Taking the trash out

The Thames has long been used as a transport artery for the Capital.
However, after the recent Expenses Scandal within the Government, the irony of seeing the trash being taken out by a barge in front of the Houses of Parliament couldn't be lost...

Getting Steamed Up in Hampshire

It is one of the amazing things about London that you can travel less than an hour down the road, and transport yourself back in time by decades...

Today I took myself south from London toward Southampton, but stopped at Alton, a small Hampshire town, and took in the Mid Hants Railway - more commonly known as the Watercress Line)

Running between the towns of Alton and Alresford, this Heritage Railway gives you a taste of what the mighty era of steam must have been like, as it muscles its way through 10 miles of beautiful Hampshire countryside, all the while chugging to the harmony of the steam engine.

Today the engine on duty was the Lord Nelson, a restored Southern 4-6-0 E850. And what a beautiful site she was (Trains are female - even the great Lord Nelson in this instance...)

I managed to catch the train both at Alton and then arriving at Alresford. The power, majesty and presence of the machine, originally built in 1926, is just awesome.


If you are in Hampshire, and in fact, even if you are not, a ride on the Watercress line is well worth making the effort for.

London after dark

I probably shouldn't admit this openly, but I have not often been out into Central London until the early hours of the morning. However, last night was an exception.

I headed out to Piccadilly Circus for the evening and enjoyed myself to such an extent that home time came long after the last tube had set off for the night. And so I found myself connecting Night Bus routes to get home.

While I regularly use buses, a Night Bus is a completely different creature. And the mix of people, all returning home after various degrees of frivolity, or in fact heading on to another venue for further frivolity, creates quite a melting pot of emotion, fatigue and edginess.

I connected with my bus at Trafalgar Square - where half the nation appeared to get on. The resultant Sardine Can experience brought you much closer to your neighbour than you might have thought possible... Slowly we wound our way home, exchanging occupants at every stop, those getting off being replaced by a new and seemingly more obscure group of characters. At one time our driver refused to continue, as the bus was overloaded. This added to the tension slightly.

But despite thinking that the whole bus might erupt into some kind of warped "WWE Cage match", we managed to get home without incident.

Once in Wimbledon, I had to complete the last part of my journey on foot. And here you realised that you were in a safe environment.
My 15 minute walk included passing 3 girls who were walking themselves home alone. And this really did drive home the point of how safe things were and are.

The final highlight on a chequered trip home, was the site of an urban fox in the next road up from me. He stopped in the middle of the road, eyeing me up as if to question how dare I disturb him, before scuttling off into the darkness.

Sometimes I take the safety I feel in London for granted. It's only when you take a trip home in the early hours, and your experience tells you that this should be a harrowing experience, that you see how safe things can be - and are.

Where were you....?

I wasn't alive when Kennedy was assassinated, but I believe that people recalled exactly where they were when they heard the news of his death.

Strangely, I know exactly where I was when I first heard that Michael Jackson had been rushed to hospital and was seriously ill. I recall staying up until 3 in the morning enthralled, watching the news develop of his failing health and at first the rumours of his death, the unconfirmed reports, and then the sad news that he had been pronounced dead.

I suppose for my generation this was our "Kennedy moment" - I will always remember where I was at that moment. And I was by no means his greatest fan. I can only imagine how others must have felt.

And then this evening, I found myself transfixed to the TV, watching a celebration of his life, as icons of the music industry, headline acts in their own right, came together to support the family and celebrate the all too short life of what Berry Gordy described as "The greatest entertainer who ever lived".
Smokey Robinson also struck a chord in me when he said that he felt honoured to have been able to see Michael Jackson perform. Somehow, the ceremony made you realise that this was the end of something immensely special, that you had witnessed true greatness, and that it was now gone.

No doubt there will be millions of similar blogs circulating the globe tonight and in the days to come, and I am sure that many more devoted MJ fans will be able to share their personal experiences of Michael Jackson, attending a concert, buying his albums, hearing their favourite MJ song played at their wedding. For me, I have no such tributes, except to turn to nature, and a bird that Mother Nature has deemed so special that it too can moon walk.

So my MJ tribute is the Red Capped Manakin Bird;






Perhaps the most touching tribute was brought by Paris, his daughter:
"I just wanted to say, ever since I was born, daddy has been the best father you could ever imagine," she said.

"And I just wanted to say I love him so much."