Monday 26th October 2015

Sunday

With the clocks going back, it should have resulted in us having an extra hour in bed. But what with one thing and another, the time on the clock alarm was not changed, so when it went off at what was hoped, six of the AM, it was in fact just five. We laid in bed for a while, but in the end we decided some coffee was needed before the day really began.

Back in April I had booked tickets for a tour of a bomb shelter in south London. And with that in the bag, I also booked tickets for an art exhibition in Dulwich.

The sun rose into an almost blue sky, casting wonderful golden light on the leaves that had already turned to gold and red. Is there really a better time to be out and about? I think not.

We caught the first train out of Martin Mill, 07:35, which did give me chance to laugh at Chelski on MOTD, not only losing, but having a player, the assistant manager and Jose sent off too. Being such a dreadful loser, Jose failed to speak to anyone after the game, as is the way. Ho hum, put a smile on my face for the rest of the day.

The train was sparsely populated, so we got a table seat on the left side of the train, so to have the best views as we traveled up to London: the views over Dover as we came out of Guston tunnel, Shakespeare Beach, the Harbour Branch at Folkestone, views over the Medway and the bridge at Thurrock. All ticks in the box to mark off as we got nearer and nearer to London. Then down into the tunnel under East London to Stratford then St Pancras.

At St Pancras we needed to catch a Thameslink train. Now I knew there was such a thing as Thameslink, and it stopped at St Pancras, but I had no idea where the platforms were. I had seen a sign for platforms A and B last time I was there, so should not be hard, right? Right as it turned out, as we followed the signs to under the Midland Mainline platforms, down the escalator to what is very much the fairy-tale line, on which you can travel from Bedford to Brighton, but the trains are old, the lines twists and turns. But for now, for me it was a new experience, a new line and a new train.

The train arrived after a 5 minute wait, we got on and sat there. There were no announcements, no matrix signs inside to tell us of the next station or where it would be calling. The line twisted and turned past the old Kings Cross station with dire warnings not to alight there: we got glimpses of sky, but mostly it was through tunnels to Farringdon, City Thameslink and Blackfriars. At Blackfriars we sat at the platform for 5 monutes, but at least we had fine views east down the river to The City, even if the view is blighted by those dreadful new buildings. On we went, through Elephand and Castle, Loughborough Junction to Herne Hill, where we had to change. A 20 minute wait for the service to Wimbledon, but we were going just the one stop to West Dulwich.

I know little of the south London suburbs, and Dulwich I may have driven through once before. But it is glorious, all parks and leafy avenues and grand houses. It really was a very pleasant place indeed. We made our way from the station to the gallery, along those avenues, kicking our way though drifts of dried golden leaves.

We had tickets to see an exhibition of work by MC Escher, a Dutch artist who has fascinated me since High School. This was the first time his work has been on display in Britain, and we had tickets! Oh lucky us. We got in early, so we could make the next appointment. Anyway, to see his work in the flesh, as it were, was just amazing. No matter how many books, posters or prints you see, nothing prepares you for how wonderful the original works are. His work on perspective was groundbreaking, and has affected me since I first saw it back in school over 35 years ago.

And the gallery was not crowded, so we got to see the works without having to crowd round with others. A perfect morning, really.

Next, we had to get across London to Clapham, also south of the river, but this involved three trains, but we should have more than enough time. We had to wait 20 minutes for a train to Brixton, and there was me thinking it would be like the one we arrived on, empty! No, seems like all of south east London was heading into the city. On this train! We just got on, but at least we did, unlike some who got left behind and had an half hour wait for the next one.

Off at Brixton, where the tube station was not where it should have been, at the railway station. In the end, I had to ask, it was just round the corner, but to be in Brixton, with its mix of peoples and cultures from around the world, makes me want to return to explore more.

Down back into the Underground onto the Victoria Line and then the Northern Line and down through various Claphams to South.

During the war a series of deep underground shelters were planned and many were built, and one of these was Clapham South, which survives pretty much intact. Since the war it was used as a hostel, barracks and a hotel. Until finally due to safety concerns it was turned into document storage. But most of the fixtures and fittings are from the war, thousands of bunk beds survive, as to all the signs on the walls. It is an incredible thing. Just one problem, it is 120 feet underground, 180 steps down. But that does mean, of course, at the end of the visit it is 180 steps back up.

The tour was very good, taking through the building, the war and post war years, we learned much. Why do it? My father-in-law does not understand a lot of what we do, but then it is to learn, to understand, and one hopes not to repeat the mistakes of the past.

We do manage the climb back up to street level: it is quarter to two, we could make it back to St Pancras and catch the quarter to three train back. And the Northern Line is a direct trip with no changes. At least back onto the tube means an escalator rather than steps. A twenty minute trip to St Pancras, a walk along the passageway to the Southeastern platofrms. Up two escalators, and our train is waiting all ready.

We slip out of London on time, and are soon whizzing through Essex in warm late afternoon golden sunshine. Into Kent, and with the sun setting way down in the west, it was time to be home. It was dusk when we climbed into the car at Martin Mill, and with just a two minute drive up the hill to Chez Jelltex. The cats were waiting, and I had managed to get home just to hear the whole of the late game on the radio. We have a coffee and a bun, and decide to skip roast dinner and have cheese and crackers instead. And wine. I have found that it is easy to drink glass after glass of wine when its from a box rather than a bottle. I have a glass or two too many, but that is OK, no work on the morrow.