To London & What Happened When We Got There.

I had intended to write-up our London trip last night while it was still fresh in my memory but I was so tired, and not a little confused, sleeping felt like the better option.

I booked 2 cheap day returns on the internet the previous evening, packed our rucksacks (my stuff in Linda's and Linda's stuff in mine, trust me it works), located my very old London street map and did a perfunctory investigation into bus services around the capital.

Linda will NOT travel on the underground system.
"It's unnatural".
I am unable to get my head around the bus timetables.

During the train journey I decide to re-jig the itinerary.
On the approach to London I see the future written in the sky:

Scottish Independence is Inevitable 

The only reason I want to go to the Science Museum is to look at Difference Engine No. 2 so it seems like a good idea to get that out of the way first.

We arrive at Victoria Station where Linda decides we need coffee.
I never disagree with any suggestion that involves drinking coffee.
I take a picture of a clock:

I know what time it is

We take our coffee and sit in Grosvenor Gardens across the way from the station and I begin to work out a route that will get us to the Science Museum, on foot.
I take a picture of a small building decorated with shells:

We have shells just like that in Bognor Regis!

 I scan the buildings around the garden and get the first inkling of what the significant feature of this trip is going to be.

Having plotted a vague diagonal line between us and the museum we set off across Belgravia.
We scrutinise the buildings along the way. Linda focuses in on the shrubbery stood outside the buildings and comes to the conclusion that olive trees are probably the best all round choice for this area.
I see lots of cars parked outside the houses, cars I've only ever seen on Top Gear.
All the houses have the appearance of being made from ice-cream.
Everything seems very clean and well ordered.

After much wandering about I realise we are well off my vague route and we land on Knightsbridge right outside Harvey Nichols, and Linda has spotted it.
We enter Harvey Nichols.
All the staff look like they come from at least 3 rungs higher up the social ladder than Linda and me and there seems to be more of them than there are customers.
Linda managed to get a dab of perfume on her wrist before the counter staff got to her and we were out of there.
I casually mention that Harrods is nearby.
We go to Harrods.

The building is a wonder, the interior is a wonder, that Egyptian bit is a wonder but I still feel the whole place is a bit, well, tacky.
The Diana and Dodie statue only serves to reinforce my opinion.
It starts to rain.

We continue on to the Science Museum.
On entering we both agree we need something to eat and experience one of the highlights of the day, a hot belly pork sandwich with apple sauce and rocket.
From the eating balcony I take a picture of a red steam engine:

Here's where the problem starts

I pour over every part of this vast machine, every nut and bolt and I begin to wonder.
If art is 'useless beauty' is this redundant machine now a piece of art?
We wander though the museum and I become increasingly troubled by this question.
All these cases filled with examples of, to me, inexplicable things that I'm not allowed to touch.
We reach the Babbage bit:

A piece of a long dead human being in a jar.

I couldn't take a picture of Difference Engine No.2 that didn't have a reflection of me taking a picture of Difference Engine No.2 in it so I gave up trying and just looked at this beautifully useless thing in a glass case.
I'm not sure how my experience was 'enhanced' by being able to look at a large part of Babbage's brain in a glass jar.
I took one last picture inside the museum from a balcony:

Lots of stuff.

We left the museum.
Linda noticed the building across the way, "what's that place?"
That place is the V & A.
We enter the V & A.
More useless beauty I'm not allowed to touch housed in glass cases.
Then something caught my attention, an expression I chose to interpret as bewilderment:

"What the..?"

We stepped out into the garden:

Linda contemplates the V&A

Once again I'm enthralled by the exterior of a building.
Back indoors I see something that seems like a metaphor:

This means something.

Time is pushing on so I suggest we try to make it to Tate Britain before it closes.
My plan is to walk towards the river then turn left.
There then follows a very long walk through another interesting built environment called Chelsea.

On turning left at the river, more useless beauty:

Looking at this building fills my heart with joy.

We get to the Tate at around 5 o'clock.
We are both exhausted.
Why are we here?
We are here to look at 'Ophelia' (Lizzy Siddal in a bath) our favourite painting.
"I'm sorry sir, this gallery is closing now".
Linda and I stare through the door's closing gap toward the painting on the opposite wall, the doors close.

On the walk back to Victoria station Linda picks up on the fact that I've become somewhat glum and tries to cheer me up.
I can't deny I'm down in the dumps and it has something to do with what may seem to be an unrelated comment in the birthday card I'd received from my friend Paul.
It's a quote by Don Marquis (1878-1937) it goes like this:
"If you make people think they're thinking, they will love you; but if you really make them think, they'll hate you."
Paul added "You have been warned.."
I haven't made an entirely satisfactory connection between this day, the things in glass cases I'm not allowed to touch, between what is (and what is not) art, and the built environment we wandered through, but I'm working on it, even though I hate it.

Linda suggests we go to McDonalds.
I give in, Big Mac meal, go large with a white coffee please.
Then the day is suddenly saved by a fairy princess, who speaks indecipherable English with a heavy Eastern European accent to no one in particular whilst bashing away at a net-book and who sparkles from head to toe:

Now that's what I call art!