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| London Calling |
(click on pix above for more shots)
For our first overseas post, I was tempted to saturate this blog with pix and descriptions of London’s many historical landmarks, it’s stunning architecture, and vibrant hoods. But for us the most meaningful part of this portion of our travel was being with Stan, Trish’s dad; and then visiting Flo and John.
John is Trish’s uncle and Stan’s older bro by 11 years. Stan (daddio) is nearing 82. Flo and John courted in the mid 30’s until war broke out, then they quickly became legal and married. Do the math–that’s 70yrs. After the war ended, they bought the walk up flat that they now occupy. It’s smaller than our double garage and would fit right into a Coronation Street set. It’s faded wallpaper peels away with memories and stories.
Stan and John’s bantering about old times was more entertaining and rich than any theatre. Two showmen with full memory, razor sharp wit and genuine sincerity belonging to another era. Somehow it was possible to see them as kids–still young, naive and with long lives to follow. They were worth the trip to London.
Afterwards, we continued on with daddio. The three of us walked and tubed for miles: The one of a kind and free British Museum (Rosetta Stone, half the surviving contents of the Parthenon, etc..), the pristine sounds of a concert at St Martin in the Fields, the majesty of Trafalgar Square fronted by the National Gallery and centered by Nelson’s Column and lions, steadfast St Paul’s Cathedral and the Gothic enclave of their own Parliament, and on and on.
For Trish and I, seeing it twenty years after our last visit gave us more appreciation of the energy, the chic, the colour and the mojo of London. We dragged Stan everywhere, and everywhere he followed. From Stan’s old haunts as an office boy to stock brokers, to the open street-like party of gay-village Soho, to the Palestinian demonstrators being taunted by hooligan English Defense League counter demonstrators—London wasn’t how either of us remembered it.
At one point we asked daddio what was it like being a tourist in London. He replied that it was interesting. He didn’t have to say it, but the never ceasing crowds and congestion, and the enormous changes could only be overwhelming for him or anybody with a previous life 50yrs ago. At one point after the Palestinian demonstration by Piccadilly Circus ended, we asked what he wanted to do next. He said he wanted to go home. By that he likely meant our charming Putney apartment overlooking the Thames. But he could have just as easily meant Toronto, where each of our parents landed 50 some years ago.
Stan slept in as we got up early for our morning train to Edinburgh. He would continue onwards to Seaford solo. I poked my head into his bedroom just before we left. He snored away like an 81yr old baby.
