An early start out of Leicester and a bone rattling ride down the M1 to London in the Punto got us to New Malden in plenty of time to drop off the car and make our way by train in to the city centre. I have heard stories of people's GPS (known as Nav Sat in this part of the world) sending them off and wild wonderful explorations of their surroundings. I am now here to tell you, don't always trust Google Maps, they too have their foibles. Sometimes a paper map and your intuition are far superior. All the way down we debated the merits of the M25 vs the inner ring road as recommended by Google Maps. We know the M25, which takes you around the outer limits of London, past Heathrow Airport from which it is an easy "expressway" exit onto the A4 and New Malden. With time to spare we opted for the Google Maps recommendation of the North/South Circular and a trip through Richmond and Kingston. The first ten or so miles were lovely, an almost empty piece of highway, far superior to the normal traffic of the M25 and as a bonus, through areas we have never explored. We hit the Ring Road somewhere near Wembly and caught a glimpse of the New Stadium, circa 2007. Pretty iconic, say what!!
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| A borrowed image |
There are undoubtedly some Olympic events going on here, but I have no idea which ones. We're off the motorway but traffic is moving nicely, for a while, at least. The road continues through residential areas. Oh, thank goodness I don't live in those houses. Can you imagine walking out your front door on to the pavement (aka sidewalk) and being face to face with two lines of traffic going in each direction. No trees, no grass, no protection!! There is a mixture of commercial, small shops and pubs some light industrial, but mostly houses. London is a noisy, smelly, busy, cosmopolitan city, with traffic to spare but this is pretty much the worst I have ever seen! Just can't feature what it must be like living cheek by jowl with constant road noise, thank god for double glazing.
Before long we begin to experience roundabouts and traffic signals; our speed deteriorates. The next barrier to progress, Richmond, or was it Kingston? We cross the river (Thames) and it's narrow lanes, shopping precincts, restricted bus lanes and people! People everywhere, it is a shopping day and they are out in force. The High Street is lined with shops and everyone is going about the business of shopping and strolling and generally enjoying the fact that it is not pouring down with rain, while we creep along in first gear. Escape is near by, a quick left and right and we leave the crowds behind and enter a residential area. The directions say "take the left fork" so we do. Probably not the "right" left fork. A single lane road. lined with parked cars climbs steeply up the hill. Enormous residences to the left and a panoramic view down in to the valley on the right. You can see Richmond Park and the Thames flowing below.
What goes up must come down and so it is down we go. We trade houses and views for a stone wall looming over us on one side and an expanse of green hedge on the other. Who would have thought we were still in the purview of Greater London. We pass signs for landmarks we know, the wall of Kew Garden, glimpses of Richmond Park and its' herds of deer, signs saying Richmond Bridge. We know where we are, but without a map (abandoned in favour of instructions from Google), we have no idea where we are. Any hope of following those directions was abandoned about the time we climbed Richmond Hill, where I am told Mick Jagger and Gerry Hill have adjoining houses. One thing is certain we do not want to cross a bridge, we're south of the river and that is where we wish to stay.
Eventually a sign, with the words New Malden and an arrow pointing straight on, emerges from the mass of suburban village greens and quaint pubs. Curious how something ,which under other circumstances might feel appealing, has become tedious and intrusive. Just let me find my way back to something I know and never mind all this quintessentially British village thing. There it is a Pub we know, and the Halal butcher, the road we turn on is coming up soon.
We arrive, the Punto is parked in Lesley's driveway (forecourt) for the next two weeks. There is a cuppa (cup of tea) on the go and Lesley, who is Welsh, produces Welsh cakes. Welsh Cakes, a new taste extravaganza for both of us, are delightful little delicacies. A cross between a pancake and a scone, they are full of currants and other delights. The cakes themselves must be baked on a buttered griddle as there is that delightfully nutty flavour of butter that has been melted and used for frying. What better accompaniment for a pot of tea.
We visit, we catch up on friends and families. This is a friendship that stretches back over forty years, almost to the days before children. It is always amazing how, after not seeing one another for years on end, we can pick up as if it were yesterday and we were sitting in each others kitchens watching children play.
