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We have finally found a place to live. After many hours and miles walking the cold, dark streets of London, Kathryn and I have found a place at Acton, West London. Click here for a map view of our street, Spencer St. It is a one bedroom flat on the lower-ground floor of a Victorian conversion. We have the whole floor as well as a front and back garden with space to park a BBQ and our own front door. Compared to other places we had seen this was by far the biggest. Pictures will follow when I take them and finish the roll. It is in a little group of streets called Poets Corner because of such street names as Chaucer Rd and Shakespeare Rd. Acton is a nice quiet area near the Ealing Film Studios where I think they used to film comedies. If you start walking west from Oxford St you should get to Acton in about an hour. We move in next weekend (4th).

Churches

I had a day off yesterday, so I went to see some churches that had been on my list for a while. They are three of the finest churches in London but most tourists miss them.
First I went to Southwark Cathedral which I have passed many times on the train. The grey church is tucked away between warehouses and cranes near London Bridge and is easily missed. When HV Morton visited the cathedral in 1951 the verger told him: “If this cathedral stood within ten miles of a popular watering-place, it would be one of the most famous sights in England. Although millions of people pass it every week, they are alway in a hurry, either rushing to work or else rushing home after work.” Like so many other cathedrals it was covered in scaffolding outside, but it was very pleasant within. I thought it was a bit steep asking for a £2.50 donation and then charging you £1.50 for a photo license, but that’s London. Better value than St Pauls.
There is a memorial to Shakespeare who lived in the parish for a while and performed at the Globe Theatre nearby.

I have decided to start collecting epitaphs. As HV Morton says, “They always seemed much more worth collecting than many things.” There are many interesting ones in Southwark but I made a note of this one:

Wenceslas Hollar (1607 - 1677)
Exile from Bohemia - Artist in England

The works of nature and of men
By thee preserved, take life again.
And ev’n thy Prague serenely shines,
Secure from ravage in thy lines.
In just return this marble frame
Would add some ages to thy name:

Too frail, alas! ‘Tis forced to own
Thy shadows will outlast the stone.
George Vertue 1745

From the cathedral I took a tube to Bank to see the church of St Stephen Walbrook. This is the church Wren practised his dome building on before St Pauls and is in the street of the same name (which used to be a little stream leading to the Thames), next to the Lord Mayor’s nice (Mansion) House. I arrived half an hour late to hear the sung Eucharist, which is at the unususal time of 12:45 Thursdays. I looked in through the windowed doors and the choir sounded very good. While waiting for the service to finish I bought a baguette from Pret on Cannon Street and ate it in a little patch of trees and a fountain off College Street. It was a lovely day; the sky was clear and the weather was very mild.
St Stephen Walbrook is a lovely church. It is very small, just one square room really, but this room is topped by a lovely dome and in the centre, surrounded by sixteen pillars, is a huge boulder for an altarstone.

I then walked down Queen Victoria Street to Mansion House Station passing the remains of the Roman Temple of Mithras. Not much to look at but it is very old. It is also one of the few places of historical interest that is 100% free.

I emerged from Temple tube and, after buying a lemon for Kathryn who isn’t feeling the best, walked up Fleet Street to Temple Bar for one of the most amazing experiences of my life. You wouldn’t know it, but behind the buildings on Fleet Street lies another world. I ducked down a little alley past a guy selling newspapers and suddenly it was if I had stepped through a transporter and landed in Oxford. The Temple Church stood in front of me surrounded by the peaceful and scholarly looking buildings of Inner Temple, one of the Inns of Court (where the barristers hang out). The church was built by the Knights Templar in the 12th century before they got too rich and the King shut them down. It is wonderful. It is the only round church left in London. Inside are some ancient effigies of knights and on the curved wall of the nave are some wonderfully grotesque stone faces.

It is right up there with the chapel in Edinburgh Castle for my favourite little churches.

