look around and then skidaddle back to Belgium. I wanted to be on the road by about 15.00 and so I was keen to push along. The trip in was not too bad but we did have to cross the Thames over the Millennium bridge. Cue the first unusual obstacle. We selected a route which took us towards the riverbank, the problem was it was not suitable in any sense for pedestrians and in fact it was part of a dual carriageway. There was nowhere to cross, but that did not stop us. We were not alone, there were several other sheep with us, bloody tourists. We crossed the dangerous road and came to a low wall, well it was low on our side but a bit of a drop on the other side, it was like being part of a well, if inappropriately dressed, gang of kids. Isabelle did well to maintain her dignity as she sort of got over and down off the wall. I did try and guide them to a more manageable section but they just fancied the challenge and the prospect of a visit to casualty.
Once we had done our assault course and yes my feet were still hurting, we crossed the bridge and made it to the Tate. Now, most will know that I am not really a fan of art unless it is truly stunning and meaningful. An and I split off from Eric and Isabelle as we worked our way through the gallery. An and I started at the top and I think Eric and Isa started from the bottom. There were shedloads of kids around and some were quite young, a bit noisy but then that's kids for you. I was perusing the fine pieces of junk on the top floor when I noticed some grills in the floor, I spent some time carefully studying them and wondering what the artist was thinking of when it dawned on me that these were ventilation grills! Funnily enough I saw a few more of them. To be brutally honest, how on earth can you tell? There was a 'sculpture' which consisted of two flat plates of steel balanced one on top of the other to form a T, that was it, rusting, dangerous scrap metal. There was another piece that was just a mirror, you, the viewer were the art! I mean what? How on earth does that qualify as anything? Did he or she (I could not be bothered to check) just get up in the morning, look in the mirror before farting and think ah haaaaaaaaaa!
I did come across many other pieces of worthless art including a set of three ventilation trunks, people have been paid for this and received awards. I have to say that I was not inspired at all, but then I am hard to please when it comes to art. We chose not to visit the Matisse exhibition. I did try and expand my horizons and I will continue to make the sacrifice of visiting in a bid to become a little more cultured in my outlook. The highlight of the visit for me was waving to some kids on the first floor, I always remember it being nice when people waved back when I was a kid.
We set off for what was to be the last trek, thankfully it was not too long. We were aiming to find a pub called the Gladstone, which featured in the guide books. Here we had pies and it was relatively cheap compared to where we had eaten during the week. I had a moo pie (beef) and An and Isa had a Heidi pie (goats cheese). Eric I think choose venison pie but I cannot remember. We all had mushy peas, if only to see the look of disgust on An's face. It is a real spit and sawdust pub, which was pretty basic and full of character. Apparently they have live music and the staff were very friendly. I recommend a visit, it is easy to miss though as it is slightly off the beaten track.
Time to make our way back to the car. We had been allowed to leave the car at the hotel and so it was a trip back over to Ealing Broadway to get on our way. Incidentally, we had bough the Oyster cards and we ran out of money on them, this was in part due to not swiping in and out correctly. we had to get the cards corrected. If you use these you really do need to make sure that the barriers record you entering and leaving. An incomplete journey results in the maximum charge, not good. You can check the history of the card and see where you have been.
Anyway, home! We got to the tunnel in good time but could not catch an earlier train, the net effect was that we were held up and entertaining ourselves in the terminal building for a while. We scoffed the Humming Bird cup cakes, which were divine. When we did get across and started out for home it was a fairly routine drive, except that at one point all of my passengers were asleep! We eventually made it back to Aarschot for around midnight and An and I did not get to sleep until about 01.00. I elected to drive into work at 07.00, knowing full well the traffic delays likely. They met all of my expectations and I took 2 hours to get into work.
I did go and see the nurse about my feet after I noticed a particularly foul smelling puss oozing from my blister. I was a bit worried about infection but she said it was fine.
That was our trip to London.
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