I know I wrote recently that I wouldn’t be publishing a written retirement blog on a Friday. I thought it was a bit much so I’d confine my literary outpourings to Tuesday but it’s been a fairly busy week so, rather than let events get out of date, I’d write one this week about our visit to ‘that London’. It fits into the missing link of retirement / travel category. It’s also a passing reference to being in control and /or living one’s retirement randomly. Good or bad? You decide.
We went down on the train last Sunday after dropping off the pups at the kennels. We do have a friend who would look after them but I’m always worried that they’d get to like him more than me, so, as the kennels were available, we decided to book them in. Leaving them behind is, without question, the most difficult bit of the weekend but our London trip is about the only time we do leave them and we only come down once a year. So no need to feel ultra-guilty.
I admit we do have a habit of doing the same things when we visit the capital. Along the lines of, well we only come once a year so we’d better stick to what we know works for us. Sunday night was a case in point. We went for a curry at Veeraswamy’s. We do this a lot when we come. It’s very expensive but it’s excellent and it’s only once a year. ‘High end dining and luxurious Maharajah-inspired décor at London’s oldest Indian restaurant’, Google says, and who am I to argue?
The evening did take a turn towards the unusual after the meal when we met up with some friends from Leeds (and China) who we didn’t even know were in London. A message from our daughter to us, having seen their post on Facebook about being in town. We contacted them and arranged to meet in a pub off Regent Street, which was nice. And definitely an unplanned chance encounter.
I’d decided to do even more of this casting one’s fate to the winds (if that’s an expression) on the Monday. We had a blank day all day until the evening when I was attending one of those Guardian master classes. More of which later probably. So no breakfast planned. Our usual breakfast spot of McDonalds was ruled out on account of it being rammed with what I assume were workmen, if not it was a gathering of men who like to wear hi viz and hard hats. Anyway it was full so we went next door for a posher breakfast. Crazy to take a chance.
And so it proved, soggy croissant with little bacon and under-cooked egg for me and white sliced loaf (billed as Croque Monsieur) for Mrs Summerhouse. Hmm, never mind we said, that’s what happens when you take a chance. We have the rest of the day to live the unplanned life. We decided to hop on a bus (it’s free with our bus passes and free is definitely good in ‘that London’ particularly having wasted money on breakfast). Buses are great because you can look out the window and, did I mention, they’re free? Waiting for buses isn’t quite such fun but hey, we’re living on the wild side.
It took us about an hour to get to the Saatchi gallery, most of the other galleries being closed on account of it being Monday. I checked the Saatchi gallery – open every day it said. Except, after an hour on the bus, we get to the gallery and, knock me down with a feather, it’s closed all day, for something or other. Laugh I thought my trousers would never dry. OK the unplanned retirement life looks a little less good at this point. We stop for coffee and cake somewhere near Victoria station. This decision was fine.
We can get a bus from Victoria bus station to our next ‘let’s take a chance on life’ destination – Camden Market. This way we’ll be in the right area to attend the course at The Guardian building, near Kings Cross. We wait for the bus quite a long time but we are not downhearted, except when the bus does arrive the bus driver advises us to take the tube because there is a two hour hold up between here and there and the cabbies are going on strike. More laughing, more wet trousers.
And even more so because, by the time we get to Camden market, it is raining but that’s OK because much of it is indoors or at least it would be if the stalls were open, which many of them aren’t and the ones that are open would be better closed. All selling the same tat. Of course we look on the bright side, if the stalls were all open then there would be more people and that wouldn’t be good.
But we’re a bit disappointed. Maybe Monday is not a good day to make our once a year trip to London. It’s still raining so we change our plans, we take the tube back to our hotel and nap. You can always rely on a nice nap in the middle of the afternoon to pay dividends. After an hour or so, we get up and go for a pizza near the hotel. We’re so happy to be here we eat and drink way too much. Funny it’s the old (predictable) favourites – napping, eating and drinking – that are paying dividends at the moment. There’s a moral here somewhere.
I head back to Kings Cross on the tube to the Masterclass. I will write about this at a later date. I catch a taxi back to the hotel after the course and the taxi driver gets lost. She does not know where the pub is where I’m meeting Mrs SH. We turn round twice in the road and I say I’ll get out here. I over-tip because I’m in a hurry and can’t wait for change and besides I’ve seen parts of London between Kings Cross, where I picked up the taxi, and the Embankment, where I eventually give up and get out, I’ve never seen before, that it’s got to be worth the money.
I do I find the pub and there’s still time for a pint before they ring the bell for ‘time please’. I didn’t know they still did this, nor that pubs in London, at least this one, closes at 11 on the dot. But no matter we’re both ready for our beds exhausted from all the ad-libbing we’ve done today.
The following morning we have breakfast at the hotel, sad to say the crap breakfast theme continues only for even more money. Then, before catching our train, we go back to the old favourites – a walk along the river to Tate Modern. We only spend an hour here, long enough, and we see some excellent paintings mainly Art from the Weimar Republic. Oh and we bought our souvenir (see above). Planned activity and a good one. Hmm, there’s that moral thing again.
So I’m out of words and it would be nice to end on a positive note, I’ll leave it here. Except just to say unplanned, spur-of-the-moment travel may just not be everything it’s cracked up to be. It’s all very well trying to live a retirement life that’s full of differences and excitement but it’s nice to be home and particularly to meet up with the dogs who seem genuinely delighted to see us. So retirement, planned or not, you decide.