Thames – slightly weird

26th April 202122nd April 2021

A Chapter of Accidents or A Comedy of Errors

Wednesday, 22 April, 2021

In Turin I had a recurring theme of foiled plans. In my last blog I talked about another foiled plan. In the history of foiled plans (mine at least) today was the mother of foiled plans – see the title.

There was perhaps a precursor in the morning. After sewing up my very first no-mistakes postman’s glove, I realised I’d left no hole for the thumb. At first I dug down into my thread kit for a seam ripper, confident I could take out the stiches and sew things up properly. Wrong. I’d used the same wool to sew it up, and I’d used a nice tight stitch so it wouldn’t unravel. Try as I might, it was impossible to see where the stitches were among the knitted seams. Rather than keep trying, I stopped, left it as is, and knew I had to knit a third glove to replace it. Gloom, but it’s only a glove, right?

As the morning went on and Krish talked about his plans to get to Guys for his psoriasis treatment, I let him know that I thought I’d come too unless I’d slow him down too much. He seemed really pleased and said we’d leave earlier and take the bus. I got ready.

The real Chapter of Accidents begins.

Paragraph 1 – when checking for the next bus, my app let me know that ‘There are no buses expected in the next thirty minutes.’ Right. It’s OK really, we’d just walk to the bus we’d need to change to. As we went to the landing to get outdoor shoes and clothes, the app cheerfully told me the bus that wasn’t expected was now due. Too late.

Paragraph 2 – As we crossed the intersection for the closest bus, ours – the 254 – drove up and left before we could reach it. We dug our heels in and waited. Bus after bus came, but not the 254. Krish said that it might be tight once we reached our second bus. I told him, when we get there, you rush ahead, don’t wait for me. I’ll let you know when I arrive at London Bridge. And we waited some more. Time was ticking.

Paragraph 3 – After a little bit of waffling, we decided that Krish should go get the train and leave me at the bus stop. I’d never be able to keep up with him. It was my decision to either return home or continue with my plan. I decided to continue after hearing from Krish he was on the train. My bus came. There was a terrible traffic jam and we moved slowly down to our destination, my next bus (this would be a two-bus journey) when the driver announced a destination change. We would be stopping in Whitechapel. Not so bad, I thought, but we didn’t stop in Whitechapel. We stopped before that at a stop that would bring my bus count to three. And I waited there again.

Paragraph 4 – Now there were no buses coming, not for a while. People were fidgeting. At least I had my bus pass and the extra buses wouldn’t cost me anything, but it was getting later. The 106 arrived and I jumped on, as quickly as a person with a crutch can jump on. It would take me to a stop by London Hospital and from there I could walk around to the main road for another bus to take me to my last bus. Easy, you say? So did I. On the main road I was met with a Bus Stop Closed notice. I looked for a temporary stop but there was none. Already hurting, I walked determinedly for another several minutes, past Ambala and on to the next bus stop. The journey that had just taken me close to ninety minutes usually takes about twenty minutes .

A 'fun' sight as I waited for my second bus — A ‘fun’ sight as I waited for my second bus

The 106 stops at the London Hospital main entrance

The rest was easy. The bus stopped at the exact place to pick up my final bus. The reward for my pain and waiting came as we passed the Tower of London and across the Thames on Tower Bridge with the sight of City Hall and the Shard cheering me on.

The bus dropped me in a perfect location for my first plan of looking at how the George Inn was doing now it had some outdoor boozing. Encumbered by my backpack, my mask, my glasses, my crutch, the photos would be unlikely to do it justice but I’d made it.

The George Inn is the only surviving galleried London coaching inn. So there’s a long balcony along the stretch of the low building of connected bars. It was originally called George and the Dragon and was rebuilt in 1677 after a serious fire in 1676 that destroyed most of medieval Southwark. Its also featured in Dickens Little Dorrit and Our Mutual Friend. Dickens himself visited the site when it was a coffee house.

