The Shard and other Adventures

Today I'm spoiling you once again, dear reader, for I have for you another visual delight, if you like aerial shots, and no, I didn't attach Mr Him to a drone. That's on my Christmas list.  He does sneak in a rear shot though,  and I can assure you,  as a side note,  that that is not a visual delight. You might want to skip that pic.

On Saturday we  abandoned house (knowing anything could happen, but it didn't) and went to London with friends.  We all live within an hour of the city but had a day as tourists.  Our first stop was The Shard.  This is now the tallest building in the European Union with its 73 floors.  At the top viewing gallery there is a bar which we availed ourselves of with cups of hot cider.  This  viewing gallery is  open to the elements  ( air ) so we experienced an autumnal buffeting, which Mr Him found pleasant. 

Views from The Shard 

yes, they are trains. 

A bit of autumn colour on the trees

London Bride station, with trains. 

Meandering Thames and Tower Bridge

HMS Belfast

Random people silhouetted

Having looked down on the Thames and environs we descended to the underground to go beneath it heading to the Docklands.  

Here we mounted the cable car and took a ride across the Thames. 

Views from Emirates Airline Cable Car 

Next we took the Docklands light railway to travel along the Thames to head for food, and drink. 

First though a drink or two in Wetherspoons near Tower of London 

and then a meal in Bodeans where we ate Kansas City style pulled pork and burnt ends not to mention Key lime pie. 

Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale, the men thought was awesome.

The only place in the UK I;ve found Key Lime Pie.

Next stop was Camden Town where we experienced being elderly in Cyberdog  (A shop of luminous clubbing gear and where Mr Him tends to buy his wardrobe.)

From here we needed further beverages to recover from the realisation we're elderly.  Mr Him is still in denial as he bought a t shirt in Cyberdog. 

a

Coincidental Days Out

Dear reader,  I apologise for my absence.  The day to day has overwhelmed our lives recently, but two weeks ago Mr Him and I did  find time to visit the more westerly of the British Isles.  This occurred on a Friday.  

You now are no doubt imagining us on a jaunt in a car for two  pedaling our way down the motorway. Stop.  It did not happen like that. Not at all.  For one thing we didn't go together.  For another we went to entirely different countries and for a third Mr Him is not up to pedaling at the moment in his new modelling boots.  

That Friday, which is now know as West Country Friday saw Mr Him drive to Wales where he bought us Welsh cakes and returned home with them to the south east of England.  I meanwhile caught a train to Bournemouth where I bought clotted cream to accompany the Welsh cakes and returned home.  

Why did we do this?  In both cases our work sent us to these tropical locations and coincidentally the day coincided.  This is not the only Coincidental Day we've had this month. 

In Sussex there are two areas of sand dune beaches, as far as I know.  Littlehampton and Camber. They are about 3 hours drive apart and we live in the middle. Last Sunday our oldest, the Young Online shopping Genius took it upon herself and her boyfriend the Automotive Engineer to visit Camber with her collie. In the meantime Mr Him took it upon himself and me to visit Littlehampton with his mum. 

Both the collie and the mum had grand days out as can be seen by the pictures. 

Littlehampton

The Harbour

Ooh more West Country ice cream, the west country is known for its creamy cream

seaside plants looking tired now its Autumn

New harbour wall which is a flood defence. See the road on the right and sea on the sea

Lighthoues. This reminded me of Hilton Head Island a little

short pier as piers go

I know you want to see Mr Him and his mum.  Here you are. 

Camber

There is just one picture of Camber but it is stunning. 

Luna at Camber

Mr Him Knew his Day Would Come

Dear reader, last weekend Mr Him  had another adventure in apparel. Not unusual, I know, but this time his star is risen. Finally he is a voice face head in the fashion industry.  How did this happen?

We had gone to the Autumn country show at Ardingly  (you know how much we enjoy these shows having told you about the Spring and summer shows in previous blogs. ) I  will add that on this occasion  I did not buy a loincloth scarf combo however tempted Mr Him was. I can assure you that if I had his fashion star would not have risen and I've told him as much. 

As we got through the gate of the showground  it happened. A stirring in Mr him. Something primal and deep in his ancestral routes (note to self to ask his dad about this). No doubt in years to come I will remember this moment, for it was the moment that Mr Him embarked on his modelling career. As an aside he also asked me to call him 'Crocodile Him Dundee' and added 'dag' to his vocabulary but we won't dwell on that. 

Well, Mr Crocodile Him Dundee at that moment discovered the Barmah, the Austrailian folding hat.  He plucked hats off a nearby stand, he stroked, he debated kangaroo or cowhide, he tilted and tipped. He chose. Then he said,  'Hey Dag, got one for my Sheila,' and with that  I was crowned Mutton Mick.  The stall holder then saw a certain panache in Mr Crocodile Him Dundee. A panash that Mr Him had been telling me for years was there but I couldnt see it for love nor money. The stall holder however saw 'The Panache'. Mr Him was asked to model the hat around the show. This was his moment.  Mr Him had awaited his whole life, to be recognised as the style icon that he knew he was and for someone other than him to see 'The Panache.'

