Category: On London

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Expat Caught in the Congestion Zone

Westminster…argh! Actually, I love the borough, lived in it for twelve of the nearly seventeen years I have been in London. But I hate driving there, with the exception of Belgravia and Knightsbridge. Hate it! And they must hate drivers like me coming there, too—not sure whether to zoom or potter. All we want is a parking space, just one.

Hence, the congestion zone – that ought to keep us out. I thought so too, but today I went inside the controlled zone, unintentionally, of course. Blinking Sat Nav. Someone has to accept the blame.

If only I had listened to my gut instinct, I would have parked in my old neighbourhood and walked to my destination. Oh no, I thought I could get right to the edge of the zone, sit the car down and walk merrily to Run and Become.

Not only did I end up blocks away from the store, but also when I at last got there, the shop was closed for staff holidays. If only I had listened to my gut instinct, I would have telephoned  in advance. But honestly, who has ever heard of such a shop closing in the height of running season?

Okay, it is the end of the summer but my current shoes are so out of date that it is no longer funny. As much as I run, I am told that I could do with a new pair of shoes every three months. Forget it, maybe every six months, but the truth is, I haven’t bought any since last June or July. No wonder my feet are not amused, my knees either.

Never mind, I still have to pay this charge of  £11.50 on top of the £2.00 that I paid to park. Ouch that’s more than $22. Not to mention the petro. And forget about all the time I planned to save by taking the car. I lost that driving around, looking for parking and then walking to the closed shop.

So what would a train fare have been? I dare not say.  But all is not lost, not really. I had a sightseeing tour around Westminster, finally saw where the St James Park tube station is, and passed by the New Scotland Yard. Also, I saw numerous trendy coffee shops. Under different circumstances, I might have tried out at least one.

But anxious to get out of dodge, I settled for stopping into Boots, the chemist, for some eye drops of all things. There, I can see clearly now. So I am told there is a great running shop in Kensington, nowhere near the congestion zone. Settled, out of it at last.

On London/

Literary Weekend in London Full of Surprises

I can’t stop talking about my literary weekend, so to speak. It was not only brilliant but also full of surprises – not the kind that I love to hate. Remember, those are the ones that I know are in the making. These jewels are nowhere near my radar until they happen.

First, there was the Books About Town exhibition to be in London until 15 September.  On 7 October the book benches will be auctioned to the highest bidder. Of course, we planned ahead but I had no idea how amazing the benches would be. I simply can’t choose a favourite. But I do know which one is the most sophisticated. Umm!

Anyhow, what are my chances of snagging one, you reckon? Nil, I can hear Paul saying in the background. Never mind! We had a fantastic time Saturday, checking out the art on the Bloomsbury Trail.

Not only are the benches cleverly designed, but also each represents a book or series of books, if you will.  While other book lovers blazed the trail on Saturday, too, so did art lovers and some, just plain old London lovers or shall I say lovers of London.

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Apparently, art around town in the capital is not a new thing and in all of its diversity, it is unlikely to become old hat anytime soon. In 2002, the capital hosted CowParade, which Paul and I had seen three years previous in Chicago. Fantastic!

Then in 2010, London was home to 250 life size baby elephants. Where was I? Though I somehow missed this one, some of the folks I met on Saturday will never forget it.

Two years on during a year of great hoopla for London, the capital celebrated Easter with more than 200 giant Faberge eggs. In a daze in 2012 for one reason or another, I don’t remember much about this stunning exhibition, either.

Thank goodness, I clued in on the book art, which alone was well worth making the trek. Still, bonuses not only included discovering more of London but also interacting with some of its people—amazingly sociable, contrary to popular belief. And best part was the weather, perhaps the most popular conversation of the day.

Speaking of popular, that brings me to the second surprise of the weekend. We had the opportunity to hear William Paul Young, author of The Shack, speak on Sunday.

Paul and I showed up at our church as we do, clueless as to whom the speaker would be. And this is not the first time we happened to be at the right place at the right time. Anyhow, it was a pleasant surprise to hear from the acclaimed author. While perhaps not as colourful as the book exhibition, he is arguably as creative.

