Sunday 21st September 2019

Autumn equinox.

Open House London 2019.

Due to my planning of the grand churchcrawl the weekend before, apart from pre-booking a single tour at Australia House, we had nothing planned. Well, the other thing was an underpass at Crystal Palace; trust me this was a work of the bricklayer's craft, but after checking Friday night I discovered this was on ly on on Sunday. So, I make contact with two GWUK friends, and Aidan had a plan, so we agreed to meet at Euston and do some stuff.

Sorted.

All we had to do was get up. No problem as I had a cold, and was wide awake at four in the morning, coughing and sneezing.

Oh, joy.

Anyway, why not just go and do it?

Why not indeed.

I was up at half five, I woke Jools up, so we end up having bacon butties before we leave, and have enough time to triple check my camera for cards, batteries and so on.

And I even had my mobile phone.

Wowzers.

We try to park near the station, but there is less and less room, meaning I had to park on a sidestreet overlooking the station, easy to walk down to the station, down the 1:6 street, but it would be a hike back to collect the car in the evening.

Jools had already bought our tickets, so we could wait on the draughty platform, me watching trains coming and going, until our steed glides in and we take our seats on my preferred side of the train, of course.

To make my mood blacker, I have an allergy attack on the train, and I realise my spare nasal spray was in my other camera bag. Which was at home. However, less than two minutes off the train at St Pancras, I can breathe easy again, but we do go to Boots to get a spray for the rest of the day.

We were to meet our friends outside Euston, so we walk the backstreet way to the station, and wait beside a giant of the railways, Robert Stephenson, who has a statue outside the concourse. While we wait, we can people watch, and as ever there is an eclectic mix of folks making their to and from the station.

Graham arrives, and Aidan soon after. So here we are!

First destination was St Pancras New Church, just over the road. But, it was not yet ten, and the person inside locked the door on us they saw us approach.

Ha, we shall return.

Aidan had heard of a modern church in Fitzrovia, did we want to go there? We did.

The Lumen United Reformed Church was down a sidestreet (its a sidestreet kinda day, apparently), and is a modern building, or fairly. As we approached the doors swished open a la Star Trek, and inside we were greeted by a volunteer. And he loved this church.

In a good way.

He gave us a personal tour and gave us a potted history of the site. The Victorian church was bombed by a V2 at the end of the war, and the modem building was erected on posts through the churchyard, leaving the graves and crypt of the original church untouched.

Aidan makes stained glass for a living, and there was a very fine modern wndown in the east end, which we admired.

Would you like to see the crypt?

We were asked.

Yes. We would.

We were lead down a spiral staircase into the basement, where modern documents were piled up in stacks five feet high, and on the side were the footings and crypt of the original church.

The guy did like to talk, and had others not tured up, there is a chance we would still have been there now.

But we escape and walk back to St Pancras New Church. The Old Church, beside the station was once thought to have been the oldest concerated site in England, but this is almost certainly not the case now.

Anyway, a new church was bult on the edge of Fitzrovia, and I have passed it several times, but never found it open. But today the doors were no unlocked and open.

It was a fine church, lots of details.

Also the crypt was open too, for the graduating class of the ceramics class at St Martins which is just north of KIngs Cross. So we went exploring the crypt and the fabulous objects, if not of art, of something.

I looked at my watch; nearly half eleven, and i had to be in Aldwych in an hour, so I said goodbye to my friends, but we would meet up later in a pub.

I was to meet back with Jools for the tour of Australia House.

I took the Northern Line south, no air conditioning, so it was like an oven, but not too crowded. And at Charing Cross, I go to the surface and walk to The Strand, then up past Mary le Strand to Australia house, where Jools was waiting already.

We join a queue, and due to dropouts, we go in early, and are soon marvelling at the detail of the building, and getting lots of shots.

And all the staff who had given their spare time to host us, were so nice. Made me want to move to Oz.

That'd be a thing.

I had walked and snapped all morning without a drink. And we had an hour before we were to meet our friends, so we look for a place to eat, and find a fine pub called The Old Bank of England, and sitting at a table on the balcony I make two pints of mild and a plate of cauliflower curry vanish.

It was very nice.

We walked up Fleet Street to the meeting place: Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, a pub dating back to 1667 just after the Great Fire.

We go in where there was a small bar.

"We're looking for friends" I explain to the barman.

Maybe they're downstairs.

Is there a bar down there too?

The basements, on at least two levels, were the storerooms of a monastery possibly dating back to the 13th century.

Aidan and Graham were not there, so I get us a drink and we wait. In half an hour they arrive, buy another round, and we get talking.

And we carried on talking and drinking until gone five.

I was in rare form, I think, and around us the bar filled up.

Jools said at six we should be getting back.

Yes, good idea.

We went up tot he street and hailed a cab. Jools poured me in and he whisked us tot he station.

Walking up tot he Southeastern platforms, we find our train in, and lots of empty seats. So we sit near the front, I check the football scores; Norwich lost at Burnley. Bugger.

And at quarter to seven the train rolled out.

As we crossed south Essex and into Kent, night fell, leaving me to look at my reflection.

We arrive back in Dover, and I lag behind Jools as we climb the small mountain on which I had parked the car. She drive us safely home, where a feline welcoming committee were waiting, demanding to know where the heck their dinner was.

I feed them, then put in a selection of party food to feast on before bed.

Phew.

Oh yes.