He was asked if would go on a walkabout and wear the hat around the bush show, try it, feel it, live it, become one with it. Now I've told Mr Him to go on a darn walkabout in the wilderness many a weekend but does he? No! I've clearly made a mistake all these years. I made the mistake of not telling him he was modelling. Next Saturday I shall tell him to go modelling over the heath. That should keep him busy for a few hours. I digress though. 

Mr Crocodile Him Dundee went amodelling and took me with him.

He modelled  the hats to take a selfie.

oops,

He modelled them to take a selfie

He modelled  them for our personal photoshoots

He modelled  them to chickens,  lots of chickens. 

He modelled  them to goats. 

He modelled them to donkeys

Mr Crocodile Him Dundee's modeling was so successful that at the end of the day he was given a free smoker bag.  

That, dear reader,  is not the end of his modelling career, for two days later his mobile phone rang.  It was the Barmah hat seller. Mr Him was being asked to  model Australian boots next and do five shows a year.

Mr Him knew his day would come.  

A hangover called Anna

Good day, dear reader.  As I write this it's pouring with rain and we're expecting storms this week.  We have, though, enjoyed some excellent weather, better than July and August in my opinion. 

To capture the spirit, literally,  of our late summer Mr Him and I have had a bit of adventuring.  The weekend before last we journeyed in our imaginations to the Caribbean.  This was helped by being surrounded by rum, coconut and fruit juices.  In fact the more  familiar I became with rum that afternoon the closer I got to the Caribbean. 

We had taken ourselves on a date-afternoon.  Yes,  date nights are beyond us.  Far better to have the hangover at 9 pm, have a cup of cocoa, go to bed and sleep through the worst of it, to awaken refreshed the next morning. 

This particular date-afternoon saw us Mr Him advising the mixologist at a restaurant how to make a cocktail.  Not any old cocktail. Mr Him s special cocktail. The mixologist scurried away only to appear at our side 10 minutes later with a glass which he thrust at Mr Him, 'try that, I've improved it.' Mr Him was quite speechless. Improved it! The mixologist waiter then gave me the concoction with an 'its on the house.' 

Mr Him remained speechless. What luck was this!  Mr Him speechless, a waiter waiting to take our order and  happy hour.  What was to be done ordered?  Two pina coladas for me of course!  Mr Him was still busy trying to pick up his wits but luckily mine were present and enough for two.  I immediately designated him driver, ordered him an alcohol free ginger beer and my double colada. 

Amongst remnants of shipping containers we ate chicken with coconut off tin plates.  Mr Him  sampled rums by dropping drips from a straw onto his tongue whilst I had the benefit of pouring a measure from a bottle for myself.  

I went to bed early that night and slept through any hangover Mr Him may have had.  I think he called it Anna.

Wobblies, Dinner, and New Found Stations

Dear reader,  there has not been much joyful to tell you about recently.  However on Monday I did go to a dinner in London.  This was enjoyable, although a note to self in future would be to say 'food preference, no veal'.  A dinner in London is not that unusual but what was remarkable was that this one threw ten of us into a private room, as representatives of corporate, NGO, banks and government, to thrash things out and put the world to rights. Listening to the news today you can gather we didn't get very far, but what can you do between starter and main course, really. 

What was more remarkable about the evening is that I got home.  The dinner was in the East End  of London.  I tapped my app to see my home route choices.   I was expecting options of London bridge or Victoria, but no, my phone threw it's own wobbly!  It churned out Shoreditch Highstreet Station then on to New Cross Gate and then East Croydon from which I was to phone home!  I didn't even know there was a Shoreditch highstreet station. 

Well, as one does, I do, I decided to explore these wobbled options. In retrospect 10 pm might not have been the best time but I needed to grab the moment whilst it was there. 

I used my maps app and found the unbeknown station. It has to be said that there are a lot of new stations plus new lines and routes through and around London. This is the London Overground network. 

A train came and carried me to New cross gate where I waited and waited. ..and waited.  I waited 25 minutes.  It was 22.45 before I got a train to East Croydon where I'd pick up my next connection.  Remarkably I was in bed 45 minutes later. The connection at East Croydon was on time and a fast train.  I did phone home and Mr Him met me at the station and  drove me to slumber. 

The journey took a total door to door one and a half hours.  If I had traversed London by underground to Victoria and trained from there it wouldn't have been quicker.  I am satisfied my phone gave me an unusual but timely route. 

The next day I entertained tormented, surprised my friend Natalie with a my rendition of 'Underground Overground wobbly are we...' She hasn't travelled with me since.

Talking of wobblies the men in the office wobbled again this week with a detour from blue, and mid-week too.