Taking a few days out to visit family back in dear old Blighty. Firstly to London, the city of my birth, to see my brother, recently returned from the far country and now proud father of a beautiful little girl. Uncle Hermit is looking forward to spoiling her rotten!
I went for an early walkabout in Central London (my countryman’s habit of waking at dawn is not particularly helpful in a city) and revisited some familiar scenes from my dissolute youth as a citybrat. I ended up in Trafalgar Square, and have to say the most imposing thing there are the loos; most impressive – immaculately clean, free, and with the only effective hot-air hand-dryer I’ve encountered, called ‘the Blade’. And so refreshing not to have to bury one’s issue afterwards. I wasn’t quite game to start taking pictures in the public conveniences themselves, but did take a shot of the square from a church whose shelter I sought during a short, sharp rainstorm:
It’s interesting how a long absence from familiar sights brings a fresh perspective; I must have walked past Nurse Cavell’s memorial a thousand times over the years, but only now have I ever actually read the inscription. In a age exemplified by illegal state violence and political corruption and worse, her quote is even more apposite than it was during the 14-18 war, with all its horrors:
Walking round parts of the canal system, and nostalgically recalling my own decade on the Cut, I found an old friend, still sporting the (by now rather battered) paint job I applied over 3 years ago – hail Beltane!
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