In short, the book is a tremendous exploration of the human condition and man’s relationship with God, if you will. And Paul Young created it.

Four years ago, I reviewed The Shack. So I won’t do that again but I do have at least one new over arching thought about it—it is perhaps one of the most powerful metaphors of one person’s life that I have read.

Before hearing the author speak of his painful history and the bearing it had on the novel, I’ve often jokingly wished that God had given me The Shack, such a story if you will. Now putting all joking aside, I see why and how the author and his worldwide audience so deserve the goodness that has come from one tiny book. It is a big message. And at last, I get it.

Now back to those fabulous benches, you think I’ll get one somehow. Never mind! I’ll definitely find my way around another Books About Town trail, and soon. Can’t wait to be surprised!

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Special Connection with First Famous Female

For many African American famous firsts, it is either getting late in the evening or night has come for their final rest, as is the case for Alice Coachman Davis, the first African American woman to win an Olympic Gold medal.

Mrs Coachman-Davis, who won her medal for the high jump at London’s Wembley Stadium in 1948, died on Monday, July 14 at the age of 90. Though her achievement itself is enough to celebrate, where it happened and where she is from makes the achievement that much more special for me.

From Albany, Georgia (the place I have called home for years now, though my family originates from nearby Leary) the record breaker won the medal right up the street from where I live now, if you will. More than 60 years later, Wembley Stadium continues to host some sporting events such as football, also known as soccer to some. Years ago, Paul and I saw Tina Turner and Lionel Richie perform there.

How appropriate for me to be in this space about now.

Somehow I can’t help feeling a special connection. Though I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Mrs Coachman-Davis, I have known of her for years, if only through the school that bears her name in Albany.

Interestingly enough, my sister Carrie, who has been in the Dougherty County School System for many years now, landed her first teaching job at Coachman Park Elementary School. And the story gets better.

Her then principal, Mrs Obzeine Shorter, was one of my first grade teachers.  In those days, the class was split between two teachers.  The other was a Mrs Boston, also from Albany.  To the best of my knowledge the latter woman died some years ago. Mrs Shorter lives on.

Wonderful firsts but not the lasts, I am sure. At London 2012, for example, women continued to make history. Females secured 29 of Team USA’s 46  medals. The women’s basketball players  won their 5th consecutive Olympic gold medal in London.

What a fitting to time to look at some of the noteworthy firsts in life. Share your memories here. As for now, I join thousands, if not millions, of others in celebrating the life of Alice Coachman-Davis and extending my condolences to her family.

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The Magic of London at Night…

There’s something about London at night that’s enchanting—a bit surreal, too. As the taxi sped over Waterloo Bridge the other night, I couldn’t help trying to capture the magic. Well, while the amateurish photo isn’t bad, it doesn’t do the capital’s mysticism any real justice, does it?

Surely, I have something that says a thousand words, I told myself as I looked over my digital files—sunsets, sunsets, fireworks, fireworks.

Not what I had in mind. Though I have photographed Shanghai by night, Bangkok, Paris, New York, Boston and so on, I don’t have much of London. What does this mean? Possibly, that I don’t carry a camera around my home base at night. Who does? In any case, I’ll have to remedy that, but it might take some time.

In the meantime, I thought I’d take this opportunity to list five of my favourite views in London at night and tell a bit about what makes them special. Note that the list does not necessarily appear in preferred order. I love them all:

1) A view looking east on the Thames, which highlights the various riverside apartment buildings, the Albert and Chelsea Bridge and the lofty skyscrapers of the city of London in the distance. You’ll need a bird’s eye view for this one, but that shouldn’t be too hard to manage with skyscrapers popping up all over the place.

2) The twinkling lights of Harrods, located in Knightsbridge, which also happens to be one of my favourite views by day, too, or shall I say my favourite hang outs. The famous department store is one of the largest, if not the largest in the world. Checking it out by night won’t cost you a thing, considering what you might spend by day. Closest tube stations are Knightsbridge and Hyde Park corner.