It's time to go, Carol and Frank should be landing at Heathrow and we have a train to catch up to London. Lesley drops us at the New Malden train station and we make our way via Clapham Junction (I have always liked that name but don't recall ever having been there) to Olympia. I learn that many of the routes from London's two busiest stations, Waterloo and Victoria, pass through Clapham Junction making it one of the busiest in Europe. The number of trains using it during off peak hours can exceed hundred per hour. We change trains, it's up the stairs off the platform. We need to make our way from platform 8 to platform 1. We walk along a pedestrian bridge with windows allowing you glimpses of multiple train lines and platforms. There is a constant stream of humanity umbrellas in hand, up and down stairs, pushing prams, grasping briefcases or sports bags, chatting and strolling, hustling or standing, talking on mobiles, intent on where they are going and what they need to do. You can feel the energy endemic to a big city, the excitement and intensity of people on a mission, intentful, places to go, people to see, things to do. This is the beginning of an ongoing pattern. A kaleidescope of stairs and lifts, platforms and elevators, pedestrian bridges and long tiled tunnels and everywhere you look people. Welcome to London.
The house we have rented is a ten minute walk from the Olympia above ground station and perhaps 15 to the Hammersmith Underground with four possible lines to choose from, never mind the buses. Transportation will not be a problem and having a travel pass will mean easy access, no paying for tickets. Just poke your travel card in to the machine, it pops out the other end, the gates open and you are on your way. We are met by the owners as well as the agent from the letting company. We have our selves a two bedroom, two bath house on a quiet side street. It is part of a row of houses probably built early in the last century. There has been some serious remodelling done. A modern new kitchen was added out the back, with the second bedroom and bathroom sitting above it. All very clean and modern and the second bedroom doesn't have a closet!! Sorry Frank and Carol. No stair rails or banisters, sheets of glass provide a barrier to falling and also towel rails since apparently the interior designer didn't believe in them. Despite all that, the beds are comfortable, there's a proper American style refrigerator/freezer, a dishwasher (major score) and wireless Internet access. What more can you ask.
The Sobotkas arrive and we venture out to explore the delights of our local Tesco. Hallelujah, no need for the full English breakfast, we can have what we please and more than that, when we please. We stock up on fruit, cereal, bread and jam of course. Also a pre-cooked chicken, a bottle of wine and lots of salad stuff . . . life is good and our adventure in London is off to a positive start.
Perhaps it is now time to stop . . . wouldn't want this to get too long. Will be back with you in a day or two.
ttfn
Before long we begin to experience roundabouts and traffic signals; our speed deteriorates. The next barrier to progress, Richmond, or was it Kingston? We cross the river (Thames) and it's narrow lanes, shopping precincts, restricted bus lanes and people! People everywhere, it is a shopping day and they are out in force. The High Street is lined with shops and everyone is going about the business of shopping and strolling and generally enjoying the fact that it is not pouring down with rain, while we creep along in first gear. Escape is near by, a quick left and right and we leave the crowds behind and enter a residential area. The directions say "take the left fork" so we do. Probably not the "right" left fork. A single lane road. lined with parked cars climbs steeply up the hill. Enormous residences to the left and a panoramic view down in to the valley on the right. You can see Richmond Park and the Thames flowing below.
What goes up must come down and so it is down we go. We trade houses and views for a stone wall looming over us on one side and an expanse of green hedge on the other. Who would have thought we were still in the purview of Greater London. We pass signs for landmarks we know, the wall of Kew Garden, glimpses of Richmond Park and its' herds of deer, signs saying Richmond Bridge. We know where we are, but without a map (abandoned in favour of instructions from Google), we have no idea where we are. Any hope of following those directions was abandoned about the time we climbed Richmond Hill, where I am told Mick Jagger and Gerry Hill have adjoining houses. One thing is certain we do not want to cross a bridge, we're south of the river and that is where we wish to stay.
