63. Running tourism

Running marathons or half-marathons can be an excuse to travel for a city break. I have only done that in Gothenburg and Edinburgh, but the big races sometimes offer a hotel package with the run entry. As for parkrun, tourism is half the fun and tourists always receive a special welcome. As an example, one of the challenges is to join the Pirates Club, completing seven parkruns beginning with the letter C, and one starting with the letter R, probably dressed as a pirate as well*.

I’m very late with this blog, so I’m covering a couple of weeks’ activities.

My latest visit to the hospital saw me giving bloods and receiving good results: still no sign of the cancerous paraproteins. My other results were good: my haemoglobin is up on last month so I should have some more energy, although I was still having trouble with a persistent cough. The team very kindly prescribed more antibiotics for me so I could avoid trying to book a GP appointment around my other activities, like volunteering at the library, and the cough has since improved.

My leg was recovering and, while dog sitting, I took Bonnie for a walk, unhindered by crutches. I was able to help out at parkrun on Saturday, although only for a stationary role of handing out tokens at the finish.

Then on Sunday, after a lot of walking all day, I slipped on a kerb, felt a twinge in my hip, and I have returned to using the crutches again. I seem much more fragile than in the past. I have since seen a physiotherapist who has recommended that I go back to the simple exercises that I followed at the ‘getting out of bed’ stage, both for the stem cell transplant and the broken leg. I’ll see her again in a fortnight when she will try to introduce me to the gym.

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Sue and I went to London to finally use the hotel booking that we had postponed over and over since lockdown. We stayed in Canary Wharf, which we found incredibly busy and hard to navigate, the centre being built on umpteen levels. After losing our way at the Westferry Roundabout, we caught a bus east to Trinity Bouy Wharf and visited the lighthouse tower where Longplayer is performed, a piece of music that will play for 1,000 years without repetition. The Tibetan singing bowls on display downstairs are only used for live performances by musicians which tend to be shorter, although I saw that some of those still last for 1,000 minutes which is 16 hours 40 minutes. The full performance, which has been playing since the start of the year 2000, can be heard through speakers up the steep narrow steps at the top of the lighthouse and is played by a computer. It was composed by Jem Finer, a founding member of the Pogues. Click on the picture to go to the website for a listen.

The Tibetan Singing Bowls

The wharf is an art community, with sculptures everywhere you look and a café with a taxi on the roof. Worth a visit, and the hot chocolate was exceptional.

We walked along the river opposite the O2 …

Climbers at the top. Honest, they are there!

… and past Billingsgate Market with its special traffic light tree.

Stop! No, Go, Go! No, STOP!

All was going well and we had walked about 5 miles, much further than I had managed in previous weeks. We decided to go into town in the evening and that is when I slipped. Sue had to support me back to the tube, and for the rest of the week we took Ubers and taxis for the most trivial distances.

We decided to soldier on, finding a Mountain Warehouse branch opposite the Savoy (obviously!), where I bought a walking stick, and with that to prop me up we visited the Courtauld Gallery where you can see lots of familiar faces.

Édouard Manet’s A Bar at the Folies-Bergère.

They had an exhibition of Frank Auerbach’s charcoal heads. His style is remarkable – he will spend all day working on a portrait, then erase the whole thing, whether it is in charcoal or in oils. Next time he uses the same canvas and starts afresh. The canvases were often patched to repair damage but that is part of his style.

The gallery has this delightful, much photographed staircase. I was very nervous about holding my phone out this far to capture the view looking down, in case I dropped it. I’ll have to go back when I am better prepared.

Don’t drop your phone!

After that we visited Somerset House next door, which was the home of the future Queen Elizabeth I when her sister Mary was on the throne. Today it is home to the Sony World Photography Awards, which would have all scored 20 on our club competition nights.

We followed that with a meal at the New China in Chinatown, where we ordered too much, but enjoyed it. It’s a long time since I had a crispy aromatic duck.

Chinatown.

We couldn’t really take up the offer of a doggy bag because our next stop was the theatre.

Who did it? Sorry, we’re not allowed to tell you!

Next day back in Canary Wharf we started with a fry up at the Breakfast Club, a restaurant in the style of a greasy spoon café. They tried hard, with a dart board and lots of old posters, but the chandeliers and clean tables showed it was a sanitised version. Still, a nice breakfast was had by all.

The lift in the Breakfast Club was different to usual. Once through the door we were simply on a platform that rose as we kept hold of the button. We just had to trust that it wouldn’t squash us against the ceiling. This was the view looking up.

We spent the day at the British Museum, looking in particular at the Sutton Hoo exhibits, Europe 1400-1800, and then the clocks room which always fools me into thinking that I could understand how they work if only I spent enough time studying them. Most impressive was the huge mechanical battleship that would be placed on the table at a dinner party, play music, and fire its cannons when it was time to eat.

After a walk / hobble to St Paul’s and the South Bank, we took a boat back to Canary Wharf where we found that lots of the restaurants were shutting up for the night, but then we were directed upstairs to the Big Easy. When we made our way up there, we discovered it was louder than anywhere we have been since we were students many years before, with a rhythm and blues band giving it everything from the stage. It is more a place to go for a party than a quiet meal. Whatever, the burger was good.

You can probably hear the music from wherever you happen to be at the moment.
The walkway on the right of the picture above this one is Adam’s Bridge by the Elizabeth Line station, with a colourful interior.

I remember long, long ago being in halls of residence with some student architects who, for the first few weeks of their course, had to spend their time in wheelchairs to see what problems they might face. Being in no state to risk an escalator, this was my lesson in disabled access on the Underground. We found that most of the time the lift at one station would be at the front of the train, while at the next it was at the rear, so we had to limp to the opposite end of the platform.

On the positive side, because I was limping and using a stick, people offered me their seats on every crowded train that I took.

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I was pleased to see the King and Queen visiting the Macmillan Cancer Centre at University College London Hospital, where I spent much of last summer. From the news pictures, I recognised the hall where they talked with people receiving their treatment.

However, I was very sad to see that the author CJ Sansom, whose books Heartstone and Lamentation I have been reading recently, passed away last weekend. Watch out for the TV adaptation, Shardlake, of his first book Dissolution which has just been released this month on Disney+. I read in his obituary that he was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma in 2012.

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An update on my hair: I’m growing a fine, thick pelt but gone is the straight hair of the past – I have developed waves. How am I meant to comb a parting in this? On the advice of my family, I’m letting it grow for a few months to see what happens.

What’s that on his head?

I’ll be taking a break from weekly postings to the blog so don’t panic if you don’t see anything for a while. Rest assured that, should anything important happen, I’ll let you know.

Thanks for reading and take care.

* I hope you worked out Seven Seas and an Aaarrrr!

One Comment

  • Alan Trussell

    Nice self portrait? – must take you ages every morning recurling those tight curls – impressive!