We are on the train.
We booked ourselves into First Class, and it turns out to have been a jolly good job that we did, because half of the trains heading to the North have been cancelled, and the cattle-truck part of the train is absolutely bursting with people. One or two of them have pushed their way into First Class and been told by the train’s manager that they have jolly well got to buzz off, because of not upsetting the First Class passengers with their down-market presence.
I do not feel at all guilty at their discomfiture. I am just very relieved to have a seat and my dinner brought to me by a smiling chap with a white cloth over his arm.
My world, fortunately, is all right.
I am actually feeling very pleased to be going home. London is all very well, but I think I have had more than sufficient excitement for one summer, and it is lovely to be on the train and looking out of the windows at green things.
We spent most of today walking and talking.
We had the usual excessive sort of breakfast in which we indulge whenever the opportunity presents itself, and waddled out of the beautiful hotel atrium feeling as stuffed as an Economy Class railway carriage. The Landmark Hotel is very lovely indeed, the atrium is pretending to be an Italian cafe, overlooked by balconies and pretend lemon trees and pretend palm trees. There were plenty of real plants as well, but we contemplated the plastic plants with some interest.
I like the idea of having real plants in the camper van, but they would either need to be regularly removed into the house in order not to dry up or freeze to death, or they would need regular visits and complicated nurturing.
I do not know if I want plastic plants. I am trying to believe that I might, but I am not sure if they are a good idea if you want to think of yourself as middle-class, they seem to be the sort of thing that you might put next to three flying ducks or a Live Laugh Love sticker.
Also they would need washing regularly.
The jury is still out.
We dumped our luggage with the concierge and wandered off. The plan for the day was to meet a work-friend at Waterloo, and to spend the day talking, which, despite the persistent rain, was exactly what we did.
There were two pigeons on Waterloo station which had sore feet, one’s foot was swollen and discoloured, the other had curled, disabled toes. We watched them with interest, wondering if there was some kind of misfortunate genetic inheritance on Waterloo, but when I looked it up later it turned out to be a malady called Stringfoot, which pigeons in London get when hair or string tangles around their toes, and from which people turn up and rescue them occasionally.
It was a relief just to walk, to be exercising and breathing fresh air. We walked all along the South Bank and stopped at a place called Skylon to drink gin and gaze at the Thames in the rain, after which, once we had said goodbye to our friend, we went to look at the Golden Hinde, which is a pretend copy of the ship in which Francis Drake explored the seven seas.
It might not have been too bad to be a naval explorer if you were a very short person. I managed without too much discomfort but Mark was practically bent double. There were eighty people on the ship, it must have been worse than travelling by train, and there were farm animals on board as well.
I have looked at so many things during this short time that my neck is now almost too stiff to move, and I keep having flashes of dizziness, it is probably just as well that we are on our way home.
Actually we are not on our way home at the moment. A power line has come down and we are unmoving. We have been here for quite some time. So far we are an hour and forty minutes late, and things are not improving.
This is all right because we are in comfortable seats with cups of coffee, and have just been served our dinner. It must be very horrible indeed for the poor people in the cattle trucks further up the train, we keep looking up at one another and exchanging relieved glances.
Please remember this if you are contemplating train travel.
First class or walking.
