Weekend On the Move
Finally... an excuse to spend a weekend in London
I set out for the Marlborough Street Coach Station in the very early morning hours of Saturday to catch my 5:50am for London. Brad's plane was due to arrive at 9:35am, but a last minute message from him informed me that it would be at least an hour late getting in. As the bus entered Victoria Station, I gathered my things and headed into the streets of London with a bit of time to kill before having to hop on the Tube to Heathrow. I decided I'd head out for a walk around the block as it were, passing by Buckingham Palace and then back around to Westminster Cathedral (a great little hidden gem that I didn't even realise existed) and on to Victoria Station again.
The Tube ride out to Heathrow took about an hour, but the trains were not very busy and most of the ride was above ground in the morning sun. Once I arrived at Terminal 3, the boards told me the plane was not due until 11:15. I had a tea and cookie and passed the time by reading magazines at WH Smith that I had no intention of buying. Finally the plane landed and a short time later Brad emerged from the gates. As we sat and had a coffee he was kind enough to grace me with a Saskatchewan Roughriders Grey Cup Champs t-shirt. I had felt bad I didn't have any Rider gear before I arrived (despite the fact that I'm really rather ignorant about the sport itself).
The Tube ride back, with a pile of luggage, to Picadilly Circus was certainly less comfortable than the ride out, especially after being joined by a group of young footballers who rolled their eyes at all of the tourists clogging the train. Luckily the crowd thinned a bit by the time we got to the station, making it easy for us to alight. We were heading for Nadine's Aunt Barb and Uncle Roger's flat in Soho, passing through Chinatown, with its red lanterns hung in preparation for the Chinese New Year celebrations.
We found the place and unloaded all of the stuff before having some tea and cake and chatting. The flat is right in the heart of Soho with all its hustle and bustle. As evening fell we decided to head out and find some food. We wandered through the streets of Chinatown, which were abuzz with activity. A woman was giving a demonstration outside a shop on how dragon's beard candy is made. This a stringy sugary delicacy. She was one of only two masters in the UK at making this strange sweet, or so she claimed.
After much indecisiveness about what kind of cuisine we wanted, we stopped at a good old pub near Leicester Square for some hearty British food. Brad initiated his stay in England with a nice plate of fish and chips, complete with mushy peas. I went for the salmon. Whilst at the pub we contacted our old friends Johan and Christine, and made arrangements to meet up with them at their Kentish Town flat. We had decided to take them up on their offer to accommodate us for the night, as Barb and Roger had a bit of a full house for the weekend.
It was nice to unwind with Johan and Christine and their flatmate Ben, who regaled us with stories of London cab rides, and The Knowledge, a qualification that many of London's famous cabbies boast of. The wine and beer was flowing and Brad was fighting the jet lag as he very slowly sipped his glass of red. He did quite well, surviving until well past 1:00am. That first day is always the hardest bit.
We all slept in the next day. I think we all needed it. Though I hadn't come from halfway across the world like Brad had, I had had a pretty early morning the previous day. After some tea, toast and telly, Brad and I thanked our hosts and headed back out into the streets of the Big Smoke. We stopped at Café Renoir on the high street for a coffee and muffin. I was quite amazed to find that this muffin somehow had butter baked into it, or possibly injected into it. When we cut the muffins in half, there was a pad of butter awaiting inside. If nothing else, at least modern ingenuity has given us that.
We descended into the Underground once again and headed toward St. Pancras Station. The station recently re-opened after a long construction period as it was being prepared for the Eurostar upgrade. The new St. Pancras now has a cool platform-side cafe and a posh little champagne bar (with heated seats). It's quite elegant and has a very romantic Europa feel to it - dining just feet away from the train cars. The Eurostar trains can go from Central London to Central Paris in two hours, fifteen minutes. That's Winnipeg to Brandon (or Virden if you drive Eurostar speed).
Since we had an all-day Zone 1 and 2 Tube pass, we decided to head northward to Islington to see the new home of Arsenal F.C., Emirates Stadium. The Tube station, formerly Gillespie Road, now simply called Arsenal, was built for football traffic, complete with barred walkways, presumably to keep the home and away fans separated. Brad had been in the neighbourhood before, staying with a friend there back in 2003. But back then, Arsenal played in their old stadium, which we realised upon exiting the station, was currently being dismantled by a network of cranes. The new stadium stands on a triangular piece of land between two rail lines. We walked around the behemoth, braving the cold wind, and stopped briefly in the Arsenal shop, and a small nature reserve adjacent to the stadium, before hopping back on the Tube.
It was on to what has, for me, become a regular stop in London, the Tate Modern. The Turbine Hall was still featuring Doris Salcedo's Shibboleth, a crack in the gallery's floor, extending the entire length of the building. It doesn't sound very exciting when described by your humble narrator, but it is quite a sight to see, and ponder of its construction. We spent the remainder of the Tate's open hours checking out the upper floor galleries, and then walked back to Blackfriars to catch the Tube to Westminster just in time to hear Big Ben chime (with his newly restored bells).
After a bit of pub grub near Trafalgar Square, Brad and I headed back toward Leicester Square, where he returned to his accommodations and I hit the Underground one last time on my way to Victoria Coach Station, and eventually back to Bristol. It was a quick visit, but it was nice to see friends in the biggest city in this corner of the world. I look forward to going back again.
