Visitors arriving from Watford Junction station can take the shuttle bus direct to the studios. The bus stops just outside the station and there’s one every 20 minutes during opening hours. The journey takes around 15 minutes and costs £2 return (tickets are bought from the driver when boarding at Watford). Disappointingly, the bus is one one storey high and there are no beds on it.

There’s a designated area for Thunderbolts and other broomsticks next to the muggles’ car park

The visitors’ entrance. Coincidentally the two studio lots that house the tour are named ‘J’ and ‘K’ respectively

Before entering the tour there’s a gift shop where visitors can buy Harry Potter themed items, like these very scary Hedwig mugs

This tour truly is a Harry Potter fan’s dream: all the sets, props and costumes on display are the real sets, props and costumes that featured in the movies.

What was Harry complaining about? I’ve seen smaller studio flats in London going for £900 a month!

I wasn’t very impressed with the authenticity of the dining benches in the Great Hall: no decent graffiti etched into the wood, and no chewing gum stuck under the table

Part of the ‘Leaky Cauldron’ set. The pictures hanging on the wall were rather interesting …

I’m not quite sure what’s going on here

It would seem even wizards succumb to the power of drink

Look how tidy the boys dormitory is … and it smelt remarkably fresh. Clearly a set and not at all real

A selection of the original portraits from the Hogwarts Portrait Room, including one of Rowan Atkinson II …

… David Walliams (camping it down) …

… and the creator of the first wizardworld’s search engine Sir Google Flange (I’m sure this was tax deductible)

Professor Umbridge’s office looks just like my bedroom

The sinister ‘Magic is Might’ statue from the Ministry of Magic was like something out of Communist Russia. Unlikely to be a coincidence, one of the figures looked remarkably like Lenin (second from the left)

After mulling around Hagrid’s cottage, Dumbledore’s study and the students’ common room, the tour leads outside where visitors can buy and consume real Butterbeer! The ingredients appear to be a guarded secret, and after tasting the immensely sweet concoction I’m not surprised: dentists and nutritional experts in particular may have cause for concern if that information was publicly revealed.

Butterbeer – not one for Diabetics

Or Brookside Close?

Back inside in studio K, the tour reveals more production secrets:

‘Tis just a flesh wound. John Cleese’s Nearly Headless Nick mask, one of many original masks, prosthetics and life size models of the cast on display in studio K

Amazing, intricate drawings and artwork of the sets, costumes and characters on display in studio K including these pieces by concept artist Rob Bliss (is that a portrait of Peter Wyngarde’s General Klytus on the right there?)

Diagon Alley! … or is it Prague Castle?

I have the same reaction when I eat too many pastilles. Inside ‘Honeydukes’ sweetshop along Diagon Alley

So Tommy Cooper really was a wizard: a detail in the window of ‘Honeydukes’

… and the three hour tour ended with a peek at the stunning model of Hogwarts used in the movies

More details about this fantastic tour and how to book tickets (pre-booking is essential) can be found here. (PS I wasn’t even given a chocolate frog for including this link on my blog. Tut!)

TLT x

Prague Castle – the Czech Republic’s answer to Harry Potter?

Leaving for the island of Capri – with God’s blessing – on a hydrofoil ferry from Beverello harbour, Naples. The trip takes around an hour and although ferries depart from Naples approximately once an hour, the last ferry back from Capri can be as early as 8pm depending on the time of year

Arriving into the busy Marina Grande (Capri Harbour), overlooked by stylish Capri Town on top of the hill. How does my hair look?

The large clock tower … and the equally large crowds … in Capri Town’s glamorous Piazza Umberto I.  Day trippers tend to stay around the harbour below or take the funicular up here to the town to peruse the posh boutiques or sip coffee in the Piazza where Bardot, Hepburn and Kennedy-Onassis once frequented

Capri pants … bras and other (expensive) accessories on display along the chic Via Vittorio Emanuele, Capri Town

The world famous La Parissienne - still in business – in the town’s Piazza Umberto I, where the original Capri Pant was born. The made-to-measure pants in the window were haute-couture with a price tag to match (lovely though they were, I think I’ll stick to M&S, thanks)

Staying on the island though will not come cheap. Even a low star rated Caprian hotel (of which there are hardly any) is expensive compared to similar dwellings in mainland Naples and Sorrento. During my trip to the island late last September, I stayed in a lovely family-run 4 star hotel just outside Capri Town. Even though it was low season, I paid a whopping €130 a night (approx £100/$150) for a spotlessly clean but extremely small single room which had a view overlooking next door’s brick foundations. Taking my breakfast on the hotel’s roof terrace every morning however, made up for it:

Sipping my morning cuppa overlooking the Marina Piccolo and Monte Solero on the roof terrace of my lovely hotel in Capri. Arguably worth the very high nightly hotel rate for a cupboard sized bedroom

The cost bought me time to discover the island, and although I only managed to see half the sights I wanted to, on reflection what I did get to see was well worth the unhealthy dent in my bank account.

