There is something special about the final dawn of British Summer Time, it is so late, that by the time were are leaving Folkestone, is it light enough to see anything out of the train windows. Yes, we were heading to London for the day, or at least part of the day, and tomorrow, we get the extra hour in bed, but it will be dark by five in the afternoon.
Oddly, we decided not to set the alarm for the morning, instead agreeing to head out when we were ready. So it was a bigger surprise that we were both awake and up and about before half five. That meant we would be able to catch the quarter to seven train and thus be up in London by eight. We drive into town, finding a place to park in Priory Mews, it is then a minute or two walk to the station, get the tickets and make our way through the barrier where the high speed train is already waiting. I select my favourite seats, second carriage from the front, on the left so I can see the sea on the way to Folkestone and the motorway beyond Ashford as well as a fleeting view over the Dartford Crossing as we thunder over it at 125mph.
Jools reads as we travel along, she bought herself a Kindle on Friday and is deep into her first e-book. I look out of the window, hoping to see something else other than my reflection looking back. There is light in the sky to the east, dawn is not far away. Even at this early hour, the train is more than half full by the time we pull out of Ashford, where it is now light enough to see the countryside, and the change in colours you get at the end of September. Fields are beginning to get waterlogged, crops are sown, winter is now very near.
We get off the train at Stratford, a place I know only too well. We are hungry, there is a cafe. We go in, order coffee and a pannini each. We eat, drink and feel much better. A train to Stratford is pulling in as we ride the escalator down to the platfor,, and at Stratford we cross to the other DLR line tso we can ride through the new Pudding Mill Lane station, which was required due to the Crossrail work. Sadly, the new station has no views of the AEML, which means any steam trains will have to be viewed elsewhere, maybe Stratford. Things change......
We change at Poplar for a train to Tower Gateway, as we wanted to see the display of ceramic poppies in the moat of the Tower of London. As usual, the hardest part is getting across the many lanes of traffic, but that done it was a short walk towards Tower Bridge to gain access to the park which had the fine overviews of the poppies. One poppy has been planted for each of the 888,246 British and Commonwealth soldiers and other servicemen who lost their life in the first world war. A striking thing, seeing the poppies, which have been made to look like a giant lake of blood in the moat.
Being still early, there are only a few people about, but more and more people are arriving, so we deiced to head to Westminster to see the Cenotaph, which I though was being guarded by servicement until the 11th. But as it turned out, it wasn't, but a trip to Whitehall is never wasted. We decide to walk, as it is only just gone nine, and we halve all day, and in truth central London is not as big as you think it is. Or that is what we told ourselves.
We tightened our belts and set off past All Hallows by the Tower and onto the City. The City skyline has changed greatly since I first photographed it back in 1987, when there was only the Nat West Tower and the Lloyds building punching the sky. Since then, there seems to have been some collective madness in the planning department, and unsightly building after unsightly building has been allowed to be constructed, further blighting what was once a wonderful sight but now St Paul's is getting lost. The latest, and worse carbuncle, is 20 Fenchurch Street, aka The Walkie Talkie, a building which not only is very tall, but is wider at the top than the bottow, thus towers over, literally, those buildings near. It is horrible, but now it is built, London will just have to get used to it.
We walk on, taking Cannon Street so to avoid the crowds at St Paul's, the pavements are empty enough, and traffic on the roads light enough to make it pleasant enough. At Blackfriars we decide to head to Victoria Embankment, as it seems many years since we last walked along there, and searching my memory, it was when we met for the very first time, back in July 2006. Time flies.
A walk along the river is nice, but you have to deal with the packs of joggers who seem to only run in the company of other joggers meaning they take up much of the path, and then there is the four lanes of traffic along the embankment, which seems to be heavy even on a Saturday morning. However, it really is not that bad, and we amble our way past Temple and out of the City of London and into the City of Westminster. We pause beneath Waterloo Bridge to take in the scene looking east and west along the river, and the modern buildings scarring the skyline, it made me think that at least the river will be visible, until; they work out how to build on water, which might yet happen.
We strike out for Whitehall, and quickly are among crowds of tourists who have gathered around Horseguards to see the Lifeguards, er, on guard, on horses. I walk down to the Cenotaph to get my shot, we then turn back up heading for Trafalgar Square as thoughts turn to lunch. The square is crowded, of course, so we strike north at first heading for Neal's Yard, but after passing restaurant after restaurant, we think, why walk another half hour into Soho, when we could eat here? NO reason at all, just where?
Standing outside a French place called Cote, we say this is as good as any, and are told we have to wait until midday before lunch can be ordered. We agree and take time to look at the menu before deciding on our choices. I have French Onion Soup followed by griddled half chicken. Very nice indeed, and it hots the spot.
It is now one fifteen, so we decide to head to St Pancras so we can catch the ten past two train home. We wait for a bus opposite Charing Cross station, scramble aboard and then we move and sway our way north to Euston which is just a short walk from St Pancras. There was just time for me to snap the square at the front of King's Cross before meeting back up with Jools outside the barriers as our train arrives, giving us 20 minutes to wait before departure. I look through my shots, then stretch out closing my eyes as we glide out of the station and into the tunnels under east London that will take us out to Dagenham.
After just over an hour, we trundle into Dover, so we walk to the car, and then we have to gird our loins as there is shopping to do. We tell ourselves Tesco will not be busy at half three in the afternoon. It was, but we need just a few things, we zip round zapping as we go, and are out again before four, and home in time for me to listen to the second halfs of the games on the radio. Sadly, City fail to score again, but don't concede either, but a 0-0 draw at Hillsborough isn't really good enough.
We feast on cheese and beans on toast, before Jools watches Dr Who, and I clean up. Another fine day, and tomorrow, winter arrives, but we do get an extra hour in bed.
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