On our tourist excusion to London with our Oyster cards, we crossed the Millenium Bridge instead of walking underground to catch another tube.
The views from the bridge are breathtaking but you have to be there to really appreciate them, the atmosphere is part of it.
Our heads get in the way of the skykine, don’t they?!
Watching the river boats motoring beneath us and come out the other side is rather like playing a large version of Pooh-sticks.
On the bridge there was some entertainment to accompany us. In the middle was a six piece, very loud, Mexican band playing for all they were worth. Trombones, trumpets and guitars, not to mention, drums and maraccas fought furiously to get our feet tapping and the money clinking.
Their hat was brimming with £1 and £2 coins and a few fivers, but it had to be shared between the lot of them at the end of the day so it looked better than it really was.
Closer to the end of the bridge was an old, oriental man sitting on the cold ground with a blanket draped over him, he was smiling a gummy smile and had a guitar slung across his lap.
This lone busker was going to get everything in his hat, no sharing for him. As I drew closer I noticed his guitar had a couple of strings dangling off the side and trailing on the ground. I watched while he took a pencil and began randomly plucking at the remaining strings.
I slowed down to listen wondering if he was playing some mystical, ethnic composition…but no, just a pencil randomly pinging the strings, a treat for the tone deaf perhaps but no inspiration for the London traveller.
His wool cap had pennies, and other oddly shaped coins that make up English currency and amount to nothing more than £1.
At Hampton Court we walked across another bridge, this one quite different.
First off we saw the bride, remember in Rome we had seen many brides walking along the filthy Tiber with their brilliantly white dresses trailing in the mud?
Bridal photo shoots by the river must be de rigeur for the 21st century because here comes the bride again…and thankfully the banks of the Thames are grassy.
The barges on this royal stretch looked more romantic in the river mist, one could almost hear Handel’s Water Music…
On our return journey we again walked across The Millenium Bridge, it was now four hours later and getting decidedly dark. The six man band had moved to the end of the bridge and were still playing with gusto.
I was mistaken, their take home pay wasn’t going to be too shabby at all.
I looked at hubs who looked at me and we walked hand in hand towards Embankment and there he was. Pencil man still randomly strumming the three strings on his broken acoustic guitar.
“Isn’t a kindly grand-daughter going to come and get him?” I asked no-one in particular. I imagined the scene in his home. A woman was shouting,
“Don’t you think someone should go and get grandpa…he’s been out all day!” We walked passed and returned his fixed smile.
As we neared central London the congestion increased the closer we got to our tube station. We couldn’t even squeeze one foot onto the burgeoning platform. A Transport for London official was explaining, long windedly, about a signal failure at one of the stations on the Circle Line, his story was distracting. There were lengthy delays,
“Get on the next train arriving at your platform and then change somewhere to get to your destination,” was the advice he was giving over the tannoy.
We only had two stops so any train would do. We smuggled our way onto the platform as a train swooshed in.
Th doors opened and people fell out. We managed to gain a few more feet keeping an eye on the ominous gap and watched as the train pulled out of the station with cars full of sardine playing passengers.
We gained purchase on the next train and stood stock still, with hardly any breathing room we didn’t want to tread on anyone or poke an eye out. This was the best picture I could get under the circumstances, I didn’t want people thinking I was some sort of stalker!
We arrived home just in time to wish our twenty four year old “Happy Birthday!”
He hadn’t even noticed we’d gone. The blessings of a six hour time difference and sleeping through the night!
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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