Last Friday the roof exploded. It was my day off (the last I would get for another six days) and I had planned to sleep in before going to look at flats in a relaxing kind of way. This was not to be. I was woken by Kathryn at 7:30am when she informed me of the fact that water was leaking from the ceiling outside our room. It went something like this…

Kathryn: Dave, you better get up, there’s water leaking from the roof.
David: ?
Kathryn: While engaged in the usual frantic busy-ness that females begin the day with - I have put some buckets down but I think you better get up. It’s also leaking upstairs.
David: ??
Kathryn: I have to go to work now but you should get up and call Gill.
David: Struggling to comprehend this strange turn of events - ???
Kathryn: The number’s in my phone, I really have to go, I’ll be late.
David: Getting out of bed - S**t.

I looked at the hall. Water was now running out of the light fitting. I rang Gill, who said she would come right away. I called Thames Water, who told me to switch off the water. I tried to do this but had no idea where the tap was. (Oh yeah, Malcolm was at this stage blissfully unaware in New York.) I eventually found the mains tap in the basement and turned on all the other taps in the house to drain the tank. Water was by now flowing freely out of several light sockets, and I had already had to change a bucket and two saucepans.
I eventually got in touch with a plumber who would come as soon as he could.
It was at this stage that water started to drip from the dining room ceiling on the ground floor. Not surprised by this I positioned the wok strategically, remembering the immortal words of Clint Eastwood: “Adapt, Improvise, Overcome”.
When the light shorted out in the dining room I decided to have some toast while I waited for the plumber (the water had by now slowed in the upper levels, so I thought the worst was over. Ha!)
As I was adjusting a saucepan on the table under a new leak I heard a groaning sound. My instincts only just saved me as I leapt across the room just as a large piece of the ceiling collapsed onto the table, showering the four walls (and my piece of toast, dammit) with mud and water.
A torrent fell from the roof.
I think I said something like, “By jove, that was a close one, what?”
I rang Mary who lives next door who came over with some more buckets. Eventually the flood slowed to a trickle and Gill arrived. Soon after, the plumber arrived and replaced the faulty valve that had unleashed such watery destruction on my day off.
Kathryn arrived home shortly after to help clean up, but we had done all we could so we went shopping at Sainsbury’s.

J Sainsbury

As some of you may know, I used to work at Coles, so I know a little more about the workings of supermarkets than most, and I could tell you a few stories. But believe me when I say this: supermarkets in Adelaide are a seriously classy operation compared to London. Some things to appreciate:

Being greeted: You may think you don’t like it when they say “Hi, how are you today?”, but trust me, it is better than being completely ignored.

Having your bags packed: You will miss this when it just does not happen. Ever. And all your groceries are piling up at the end of a conveyer belt as you struggle to keep up, stuffing bread into plastic bags you can’t open.

Friendly staff: The staff in Adelaide may say nasty things about customers when they are not in earshot but when dealing with customers they usually do a genuinely good job. The staff at New Cross Sainsbury’s are rude and unfriendly. They suck.

Flat Hunting

We still have not found a place to call our own. But I live in hope. We have a first week of December deadline and I am positive we will meet it.

Christmas shopping

Here’s a tip: Do it in July. Oxford Street is hell. Trust me, I work there. It is only November and it is already a war zone. We were there this afternoon and only just made it back alive. I caught a swift and obviously intentional elbow to the guts by some *&£$&^ while fighting my way to Debenhams.
If you must go there, I would suggest body armour and if you want to make reasonably good time some offensive weaponry is a must, say, brass knuckles or a good stout club.
On a lighter note, the lights (sorry, no pun intended, honestly) have been switched on in Regent, Oxford and Bond Streets. The Bond Street ones are the nicest. They are blue and look quite beautiful. Oxford Street has some pretty ones as well. The best time to appreciate them is at 3am when there are comparatively few people on the streets. Photos to come…

Last Friday Kathryn and I caught the train to Edinburgh. It left Kings Cross station at 8 am so we had to get up very very early. As it turned out we got up a little too early so we had time to enjoy a cup of coffee at the station. Mmmmmm. Can’t you just taste it? Of course you would expect a cafe to start the day’s trading with no notes in the till, so I didn’t mind when the little Indian man behind the counter gave me 17 pound coins change. With my pocket jangling pleasingly we boarded the intercity train for a pleasant ride up the East coast of England. Painted on the side of the carriages was a little emblem that said “Route of the Flying Scotsman”.
The sun gradually rose higher in the sky the further North we went. Take this moment to picture the scene in your mind (if your imagination has been destroyed by television go and get one of those glossy picture books of Britain): Green fields, the sun just rising casting a golden glow over the land and giving it that peculiar texture of long shadows and bright highlights, us sitting in a rail car speeding and gently rocking our way northwards. Ah.

