22:10 from Paddington

I think that one of the things that makes London so special is it's transport. Even in the first few days when a Southern Hemisphere sense of direction is so dangerous, the trains, tubes and buses run with astounding regularity.
It's 10:30 at night. My head is full of astounding voices, and I can sit in a train and be taken to Slough.
As easy as that.
By default, I took an all zone Day TravelCard today. Maybe a simple Day Return would have been better today.
But really, it's not as cheap as it was in '91, but it works, and works well.
Next stop when we get to Slough - 24hr Tescos.
Which incidentally closes at 4 on Sundays.
I know.
I found out
The hard way.

The Albany, Deptford

They use stage lighting in the Café that we could happily use at Reps!
Note to self - frosted gel on an intelli. Nice effect.

The whole atmosphere speaks "Performing Arts Centre". The Café is more than just a Members' Bar. Mothers sit here while their teenagers are in violin, drum or whatever lessons.
And Theatre Staff walk through with their hammers and plastering hods.
It's a living Theatre, with the Café and Garden forming the central space around and through which it all happens.

People begin to gather for the Masterclass. Young, fit, self assured, self contained. Any of them could be destined for greatness. Probably few are. But it's the Dream that drives.

Hammers down, a workman wheels a piano to the Purple Room. It's going to happen. No sign of Paul Spicer yet, but still 10 minutes to go. He'll be here.

Down the corridor, glass fronted offices contain Set Designers with CAD PCs and walls full of designs. Publishers composing the community newspapers.

The function rooms are coloured - Red Room, Purple Room, etc. I'm guessing there's even a Green Room - but in the part of the building I can't get to.

This will be good.
The bigger world.

English humour

..or is just a small rebellion against the collapsed culture?

Travelog 1

Hello from London.

Yes, I know, this blog is supposed to be Zimbabwe-centric. But sometimes Zimbabwean diasporants fall in love and marry Englishmen.
Last week, in Windsor, I was hugely honoured to be at my niece's wedding.

And if the technology works, this is a sunset over the Thames the night before the wedding.  This is the view upriver from the Reception venue on Monkey Island.

[post written in a park in Depford]