Going to London was a big deal when I was a kid. I grew up in Cornwall and with a mother like mine, who even now in her sixties loves the noise, the dirt and the constant movement of London, my annual childhood trips are surprisingly pretty gems in my childhood memories. Of course, my mum has her quiet, pretty garden on a hill over looking the Penryn river and her daily beach walks to return to, whereas I now find myself in a self-imposed exile on the outer edge of the London commuter belt.
Getting the Great Western from Truro, over the Tamar bridge and up through Devon and the counties beyond as a kid, we’d start packing up our pencils and juice cartons at Reading. Yep, Reading. We’d get off at Paddington and in my mind, Reading was the stop before London – I had no idea there was more than just railway between the two.
Many years later and I find myself just a trifling fifty minutes away from the city. Coming in on the train is so trivial that on a day like today, I’m meeting a friend for lunch before heading home for the school run. Walking along the Southbank, I decided to pop into the Tate Modern to use the facilities and so here I am now, sat in the Turbine Hall under the vast, high skylights. And it occurs to me, now that London has become a familiar friend, it’s not all that dissimilar to Cornwall.
Before you throw your pasty at me in outrage, listen and I’ll explain.
Public toilets
The view from the public toilets at Swanpool Beach in Falmouth:
Compare this with the view from outside the Tate Modern.
See? Water, plants (well, there are plants, you just can’t see them in this shot). Not that different. Really.
Open Top Buses
Cornwall has plenty of them – my Mum rode one around the beaches in Falmouth the other day in between doing a bit of shopping in town and having a coffee in Trago’s new coffee shop. I snapped a picture of this one just up the road from St Paul’s only today.
Full of tourists, snapping pictures of the sights along with the odd curious local who wants to see the familiar stuff from a different angle. You still get wet if you haven’t brought a cagoule.
Beaches
I found this one along the Southbank. Sand, water and even a few ice cream and pizza sellers along the way (but no pasties, we’re not talking about the pasties). And, someone has even put a church nearby, how quaint.
Boat trips
I’d spent many a Saturday afternoon riding the St Mawes ferry across the Carrick Roads for an ice cream and a nose around the castle. This boat is heading downriver towards the Tower – where you can do pretty much the same.
Pasties
Forgive me but I’m not prepared to talk about the pasties in London.
Tourists with very little on
Waiting for my friend outside the very stylish To A Tea on Farringdon Road, mingling with the lunchtime suits was a hairy backed man in neon surf shorts and very little else. Nothing wrong with that per se, he rocked the look but I couldn’t help wondering where he was headed.
Tea Shops
To A Tea serves the most excellent lunches and rather wonderful teas. No sign of a pot of Rodda’s but with the salads and Earl Grey they were serving up, I’d forgive them anything (the cake was good too).
Oxo
Londoner’s built a tower to celebrate a staple ingredient in many homemade pasties.
But I’m still not going to talk about the pasties in London.
