Monday, June 06, 2005
Time Out
An away (3) day. No husband, no kids. Bliss. Regression to role of daughter instead of wife/mum. No decisions to be made - well, nearly. Female parent decided it might be nice to cross London by bus, rather than underground. She'd done her research - No 9 bus from Liverpool Street all the way to Harrods for brunch.
So, out of Liverpool Street we went. Bus stops scattered liberally around. No No 9, and worryingly no sign of a bus that might go all the way. After wandering up and down a few streets we decided an injection of coffee (strong) might help. While sitting, I asked - how up to date is that map? Not very old, sayeth she. I looked. 1986/87!!!!!
I reminded her that bus routes may well change rather radically after nearly 20 years - its not like a Christmas pudding that you can put away, forget about, find and cook years later and find it not any different! So back on the underground we went.
Had a great day though, and finally found out how the buses work (slowly and tediously). Oxford Street was a zoo. Smoked salmon and scrambled egg and freshly squeezed orange juice was fine, although Harrods 'finest' tea blend lacked the Yorkshire punch. Queens Gallery manageable, but only one Vermeer.
And I saw the resident urban fox as well. Trotting bold as you like down the garden, round to the front of the house and off up the street. The same time both days.
So, out of Liverpool Street we went. Bus stops scattered liberally around. No No 9, and worryingly no sign of a bus that might go all the way. After wandering up and down a few streets we decided an injection of coffee (strong) might help. While sitting, I asked - how up to date is that map? Not very old, sayeth she. I looked. 1986/87!!!!!
I reminded her that bus routes may well change rather radically after nearly 20 years - its not like a Christmas pudding that you can put away, forget about, find and cook years later and find it not any different! So back on the underground we went.
Had a great day though, and finally found out how the buses work (slowly and tediously). Oxford Street was a zoo. Smoked salmon and scrambled egg and freshly squeezed orange juice was fine, although Harrods 'finest' tea blend lacked the Yorkshire punch. Queens Gallery manageable, but only one Vermeer.
And I saw the resident urban fox as well. Trotting bold as you like down the garden, round to the front of the house and off up the street. The same time both days.
