London
Wednesday April 4
I was thinking about all my English friends who now live in Australia
as I walked the streets of London to the British Museum. We are
staying in Islington, very close to the Islington Highbury station.
We arrived here on Monday evening, and plan to use London as a base
for 12 weeks.

As I haven't been here before it's all very new and different. Walking
along the streets there's a sense of history, everywhere. The streets
of Carlton seem like babes in comparison.

Initially I thought I'd catch a bus to Trafalgar Square (have to see all the
Monopoly sites)...and already have walked past a few...But then
decided to walk to get my bearings and, because for the past months
have spent most of my days at a desk, walking seems the perfect
antidote, and affords the opportunity of wandering into shops, or
gazing into shop windows.

The British Museum was packed, a very multicultural experience...felt at
home. There's an Islamic exhibition on so there were many Muslims of
all ages, from all countries. I managed to see most of the ground
floor, but figure that there are many days to explore. Tennyson's
quote is so fitting '...and let thy feet millenniums hence be set in
midst of knowledge...'

By the time I was on my way back a local asked me if I could direct her
to Essex St and I could! So I must look the part as well.

Albert Hall, Good Friday April 6
Had another look at the British museum...would take many a visit to see
it properly. The scale of some of the exhibits is extraordinary, the
statues, huge vases...and the incredible collection of all kinds of
interesting objects: the cape made of gold, jewellery through the
ages, the Egyptian exhibits...even some Baltic jewellery influenced
by the Vikings. But the museum was absolutely packed. Other parts
would wait for yet another day...

                                                                        

Then it was to Piccadilly Circus- absolutely teeming...people

everywhere...Funnily enough most of central London seems to be made
up of map wielding tourists like me....So now I don't feel self
conscious opening out my map. I'm just like nearly every other person
around! Past Park Lane I walked- the outside coffee area lined with
flower boxes of daffodils and then to Hyde Park with its daffodils,
bluebells and blossom trees, gathering speed at this stage.

                                                          Blossom trees- Hyde Park

I needed to find Albert Hall quickly as time was running out: Handel's
Messiah, with the Royal Choral Society was soon to begin. People were
milling everywhere. I was directed to where tickets were being sold,
and the queue snaked round and around. A man, around 70 approached.
He had two tickets- would anyone like to buy them? He had no takers,
then came back ready to sell them to two singles. I know not why, I
agreed, so he beckoned me and the other person out. It would be £20,
with the face value showing £22. The other man said...was it £20
for two...but it wasn't. The customer declined...said he'd be buying
one for £10 to which the seller said he wouldn't get one for that
price. So now I had a ticket- now to find the right door.

Feeling somewhat apprehensive about my ticket I made my way to the usher, but
all was fine. After finding my seat I sat down, and looked at the
reverse side of the ticket. The first condition of entry read 'Those
holding tickets purchased from touts are liable to be refused
permission'. That I could've done without! I sat gingerly on my seat,
relieved that I was in the middle of the row, more relieved when a
family sat down to my left and absolutely relieved when the person
sat down on my right (I believe the seller's wife, about 70, who kept
nodding off every now and then). Finally the concert started and was
beautiful- 4 soloists, an orchestra and at least 200 in the choir.
The Hallelujah Chorus, the main reason for wanting to see the concert
as I'd sung it with massed choir as a young girl at Melbourne Town
Hall, was perfect. The whole hall stood for it, which made it even
more memorable.

Apsley House, Sunday April 8

The day before had been a rest day, so I was ready for a new adventure.
Off I headed into the crisp day, feeling confident, more and more
aware of all the landmarks en route to the City of London. There's a
myriad of cafes and eating places, many with much character about
them, seats made from the spoke of a wheel, mosaic topped tables,
tables with fresh flowers.

 Then there are the quirky signs which invariably amuse, on a clothing shop
 front ' Yes! We do mainly black, but we do black very well.'

All along the way are bars and pubs with names like 'The Cock', 'The
Bull' and 'Steam Passage Tavern' and the classic hairdresser's name
'The Rough Cut'! The roads are all painted with signs on the bitumen
'look right' 'look left'... Close to the turn is a classic old
butcher's shop, which has never been open, with window decoration:
30 eggs on a tray, with about 8 more piled on top of the 30, and
small plastic animals, the three pigs, with one of them headless, a
couple of hens and a cow.

                                                            

I reached where I cockily thought was the right place to turn, but

alas, found myself nowhere near Piccadilly Circus, in fact, I found
myself completely lost, not a feeling I like. Eventually I realised
I'd been going in quite the opposite direction, heading for the
Thames. It wouldn't have been so bad, but I'd arranged to meet
George at Hyde Park Corner, and time was running out. So I galloped
through Trafalgar Square, through St James Park, past Buckingham
Palace, and finally to my meeting place, where I could relax, have a
drink and some fruit, and wonder where George could be. Turned out
that he'd had a different statue in mind...but eventually we met up,
and made our way to Apsley House, house somewhat an understatement.
It was the Duke of Wellington's House, now given over to the public.
It was full of artwork of famous artists like Velazquez, Degas, Goya,
right back to the 1500s, and the largest nude statue of Napoleon that
you'll ever see. The Waterloo Gallery was huge, sumptuous in
decoration, paintings and furniture, but through the window was a
very simple swing and see saw, a somewhat incongruous juxtaposition.
After the crowds of the British Museum it was good to stroll around,
with very few other onlookers.

My legs ached and the 19 bus was a welcome sight, as was the comfort of
the cosy apartment: bliss to come home to.