Category: London

Early to Rise ….

Several readers of my blog threw up their hands in horror in reading of our horrid journey-from-London-to-Yorkshire-that-wasn’t yesterday. The frightfulness we and hundreds and hundreds of others encountered made the national news. So I thought I’d bring the story up to date.

Today was easy. The train company, LNER had announced that anybody affected yesterday could, for the next two days, catch any train that would reach their intended destination. We imagined that every one of these trains would be full to bursting, standing room only. Unless … we travelled early.

So….

5.00 a.m. Catch the first train of the day from Hither Green.

5.30 a.m. Arrive London Bridge tube station as entrance gates clatter open, and take escalator to Northern Line.

Wait on platform till 5.45 for train to Kings Cross., with just a few scuttling mice for company.

6.00 a.m. Catch train bound for Edinburgh, which takes us to the station nearest our home.

Near York, begin to understand what yesterday’s difficulties were about.

8.55 leave train to be met by a friend who arrives with his car to spirit us home - the long way round because of flooding. Nearing home, we see a rainbow ….

9.29: Arrive home.

Perhaps this proves the truth of that old saying about the early bird who catches the worm. I only wish I’d taken Before and After shots of the concourse at Kings Cross Station yesterday (maelstrom) and today (perfect peace). Two nervous little Country Mice are rather glad to have finally scuttled home.

The Passenger Pigeon

There’s an American bird – the Passenger Pigeon – that is thought to be extinct. It turns out this isn’t true. It’s come to London. Let me explain.

We’ve had a bit of a horrid day. After our wonderful Christmas with the family (London Branch) we were due to travel home today. Kings Cross Station, when we arrived, was crammed with travellers staring at the Departures board, unable to begin their journey. We joined them. Five minutes before our train’s scheduled departure, it was cancelled. Not that we had been able to fight our way through the throng to get on it. And so it went on. Finally, we abandoned all hope. We turned round to beg another night from the London Branch.

And that’s where the Passenger Pigeon comes in. As we got onto our local train, we spotted a bird – a pigeon – in the luggage rack, intent on joining us for the journey.

He must have realised he didn’t have a ticket. Just before the doors closed, he pulled himself energetically together … and flew off.

An Asymmetrical Amble

Last week, I invited you to join me in Spain, and hunt for the symmetrical. This week, we’ll stay closer to home, and have a countryside wander looking for the asymmetrical for Dawn’s Lens-Artist Challenge.

What we’ll do is start off in the Yorkshire Dales. Let’s peek over a drystone wall and look at the patchwork of small fields that has evolved over the centuries, way before agri-business and the space-gobbling demands of giant machinery.

Conditions are harsh: not too many trees then. But those there are battle to reach maturity and stay upright against prevailing winds. Symmetry is the last thing on their minds.

Look carefully. At the right hand side of the hollow trunk, some fond grandfather (I’m guessing) has fashioned a door to the hollow trunk, to make a very special tree-house.

Let’s hurry back to civilisation, before darkness falls. Here in Studley Royal is a blasted tree that always reminds me of the antlers of the red deer stags who call this area home.

And here too are ancient tree roots, complete strangers to symmetry: some of the older stumps house fungi.

Oh look. Darkness is falling.

Let’s hurry into town. Bright lights, big city. Perhaps we could grab a warming mug of hot chocolate to thaw out our chilly fingers. And that’s where I’ll leave you for now. See you soon, I hope.

It’s a bit of a stretch to get from Studley Royal to London in time for the final photo-op of the day (250 miles). Photographer’s licence.

Monday Portrait: the Opportunist Squirrel

Last week – half term in London – I was on Granny Duty. And my daughter and granddaughter were over from Spain too. So one day, we went to Mudchute Farm. This is a community-based city farm that’s home to sheep and cows and ducks and geese and hens and all the usual suspects. But towards the end of the day, squirrels came centre-stage. They’re not part of the farm. But they’ve learnt that it’s a great place to hang out. All that free food. And some of it from visitors. William at one point dropped his apple core – accidentally of course: we’re not litter-louts. Before he could do anything about it, a cheeky squirrel had scuttled out and grabbed it: and retreated to a goat pen so she could eat it in peace.

For Monday Portrait.

Another Visit to The Thames Barrier

Once upon a time, the River Thames flowed gently through the city, slow and wide, or wider, according to the weather. At various points in the 19th century and particularly when Joseph Bazalgette was master-minding the critical job of master-minding a sewer network , the Thames was edged with a series of embankments. This had the effect of making the river narrower, deeper, and therefore faster flowing.

