The rain did not relent on Friday evening, so I sat and watched the highlights of Le Tour. Nothing that earth-shattering is it? As I cleaned my teeth just past ten, I noticed a yellow light out of the corner of my eye. Through the crack in the open window, I could see this light; maybe it was the light of a house on the other side of the valley.
Not, it was the light of the rising full moon. The clouds had cleared enough for the moon to be seen through the trees and hedgerow on the other side of the valley. We went to the window in the office to watch it rise. It may not sound much, but it was a wonderful thing to see. We have become used to marking the passing of the weeks by watching the phases of the moon, but this unending summer rain has hidden the moon for weeks on end, and so when we do see it, we find ourselves saying things like, the moon is nearly full again, or something similar to remark where the time goes.
It slips through our fingers like sand……
Saturday we were up with the larks again, to get ready to head to London for the day. We did think about not going as heavy showers were forecasted, but decided maybe we could dodge the raindrops. So we set out for the station to catch the train to St Pancras.
Our plan was to visit St Paul’s Cathedral and the new cable car that spans the Thames from the EXCEL Arena to the Dome; it promised to be a big day. Also, we hoped to see how the preparations for the Olympics are going; I had seen that flags had been hung all along Regent Street, so we thought we should head over before there before the shops opened and the pavements would be thronged.
So, we headed to the Underground to head to the West End. But, we could not help but notice the banners hung from every surface how fast food peddlers, McDonalds, are sponsoring the games. Quite what makes them a suitable sponsor for the games does escape me. But then there is the official soft drink (Cocoa Cola) and an official beer (Carlsberg, or is it Heineken?) none of which is full of the Olympic spirit, they just paid the most money. So, we see everywhere, how the Olympics should be enjoyed with a greasy burger or a pint of bland over-fizzy beer. I would rather we British taxpayers had paid a few million more and had to whole thing ad-free.
All on the underground were pasted up pink signs giving directions to all the main venues, which I guess is a good idea. We went along to Oxford Circus, and headed up back into the streets all under a leaden sky. Indeed, Regent Street is lined with dozens, maybe even a couple of hundred flags, from many nations; most flags I did not recognise, but it did look rather wonderful. At the top of Regent Street, we went up to look at Broadcasting House, the old home of BBC radio. I don’t think I had been there for some 30 years. As you would expect, I snapped it from all angles.
We walked down Regent Street, only for the heavens to open, so we dashed into a small greasy spoon on Little Portland Street. I had wonderful hot salt beef and pickled gherkin sandwiches, and Jools had a scrambled egg and salmon bagel. All rather wonderful.
Outside it had stopped raining, so we walked down to Piccadilly Circus, along to Leicester Square. More flags hung everywhere, but the square has been cleared of the old fair rides and a statue of William Shakespeare is now revealed in the centre. So, I snapped that too.
The rain began to fall again, so we dashed into another place for what turned out to be a third breakfast. Although I had a small glass of Italian dessert wine and almond biscuits to dunk; not a normal breakfast, I grant you, but nice enough.
We continued to walk up to St Paul’s, along Holborn to the Cathedral Yard, and in through the main door; only to discover that the entrance fee was £15 and that photography was not allowed. I tried to see how such a fee could be justified and failed, and should we accept to pay such a fee. We decided that they could do one or the other, not both. So, St Paul’s went unvisited and we headed to the nearest Underground station to head to the East End to the cable car.
We headed to Bank station, and then along various tubes and down stairs and escalators to the DLR station; a train was about to leave, so we jumped on and away we went, back into the broken sunshine and heading toward what was once London’s docklands. I thought that many people might be heading to the cable car, but at Queen’s Dock about a dozen people got out; so we followed them to the station and were confronted by confused tourists and staff who seemed even more confused.
I knew that we could use our Oyster cards, so after asking one of the staff who did know, we jumped the queues of the tourists getting their tickets, swiped our cards at the turnstiles and headed up to the boarding area. And after 5 minutes climbed into a car and swung out over the old dock and then up, up and away.
The views were spectacular, as you can imagine, we could see Canary Wharf, and across to the Olympic Park at Stratford, but central London was hidden by the curves in the river behind Canary Wharf. Even still, it was great, and the kilometre long ride I guess took about 10 minutes so soon we were descending into Greenwich beside the Millennium Dome soon enough. As there is very little else to do there, instead of walking to the Dome we got back on a car and headed back north of the river. As we crossed back over the Thames, heavy rain began to fall, so we made the decision to head back home.
We got a train direct to Stratford, and as we approached the end of the line I realised that if we were lucky we could catch a train to Dover almost straight away. We rushed off the train, up the steps and into the International Station, down onto the platform and within two minutes the train arrived. We got seats and so we zipping back to Dover at 140mph as we snoozed the journey away.
After a dinner of chorizo hash we sat down to listen to the Summer Concert from Vienna on the radio, which was wonderful.
And Sunday; and on the seventh day the heavens did open and the rain did fall. Well, for most of the day, although around lunchtime it did stop long enough for to get out into the garden to pull some weeds. And in the afternoon, myself and a couple of cats sat on the sofa and watched stage 8 of Le Tour. Outside the rain fell with increasing ferocity.
Lets hope that at some point the rain does stop and we can have a ‘proper’ summer. A plus point is that the hosepipe ban has been lifted. If I didn’t know better I would say they were taking the piss after three months of what seems like non-stop rain…
And so the exercise continues.
After various excuses and reasons for not doing any, the waistline expanded back to where it was back in January. So, back on the cross-trainer we climb. Phew.
Why did all those good intentions fall by the wayside? Why does anything happen I guess is the answer. Trips away with work, holiday in Germany, the European Championships and it goes on. Days stretch to weeks stretch to months. And all the good work goes to waste.
Waist.
Let’s be honest, most days its far easier to say ‘no’ or I’ll do it tomorrow. And of course tomorrow never comes.
And so here we are, in high summer, in the humid spare bedroom pumping lard once again. To be honest I was able to get back and do 20 minutes right away, then build it up to 25 and now 30. Mulder sits and watches from the spare bed and must wonder what those crazy humans are up to now. I do sometimes. But, like yesterday, it is a great way to start the day. Pump some lard for half an hour, have another cup of coffee and then the day is free for us to decide what to do with, even if it is to watch the raindrops running down the other side of the window.
If the sun does shine, we can go out for a walk as well, and enjoy the wonderful thing that is the English countryside in the summertime.
The other reason for putting the weight back on was falling back into the old habits with food too. Especially in Germany where we would have lunch and maybe a mid-afternoon cake and then beer or wine with meals. Back home I would bake buns or Limoncello and Grappa tart. All nice but to be eaten as additional food beside our normal meals.
So, this weekend, I resisted the impulse to bake another batch of saffron buns, and instead just have the coffee. And it worked for the most part.
So tonight, back home, get changed, pump some lard and then think about dinner. It makes sense and hopefully within a month I’ll be back where I was at the end of March, looking at old clothes that I could get into once again and think about putting in an extra notch on the belt.
One day at a time….
No comments:
Post a Comment