Eventually a sign, with the words New Malden and an arrow pointing straight on, emerges from the mass of suburban village greens and quaint pubs. Curious how something ,which under other circumstances might feel appealing, has become tedious and intrusive. Just let me find my way back to something I know and never mind all this quintessentially British village thing. There it is a Pub we know, and the Halal butcher, the road we turn on is coming up soon.
We arrive, the Punto is parked in Lesley's driveway (forecourt) for the next two weeks. There is a cuppa (cup of tea) on the go and Lesley, who is Welsh, produces Welsh cakes. Welsh Cakes, a new taste extravaganza for both of us, are delightful little delicacies. A cross between a pancake and a scone, they are full of currants and other delights. The cakes themselves must be baked on a buttered griddle as there is that delightfully nutty flavour of butter that has been melted and used for frying. What better accompaniment for a pot of tea.
We visit, we catch up on friends and families. This is a friendship that stretches back over forty years, almost to the days before children. It is always amazing how, after not seeing one another for years on end, we can pick up as if it were yesterday and we were sitting in each others kitchens watching children play.
It's time to go, Carol and Frank should be landing at Heathrow and we have a train to catch up to London. Lesley drops us at the New Malden train station and we make our way via Clapham Junction (I have always liked that name but don't recall ever having been there) to Olympia. I learn that many of the routes from London's two busiest stations, Waterloo and Victoria, pass through Clapham Junction making it one of the busiest in Europe. The number of trains using it during off peak hours can exceed hundred per hour. We change trains, it's up the stairs off the platform. We need to make our way from platform 8 to platform 1. We walk along a pedestrian bridge with windows allowing you glimpses of multiple train lines and platforms. There is a constant stream of humanity umbrellas in hand, up and down stairs, pushing prams, grasping briefcases or sports bags, chatting and strolling, hustling or standing, talking on mobiles, intent on where they are going and what they need to do. You can feel the energy endemic to a big city, the excitement and intensity of people on a mission, intentful, places to go, people to see, things to do. This is the beginning of an ongoing pattern. A kaleidescope of stairs and lifts, platforms and elevators, pedestrian bridges and long tiled tunnels and everywhere you look people. Welcome to London.
The house we have rented is a ten minute walk from the Olympia above ground station and perhaps 15 to the Hammersmith Underground with four possible lines to choose from, never mind the buses. Transportation will not be a problem and having a travel pass will mean easy access, no paying for tickets. Just poke your travel card in to the machine, it pops out the other end, the gates open and you are on your way. We are met by the owners as well as the agent from the letting company. We have our selves a two bedroom, two bath house on a quiet side street. It is part of a row of houses probably built early in the last century. There has been some serious remodelling done. A modern new kitchen was added out the back, with the second bedroom and bathroom sitting above it. All very clean and modern and the second bedroom doesn't have a closet!! Sorry Frank and Carol. No stair rails or banisters, sheets of glass provide a barrier to falling and also towel rails since apparently the interior designer didn't believe in them. Despite all that, the beds are comfortable, there's a proper American style refrigerator/freezer, a dishwasher (major score) and wireless Internet access. What more can you ask.
The Sobotkas arrive and we venture out to explore the delights of our local Tesco. Hallelujah, no need for the full English breakfast, we can have what we please and more than that, when we please. We stock up on fruit, cereal, bread and jam of course. Also a pre-cooked chicken, a bottle of wine and lots of salad stuff . . . life is good and our adventure in London is off to a positive start.
Perhaps it is now time to stop . . . wouldn't want this to get too long. Will be back with you in a day or two.
ttfn
Hi Gayle. Thanks for the entertaining story about driving in England! Say hi to our neighbors for me, and post some pictures of your adventures together!
ReplyDeleteWe say, "We had a jolly good time." Cheers to you both. And for the record, if there are future trips with you, we'll gladly take a bedroom with no closets. A note about our Sat Nav experience yesterday. It took us right through downtown Glasgow, rather than the highway around the city. luckily, it was late Saturday night. So today, we refused to follow it blindly when it told us to turn onto a single track road.
ReplyDeleteF and C