Last week saw the first visit to London since the middle of March, noticed at reference 1. The judgement being that off-peak commuter trains were probably safe enough, that taking a Bullingdon from Waterloo to London Bridge was safe enough. Which it more or less proved to be.
Mild overcast day, entirely suitable for such an outing. Ticket office closed at the station at 1015 and the interface to the ticket machines had been changed to include various virus flavoured warnings and instructions. But I got there. Modest supply of 'Metros' - where the business model must have been badly dented by the absence of travellers - an absence which will presumably copy through into the all-important advertising rates.
A Metro which included a picture, like the one above, of our large leader going in for social distancing on the floor of the gymnasium of some primary school. What sort of a message does he think he is putting out? Notice also the specialised bench at the back. Which looks to be the very same model as we had in my secondary school, well over fifty years ago now.
On the platform I was pleased to find that the station staff had used some of their spare time - of which there must have been a lot with so few customers - to plant up one of the platform planters. The first time such a thing has happened at Epsom for many years. Not so pleased to notice, both here and going on into London, that only about half of the station staff saw fit to wear a mask. I dare say it is not compulsory, but one might think that staff in this relatively high risk occupation would wear them anyway. Virtually all passengers were wearing them, including me.
And amused by the pretentiously named housing development at Leatherhead, which reminded me of our own Horton Heights, last noticed at reference 2. As it happened, we learned, quite by chance, a few days later, that Princes Chase was neatly tucked in underneath an M25 embankment, with the M25 passing a little to the north of Leatherhead.
In may carriage, the most conspicuous occupants were a part of three teenage girls out with one of the Mums on a shopping expedition. Face masks off while they munched their snacks, then, being girls, back on again when they had finished. While I was thinking that if one had a cold or something, wearing a mask might be good for others, but might be bad for oneself. Instead of flushing all the bad stuff out into the world one was recycling it.
Tweeted a goods train at Clapham Junction, just a few platforms away. Wagons something like the lower ones in the snap above, now known to be a sand wagon. Lifted from the splendid railway modellers site at reference 3.
Bullingdon stand on the ramp at Waterloo properly half full. And my key worked, so I was off again. Not a great deal of traffic out, but there were road works between Blackfriars and London Bridge to make up.
Bought my cheese OK, plus a spot of Caerphilly for a change. The lady was pleased to be told that they did well on their mail order side, with a special mention for their packaging. She told me that the mail order side had done well during lockdown, which I was pleased about. Hopefully they will stay afloat.
After that, I went on into Borough Market, which was busy with people, all far too busy to bother with face masks. Nor did any of the market people that I saw. Not good at all. Notwithstanding, I did buy a couple of pomegranates and a couple of pieces of something called speck. Pomegranates looked good and the one we have opened so far looked good inside - but when we came to eat it, found that the red blobs were mainly hard, woody seed. Not very good at all. Maybe the next one will be better. The speck, a sort of foreign bacon, came from the Alto Adige and the cheerful middle aged lady selling it might well have been from there as well. She certainly brightened up when I told her of our good experiences with their wine. On the other hand, she was not wearing a mask and was happy to be up close and personal. I shall report on the speck in due course.
I had already visited the branch of Boots at Waterloo to see if I could buy a better mask than one I was wearing and was rather surprised to find that they did not have a great big display of same. One would have thought a market opportunity missed. So I visited the pharmacy across the road from Borough Market to find that they did not have a great big display either. But they sold me a couple of masks which they claimed were much better than the one I had on. Round the corner, I did try one on and was not impressed. Rather cross even. But when I got home, tried again and got on much better. Maybe they were an improvement. BH was certainly well pleased with the one I gave her; much less steaming up than the one she had been using.
Back to Waterloo on a slightly rackety Bullingdon, where I was able to take pole position at the top of the ramp. Snapped above while I untied my bag from the carrier: for the first time ever, it had been too big and had needed to be tied on. A bit concerned about damaging the cheese. But luckily the bag included, in amongst various other emergency supplies, this length of twine. And the cheese survived; the all-important Lincolnshire Poacher, the driver for the whole expedition, did not get squashed.
Le Cabin, the wine bar turned lager joint, above the low numbered platforms, appeared to be shut, although there were still bottles of wine to be seen in the left hand shop. Maybe a refurbishment. Will they still sell their splendid bacon and egg sandwiches when they are done? I don't think it is four years since I had one, but see reference 4 anyway.
Nicely in time for the 1209 to Dorking. Forget to think about stopping at the Half Way House, where they used to do rather good bacon sandwiches. See reference 5. Scored a one coming into Wimbledon, probably a BA 747.
And so ended my first visit to London Town for a while. So far at least, no untoward consequences.
On getting to the end of our road, I was not impressed to find a small sea of crab apples on the side walk. Which looked as if they had been there for some time and which no-one round about had thought to clear up. A little later, I returned with wheelbarrow, shovel and yard broom - with the clearing up taking me all of about ten minutes. One might have thought better of the posh end of our quite decent road. The same crab apples as were noticed at reference 6.
Maybe I was being a bit busy. I associate now to the rather good French word 'officieux' which crops up in Maigret quite often. Clearly a relative of our 'officious', but with a wider meaning and with less of the negative aura. Maigret is being officieux when he involves himself, not to say meddles, in a case where he does not have regular jurisdiction, but where he is tolerated because he is an important man from Paris with a reputation that goes before him.
PS 1: checking on the TFL web site I found that they seemed to have lost the second of my two journeys. The first time that I have caught them out in that way.
PS 2: still missing late Thursday afternoon, nearly a week after the event. Missing, presumed dead.
Reference 3: http://www.igg.org.uk/rail/9-loads/9-min.htm.
Reference 4: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2016/02/master-builder.html.
Reference 5: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/09/a-day-at-library.html.
Reference 6: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/08/the-crabs.html.
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