When we arrange things, we don't know what slings and arrows fate might throw at us. In Tuesday's case, it was a Tube drivers strike, and no last minute talks fixed that. I could arrange my trip to avoind using public transport other than the train up and back home, which were unaffected. Jools thought they would be OK, as their tickets were for the Odeon, which she thought was in Leicester Square, but it turned out was the old Hammersmith Apollo. Now, usually this would not have been a problem, but on Tuesday it was.
They arranged to leave an hour earlier than planned and try to get a taxi, which they did after waiting in line for an hour, getting to the theatre just half an hour before showtime, leaving them only time to get a snack.
Their journey up was done outside rush hour, the show ened at five, and they had to get back to St Pancras. Which would prove to be an adventure.
For me, however, it was a walk in the park. And to add to the pleasure of the day, I would meet up with my good friend, Simon, owner of the Churches of East Anglia website, just about every word and picture done by his own hand. His website also covers the City of LOndon churches, so I asked if he wanted to meet up; he did, so a plan was hatched to meet and visit a few churches, one of which, King Edmund, he had not been inside. He wouldn't arrive until jsut after ten to get the offpeak ticket prices, I would get up early as a couple of the churches would be open before nine.
A plan was made, and I had a list of chuches and a rough order in which to visit them.
The alarm went off at five, and we were both up. I having a coffee after getting dressed and Jools was to drop me off at the station, and as we drve in the heavy fog that had settled, I realised there was a direct train to Cannon Street just after seven, could I make it to avoind a half hour layover at Ashford?
Yes I could.
Jools dropped me off outside Priory station, I went in and got my ticket, and was on the train settled into a forward facing seat with three whole minutes to spare.
The train rattled it's way out of the station and through the tunnel under Western Heights, outside it was still dark. So I put my mask on and rested my eyes as we went through Folkestone to Ashford, an towards Pluckley, Headcorn, Marden to Tonbridge, Sevenoaks and so onto south east London. The train filled up slowly, until we got to Tonbridge which leaft few seats remeaining, and at Sevenoaks, it was standing room only, but by then its a twenty minute run to London Bridge.
After leaving London Bridge station, the train took the sharp turn above Borough Market and over the river into Cannon Street. I was in no hurry, so enoyed the peace and space of an empty carriage before making my way off the train then along the platform and out onto the street in front. A heavy drizzle was falling, so I decided to get some breakfast and another coffee. Just up Walbrook there was an independent sandwich place, so I went in and asked what I wanted: faced with dozens of choices, all made to order, I had no idea.I decided on a simple sausage sandwich and a coffee and watched people hurrying to work outside. I had all the time I wanted.
I check my phone and find that opening times were a little different, but St Mary Aldermary was open from half eight, so I check the directions and head there.
It was open, mainly because there is a small cafe inside. I ask if I could go in, they say yes, so I snap it well with the 50mm lens fitted, and decide that something sweet was called for. They recommended the carrot cake, so I had a slice of that and a pot of breakfast tea sitting and admiring the details of the church. Once I had finished, I put on the wide angle lens and finished the job.
Just up the lane outside was St Mary-le-Bow, which should also be open.
It was. Also because they had a cafe. I skipped another brew, and photographed that too, and saw that the crypt was open too, so went down the steps to that. Simon tells me that the church got it's name because of the brick arched crypt: bowed roof.
Back down the hill and St Stephen Walbrook which should have been open, wasn't.
A five minute walk past The Bank of England was St Mary Woolnorth and St Mary Abchurch: both open, and both recorded by my camera and keen eye.
It was now near to ten, so I texted Simon to let him know to meet me at St Edmund, and I set off in the wrong direction. I only realised this when I was the other side of The Bank, so checked my map and retraced my steps and went down Lombard Street.
The rain was still falling gently, and I was damp, so found shelter under a balcony, as the church was not unlocked. The smell of tale piss rose from the pavement, it wasn't pleasant.
Simon arrived, we shook hands and reviewed the plans, and with it being nearly half ten, thought we would give Stephen Walbrook another go. And wonder of wonders, it was open! The church has been reordered, which isn't to everyone's taste, but the doughnut in the centre can be removed if needed, and Wren's church is still there, including the wonderful painted ceiling.
We went to Cornhill, as Somon had never visited St Peer there, or rather never found it open. I had a feeling that Friends of the City Churches were watching it on Tuesday, so should be open. And it was, although a workshop was going on, we went round not getting in anyone's way getting shots, and then chatting with the watcher, who didn't quite match Simon's knowledge, but the watcher had his book for reference.Another church Simon hadn't been inside was St Katherine Cree, which again was a five minute walk back across the Square Mile.
It too was open.
Yay.
Pride here was the fine rose window, wheel-like for St Catherine.
I was now on the home straight, but after a night for broken sleep, I was flagging. We had an appointment at St James Garlickythe, which was only open an hour. St James was a longer walk, but we made it, getting to the church at ten past, only to find there was a service on at quarter past.
We look inside, and apart from some incence drifting, and the sound of a dog crunching a bone, there was no one inside. I go in and get what shots I could.
The vicar came out and I appologise and leave him to his service with just his dog to witness it. In a city of millions, no one attended.
With that done, we retired to a nearby pub and had an ale, refreshed we went up past St Paul's Cathedral to Ludgate and to St Martin which was also open as expected.
I was getting churched out by now, so only took shots with the 50mm, I had been here before, so wanted detailed shots.That done, we went to the final church of the day: St Bride.
The tiered wedding cake is so done in deference to Wren's spire on St Bride, although hard to see it from the restricted churchyard. Inside it is very impressive, sad to report this was another rebuilt after the war, but they spared no effort here.
And that was that.
Simon had to catch a train by half four. I was pooped, so my plan was to walk to City Thameslink station, catch a train north to St Pancras and then a train home.
I walked with Simon a while, before we spit, me going to thestation and he into Holy Sepulchre where tales of radical reordering can gladly be discounted.
I got onto the first train to arrive, just five minutes rattling through the tunnels under The City, and up into the station, and again through the undercroft to the Southeastern platofrm, climbing on the first train to go to Ashford. I would have to change, but I would be nearly home.
At Ashford I get off the train, and had to wait three whole minutes for the train back to Dover, this had even more space inside, so took a seat and watched Kent clip by.
I open the door.
Meow.
So I feed the cats, put the heating up, make a brew and take my shoes off. I send an update text to Jools, as we had agreed I wouldn't go to Hammersmith after all.
So I make a brew, have some fruit, look at photos, write a blog post or two, and wait for news from Jools.
I get a text.
They were stuck at Marylebone Station after the bus they had managed to get on had terminated the service there. They were two miles from St Pancras, but Jen's friend walked with a stick and unable to walk that far.
I told them to get a train to Hampstead and then the Overground to Stratford, which seemed doable.
But I had looked at an underground line, and so mainline trains stopped there.
After an hour thay got a taxi and got to St Pancras in time to catch the eight thirty-five train to Dover.
Jools arrived back at twenty past ten.
Quite an adventure.
We went to bed.
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