Edinburgh

Carl met us at Edinburgh station and after a sandwich at Food Plantation on the Royal Mile we visited St Giles’ Cathedral, a lovely church with very different architecture to Curch of England cathedrals. We spent the rest of the afternoon at Edinburgh Castle. It is an imposing structure and dominates the landscape around it. It really looks solid, impregnable.
It has a lovely little medieval church inside; tiny and beautiful in it’s simplicity. It has a few little stained glass windows and a little plain altar. Definitely one of my favourite churches.
The castle also houses the Scottish National War Memorial, a very fine monument with a portion of wall devoted to ANZAC.

After checking into our B&B we caught a bus into town to look for a meal. We ended up at a curry house that had an intriguing menu on the door. The food was very nice and the band was good too.

Castle #2

The next day, after our bacon and eggs at the Kenvie Guest House, we went to Tantallon Castle. It is a ruin that sits on the coast. When I say on the coast, I mean right on the coast. It is surrounded by swirling water on 3 sides; a very dramatic position which no doubt saved in the building costs as they only had to build one defensive wall or ‘curtain’ as it is called. It faces open fields and lush grass. It was the first time in weeks I had been in a wide open space and it felt good. As I walked along the old tower it was easy to imagine myself a noble surveying my land.
After the castle we drove to St Abbs, intending to go to St Abbs Head. After discovering that would entail an hours walk in each direction in cold windy weather we settled for the tiny village of St Abbs. It was an impressive view nonetheless. As Carl said, it felt like the edge of the world.

We had dinner at the ubiquitous Pizza Express (new store opening near you soon!!) and over did it by having coffee and cake at the very good Elephant House on King George IV Bridge Rd.

Castle #3
Sunday was again cold and wet. We headed North, stopping first at the Bannockburn visitors centre where we learned all about Robert Bruce’s glorious victory over the English dogs. Then we headed to Stirling Castle. Whereas Edinburgh was a fort, Stirling seemed more of a home, as indeed it was. It is in the process of being restored to it’s 16th century glory. It is very impressive what they are doing and the castle should look magnificent when finished.

Braveheart

After a picnic in the car at the castle car park we went to the William Wallace Monument. This is an amazing building. Built in the 19th century it is a huge gothic tower. It is on the top of a mountain and can been seen for miles around. It really is stunning. I could live there.
We climbed to the top. Twice. It is a very interesting monument (it beats The Monument in London hands down) with 3 rooms to look in (and catch your breath) on the way to the top. The top was VERY WINDY and quite damp. The view was stunning but as I was filming I kept thinking of the money I could make by selling my amateur video footage of the six year old girl being blown off the top to her spectacular death 200 ft below.

Dinner (sorry, supper)

We decided to just keep driving north until it got dark, maybe stopping for dinner at a pub. On the way we stopped at the beautiful Loch Lubnaig. Just wait until you see your first real life loch. Your heart will stop and your lower jaw will land in the mud with a wet slapping sound. There is no point trying to describe it. Go and get the picture book again. It was only 5pm but already it was nearly too dark to see.
We kept driving until we reached Strathyre. We ended up at a little pub called the Ben Sheann. If you are in Scotland, go there. I think it could be the nicest pub in the world. The proprietor was very friendly and treated us like old friends. We had a tasty and filling meal in the (non-smoking!) dining room as the rain fell gently against the big bay window. It doesn’t get much better. We were the only people in the dining room that Halloween night; the few other patrons wee watching the soccer at the bar. Whenever a goal was scored one enthusiastic supporter would break into a little song. The pub was also home to Ben, the 9 month old giant dog. It was a lovely end to a lovely day.

I wish I was there right now.