Most of Capri, particularly around the main town are pedestrianised and routes to the beauty spots are mainly along narrow lanes that even a rented scooter would have trouble passing along. But all these routes are very well maintained, designed with pedestrians in mind, and are clearly signposted with the most dainty looking signs I’ve ever come across:

Virtually all public signs in Capri are made in the island’s signature tile design

Even the most mundane of signs like this one for an underground electricity sub station is not allowed to look drab on the island

Who wouldn’t want to take a break from exploring to sit on this ornate park bench (even if one’s bottom cheeks may suffer as a result)? One of several beautiful public benches dotted around the island.

One popular route from the town leads to a delightful hilly walk along the south-eastern cliff edges of the island, where one can marvel at the beauty of the Arco Naturale and Isola Faraglioni. The stamina required for this walk depends on which natural beauty one aims to reach first (the route is circular). Follow the signs for the Arco Naturale along Via le Bottegh out of Capri Town and go clockwise (or east to west), rather than anti-clockwise via Isola Faraglioni which I unwittingly did and spent a large amount of time panting up steps and steep pathways. At a quick pace the whole 1.2km route can be completed in over an hour. I spent half the day completing it as every few hundred metres along the path offered another moment to stop and sigh at how beautiful the scenery was.  There are some bars and eateries along the route, but they can be expensive, so take plenty of water with you at the very least.

Capri’s Arco Naturale, where thousands of years of erosion by the weather and the sea have created this grand arch-shaped hole in the limestone rock. Aim to reach this sight first along the cliff-edge path to save wear on your knees

Capri’s Isola Faraglioni. Sigh

Along the way is the Grotta di Matermania, a huge cave once used by Roman settlers as a shrine to Ancient Rome’s equivalent to Mother Nature: the Mater Magna.

Inside the Grotta di Matermania

Roman partition walls inside the Grotta di Matermania

The view out from inside the Grotta di Matermania. The electricity cable is most likely twentieth century

Capri boasts of twelve Roman villas, and on a separate route out of the town, the Villa Jovis is apparently the largest and most decadent on the island. I say ‘apparently’ because I didn’t actually get to see it, not for want of trying. My guidebook stated that the villa closes to the public about an hour before sunset, so one evening I took the leisurely 2km walk east of Capri Town along Via Tiberio, to discover only when I got to the entrance that the villa had closed at the ridiculous time of 3pm! A good four hours before the sun was ready for bed. So be warned: depending on the time of year a lot of entrance-fee paying sights on the island close for the day in the late afternoon. To avoid disappointment (or in my case, a tantrum) get them in as early in the day as you can.

Villa Jovis from the road below. As close as I got to seeing it last September

The closed gates of Villa Jovis. The caretaker gave me a rather stern look when I grabbed the chained gates and took my frustration out on them after spending 90 minutes walking to the villa not knowing it had actually closed to the public three hours earlier (and not knowing he was actually standing nearby before I started my tantrum)

… but the view on the way to (and from) Villa Jovis was an acceptable consolation prize

More on Capri, the delightful smaller town of Anacapri west of the island and the Grotta Azzurra to follow.

TLT x

Entrance to the park for the ‘Park in Progress’ tour was from Pudding Mill Lane DLR train station

The ArcelorMittal Orbit sculpture, or The Orbit for short. I’ve grown rather fond of London’s answer to the Eiffel Tower gone wrong

Argh! It’s like looking up at a giant, angry Mr Messy!

So tempting though

Not a construction site workers’ day out, but the one o’clock Park in Progress tour. We were driven from the Pudding Mill Lane site office to the foot of The Orbit by coach. Reflective vests and hard hats were optional on the trip, but I think most people just liked the idea of wearing them

A journey from darkness into light: the ‘Canopy’ above the entrance to The Orbit puts a deliberate shadow over the start of the tour to the top of The Orbit

Looking up into the Canopy of The Orbit – it’s like a big ear trumpet

A short lift ride up to the top of the 115 metre high structure offered some stunning views over London:

Looking over London from the top platform of The Orbit

No, David “The Omen” Warner didn’t take this photo, although I was told that watching West Ham play football here in the Olympic stadium from 2016 will be like a fate worse than death

Canary Wharf from the top of The Orbit

The City, The Shard and the lack of British Summertime weather (the clocks went forward earlier) from the top of The Orbit

The Aquatic Centre under reconstruction (reopening as a public swimming pool later in the year) and what’s left (on the left) of the Olympic Water Polo venue

Once visitors had taken all the photos they wanted of the London skyline or simply could no longer bare the unseasonal chilly winds on the outer parts of the platform, they could come inside and be amused by their distorted reflections in large, convexed mirrors circumnavigating the level.