Different views from inside the George Inn Yard

Walking along Borough High Street, I felt a little dismayed at how shabby and broken down things were. This is a wonderful area and I’m not sure if some of the construction will be to spruce things up a bit. I do hope so. Across Southwark Road at Brindisa, an expensive tapas bar, people didn’t seem to mind that they were eating their £4 tomato bread and £17 lamb chops under the scaffolding and construction dust.

Enjoying their £4 tomato bread — Enjoying their £4 Brindisa tomato bread under the construction scaffold

I really like Park Street. It runs alongside the south end of Borough Market. I stopped liking the market when the crowds got too heavy, but on Park Street there was the colourful Market Porter pub, the great Monmouth Coffee Company, and Konditor cake shop. Then off of Park Street is Stoney Street and the wonderful Borough Market branch of Neal’s Yard Dairy.

There were outdoor Europe-style (tented) patios bustling with people in all the eating places. Monmouth Coffee Company, where there are normally long queues of people and packed tables was deserted. I knew they didn’t serve decaffeinated coffee but I also found out that they don’t serve anything but coffee so that was out. Sadly, too, Konditor had closed its doors, with a very sad note in the window.

Poor Konditor — Poor Konditur. They now have only two branches

On Park Street looking over to Stoney Street

Not the dining experience I really want - Park Street — Not the dining experience I really want – Park Street

Looking west along Park Street – the road ahead leads to the Golden Hind, the Clink, The Globe and the Tate Modern

On Stoney Street, I stopped at Neal’s Yard. Only half of the store is open now, and a Wait Here notice greeted me. A man was buying a lot of cheese, but I knew I had only my very squashable backpack so, when it was my turn, I chose carefully: a small pack of cheese curds – I’ll try my hard at some poutine! – a small clotted cream to make some scones and fruit, and a jar of rather lovely looking marinated (with garlic and thyme) soft raw cheese.

Maybe my chapter was getting brighter.

The empty shelves in the larger part of Neal's Yard Dairy — The empty shelves in the larger part of Neal’s Yard Dairy

I was quite shocked to see the market very quiet. I’ve become very used to it being so crowded and noisy that I’ve avoided it more and more. It was quite empty, other than a ‘hot food’ area that I kept away from. It was very odd to see it this way, although the big plus was that I could take photos with few obstacles. I looked at the fruits and vegetables, the cheeses, sausages, breads, and herbs, and the alcohol kiosks, the giant pan of paella cooking, the fish stands…it’s like a different market, but some things are still familiar.

All I bought was some ‘milk bread’ – I can’t carry a bag anymore because of my crutch. My backpack was full.

Paragraph 5 – I feel so encumbered by everything I have to remember and carry around when I go out – first the Pandemic and then the Knee Contingency. Since I can’t carry my credit cards in my little bag, so they go with my travel card into a pocket in my backpack. However, after so many changes of buses and dealing with increasing pain from the chopping, changing, and extra walking on my journey, I’d become frustrated and put the travel pass in my pocket. Except now it wasn’t there.

I had a flash of hope, that I’d tucked it away after I’d arrived by bus, but every place I looked at while juggling my crutch and mask and phone and camera and the food I’d just purchased was pass-less. It was gone. I walked around, hoping to see it laying somewhere. I went into Neal’s Yard Dairy asking if they had it – no. I decided to do one last walk into the market and on the ground I saw the little granola bar that had been in my pocket with the pass. It struck me someone had left the bar and pocketed the pass. Done!

Time to head to the hospital to find a toilet and meet Krish. My knee hurt quite a lot so I rested outside a rather magnificent building. I wrestled with my phone to take a photo or two but gave up and limped over to Guys.

Funny doughnut names on Borough High Street. I was tempted by the Bruno Mars

John Keats - educational! — John Keats – educational! He was apprenticed to a surgeon in 1811. He broke off the apprenticeship in 1814 and went to London, where he worked as a dresser, or junior house surgeon, at Guy’s and St. Thomas’ hospitals. His literary interests had crystallized by this time, and after 1817 he devoted himself entirely to poetry. He died at 25 – what a life! And I didn’t know about Henry Stephens who was an English doctor, surgeon, chemist, writer, poet, inventor and entrepreneur. At medical school in London he was a friend of, and shared rooms with, poet John Keats, later wrote treatises on hernia and cholera, and conducted experiments to improve writing fluids and wood stains. (Long caption!)