By the middle of the twentieth century, this was becoming a problem. A few times a year, high tides were presenting a danger of flooding to London. Something had to be done. That ‘something’ turned into the Thames Barrier at Woolwich.

In 1972, the Thames Barrier Act and Flood Protection Act  was passed by The Greater London Council, and in 1972, work commenced. 

'The gates, each of which are 19 metres high and weigh 3300 tonnes, divide the river into six navigable spans, four of 61metres (200 feet), and two of approximately 30 metres (100 feet). The barrier was designed to be solid, durable (serving London until at least 2030), failure proof and bomb proof. It has so far survived 12 collisions with ships without sustaining any serious damage.'
www.cityoflondon.gov.uk

The barrier was originally designed to protect London from a very large flood (1 in 100 years) up to 2030. By October 2021, it had been closed 200 times – it’s 208 times now. And the barrier has been modernised and improved to take it beyond its original shelf-life.

Much of the science behind it is beyond me. But it’s a beautiful thing in its own right, and I can appreciate that: even if I don’t understand the engineering. This short video may help.

Without the Barrier, all this is at risk.

For Debbie’s Six Word Saturday. And if you haven’t visited this post and voted … please do.

Further Adventures of Major General Algernon Gove

Poor Algernon (if I may be so familiar). I abandoned my Major General last month as he planned further destinations in a trip to invigorate him in his old age. He’s my stooge as I attempt to complete Paula’s Pick a Word Challenge. The five words Paula offers us are intended to be a stimulus to us to choose five appropriate photos: I decided a bit of verbal silliness would add a little extra difficulty. Not ‘alf. These are Paula’s chosen words: distinctive; floating; fortified; playful and saddle. Make something of that, Major General!

In case you’re not familiar with him, this is how his saga began …

A retired Major General from Hove
with the moniker Algernon Gove
said ‘Before life unravels
I must finish my travels.’
And forthwith he made plans to rove.

But it gets worse …

His next plan was to go pony-trekking.
He booked something in Wales without checking.
It might be quite a chore ?
He could get saddle-sore?
Oh dear no - there’s a plan that needs wrecking.

Our old chap nursed a long-term ambition
to explore sites with years of tradition.
A castle, he voted,
fortified, or deep-moated.
He’d find one - he'd make that his mission.

Perhaps all his plans were restrictive?
He should aim now for something distinctive.
Something playful and fun.
‘Cos when all’s said and done
to enjoy life should just be instinctive.

He knew he’d no taste for long trips
that took him o’er oceans in ships.
But he’d go in a boat
floating nowhere remote -
while enjoying some fresh fish and chips.
When the Major General saw frisky ponies like these, he knew he’d never be able to stay in the saddle.
He started off at Dunstanburgh Castle in Northumberland. Not very adventurous. So he went to the Château de Lagarde in the Ariège, France, shown in the featured photo, and then…
… Sagunt, near Valencia.

You can have a playful time on London’s South Bank, and at the London Eye. But it’s more distinctive to discover pastures new – at the evening fair in Gdansk, perhaps.

That’s more like it. Floating quietly on Lake Ohrid, North Macedonia. He had the fish he’d caught in the lake later, where they cooked it for him at the lakeside restaurant.

WP is being very irritating today. It won’t let me centre some of my photos, or alternatively to align all my shots to the left, whatever I try, and however loudly I shout at my laptop. So I have to admit defeat.

What’s in the Frame?

This week, for the Lens Artists Challenge, Amy asks us to consider ways of framing our shots. So my featured photo doesn’t do that. The frame shown here, at Brimham Rocks IS the subject of the shot.

Sometimes, the photographer finds a frame has been fortuitously laid on. Here we are on the Regents Canal in London, in maritime Barcelona and at Harlow Carr Gardens in Harrogate.

A band plays on the floating bookshop, Word on the Water, on the Regent’s Canal, London

Sometimes a window – an actual window, or a suitably-shaped hole-in-the-wall provides that frame. Here’s the South Bank in London, a shot taken while sailing to Bilbao, another view at Harlow Carr, and a convenient window overlooking the River Thames near Blackfriar’s Bridge.

In her post about framing, Sarah of Travel with Me fame took us to Fountains Abbey and Studley Royal. We’ll go there too, but wander through the wooded area of the High Ride, and into the parkland of Studley Royal, allowing the trees themselves to frame the picture.

Fountains Abbey in autumn.

And lastly, another view which didn’t work as well as I hoped, through a chink in a drystone wall in the Yorkshire Dales.