OK, so – off to London en famille for fun and games and the
magic of the theatah…
As it happened, we were stuck on a bus with a pack of
screeching hen partiers, who felt it encumbent on them to react en masse to
every street we passed, every announcement from the driver, and essentially
every remark that one of their number made, by caterwauling, screaming,
whooping, or in some other way de-evolving and calling their simian brothers to
mate.
I think the real low point was the group “singing” of the
Eastenders theme, regularly and repeatedly, every couple of miles from
Hammersmith flyover to the Edgware Road. See? Who said being half deaf had no
up side?
Anyhow, on paper, a reasonably good food day – had Kentucky
Fried Chicken at the services, and then a simple, two course but not
portiontastic Italian meal in the evening. But that was all, for the whole day.
Really, the high point of the day, I suppose, came not long
after we arrived at out hotel on the Edgware Road. Ma and d went to go and shop
for supplies, and to pick up a travelcard for Ma.
“You go to Starbucks,” said d, “and we’ll meet you back
there when we’re done.” I’d like it noted, this escape of domestic duties wasn’t
my idea, but on behalf of the testosterone in my body, I’d also like it noted
that I didn’t argue, but turned on my heel and got myself the right side of a
de-caff skinny latte.
They were gone for some time. I had settled myself with
Kylie Minogue going into my one working ear and The Communist Manifesto on my
Kindle (just cos…one of the weirdest combinations I’ve ever come across, in
case you were wondering), but as time passed and the bourgeoisie were utterly
smashed, and the proletariat were poised on the brink of glorious revolution, I
started to wonder what the hell could be taking them so long. When they
eventually turned up, they had a tale to tell…
They’d been in the line at Edgware Road station, when a
platoon of baton-wielding police officers had essentially stormed the place as
though it were an embassy, yelling for people to get out of the way and get
down.
Ma and d got out of the way, or got down…and then, on
instruction, got the hell out.
We buggered quickly off back to Ma’s 16th floor
room to survey the story in development. 12 police vehicles, all with blues and
twos, one fire truck, and traffic stopped both ways for about 45 minutes. There
was police tape and cordoning, there were dog units and a mobile crime lab. We’re
still not entirely sure what the hell was going on, but something…Londony…went
down yesterday, of that there’s little doubt.
“That’s it,” I said, as we finally tore ourselves away from
the unfolded drama. “Tomorrow, I’m buying the tickets. Can’t take you two anywhere…”
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