It’s always nice to hang out with the parents. Ag had a historical walk around Covent Garden (in leaflet form) at the ready, I was excited at the thought of the London Transport Museum whilst Moth had her sights set firmly on the gift shop.
The highlights of my day were seeing Boris’s new routemaster bus; having coffee at the Charles Dickens Café, conveniently located under Charles Dickens’ one-time lodgings and run by a mildly depressed Egyptian who made no attempt to make anything of his establishment’s location; watching posh, operatic busking and eating tuna sandwiches opposite a memorial to Arthur Sullivan whilst deliberating on the genus of that lovely fragrant plant we’d just passed. The one that smelled of jasmine. (It wasn’t jasmine.)*
It was then that I was able to unleash my inner geek and positively skipped to The London Transport museum, savouring every second we were there. I read all the information, beheld the posters with undisguised awe, pored over the old maps, inspected all variations of ticket, climbed aboard an omnibus, chatted to the waxwork travellers and – perhaps best of all – drove a tube train. Yes, yes, it was a simulation (the older style with the dead man’s handle actually) and I rather overshot the platform of the station I was pulling into, but I UTTERLY loved it. In fact I was so bowled over by this bit of the day that I forgot to take any more pictures.
Check out my collection of seat covers, though:
* Nathan’s mum put us out of our misery later on, confirming it to be sarcocca humilis. Phew – and thanks, Pat!