Day 6: Marathon Man and Woman

Yet again we woke early to the bloodcurdling screeches of our neighbourhood pterodactyl, who is such a reliable pre-dawn alarm clock.

At a still early but more civilised hour, we caught the train to Bank, and then switched to light rail along the Docklands route, expecting to get off at Westferry so we could visit the Maritime Museum of London. We were alarmed that every man and his dog seemed to have the same idea, as the train was packed. When it pulled into Westferry station we waited expectantly for the doors to open. We waited a bit more but then, to our dismay, we took off again to the next station - Canary Wharf. It was at this point that another passenger helpfully explained that one has to push a button to open the doors on light rail. Thanks for that, guv.

Fortunately we knew the ropes at the next station and elbowed our way out. There were cops and security goons everywhere and roads cordoned off and we realised that this was part of the London Marathon route.  But we managed to find the Dockland museum and it was pretty damn good. Its focus is the Thames from pre-history to World War 2 and an entire gallery is devoted to the Slave Trade.  London was the world's fourth largest slave port.  And we learned that some abolitionists weren't opposed to slavery on moral/humanitarian grounds - it was often because the trade was thought to be impeding early capitalism. Who knew?   


When we came out of the Museum three hours later, we could hear a huge amount of cheering and yelling in distance and realised that the London marathon was happening under our very noses.  And that was why our train had been packed to the gills - they were all spectators. Despite my best efforts to keep him under control, Geoff got caught up in all the excitement and yelled and screamed and cheered with the best of them. I had to sedate him with some horse tranquiliser when he started bellowing 'Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi Oi Oi' and warbling 'Hey True Blue'.  No, really. ;-) 

Fortunately all this marathon excitement meant we had had the museum largely to ourselves. Perfect!

When Geoff came to his senses we caught the light rail to Cutty Sark (still on the river) where we could have visited the Greenwich Observatory if we'd wished. But I learned all I'll ever want to know about meridians of latitude and longitude in Year 6, so instead we caught the River Bus (which is  like a Sydney River Cat) to Tower Bridge, in the expectation of having a leisurely stroll by the Tower of London, the London Roman Wall remnants and a tiny old church called All Hallows-by-the-Tower.  The scenery along the river was actually a bit ordinary - mainly blocks of newly-built flats in places that used to be warehouses and wharves and piers when London was a bustling port city. But we did get to pat a Whippet on board.  At Tower Bridge we disembarked and strolled up to street  level and suddenly there were teeming millions of people in the forecourt beside the tower.

Yet again, we were in the midst of the London Marathon!  But we did manage to get this pic of the Tower of London...











           


The fugly Shard

Alarmed  by the teeming hordes, we backtracked to the river and moseyed along a walkway with several thousand others who also wanted to avoid the madding crowds.

En route, Geoff took this pic of my least favourite London building - a hideous monument to unchecked capitalism - the pointy, shiny, tizzy, tasteless Shard. Blecch!                                                

Those in front of us...
 

The walkway ended after about 500 metres and we hoped we would be shot of the crowds when we turned left into Lower Thames Street.  But nup. Once round the corner there was nothing for it but to shuffle along a few metres, stop, shuffle another metre, stop, etc all the way to London Bridge.        



Those behind us


 

A few brave (or perhaps unhinged) souls were attempting to walk in the opposite direction. Those with baby strollers that they could use as battering rams were most successful.  We pressed on.  There was no going back.

Eventually we got to London Bridge where the crowds

diminished and we sank to our knees to give thanks.  And also retrieve 50p that someone had lost.

 

Here's Geoff, newly liberated from Hell, with Tower Bridge behind him. I'm done. Good night, grasshoppers! 

 

 

 (Thinks..) "What a day to give up glue-sniffing!"

Geoff now at the helm.  We didn't actually plan our London visit around the marathon, although today's events might suggest otherwise. When we first saw it I started looking for the African runners, only to realise that not only had they all finished several hours ago, but most were already on their way to Heathrow for the 4.15 to Nairobi via Addis Ababa.   

 

Once we found London Bridge we figured we could cross to the south shore of the Thames and hopefully leave the marathon behind us.  And it proved to be so.  We could see the Southwark cathedral in the distance, and used it as a landmark.  Once across the bridge, we found that we could indeed make a visit.  On the way in, we found this interesting sidelight....

 

 

... that commemorates a native American who died in England.  The inscription records that the memorial statue was jointly unveiled by Phil the Greek and tribal elder Bruce Two Dogs Bozsum, which I thought was well worth a mention.  Southwark cathedral is worth a visit.  Nowhere near as grand as, say, Westminster Abbey, but hey, a lot more impressive than St Darren's Rooty Hill.  And we somehow managed to acquire our own personal guide, who gave us an insider's tour.  Not sure how; just got lucky I guess.  Much of the cathedral dates from the 19th century, although there are parts that are circa 13th and 16th centuries.

 

Speaking of blind luck, we found that the walk from the cathedral to the London Bridge tube station just happened to pass right by the George Inn (see two days ago).  Oh, alright, not right past, but close enough.  So we did the only fair thing and dropped in for a refreshment to tide us over for the long trip home (6 stations on the Northern line to be exact).  A good time was had there by all, and a fine way to end a busy Sunday in London.