Cheers.
I set out for the Marlborough Street Coach Station in the very early morning hours of Saturday to catch my 5:50am for London. Brad's plane was due to arrive at 9:35am, but a last minute message from him informed me that it would be at least an hour late getting in. As the bus entered Victoria Station, I gathered my things and headed into the streets of London with a bit of time to kill before having to hop on the Tube to Heathrow. I decided I'd head out for a walk around the block as it were, passing by Buckingham Palace and then back around to Westminster Cathedral (a great little hidden gem that I didn't even realise existed) and on to Victoria Station again. The Tube ride out to Heathrow took about an hour, but the trains were not very busy and most of the ride was above ground in the morning sun. Once I arrived at Terminal 3, the boards told me the plane was not due until 11:15. I had a tea and cookie and passed the time by reading magazines at WH Smith that I had no intention of buying. Finally the plane landed and a short time later Brad emerged from the gates. As we sat and had a coffee he was kind enough to grace me with a Saskatchewan Roughriders Grey Cup Champs t-shirt. I had felt bad I didn't have any Rider gear before I arrived (despite the fact that I'm really rather ignorant about the sport itself).
The Tube ride back, with a pile of luggage, to Picadilly Circus was certainly less comfortable than the ride out, especially after being joined by a group of young footballers who rolled their eyes at all of the tourists clogging the train. Luckily the crowd thinned a bit by the time we got to the station, making it easy for us to alight. We were heading for Nadine's Aunt Barb and Uncle Roger's flat in Soho, passing through Chinatown, with its red lanterns hung in preparation for the Chinese New Year celebrations.
We found the place and unloaded all of the stuff before having some tea and cake and chatting. The flat is right in the heart of Soho with all its hustle and bustle. As evening fell we decided to head out and find some food. We wandered through the streets of Chinatown, which were abuzz with activity. A woman was giving a demonstration outside a shop on how dragon's beard candy is made. This a stringy sugary delicacy. She was one of only two masters in the UK at making this strange sweet, or so she claimed.
After much indecisiveness about what kind of cuisine we wanted, we stopped at a good old pub near Leicester Square for some hearty British food. Brad initiated his stay in England with a nice plate of fish and chips, complete with mushy peas. I went for the salmon. Whilst at the pub we contacted our old friends Johan and Christine, and made arrangements to meet up with them at their Kentish Town flat. We had decided to take them up on their offer to accommodate us for the night, as Barb and Roger had a bit of a full house for the weekend.
It was nice to unwind with Johan and Christine and their flatmate Ben, who regaled us with stories of London cab rides, and The Knowledge, a qualification that many of London's famous cabbies boast of. The wine and beer was flowing and Brad was fighting the jet lag as he very slowly sipped his glass of red. He did quite well, surviving until well past 1:00am. That first day is always the hardest bit.
We all slept in the next day. I think we all needed it. Though I hadn't come from halfway across the world like Brad had, I had had a pretty early morning the previous day. After some tea, toast and telly, Brad and I thanked our hosts and headed back out into the streets of the Big Smoke. We stopped at Café Renoir on the high street for a coffee and muffin. I was quite amazed to find that this muffin somehow had butter baked into it, or possibly injected into it. When we cut the muffins in half, there was a pad of butter awaiting inside. If nothing else, at least modern ingenuity has given us that.
We descended into the Underground once again and headed toward St. Pancras Station. The station recently re-opened after a long construction period as it was being prepared for the Eurostar upgrade. The new St. Pancras now has a cool platform-side cafe and a posh little champagne bar (with heated seats). It's quite elegant and has a very romantic Europa feel to it - dining just feet away from the train cars. The Eurostar trains can go from Central London to Central Paris in two hours, fifteen minutes. That's Winnipeg to Brandon (or Virden if you drive Eurostar speed).
Since we had an all-day Zone 1 and 2 Tube pass, we decided to head northward to Islington to see the new home of Arsenal F.C., Emirates Stadium. The Tube station, formerly Gillespie Road, now simply called Arsenal, was built for football traffic, complete with barred walkways, presumably to keep the home and away fans separated. Brad had been in the neighbourhood before, staying with a friend there back in 2003. But back then, Arsenal played in their old stadium, which we realised upon exiting the station, was currently being dismantled by a network of cranes. The new stadium stands on a triangular piece of land between two rail lines. We walked around the behemoth, braving the cold wind, and stopped briefly in the Arsenal shop, and a small nature reserve adjacent to the stadium, before hopping back on the Tube.
It was on to what has, for me, become a regular stop in London, the Tate Modern. The Turbine Hall was still featuring Doris Salcedo's Shibboleth, a crack in the gallery's floor, extending the entire length of the building. It doesn't sound very exciting when described by your humble narrator, but it is quite a sight to see, and ponder of its construction. We spent the remainder of the Tate's open hours checking out the upper floor galleries, and then walked back to Blackfriars to catch the Tube to Westminster just in time to hear Big Ben chime (with his newly restored bells).
After a bit of pub grub near Trafalgar Square, Brad and I headed back toward Leicester Square, where he returned to his accommodations and I hit the Underground one last time on my way to Victoria Coach Station, and eventually back to Bristol. It was a quick visit, but it was nice to see friends in the biggest city in this corner of the world. I look forward to going back again.
Cheers.
posted by Mark Bauche at 9:45 PM
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