I sat in the Bermondsey Wing café drinking a hot chocolate and feeling a little sorry for myself. I tried to order a new pass online, but the payment option wouldn’t work so I’ll call that a half paragraph in my Chapter.

Paragraph 6 – This would be five paragraphs if I were to tell you everything, but you may be getting tired and I know I am. We grabbed the 343 to head to Whitechapel where Krish would buy some food and I would wait until we could both get the 254 home. Foiled again. Part way along the route, the bus stopped – ‘trouble at Aldgate’ – and we had to walk to the next bus, more walking on my knee (I should give my knee a name, it figures so large in stories these days). A second bus, the 205, over to where Krish would get out and I would wait. When Krish came back with his bags of food our 254 had dropped from 8 minutes to being 28 minutes away. We jumped on the next bus that would take us to the road for the fourth bus heading home…and sailed past where we needed to be, and more walking on my unnamed knee. The fourth bus was annoyingly the 254, having definitely not taken 28 minutes. It crept along – it was rush hour. And the very last leg saw me taking a fifth bus to our door with Krish going ahead on the bus we had been on – he’s more able to walk. I’d paid two fares, since one trip fare is for a maximum of an hour.

So, if you’ve not been adding up, that’s a total of nine buses – close to triple the time it usually takes for the round trip – and a lost travel pass costing me £12. Krish has decided that from now on, he’s going to the hospital alone. Who can blame him? And the anonymous knee feels guiltily pleased.

15th April 202116th April 2021

Guys Hospital – psoriasis adventures

Wednesday, 14 April, 2021

It’s been quite a year for Krish. During his eye ‘adventures,’ which I now realise I haven’t really talked about much, he developed plaque psoriasis.

No one is quite sure what cases psoriasis. Stress is a trigger, but so too is steroid use (from his eye treatment) which also means his vitamin D level was compromised. Darker skinned people naturally have lower vitamin D because of their skin pigmentation. The darker your skin the more protection you have from the sun’s UV radiation, and that protection limits your ability to absorb VitD. Both stress and low VitD contribute to suppressing the immune system. Psoriasis is an immune-driven, hyperactive response.

It started with a small patch and within weeks, it covered his scalp his trunk and legs. Lots of home skin slatherings from several ointments and lotions later, he was referred to Guys Dermatology Centre for some serious treatment. At first he saw a consultant, and the 13th he started in the clinic. I decided to go with him for this appointment. We made plans to go for what looked like a 90-minute session and then do a bit of exploring.

It didn’t quite go that way! More foiled plans…

Guys is about 5 miles away — Guys is about five miles away. We can see the Shard from our window

A bit busier than last time at Liverpool Street Station

More distancing at Liverpool Street Station

There'll be a new Eataly here! — There’ll be a new Eataly here! Outside Liverpool Street Station

Maybe it’s the pandemic and lack of chaos, but I kept noticing things on Bishopsgate that I’ve not seen before. I must have been there hundreds of times, so how could I have overlooked so much?

Fire Brigade Station – above the Tesco store on Bishopsgate

Great Eastern Railway Hotel, now the Andaz

So much to see hear but the appointment time was getting closer, so we got the bus over to London Bridge Station, a stone’s throw from Guy’s Hospital.

Pandemic or not, I’m always excited to see the river. In my travels I’ve realised that I need to live in (or at the edge, at least) of a city but that city must be on a river, by the ocean, or a lake. A coastal city would be ideal for me were I able to afford to live there. Today, circumstances didn’t allow me to gaze at the Thames for too long, but I loved knowing I was there.

Instead, we headed straight for the Dermatology Clinic at Guy’s. First we had to head towards the new London Bridge station entrance, right at the Shard, and down an escalator to St Thomas Street and the beginning of Great Maze Pond – what a great street name!

