Well today started differently to my usual day with a glimpse of my dear friends so very far from me. Their hilarious late night antics left me in a good mood for the rest of the day, the bastards. After delaying my departure from the house by around an hour, I escaped the claws of Google Hangout and escaped off to the tube to make my way to London Bridge. Deciding I should add some funds to my Oyster Card, I found myself facing a long row of ticket machines, and a perhaps longer queue of people waiting to use... the manned ticket office. It seemed few people actually knew how to use the machines to top up. Faced with this daunting task, I tried the first machine, but alack! It only accepted coins. Onwards to next machine, which I suspected it accepted notes, based on the note slot and, more distinctly, the label stating "Accepts coins and notes". "Aha!" I thought. The machine was simple, just like the Brisbane Go Card machines; slightly annoying and not as good as the Octopus system in Hong Kong.
I figured that since I had two and a half hours before my bank appointment, I would take a decent stroll along the Thames from London Bridge. As such, I unsurprisingly disembarked the tube at London Bridge Station. More unsurprisingly was the bridge I now faced, for it had no towers and did not raise, for London Bridge is not actually the bridge you might think. It is Tower Bridge that is the iconic drawbridge that houses royal relics. Determined to stand at the midpoint of the Bridge, I made my way eastwards towards Tower Bridge, and along the way passed the HMS Belfast, which I checked into to get the "I'm on a Boat" badge. Along the way I enjoyed the mixture of old stone buildings and cobblestone paths with enormous structures of glass and steel. An architectural overload.
Finally, I arrived at Tower Bridge. The sun's rays beamed down onto the bridge drawing the diurnal breed of tourist out; the ones with bum bags and cameras which far outweigh their needs. I dodged and dashed around the docile denizens, drawing nearer to the drawbridge's apex. There I stood, feeling each bump as a vehicle travelled over the bridge's midpoint. After a few odd looks from passers-by, I continued to the other side of the bridge, where I was greeted with a "One photo please?" To which I happily obliged. After all the photo was not of me, but rather the gent who required someone to take his photo. Luckily for him, he found me and my better than average framing technique.
As with yesterday, my stomach called out to me, demanding to be fed. I found myself wandering along Fleet St, passing a number of old buildings, and perhaps even the original Barclays Branch but, alas, not the one I'd be visiting for my appointment. Eventually, I stopped at a little sandwich shop named "Krüger", whose logo was a U with Umlaut stylised as a smiley face. For a grand £2.85, I scored myself a chicken sandwich, some choc chip cookies and a "cherry-ade", and it didn't taste bad either. Onwards I marched, searching for a place to enjoy my over-half-the-minimum-hourly-wage meal and landed at St Paul's Cathedral. A perfect location to feed...
The green lawn spread out in front of me and the Cathedral's dome shone, illuminated by the sun's rays. This quickly changed as menacing grey clouds sailed towards me like the Spanish Armada, firing rain instead of cannonballs. Luckily, I had my umbrella with me and, being the lazy gent I am, balanced it on my shoulder as I ate. The rains quickly vanished and the radiant sun returned drying out all that was wet. My stomach decided that it no longer need as much sustenance as I provided, so decided to share some bread with the pigeons around me. Cracking open my Cherry-ade, I wandered onwards towards the bank for it was getting close to my scheduled appointment.
Arriving slightly early, I met with my personal banker and started the process to open a bank account. Slightly distracted by the banker's concerned glances behind me, I wondered what was going on. Apparently, a fire had started on the top floor of the building and, consequently, we had to evacuate the building. We headed outside into the rain, the Barclays staff huddled in the small shelter next door and thankfully I had brought my umbrella with me. In the distance, we could hear the fire engines' sirens wail and soon they arrived. All four. Within seconds, six or more fire fighters came out rushing upstairs. The remaining three fire engines drove off. British efficiency for you. Speaking of which, there was little actual fire to be put out, and only half an hour later I received the call to head back to the bank, as I had gotten quite bored waiting in the rain and decided to go for a wander around.
The appointment to open a bank account was more like an interview, with the banker asking me about my hobbies and future ambitions, about my insurance and qualifications, about why I decided to move to the UK. The gent was nice enough though, prompting me with little hints as to what he would note down on my profile. Thankfully, it was more like having a conversation rather than an interrogation. Finally, after all the fuss, I had my bank account set up, along with a savings account and my cash deposited. Mostly... still have a bit more to deposit... but I'll do that after I can access it.
Deciding that it was much too early to head home, I wandered off northward and found Covent Gardens. It wasn't until I was close did I hear the sound of live opera. Performed by a busker, surprisingly. Who sang "Nessun Dorma", one of my favourite arias that always sends a shiver down my spine. There I stood enjoying the mixture of opera and comedic street performance. (A video will be uploaded eventually.) It was only after that I had an inkling to find the Opera House, and coincidentally it was only a block away. My next way point was decided and onwards I plodded, facing the crowds of tourists and the cold drizzle.
The Royal Opera House was huge and though it was closed it still was impressive. I look forward to the day I can watch a show there but for now I will have to attend smaller productions, if any. Attempting to avoid the rain, I made my way towards some nearby shops and stumbled upon the second Muji I've seen, but this time I decided to wander in. It was not until I was well into the store did I feel that I had been there before. The feeling of déjà vu was extremely strong, forcing me to stop and make sure that this was not a dream. That I was actually here. That this was real. I fought the urge to follow through with what I knew would happen, but eventually I gave in to my predetermined path through the store, knowing which items I'd peruse and which price tags I'd take note of well before I even saw them. Perhaps subconsciously I knew where I'd be three years ago. Sorry.
After visiting Muji, I made my way to Banana Republic, but wasn't all that interested in their wares. So onwards I wandered, ending up once again as Trafalgar Square. Upon arrival, I decided that I'd wander on down towards Westminster and see Big Ben. The winds changed midway through my trip and the rains opened up, just as I passed "The Red Lion", just outside where Rupert Murdoch was being questioned. Amongst the camera crews and photographers I waited, for both the rain to pass, and to catch a glimpse of the chaos of journalism. The tip off was wrong, Murdoch took a different exit. The camerapeople bolted to the other exit, hoping their legs would carry them faster than Murdoch's Black Landrovers.
The moment was over so there was little of interest left to see. The rain had lightened too and so I continued towards Big Ben. When I arrived it was peak hour with people, cars and buses rushing about. The ambiance was lost, the scene wrong. I took a snap and decided I too would melt into the peak hour traffic headed towards the underground station. Yet I could not melt into it as there stood a mother with a pram, her friend and two other children, struggling to descend the wet steps carrying the young baby in pram. So I helped carry child and pram down the stairs, slowly and carefully so as to not drop the stroller nor slip and fall myself. Success. We landed safely at the bottom of the stairs and I continued on my way. Perhaps I left a tad too early as I noticed more steps along the path to the station. Hopefully they managed fine. Onward I travelled, drifting along the river of people, emptying out to the sea named home.
The sun sets too late for me to see you, Betelgeuse.
Edwin
2011-07-19
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