Diane and me set off at around lunchtime with a half formulated plan to walk along the Thames to the Tate in Pimlico. We soon realised that this was rather too ambitious, at least if we wanted to get to the gallery whilst it was still open, but still pressed onwards, enjoying the walk in itself.
We ended up walking all the way to Albert Bridge, which is by Battersea Park and only a stone's throw from the gig I was playing tonight at the Latchmere. So I ended up walking to the gig. Thus saving myself probably £2.20 on public transport. Certainly worth the blisters and the five hours on the move then.
It was actually a really fantastic thing to do. I don't think I had ever walked along the river east of Putney Bridge. It's not an area that I am familiar with and much of it is fairly non-descript. There's lots of plush new developments springing up, which all seem a bit hotel-like and soul-less. The grass on the lawns just seemed too perfect. The hoardings were decorated with aspirational photos, which were obviously meant to appeal to the kind of people who would want to live in a big swanky complex like this. Thirtysomething businessmen and women enjoying dinner, unusual shaped glasses hanging above a bar. But none of the restaurants or bars were open yet and most of the buildings were still being worked on.
I was more interested in the gigantic abandonned factories along the way. I wondered what they had made in days gone by and why no-one had yet knocked them down and tried to develop them into real estate. One factory (possibly still working) which I'd never noticed before (on Lots Road) had gigantic chimneys. That was where I'd want to live if I got the chance. You know if they converted the chimney into different flats and put windows and a lift in it. It was probably about ten metres in diameter, it would make a great living space. Provided they cleaned out all the soot and stuff.
Our nomadic jaunt took us past the real, hidden London. Hidden, because it is ultimately quite dull, but still situated by my favourite London feature,
Old Slightly Strange Uncle Thames.
We saw some sights though, including a man doing a wee down the side of the Sainsbury's near Wandsworth bridge. It was directly on the Thames path. He could have waited til we'd gone by.
Try and beat that for a bank holiday experience!
We ended up in Battersea Park at about 7pm, just missing the chance to go out on the lake for a row (which would have been my first time back in a boat since the time I won that race), but we sat and watched the evening sun glinting off the water, our legs aching from a burst of exercise which took longer to complete than the Marathon. A swan swam by and I wondered how it would taste. A bit like duck, thought Diane, but I think that was just an educated guess. I will ask the Queen next time I see her.
"Would you go to a comedy gig after a day like today, at the end of a bank holiday weekend?" I asked.
"No."
"No, neither would I."
As it turned out only 9 people in London felt otherwise, but I performed for them nonetheless, even though they were strange and could have been drinking beer in the beer garden. It went OK, considering there were only 9 people.
I had a great day though. I wish every day was a bank holiday. Though when you are a comedian, it sort ot is.
