Skip to main content

Walking and walking and walking…. (London Dec 23rd Part 2)

 After we left Waterstone’s Bookshop on Piccadilly, we walked down Regent’s Street, thinking that we might go to Victoria Embankment Gardens. But Richard saw an art gallery and bang went half an hour. Realizing it was already 3 o’clock and the carol concert at St Paul’s was at 4, we walked to the nearest Underground Station. Unfortunately, there was no direct line to St. Paul’s from where we were and then, just as we had transferred at Oxford Circus to the right line, there was an “incident” on one of the Tube lines. Delays began and by the time we reached St. Paul’s, the line had closed for the concert. So all I managed was a very quick video of the bells ringing and the line up for the concert (that’s Richard beginning to say “there must be a thousand people in the line) as well as some obstructed views of the dome:









We weren’t sure what to do next. It was still only 4 o’clock so at first we thought we’d head over to Tate Britain, another gallery we had wanted to see. But when we went down into the Underground at St. Paul’s we discovered that the train delays meant the cars were jam packed. We couldn’t get on. So we decided to go back to the streets and, instead of going to Tate Britain, we would walk to Covent Garden which was closer. I misread the distance though—what we thought would only be 1.5 miles turned out to be over 2 miles. R was so tired once we arrived, he found a bench to sit on and sent me off to look at the lights, the crowds, peek into the stores. It was mobbed and getting more crowded by the minute so we actually didn’t stay








there very long, I admired all the decorations and the lights, took my photos and then we walked down to Leicester Square Underground and we headed back to the hotel. Seven miles since we left, our feet were throbbing but it had been such a fun day. 



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

January 2024 and blogging

  I haven't posted on my blog for a long time. Partly that was due to not knowing what to write about and partly it was wondering if I wanted to put myself "out there" anymore. And in what way. I subscribe to a few blogs on Substack, which is a subscription-based blog. You can pay to have your own blog, you can pay for someone else's blog, and that means you get to write and post and get comments back from a whole lot of people. You can comment on other people's blogs--if you pay--or else you can just read the blog and not pay. Of course you might miss some of the "pay only" content--much like modern news media has teaser stuff but to read the whole article, you have to pay for a subscription. The Substack blogs cover all kinds of topics and there are a few "professional" writers--meaning they're journalists and writers who have published and been paid larger bucks than the $5 a month they get per subscription on Substack--but I think most

It’s just another day

  Yesterday was the final day of my 8-day assignment in a 4th grade class; I’ve written something about that assignment in a previous post, “Revolt of the Guinea Pig,” It’s been a challenging 8 days which, as Dickens might have said, brought out the best in me and probably the worst in me as well. But yesterday morning I had that experience that every teacher dreads—shelter in place, also known as possible shooter situation. I had arrived at the school at 7:20 thinking how wonderful it was that our heat had broken a bit. The skies were overcast, we’d had rain the day before, there was a cool breeze. As I walked to my classroom (photos below of what the buildings look like), I waved to the students already gathered on the other side of the gate, who were waiting to rush in, some to the cafeteria for their breakfast, some to the playground to run and hopefully get some of that energy out before the bell rang at 7:55. I unlocked the outside door to our building, walked down the corridor t

And now for something a little different from the substitute teaching lens

  I subbed for my daughter yesterday. I wasn’t sure how I’d cope as I am still somewhat jet lagged but she has a very well behaved fifth grade class: they’re respectful, good humored (most of the time) and willing to learn (most of the time). She warned me the night before that there had been some “issues” this week—kids fighting on the playground, some backtalk in class from a boy who’s normally a very hard worker. With that in mind, I started off my day in the classroom addressing this up front. “I hear it’s been a tough week,” I said and then waited for a response. Some shifting in the chair, some rolling of the eyes, a couple of “Yeah, it really has” emanated from the kiddos. I then sat on the corner of my desk and talked about how I remembered being their age, the emotions, how things seem so very important, so very “raw” in the moment. I shared with them how my own teachers reacted to misbehaviors, after-school detention (Wow, Mrs A, AFTER school? They could DO that?) But then I