Wednesday 11th June 2025

A couple of weeks ago, and ad for the National Gallery and their latest exhibition of 14th century art from Sienna.

I was hooked.

I bought tickets for Jools and myself, then told our friends Justin and Vicky our plans. Vicky was busy, but Justin would meet us and the possibility of a pub lunch was mentioned.

After Tuesday's hike up and down the downs, my legs were tired, but what the heck.

Jools went to a class early, I was up late to spent my time alone having a coffee then getting a shower before dressing in fine new threads.

Jools came back at half nine, just enough time to have fruit for breakfast, leaving for Priory station at quarter to ten.

I found a place to park in Priory Gate Road, Jools had bought our tickets and was getting a bacon butty and a coffee for us both to consume on the train.

Perfect.

We left on time, and being folks of leisure now, we took the "classic" line through Tonbridge and Sevenoaks into Charing Cross, taking an hour and fifty minutes to complete the journey, the final ten minutes being the rattling elevated section from London Bridge, over Borough Market to Waterloo East before turning north and crossing over the river into the Charing Cross.

The benefit of arriving at Charing Cross, especially when you're going to the National Gallery, then a station at the corner of Trafalgar Square meant a five minute stroll, where we were twenty minutes early to wait for Justin's arrival.

Here's the thing: these exhibitions always seem like a great idea, all these works of art or historical artifacts gathered in one place. But the reality is that they're always so crowded so that its almost impossible to see many of the exhibits.

As was the case here.

I took shots, and of the information labels, and went round all the rooms, but missing out some of the best pieces due to crowds hogging the best views.

Round and round we went, I marvelled that these works dated from the beginning of the 14th century, showing the beginning of the renaissance of art and huma thought. Perspective was depicted, though in a primitive manner.

But after an hour, we had had enough.

Lunch?

Well, the Old Shades is at the top of Whitehall, and should be quiet.

We agreed to go.

Down the side of Trafalgar Square, over two junctions, then down Whitehall, dodging dawdling tourists walking opened-mouthed with awe at the sights of 21st century London.

I dived in the door to the pub, cool and quiet inside, we took a table for six and ordered drinks.

We all ordered fish and chips, which came via the dumb waiter, and was glorious.

It was three. We should start making tracks.

But you're locked in the waitress said. Whitehall was closed, and there were barricades at Trafalgar Square. A suspect vehicle caused the panic.

We made our way up and through the crowd gathering.

We said goodbye to Justin, then made our way to Charing Cross to catch the first semi-fast train into Kent, we would have to change at Ashford, but it meant we would escape London in twenty minutes.

Jools bought pop and chocolate, we took our seats at a table, and sighed our satisfaction at to be heading home.

We had to change at Ashford, and just before the train was due to leave for Dover, a guy got on who was quite the character. He sounded like a cross between Keith Richards and Danny Dyer, was drunk, spoke loud into his phone and littered his conversation with profanities, for which he apologised regularly for.

He got off at Folkestone, so the carriage was quiet for the last ten minutes into Dover. The car was just parked round the corner, we climbed in and drove back along Townwall Street, up Jubilee Way to home where four hungry cats were waiting.