It could only happen in London.....

Oh my head..!! No, I am not hung over. It's just that I am not used to drinking on a Monday evening when it’s a school night. My usual tipple on a Monday evening would be a bottle of Lucozade after my evening run. I am not sure what's to blame, the 2 pints of Stella or the bucks fizz.....I am having trouble 'making my mind up...'.

I noticed something last night that I am tiring to get my head round. Why is it whenever I travel up the Embankment towards Big Ben runners keep passing me by...? It happens when struggling up that final mile and a bit in the London Marathon, and now it happens when just generally walking. Is this something that I will be plagued with for the rest on my life, or can this only happen in London...?

A shower and a light buffet breakfast of cereal, sausage, scrambled egg, sausage, mushrooms, sausage, beans, sausage, bacon and sausage finally revives me. I am now ready to face the world.  I will also admit to still feeling a little important, after the previous evening’s reception at the House of Lords. A stroll up the Southbank will be a tonic and one that will bring me back down to earth.

The Southbank is one of my favourite parts of London, and stepping out from my hotel I find myself on the set of Bridget Jones, as much of both films was filmed in Southwark’s, Borough Market. The market, shadowed under the arches of London Bridge railway station, with the trains rumbling overhead, holds an array of many great fresh foody smells that would excite and make the plates Jamie Oliver and Worrell Thompson do somersaults. It is vibrant and there is a buzz of activity at this early hour of the morning. I guess 9am is dinner time for a market trader.

There is a fine mist in the air, and the sky is that undeceive grey colour, were it can't decide if its going to rain or not...? Not I hope. Walking up the Southbank towards Westminster, you pass so many wonderful things of interest and things to stimulate those historical senses. From London Bridge onwards is a rich vein of London's past history.  As you head up the narrow cobbles of Clink Street, you find were the local prison was situated, now a museum. Hence the name 'Clink', as referring to jail. Around the corner you pass the Anchor Pub, an old and original hostelry were Samuel Peeps wrote his diaries and William Shakespeare once sang karaoke, which could only happen in London. 

There is a big connection with Shakespeare in this part of London. A few streets away, buried under some smart apartments are the original foundations of Shakespeare’s Rose theatre, and its white and thatched replica now sits on the banks of the river. The Southbank was known as the entertainment side of the river. Bars and theatre thrived here. It was the place to come for a good time in Shakespeare’s day, should you require merriment and a lady of the night. The West Bank, as it is today, was the business centre of the old city, and looked down on the seedier side of life on the opposite bank.

Art still is a major factor of the Southbank. The old power station is now home to Tate Modern, home of an art form I just don't get. Give me a grand old moody Turner in oils any day. The Southbank is home to the National Theatre, were the greats of stage and screen have once tread the boards, and the Southbank is also home to 'This Morning' with Fern Briton and Phillip Scofield. Approaching the studio, there is a hive of activity taking place. A set has been built resembling a Christmas grotto. There are cameras and wires all over the place. People looking important with clipboards and headphones on, while standing by a eight foot Christmas tree are two girls dressed in evening dress. Bear in mind this is ten o'clock in the morning on a wet and misty day. Well it could only happen in London.

The largest attraction on the Southbank, holds the world record for the worlds largest hamster wheel, the London Eye. There are great views of the city and beyond. Unfortunately, this is not the day, as you would have trouble in the mist defining whether the white specs on Nelsons shoulders is a bad case of dandruff, or pigeon droppings. I opt for a tube ride from Waterloo to Bond Street.

As this is about running, I should add a running reference. Exciting Bond Street tube station, I battle my way down Oxford Street to the Adidas store, which should be a Mecca for Adidas kit.....not...!! I have an interest in a pair of off road shoe, but when I ask the assistant for a multi-terrain shoe, he shows me a blank expression.

"Is it for the Marathon...?"

"No, off road running, running over the country, a shoe with a studded sole for running on soft ground, and a sole that will give me grip and traction over a multi-terrain surface....."

"Oh...!!" The assistant rubs his chin still with a blank expression, and shrugs his shoulders. I make a quick exit, as this could only happen in London.

I don't fancy battling down Oxford Street again, so I go on an adventure down a side street towards Mayfair. Some very nice boutiques and shops down here, the names of Viviane Westward, Channel and you can even get a short back and sides at Nicky Clarke’s. The jewellery shops not only have security guards inside the shop, but outside as well, and the streets are lined with chauffer driven Mercs. You could say there is some serious money around here. Well only in London. 

Maybe I am still hung-over, as I head over to Burlington Arcade. Am I seeing double, as two very attractive and similar looking young ladies, both casually and similarly dressed are hurrying towards me. There again, maybe I am not hung-over, they could even be twins like the Cheeky Girls...? Cheekily, with a second glance as they brush by, I realise that they are the real McCoy. That was the Cheeky Girls. My celerity spot is not over, far from it, as over in Covent Garden, I spot a WAG, with a HOB (Husband or Boyfriend) attached. Peter Crouch and his squeeze Abi, are taking time out from chasing a bag of wind around the Wembley, to marvel at a street entertainer juggle his balls. Well only in London.

Celebrity is not all that it is cracked up to be. Is what you see believable. Do we build preconceptions of what we see on the silver screen or the cathode ray tube? Are we that gullible...? So when I arrive at St Paul's, I make a shocking discovery, and my own preconceptions are smashed to smithereens, as I find out that Dr Who's companion, K-9 is remote controlled. It’s not real...!! It's a toy. It’s something that should be reviewed by that nice Suzy Perry on the Gadget Show. I am stunned. Well it could only happen in London.

Doctor Who's Tardis has landed outside Chris Wren’s classic building. It is surrounded a BBC camera crew who are just sitting there looking important, not so different to the crew shooting at the 'This Morning' set earlier that day. I make a further shocking discovery, after spending most Saturday evenings of my childhood hiding behind the settee from the scary cybermen. I find that there are four of them standing behind me. Not only do I find this disturbing, as they were responsible for my fear of baking foil, but they are liable to be arrested for indecent exposure, as they as topless.

Once more I am disillusioned. The Cybermen are not terrifying machines of mass destruction, but with their helmets off, they are all extras dressed up. They are not real. They are like me and you, human beings, well in my case as human as you can get....What a disappointment. Dr Who, while I was a child gave me many sleepless nights, and countless nightmares. It may have scared me for life, with all the scary monsters he encountered, and now at the age of 46, I discover it was all a sham. Kiddies beware Doctor Who is not real....!! So how gullible have I been then..? As I look around the set at all the Doctor Who kit, I feel cheated. Neither the less, they maybe filming a documentary about the Doctor Who phenomenon for all the Doctor Who anoraks out there, but the for me illusion has been shattered. My Saturday evening viewing will never be the same again.  Well it could only happen in London.

(4/12/2007)