Started off with the warfarin people, to be a little surprised that after recent shenanigans that I was still in range, albeit only just, and this left me a little early. So I get off the train at Vauxhall thinking over the various options for detour.
Started with the nearly last Bullingdon at Kennington Lane Rail Bridge, Vauxhall, a stand which is usually well stocked, and made my way via Parliament Square to Embankment (Savoy) off the Strand, where I paused. The gardens contained a number of the half draped female figures popular a hundred years ago for memorial purposes and I sat down next to the one illustrated, a female writhing in grief at the foot, as it were, of the master, in this case Arthur Sullivan, late of the nearby Savoy Theatre. Chased away from there by a couple of chaps blowing leaves about, took the next Bullingdon to Silk Street, thinking to visit the library there. Maybe they were still remaindering the handsomely bound ordnance survey maps which I had turned up on a previous visit? But the stand there was full up. I circled around the area trying to find a stand with a slot, only getting in on my fifth attempt, at Sadler's Sports Centre, because a chap checked out just as I was wondering where to try next. Even the usually reliable stand at the Old Street roundabout had been full up. Was there some knock-on in the world of Bullingdon from the goings on with poppies around the Tower?
Chancing on an old-style silversmith, picked up some useful information about brass founders (see reference 1) and so on to the Market Café to find that, shock horror, it had been refurbished since I was last there in the spring and the walls were now covered in what looked like half inch brick work. I wondered over my sandwich whether one bought half inch bricks or whether they were sawn on the spot. Much less scruffy and they even sold booze. Didn't anyone tell them that it was heritage, a listed building? Happily, the tea and bacon sandwich were still up to the old standard.
Still a bit early at St. Luke's so took a white wine in the basement before going up to hear Denis Kozhukhin give us Liszt's 'Bénédiction de Dieu dans la solitude', which, rather to my surprise, I very much liked. I usually find Liszt far too clever clogged for my taste. Followed by 'Pictures at an Exhibition'; a spirited young man's interpretation.
Afters at the White Lion in Central Street, which we found to have been newly reopened after a serious fire in April. Odd that we should only get around to trying the place, having marked it down some years ago, at just the right time. Very cheerful & professional Irish manageress - or perhaps owner - and we were pleased that most of the original decoration had survived the refurbishment.
After which it was getting a bit cold and rain was threatening, so decided not to walk and picked up the last Bullingdon of the day at Aldersgate Street. Skirted St. Paul's, passed some huge hole in the ground in the vicinity of Holborn Viaduct and then down New Fetter Lane, much changed since I used to know the road, maybe forty years ago. Still narrow, though not so narrow that there was not a large steel laden low loader from Severfield Rowan trying to negotiate the turn into Fleet Street, a company which I now know is big cheese in the world of structural steel. In fact such a big cheese that they featured in the Evening Standard which I subsequently picked up at Waterloo, on account of some large steel bolts falling out of some steel they had put up in the sky somewhere else in the City.
Over a pleasantly empty but rather cold Waterloo Bridge. Just missed the rain, dropped off at Waterloo Bridge, South Bank, and just caught a train, not having been fooled by it having been removed from the main indicator board more than five minutes before the off. Entertained on the way home by a smartly turned out older lady from Romford, on a visit to West Ewell of all places. She was carrying a very new looking pull along case, business size, had never been to West Ewell before, did not have a map, was not being met and was planning to go back to Romford later that same day. She also told me nothing of the reason for her visit, which was a bit odd in itself and which left me speculating all kinds of things. When I got that far, BH indulged in even wilder speculations.
I almost got off with her to see her safe on her way, but decided in the end that I had done enough for one day. I didn't spot any taxis as the train pulled out.
PS: I wonder this morning how much it will cost to get all the Barclay's branding out of the TFL web site. Plenty there this morning.
Reference 1: http://www.atwatkinson.co.uk/.
Reference 2: http://deniskozhukhin.com/.
Reference 3: http://www.severfield.com/. A company which might be big cheese in the big steel world but looks to have hit heavy weather in 2013.
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