3) Piccadilly, from Green Park to Piccadilly Circus.  It’s just vibrant, bodacious and atmospheric all at the same time.  So I am told the nightlife in the area keeps it teeming. What do I know, but when I am lucky enough to be there, I can see and feel exactly what the buzz is about.

4) Speaking of buzz, Park Lane is the place to be any time. But by night, the ritzy hotels light up and appear seductive under the moonlight. If you happen to be staying on the famous street or attending a gala there, you’re in serious luck. But if not, do catch a ride and zip alongside London taxis, Bentley’s, Maserati’s and the likes to take it all in.

5) When you tire of riding and want a stroll, go from Leicester Square to Covent Garden for a hive of activity and eclectic views.  From watching fascinating street artists to sampling exotic foods, expect to be wowed. Young and old alike gather before and after theatre or heck just gather for the fun of it.

With all this talk about wonderful views maybe those fireworks are fitting about now. Magic!

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On London/

Gnats in London, Anything but Idealistic

In the Georgia countryside where I grew up in the US, gnats were part of the landscape and surely still are. As a child, I remember that they were prevalent in the summer time, causing great disruption to play and picnics.

Having moved to the city, I thought gnats were long behind me. Not a chance.

Since the weather has begun to warm up in London, I have experienced swarms of them on the Thames Path, although they go by the name of midges, here.

Midges, gnats, they are all the same, if you ask me or pretty close kin anyhow. The thing is, however, I don’t remember gnats biting and swarming in the forefront all the time. Surely they crashed barbecues and ballgames regularly but either bored fairly quickly or sensed that they would be penalised if they didn’t leave. Away they went.

I have this image of seeing them in the distance, a part of the landscape. How very idealistic.

Realistically though, midges stake out in the path of walkers and runners and fly right along, until the next best thing happens by. So if you happen to be the only thing, so to speak, on the path, you’re fair game.

Apparently, midges live near water, which explains why I’ve only started to notice them lately.

Short of staying away from rivers, streams, etc. what are walkers, cyclists and runners to do? We could go out in only cold, rainy weather, but that wouldn’t do our attitudes or our physical health any good, would it?

So here are some tips gathered from gnat and midge dodgers around the world.

1)   Wear sunglasses at all times.

2)   Pull on a hat, too.

3)   And cover arms and legs if you can; apparently midges don’t bite through clothing.

4)   But wear light clothing instead of dark.

5)   In any case, spray on a bit of insect repellent.

6)   And by all means keep moving.

7)   But if you do get bitten, don’t sweat it. The best thing to do is to soap it to avoid bacteria.

Very well, I’ll give the tips a go. Still, who would have ever thought it—gnats in the city? Actually, they are midges. Whatever! They are all the same rotten lot.  And if you ask me, they are best left in a hazy memory, far, far away in the distance. Now that’s idealistic.

On London/

Order on the Capital’s Footpaths, please

Exploring London by foot is a not only a great way to get to know the capital, but also a good way to get around from A to Z, especially when there is a Tube strike on.

Even when there isn’t, more and more people are taking to the capital’s varied and intriguing paths, unless it is really raining. A little rain doesn’t stop the show here. Anyhow, that’s a good thing (using the footpaths, that is). Right?  So it is until the path becomes popular.

On the Thames Path, for instance, I’ve noticed negligence during peak times and now and again, a similar carelessness, off peak, too.

On one occasion, a group of people, out for a morning walk with two dogs, spread out over a wide area in a park and remained oblivious to runners, walkers, and cyclists alike. Many of us had to cut through the grass to dodge them.

Another time, a little girl played a game at a public gate, opening and closing it repeatedly, though there was a regular stream of people needing to go through. Meanwhile, her mom looked on as if others were causing problems, not her child.