Bike stand at the station. No rival to Amsterdam bike racks, but this stand would normally be packed with bikes

Looking back at the bus station, London Bridge — Looking back at the London Bridge bus station, where our bus arrived

Ghost town at London Bridge station — It really was a ghost town at the usually all-day busy newly renovated London Bridge station. I need time to explore it all – this is just a small section

The Shard — Outside the station, looking up at the Shard – I can’t see the bottom or the very top

Down to St Thomas Street and straight ahead is Great Maze Pond

The plaque reads ‘The “Maze” Pond, which used to be situated at the southern end of the Guy’s site, was fed by a tributary of the River Thames, now known as ‘Guy’s Creek’. Archaeological excavation of the site has unearthed an early Romano-British boat and Roman timbers edging the creek.
In the Middle Ages farmers from Kent and Surrey used to drive their cattle up to London for sale at Smithfield Market. The fields around the Maze Pond were a focal point where the cattle were grazed and watered.
“Mr Guy’s Hospital for Incurables” was built on this site in 1725. John Rocque’s 1746 Map of London shows the pond still in existence. The local street-names then included “Maze Pond”, ” Little Maze Pond” and “The Maze pond”, which subsequently became Great Maze Pond – the name it still has today.’

The hospital itself has an interesting history as does the Dermatology Centre. The hospital was founded in 1721 by philanthropist Thomas Guy, who had made a fortune as a printer of Bibles and then speculated his money in the South Sea Bubble. At first the hospital was established to treat “incurables” discharged from St Thomas’ Hospital.

The dermatology department is the largest clinical dermatology department in the UK. John Milton founded St John’s Hospital for Diseases of the Skin in 1863. He was a surgeon who suffered from hand eczema so severe it ended his career. His personal experience with skin disease triggered his interest in dermatology. St John’s Hospital for Diseases of the Skin moved to St Thomas’ Hospital in the mid-1980s. Soon after, it was formally renamed St John’s Institute of Dermatology.

At the Derm Centre — Standing on Great Maze Pond with the Shard straight ahead and the entrance to the hospital on my right

Immediate skyline from Guys - the Shard pointing to the sky — Immediate skyline from Guys – the Shard pointing to the sky

There’s not a lot of fuss at Guy’s Hospital compared to my visit to Barts. There are a few banks of hand cleaners and a table with a few people in attendance. No one checked if I had an appointment and no one offered me a new mask, asked me symptoms questions or took my temperature. This surprised me. We went through this casual ‘barrier’ and on to Bermondsey Wing where the Dermatology Centre is.

Again, there’s a simple table and a guard but she doesn’t ask us anything, so Krish checks in at the desk, and we sit down in the atrium waiting area and start looking for Krish’s name to appear on the board.

The quiet waiting area at the Dermatology Clinic

Inside the atrium of the waiting area, and a view of the Shard summit — Inside the atrium from my seat, there’s a lovely view of the top of the Shard

And wait we did. Eventually a nurse came looking for him – his name had never appeared. Off he went, while I waited. After a bit the messages started to arrive

-I’m sitting waiting now
-Totally covered
-Sticky
-Head to toe
-Wrapped head

I thought about this for a minute then I said

-Take a selfie

It occurred to me that social media phobic Krish may not know how to take a selfie, but he did. I’ll spare his dignity and your eyes by not posting those photos here but his treatment will be head to toe emollient, one hour wait, applied pure coal tar (which he described and sounded like a hot wax treatment complete with popsicle sticks), one hour wait, then a shower, then steroid ointment before leaving. He’ll be going back for this three times a week for three weeks (minimum). So, if you get severe psoriasis, expect some or all of the same.

His appointment is five hours and the plan to walk about afterwards is vanishing. Walking painfully with a crutch means I really won’t attempt it alone, but I’m OK. Instead I go for a very short look outside and to try to find a snack. I didn’t find one out there but I did take a look for as long as my legs would carry me. And there’s a lot including a reference to a buried Roman boat under the Cancer Care Centre, and some fantastic ironwork opposite the main entrance. Otherwise, it’s a bland council estate area with nothing remarkable, at first glance anyway. Continue reading “Guys Hospital – psoriasis adventures”

20th September 2020

Canary Wharf – our Toronto fix

Saturday, 5th September, 2020

In ‘normal’ times every now and again we would go to Canary Wharf to get our Toronto fix. It has that Toronto look and no wonder. Its earliest buildings were built by the Canadian company Olympia & York. There are even street names and apartment and shopping complex with Canadian influences. Everything is very modern and there’s even an underground shopping concourse. But we haven’t been for a very long time.