Standing by the mirror at an angle magnified one’s reflection ten fold …

… and from a distance one’s reflection, and that of the London skyline appeared upside down …

.. but clearly not everyone was impressed

Visitors were then invited to take a flight of steps down to the next observation platform below to be bemused by a number of rather bizarre interactive exhibits.

Photos of, and mementos from the London 2012 Olympics placed inside a collection of … bird boxes?

… and inside a collection of whitewashed wooden boxes for the less eccentric observer

Oh look! A miniature stage … in a box (I’m sure there was some connection to the Olympic Park but I must admit I was too underwhelmed by the bizarre display to be bothered to find out)

Spot-the-Mayor-of-London-on-the-map-with-a-monocular game. Very popular with visiting construction surveyors

This interactive exhibit appeared more relevant and promised to be fun …

… but sadly was partially broken

Underwhelmed by the strange and arguably pointless exhibits on the second platform, my gentleman friend and I decided to call it a day and make our way back down to ground level. We decided not to take the lift, but were terribly disappointed on realising that the pedestrian way down was by boring old stairs and not as we had hoped by funfair style slide chutes!

What? Steps?! But it looks like a helter skelter chute from the outside

There were 431 steps down which weren’t too strenuous to descend, but thanks to the metal meshing it was rather strenuous on one’s eyes to try and enjoy the view …

… there were no portholes or gaps in the thick mesh casing to be able to see anything clearly

Never mind. Regardless, it was great to be able to climb The Orbit and see the park once again – albeit under reconstruction – six months after the Olympics and Paralympics. The staff on site were superb and very enthusiastic about the future of the park. A nice and different way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Farewell Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park in Progress. When you’re finished and completely reopened to the public, hopefully someone will rename you the “Queen Elizabeth the SECOND Olympic Park” in honour of our present Queen and not the Virgin Queen from the sixteenth century

TLT x

The Olympic Park during the Games

Traditional Irish music and Irish dancing performed under traditional Irish weather in Trafalgar Square earlier

Beautiful traditional Irish dancing costumes brought a welcome splash of colour to yet another grey day in London

The crowds enjoying the entertainment and weather

As well as the festivities in Trafalgar Square a procession of all things Irish and Irish-themed paraded up the Mall and down Whitehall:

The parade included a float full of traditional Irish people …

… a traditional Irish Caterpillar truck (lovely Leitrim, lovely truck) …

… yet more traditional Irish machinery …

… a traditional Irish turtle (?) …

… I think this was just a hanger-on from the Chinese New Year Parade last month …

… traditional Irish peat …

… and the Hare Krishnas!

Yes, the delightful Hare Krishnas found perfect pleasure today by dressing up for Ireland and wishing all a happy Saint Patrick’s Day.

No, nobody chanted “Hare O’Krishna”

Simply wonderful!

However, it seemed not everyone was getting into the Irish spirit:

Only Irish eyes were smiling near Horseguards Parade today

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!

TLT x

One of Harold Stabler’s original solid brass ventilation covers on the Westbound platform at Manor House Tube station

The Japanese-themed ventilation cover close up. If it wasn’t for all the dust billowing out of it I could have stood under it for hours gazing up in wonder at it

Charles Holden designed Manor House Tube station as literally an underground station: even to this day there are no significant structures to the station at street level, only subway style entrances. Holden described it as an “experiment in streamlined planning”, the original design consisting of nine street level entrances and a large booking hall.

Streamlined planning – one of Charles Holden’s street-level entrances to Manor House Tube station as it looks today. Designed for all weathers

The booking hall as it looks today. In 1996 Holden’s original circular ceiling pattern & round light fittings design were faithfully replicated to replace the hideous strip lights some idiot put in during the 1970s

Drawings dating back to the 1940s of the original layout are still on display today in a disused control room at the station.

One of two drawings from the 1940s detailing the layout of Holden’s original booking hall layout for Manor House Tube station

The second drawing in the series detailing the escalators down to the platforms. These drawings were on display in front of the ‘E3′ control cabinet in the disused control room that is detailed in the middle of the drawing. A date could not be put on the stain on the display case glass

The open day tour brought visitors down inside the tunnels where we were able to see trains thunder by as they came in and out of the station. It was windy, dusty and noisy but being a daily commuter on the Piccadilly line it was fascinating to actually stand inside the tunnel and see trains from this unique perspective. What commuters on the passing trains thought on seeing me in the tunnel waving at them as they passed by is anyone’s guess.