And if that wasn’t discourteous enough, I’ve seen cyclists go straight in the path of a runner, albeit one time stragglers were causing hiccups. Surely still, there could have been a better way, unless, of course, this cyclist was dodging dog dirt—the epitome of carelessness.

Now, if road users acted so inconsiderate as to block the road just because they were having a leisurely drive, allow their children to close public gates to keep others from coming through, set their dogs free on the highway to do whatever they jolly well pleased, and drive right into oncoming traffic, we’d not only have countless minor incidents, but also numerous major accidents. Imagine!

Sounds farcical, doesn’t it. But when it’s happening on a footpath, it somehow becomes less ludicrous and more acceptable. That’s not a good thing at all. Our footpaths ought be enjoyable for everyone, not just a few.

Perhaps, a few rules are in order, even if they are unspoken, sort of like the ones in a supermarket. For instance, you wouldn’t ram your trolley into someone else’s, unless you were trying to get their attention and you certainly wouldn’t hop the queue at the checkout unless you wanted attention. But be warned, you might not like it when you get it!

Anyhow, I came up with a few rules, tips if you will, for keeping footpaths fun for everyone.

1)   Do move aside for others, an obvious one.

2)   Don’t allow your children to close public gates. Obvious, too!

3)   Do keep dogs on a leash. Maybe not so obvious.

4)   Don’t run or ride into oncoming walkers, runners or cyclists. Quite obvious!

5)   Do please, please, please clean up after your dog. Obviously if you don’t, no one will.

6)   And don’t laugh at others when a huge bird descends upon them.

No kidding. One Sunday afternoon, I went out for a run and noticed a woman, grab her child and run off from a squawking bird. I broke my run, perhaps to assist, but she shot by me, and when I saw the speed of the unhappy bird, I took off again, too.  Still, I couldn’t help noticing several people pointing and laughing. Not funny!

No pecking in order, full stop. But minding your manners and regarding others while meandering along a footpath is certainly in order. Do have your say here.

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Comedy of Errors over for Easter

What a chock-a-block week! English please, some of you might be asking. I’m afraid it is and for all I know it could be American English, too. These days I am bilingual, but I do occasionally lose the plot where separation of the two languages is concerned.

The point is that this week has been crammed with all sorts for me, especially blunders. Actually, it’s been a bit of a comedy of errors.

Starting out on Monday, I arrived early for a weekly appointment in Knightsbridge that I might go to the local Waitrose beforehand. For some reason, I stopped by Ottolenghi first to get breakfast. Normally, it is the other way around.

At Waitrose, I found myself juggling coffee, a shopping basket, a bag for life, and my handbag. No wonder while deciding on spinach, I somehow leaned the basket against the broccoli. The comedy began.

The little vegetable guy, whom I have never seen, albeit it I know a few staff in this store, grabbed my basket, and told me I was damaging the broccoli! What could I say, I was guilty as charged, but so taken a back at his forwardness,  I went into a tug of war with him over my basket and finally shouted:

“Let go of my basket!”

A gasp of silence followed and I got my spinach and fled, but not before paying for it.

Then on Tuesday, the comedy continued with train travel. Though I left plenty of time to make an 11.00 meeting in Covenant Garden, I was late because as I stood on the platform, my train arrived on another without any warning or explanation from the staff. In the first instance, I sort of knew it had to be the Waterloo train. Trains to other destinations travel in the opposite direction.

And after checking the board, I deduced that the Waterloo train had come and gone. But it was likely a fluke, right. Wrong, because in five minutes or so another train arrived at the wrong platform, though crowds of us waited on the usual platform.

Quick thinking led to a few of us running down the stairs and up the stairs to just miss the train. Then the platform closed, according to the notice board. Back to the other platform I went along with several others.

After seven minutes or so, another train came to wrong platform, but this one was rolling fast and didn’t stop. Whew! Still, about three minutes later, another train approached the wrong platform with obvious intent to stop. Cleverly this time, I struck out early and made it in the nick of time. Off towards Waterloo we went without a word from anyone.

