The Weekenders Part 4

Almost as soon as I was back in Dover, my phone rang; it was someone I met through Flickr asking what our plans were for the weekend and did we fancy a trip to London on Saturday.

It had been a tiring couple of days, and the thought of lazing around the house with Jools and the cats was tempting. But soon enough I will be back on the high seas and pining for a day out in London. So, we agreed to meet up with them on the train to London at Ashford, and a wander around Greenwich was planned.

Greenwich was where time was invented; until then everything happened at the same time, or when it felt like it. As time became popular, mainly because boiled eggs were now no longer raw, time began to catch on and people began to carry watches.

We arrived in Greenwich and we all decided that we were hungry; and the cafe chosen was Cafe Rouge; a pretend french cafe that is a chain as much as Starbucks and Subway; but more expensive. And the menu is in French. In truth the food was rubbish, probably because the chef was not French, and looked like all the meals had been heated up in a microwave. Possibly because that is how they were cooked.



we walked through the thick London traffic until we came to the entrance to the park, and there were trees, grass and dogs crapping. Some of which were good, others not so. But the walk up the hill was good, and we had great views not just of London, but of people. Not all of whom were Londoners; although quite what a Londoner is these days is open to question.



People visit the Royal Observatory at Greenwich to stand on the prime meridian, one foot in the west and the other in the east. And have their photograph taken. There must be several people now with pictures of themselves thus.



We were beyond that, and we made do with spectacular views down the hill of Greenwich park, over the Maritime Museum and across the Thames to the docklands, and the towering new buildings around Canary warf, which used to be the symbol of the new wealth in the country, but now is just the very large elephant in the room.



At this point our friends were going to head off to the Bodyworks exhibition; seeing dead people in poses that made them look like Hannibal lecter's wet dream maybe some folks' idea of fun, but not mine. And Jools had seen it. So we parted and headed into the City where another espisode of 28 Days Later seemed to being filmed.

In truth, it was deserted because shops in the City only open during the seek when the speculators and foolish are there working, and at weekends the shops are all closed, the streets empty, and is in general a photographer's dream.



We went to leadenhall Market, a location of the Harry Potter films; have you heard of them? I think they might do well. And then to the lloyds Building; a modern structure, built inside out, but wonderful in a Bladerunner kind of way. I snapped away.



Our final call was Borough Market; a foodies delight where all fresh produce and food is sold two days a week. We walked across London Bridge and then down the steep steps past Southwark Cathedral and into the throngs milling around the market.



Under the Victorian wrought iron arches we bought a rack of lamb, some chicory, corn, some walnut and almond bread and then walked to nearby London Bridge Station for the journey home.For all our fancy talk of taking in a show that night and catching the last train home, we were tired and just wanted to relax in front of the fire drinking coffee with maybe a cat or two on our laps.

Sunday was a bright and sunny day; and we began our rambling again. Rambling is to walk for pleasure, or something. And we had not been on one for many months. I could say we have been busy, but that would be a lie. Anyway, we were welcomed back, and we began the six mile walk around near where we live, past windmills, farms and through woods and fields, all full of the joys of spring. We are the youngest ones in the group, but not the fittest; hell no. But we enjoyed it, and the views which you just don't get from the car window.

At least after a couple of hours hard stumbling, the cold pizza for lunch did seem that we had earned it, not just being lazy.

The weather turned wet in the afternoon, and the wind did blw; so just a visit to the in-laws and then back home to cook the rack of lamb, roast potatoes in goose fat and fresh aspargus with grated Parmisan cheese washed down with a bottle of Spanish red.

Time for bed said Zebedee.

Boing