Sunday 3rd July 2011

Welcome to the Sunday afternoon of the soul.

There is something about Sundays, sunny Sundays, sunny, summer Sundays which mean relaxing in the garden watching the birds and insects whilst sipping on a pint of homebrew. That being taken after having eaten a big bowl of gooseberry crumble made with gooseberries from our very own garden. Something very satisfying about that.

The sun is still shining, a new name is on the Wimbledon trophy, and once more that name is not British. Better luck next year, Andy. I have watched just an hour of this year's tournament, and as much as I enjoy it to a point, its hard to engage.Or hard for me to. The serve and volley of the modern game is just not entertaining, doubly so when carbon-fibre rackets are used and the balls pings around at 130 mph.

Saying that, there are 41 days to the start of the football season, 34 if your team is in the football league. Or if you're a Fulham fan, your season began last Thursday with a Europa League game. It's almost an all year round game, but not quite.

Yet.

After work, and once we had eaten dinner, we headed off for an evening's constitutional, along the byways around our neighbourhood. Along the track that continues along from the end of our road, always on the watch for butterflies and moths. I got a couple of good shots of bugs. As the sun went down, casting a fine golden light over everything, we turned and headed to the village to call in the Red Lion for a pint. But once again, we didn't get what you would call a warm welcome. We sat down in the corner, drunk our beer and left, heading down the hill beside the road back home.

Up at the crack of dawn, or two hours past dawn if the truth be known, to head down to the station to catch the first high speed train into London town, as we had a date with an old lady called Oliver, and we mustn't be late!



Once at St Pancras, we headed to the front of the station to see if we could get soe breakfast; we found an Italian place of the same chain we had used when we were in Chester, and so sat down and ordered light breakfast and coffee and looked around from our table at with the majesty of the train shed spread out before us, and a scattering of Eurostars waited in line for their next duties.

Time to make our way to the East End and near to where to Olympics are going to be held for our date. We headed down onto the Underground to Liverpool Street and then onto Stratford, a walk over the station to the DLR station, down one stop and to Pudding Mill Lane.

Yes, we had gone all the way across London to see a steam train go powering by. We joined to other spotters there with their cameras; we exchanged news of the train, whether it was on time or had already passed on her way to Liverpool Street to pick up the passengers. It had. And now we waited, hoping that Oliver Cromwell would not pass when a DLR train was in the station, as then, only those who arrived really early would see as only their little bit of platform offered unobstructed views of the tracks.

While we waited we looked at the huge construction site the other side of the tracks, as the Olympic park rises from the wasteland of East London. Most venues are now being completed, just some finishing touches, whilst the roads, railways and the like are now being built. It is going to be an amazing place once completed for sure.

I was practising my panning shots, following a unit as it headed into London, when as it turned towards Bethnal Green, Oliver Cromwell was on the next line to it, and I got her as her nose came into view. The camera whirred as I took a constant stream of shots as she powered towards us. As she neared, the driver opened the regulator and a cloud of black smoke left her chimney. And she was on us, and then, just as quick, leaving in the direction of Stratford and away.




It was worth it. Honest.

Less tan a minute later, a DLR unit arrived; we climbed on and headed into Docklands towards Canada Square and then onto Limehouse, where it was our plan to follow the Regent Canal all the way back to St Pancras, some 5 miles.

We climbed down the steps from the station and right away saw the signs pointing the way to the towpath walk. We walked down the busy Commercial Road, soon passing over the canal, we take to steps down to the path beside the lock, and already the noise of the modern world receded. To the south, beyond the lock was a basin, with boats of all shapes and sizes tied up; canal narrowboats, cruisers, old fishing boats. And an all sides were modern apartment buildings, with fine views over the canal and the boats.

We turned round and headed up the canal towpath. As you might expect, there was a lot of trash in the canal, from bikes to traffic cones, but the water was clean enough to see to the bottom, and on occasion a fish, some big carp, could be seen swimming.



The canal ran through Tower Hamlets, Mile End, Hackney, Haggerston and onto Islington. All along the canal, smart new apartment blocks mixed with old warehouses and other industrial buildings. It went under railways, roads and through busy boroughs, always going about its own serine business.

Or it would have been serine had it not been for the joggers and cyclists. I am sure finding somewhere to exercise where its safe is hard in London, but cyclists bombing along, gaggles of joggers hogging the towpath meanth that you were in a constant state of alertness in case you were about to be mown down, doubly so when you went under an old canal bridge as the path was only half as wide there.



As we reached Haggerstone, it was just gone midday, the sun was hot, and we were thirsty and our feet aching; we climbed up the steps at a bridge to find a pub; this we did, and as well as nice cold beer and cider we had a huge plate of nachos to shre; there was some good music playing, and it would have been so easy to have stayed in there longer and not got back to the walking.

We did head back out, and onwards along the canal. It was still busy, and once in Islington, the canal went into a tunnel, and as there was no path, we had to go through the centre of the borough and try to find the canal the other side.



The signs stopped, and we were confronted with the A1 road, all four lanes of it, and hoards of shoppers on either side and no idea which road to head down. Jools spotted the Angel Tube station, and we decided for the last few hundred yards to let the train take the strain. It was just one stop, but worth the cost, and soon we were back under the great roof of St Pancras with 55 minutes to kill. We went to the newly opened pub at the back of the station to cool off with more beer and watch the world go by. It was a good choice.



At four we walked to the Southeastern platforms and climbed on the air conditioned train and waited for the departure. Soon we were being whisked through the tunnels under north east London, and then onto the marshes of southern Essex, under the Thames and back into Kent.



Back home then by six, and time to order a takeaway from our favourite Chinese place, and then chill out after another one of them great, great days.



A bit of a lay-in this morning, and once up, out for a walk along the cliffs to try to snap some orchids and some butterflies. In the end in the hour it took to walk from South Foreland to Fan Bay and back, I had snapped 5 species of butterfly and got some nice shots of pyramidal orchids, and a walk along the white cliffs on a warm summer's day is never a bad thing to do. France was visible 23 miles away, and the ferries were hurrying across, skylark's song filled the air; all was well with the world.



And then back to reality as we had to go grocery shopping. All I will say is it wasn't so bad as it could have been; although if you wanted stuff for a bbq you were out of luck. And all strawberries were sold out too; something to do with Wimbledon too I guess.



And then back home for lunch, and then sit in the garden to marvel at the scene. And for me to snap the hummingbird hawk moth some more, this time getting some really good shots, with lots of detail.

And finally; chores, cooking, ironing, washing up. It is now evening, time for a shower and early to bed, as tomorrow is a school day.