As comedic as it gets, right. Not really because on Wednesday, I drove to Hertfordshire for the day. Though I have been a passenger on this route several times, I didn’t pull it off as smoothly as I would have thought, as a driver. Let’s say I missed a critical turn in London, giving my satellite navigation system an opportunity to send me on a tour of local London and Hertfordshire, too.

Thank goodness for the Easter break or I would have surely been more than fifteen minutes late, caught up in rush hour traffic.

Speaking of Easter, the break starts tomorrow for me with Good Friday. And as the business day comes to a close, I’m thrilled that the comedy of errors is behind me. And if it isn’t, the work most certainly is, at least until next week.

Happy Easter!

On London/

Dust from Sahara blows into London

I went to the gym this morning. So what, right? Working out is the big thing nowadays. Beats lying in, that is if you wear a Nike Fuel Band like I do. That’s why I take to the Thames Path three times per week and spend one hour weekly training with an expert.

Of course, racking up fuel points is not the only reason for exercising, but it sure is a good motivator for it.

Admittedly though, after hearing on BBC Breakfast this morning that the UK air might not be the best place about now for anyone, let alone asthma sufferers, I stalled.

For the last several days, high winds have brought dust from the Sahara Dessert to England and Wales. A haze, for instance, hangs over Birmingham today. Yesterday, many Londoners found their cars lightly coated with red dust.

No wonder I couldn’t see the Thames for the smog yesterday and I was a stone’s throw away from it.

Umm… with low-grade asthma and sore muscles that hadn’t recovered from yesterday’s intense work out, I pulled on my kit, warmed up, and begrudgingly headed for the gym instead of the Thames Path.

Wrong answer, I thought as I laboured for thirty-minutes on the treadmill. As soon as I was done, I rushed outside to the nearest bench and went into an extensive stretching regime, using any breathing techniques I remotely knew of.

As I took in the seemingly fresh air, it got me thinking about the environment.

How is it that dust from the Sahara could settle in the UK? What, if anything, does this have to do with climate change? And is running in a haze of dust actually worst than toiling and sweating in a stuffy gym.

While I don’t have the answers to the former two questions, I have my opinion about the latter one. I’d much rather run outside any day than in a sweatbox, no matter how swish and roomy it is. But if the air is polluted, I have to be realistic, don’t I.

Fortunately for me, the air is expected to clear by Friday. Even so, environmental issues won’t flee.

While the Sahara’s dust will soon pass over the UK, it will sweep into another country and other issues will crop up or flow in here—something for us all to think about wherever we are. What does it all mean and what can we do about it? No soapbox or scare tactics here, just plain on realistic questions.

In the meantime, I am lagging in fuel points; I need to get going, perhaps for a short walk, even if it is hazy outside.

On Lifestyle/

London Restaurants: Filling a Tall Order

Over the years, the restaurant scene in London has gone from abysmal to laudable, so I am told. As far as I am concerned, it has always been pretty good. In my 16-year experience here, the capital has been on the upswing with celebrity chefs putting it on the food map.

The trouble with this is that when the chefs cease being celebrated or experience a seriously big hiccup, so might London’s food reputation, needlessly.

Celebrity chef Heston Blumenthal’s two Michelin-starred Dinner at the Mandarin Oriental in Knightsbridge is at the centre of a norovirus outbreak and thus, will be closed for at least 10-days.

This is, of course, a serious matter unto itself but what makes it even more serious is that the chef had to close another of his great restaurants, The Fat Duck in Bray, in 2009, for the same reason.

While judgements and suspicions are flying around—is he experimenting too much—I am quick to defend the restaurant (went there last year for my birthday and loved it!).

The chef, also known for integrating science into his cooking, is wildly imaginative, creating dishes such as snail porridge and nitro glycerine ice cream.

I will have none of that, thank you. But absolutely love what he does with lamb, even beef, often slow cooking to perfection. We have tried it, at least Paul has, at home. Delicious!

To this end, abandoning Heston because he has had two unfortunate major events would be like turning my back on Rafael Nadal because he lost the Australian Open. Never!

