The Anonymous Widower

London Takes Charge of One of its Lost Sons

There are cities, mega-cities and then there is London, a unique blend of people, races, buildings, transport systems and history.

Today the city of my birth and most of ancestors took control and welcomed me back and protected me.

The first thing I did was go and get my copy of The Times and have a coffee in the local Deli. I’ve never been able to do this before at any time of my life.  But the Deli was selling smoked salmon from the Butley Oysterage in Suffolk,so my adopted county was making its presence felt. If only the rest of the country had only half as much get up and go as London and Suffolk have we wouldn’t be having a recession.

Also in the morning I registered at my new doctor’s.  No problems at all and very different to when registration last happened twenty years ago.  I should say that there was one small problem in that I forgot to take the urine sample I’d provided in the morning. But even that was quickly solved by a two-hundred metre walk home from the surgery to collect it and a  quick walk back. My short term memory may be suffering, but I’ll get it back, by practice.

I then took a bus to St. Paul’s and took a few pictures on the so-called Wobbly Bridge, which is one of my favourite structures.

I then walked through to Carluccio’s in Smithfield to have some lunch.

And then London sent me an angel in the form of a female oriental banker, who’d just arrived in the UK, who was exploring before starting work in the New Year.  We chatted for a minute or so and then she asked if there was anything to see in this part of London on a very cold day. So I showed her the wife market description in the meat market, St. Bartholomew the Great, Bart’s Hospital and then the Museum of London.  I can still see my sons performing in the Nativity play at the church and my mother-in-law in the hospital after having her heart valve replaced.

We then walked through the city to Leadenhall market before having a glass of mulled wine in a pub.  She then went home from Bank and I walked through the city back to the Barbican and the Waitrose in Whitecross Street.  When we lived in Cromwell Tower, there were no supermarkets in the area. But it was a pleasure to be in an area with so many happy memories. Luckily we were away for the weekend when the Moorgate tube crash, which killed nearly fifty,  happened.

The Waitrose there though is in some ways more homely and much less crowded than those at the Angel or the Holloway Road, but it had everything I needed and it was only a short walk away from the bus home, which ran on a much less crowded route to a stop just a hundred metres from my home.

So thank you London!  Thanks also go to my charming companion for a lovely couple of hours in the afternoon.

December 22, 2010 - Posted by AnonW | Food, World | London, Waitrose