We had an idea that the weekends would be very quiet in the area and we’d be able to walk around and look at the river. And so we jumped on the 277 bus that takes us from Hackney Town Hall all the way to Canary Wharf DLR station.

Victoria Park Village from the bus. A more detailed look is on my Must Walk list

On the way, we pass through Victoria Park Village, Victoria Park itself, and Mile End. Victoria Park was my closest childhood park. I loved the playground there and also the pond. My grandfather would take me fishing at that pond. We’d buy maggots and mealworms in a little shop along the Roman Road and off we’d go. On the way down to the docks (where Canary Wharf is built) we pass by my old childhood home of (the now demolished) Lessada Street, just off Roman Road, and then down under the railway bridge where where the First Flying Bomb fell on London on 13 June 1944. It’s also where I saw a strange and scary site when I was about three years old.

I was walking with my dad – I loved those walks – and saw a fire under the bridge. There was a man and a motorcycle lying there in the hollow and they were alight. I asked my dad about it and he told me it was a guy (for Guy Fawkes Day) and hurried me on. When I was 14, I told my mum what I remembered and that I was sure it was a motorcycle fatality. She looked a little white and then confirmed it. She told me that my dad had hoped I would forget and never to tell me. He had been very shaken. She then asked me never to tell him that I knew. I kept my promise.

I didn’t take photos after Victoria Park. Photos from the bus are never very satisfying but it does mean there’s a gap.

Further down the road, we ride along Burdett Road. Here I have memories of visiting my great aunts – my mum’s mum’s sisters – in their tall, grand houses, or so they seemed in those days. And I remember the little Jewish grocer where they had barrels of olives, herring, pickled cucumbers – with a name something like Vlit Vlosh…who knows. And on down to Poplar, past the canal, and you see the river bank.

Except today there were dozens of people. At our stop, we noticed the same. Lots of people. We’d be wrong in our guess that it would be dead down there. They obviously all had the same idea that we had, to be somewhere ‘quiet.’ Oh well, nothing to do but carry on and see whatever we could.

The main financial district of London is in The City, the original square mile. Canary Wharf is the secondary business district. It’s on the Isle of Dogs and is named after one of the quays of this dockland area, No. 32 berth, where fruit was unloaded from the Canary Islands. And that’s why it’s called the Isle of Dogs. The Canary islands gets its name from the large dogs found there by the Spanish (Canarias from Canine). Canary Wharf is just one piece of the Docklands area and it has many tall buildings, including what was once the tallest (now third tallest) in the UK, One Canada Square, with its iconic pointed roof. Docklands was once just that, a large area of docks on the River Thames. As a child, I learned it was an area that was to be avoided, and also the place where the majority of bombs were aimed during the second world war. East India Docks, West India Docks – dangerous and dirty or not, it all sounded very exotic to me.

These once dangerous, dirty docks are now sparkling and modern roads, full of gleaming office towers and quayside cocktail bars. For years it was like a secret part of London known only to bankers and the like, but based on the number of people we saw here, I’d say the secret is out.

And sometimes you get reminders you are on the Thames

Wandering around the Canary Wharf jungle!

Amidst the towers, an oasis of green

Crossing the river here we found a little food truck area — Crossing the South Dock bridge here we found a little food truck area

From over here, we could see the O2 building — From over here, we could see the O2 Arena

In the underground concourse on our way to Waitrose. Doesn’t it look like Toronto?

The floors are filled with tiles showing the history of the area

We’d outstayed our two window for getting home again, so home we came. Meanwhile, I found a good interactive map of the Canary Wharf area at https://canarywharfmap.com/ if you’d like to have an overview.