Unless, Rafa somehow dishonours his public image in such a way that it is beyond a shadow of doubt that he’s no longer great, I’m standing by him. The same goes for Heston.

Anyhow, if you look at what the experts say, experimenting has nothing to do with norovirus.  According to the NHS, the illness, also known as winter bug, can spread rather quickly if an infected person doesn’t wash their hands before handling food, therefore, tainting it. Individuals can also catch it by touching contaminated objects and surfaces.

Recently, there was an outbreak on the Royal Caribbean cruise ship, affecting 600 or so passengers. In the case of The Fat Duck, it had to do with a bad lot of oysters. As for Dinner, the BBC reports that 24 diners and 21 staff fell ill.

Will I go back? Likely. Easy for me to say, you think. I didn’t catch the illness during my time at Dinner and, neither did thousands of others. But I do sympathise and can commiserate with those who were less fortunate. I have had food poisoning from at least two restaurants in my time–one part of a fine, fine hotel chain, and the other has plenty of accolades and willing dinners. Both places are still going strong.

And I have been back and am here to tell the tale. The difference in what is happening with Dinner and the places I had my bad experience is that it’s in the limelight. As such, the spotlight will shine on the restaurant and its celebrity chef in both good and bad times.

Let’s hope the bad times are over because if you ask me Dinner is one of the best restaurants in the capital and that’s filling a tall order nowadays.

On London/

Getting there sanely during the Tube Strike

Millions of commuters are seeking different options today to get to work, as RMT and TSSA union members strike over proposed job cuts and ticket office closures. According to Transport for London, the strike reduces London’s underground service by 70 per cent

And though I’m working from my home office with no appointments that require a commute, I have been there and done that and know what it feels like to wait around for minutes that can sometimes lead to laborious hours. It’s horrible, particularly when it’s raining, but that’s another story—the weather that is.

In the meantime, rather thoughtfully, many media outlets are offering advice on how to survive the strike. One such piece in The Guardian online suggests walking as the number one option and taking the bus as number two.

Both are good ideas as far as I am concerned, but the second is perhaps a more viable option for those who live further afield.

According to TFL, London’s 7,500 red buses carry roughly 6 million passengers each day. Already pretty busy, wouldn’t you say, which might explain why they are putting on extra buses. Still, queues are intensifying at bus stops around the capital. To this end, it wouldn’t hurt to remember that buses have etiquette too. Honestly!

1) First and foremost, please honour the queuing system. Or it might not honour you.

2) Next, while you might not hear, please stand behind the yellow lines for your safety. Do stay out of the road. This is paramount to your safety!

3) Remember, let the passengers off the train first before boarding. Yep, please let the passengers off the bus, as and when possible. During overcrowding passengers tend to dismount from the front and back doors.

4) And do move inside of the bus, even if you don’t do so inside of the tube carriage. Bus passengers might not be as forgiving, since there might not be another following.

5) Finally, mind your manners on the bus, restricting mobile phone conversations and silencing your music. If you don’t you might run the risk of traumatising other passengers.

Case in point: Last week I joined a bus as a last minute option due to train delays, not to mention the inclement weather.  On my way to meet Paul for an evening out, I had called it too close apparently.

Anyhow, just outside of the station, I dashed through the pouring rain in time to board a bus, which went directly to my destination, Victoria Station. Pity it wasn’t a taxi but all the same I was whisked away from the chaos. After making my way to the top of the Double Decker and settling in, suddenly I noticed something was awkward.

For starters, the passengers all looked like hostages, except for one young man. He, my friends, sat on the front seat holding a sleek speaker up to his ear, as if his music wasn’t blaring throughout the bus. He bopped and sang, rather loudly, the entire 30 minute journey.

As you can see, I continue to experience deep trauma over this, which is why I warn against it on any day, certainly on days of overcrowding. The tortured passengers might not be the only ones to experience shock.

So much for that! Just remember, it’s all about getting there safely and sanely, even in the midst of chaos.