Deep in the tunnel: the Piccadilly line runs just beyond that gate

Original brickwork holding up the tunnel, now 70 years old. The top layer of dust over it was probably not so old, and hopefully the wiring was more up to date

The entrance to the eastbound platform at Manor House seen from inside the tunnel. We were advised not to touch the gate as it was live

The tour continued to the escalator engine room. Another fascinating sight and somewhere the average commuter (like myself) rarely gets to see.

Inside the escalator engine room. The engines were huge and surprisingly colourful with major parts painted in a delightful blue and red (in keeping with the Underground’s distinct and iconic palette).

Now that’s a chain. The power behind the escalators at Manor House Tube station

Walking around this engine room I spotted something else that the average commuter rarely gets to see and hear: classic London Underground humour.

I think Paul may have been one of our guides. If so, he wasn’t that short and he wasn’t standing on a box today during the tour

Ron must make this claim a lot as there were several messages like this all around the engine room. A shame Ron wasn’t present on the tour to ask

This may have been true. There was no sound coming from inside the locker

One of our guides disproving the claim, although the locker did seem to contain a number of items that ironically looked like track ‘sleepers’ (hawh-hawh!)

Although I am absolutely covered from head to toe in dust as a result (thank goodness I chose not to wear my cream-coloured coat today), it was a really fascinating tour seeing a side of the Piccadilly line often not seen by the travelling public. And a big thank you to the staff at the station who were superb.

TLT x

Letting off stream to celebrate 150 years of the London Underground

As we gazed in the window plucking up the courage to go inside for a nose around, the doorman invited us in and gave us a personal tour of the now hotel and private members club.

Now that’s an entrance hall

The legendary Grill Room once frequented by Oscar Wilde, now a swanky bar … well it will be once people know it’s reopened for business

The new pastry cafe which opened to the public earlier this week is awash with beautiful Italian marble. The company supplying the marble for this and other parts of the hotel were apparently so overwhelmed by the huge order they couldn’t take on any other business until the order was complete.

The pastry cafe was looking a little like a 1980s East European supermarket under Communist rule last Sunday, but I’m sure it’s teaming with cakes and business now

Although the building has been heavily modernised in parts, it has arguably still retained a lot of its old charm and most of its Art Deco detail.

I so wanted to swish down this stairway in a long ballgown, but had to settle with clomping down them in the scuffed old boots and jeans I was wearing at the time. Sigh

Sadly only a detail and not a working telephone in the newly renovated Cafe Royal (that’s not wood-clip wallpaper is it?)

Critics are apparently divided as to whether the renovation project has been sympathetic to the history of the building and whether it will draw the kind of wealthy and artistic clientele it has done so in the past. I’m just glad to see this lovely place reopened again, and when I’ve won the lottery or become a devious golddigger and marry myself off to an extremely rich sugar-daddy then I may even be able to afford to stay there for a night or two.

TLT x

(PS – apart from the free tour and permission to take the photographs above, I was (alas) given nothing else by the owners as an incentive to write this blog).

That’s not a W3 coming around the corner. Old and new side-by-side (almost) earlier today by Wells Terrace, Finsbury Park

It was a vintage red RF model celebrating its 60th anniversary today by running a special, free one-day-only route to and from Muswell Hill.

The arrival of the RF212 to Muswell Hill earlier today. Only 60 years and 10 minutes late

All aboard the RF212. It could be another 60 years before another one comes along

Sadly it only had a limited number of seats and some people were unable to board as it got full very quickly. But those who were lucky enough to get a seat were clearly excited and looking forward to the trip. I would have loved to have gone along with them, but I wasn’t planning to go to Muswell Hill today.

Inside the vintage RF212. Even the passengers seemed to be from a bygone age: everyone looked happy and no one was playing awful Drum n Bass via their mobile phone

More information on the RF bus and this celebratory at red-rf.com

TLT x

Letting off steam to celebrate 150 years of the London Underground

Since then, every time it has snowed in the Capital I have always made it my business to walk around St James’s Park and see what the more creative amongst us have crafted in the snow. As it was very wintry over the weekend, I was not disappointed when I visited the park earlier today.

Forget the Snowman & the Snowdog: meet the Snowsquirrel and the Snowduck

… or is it a snowpigeon?

Ah, isn’t he cute

The stunning Victoria Monument outside Buckingham Palace, accompanied by its snow counterpart

The Victoria snow monument close up. I simply love this. Look at the sceptre, and even in snow Queen Victoria appears to be not amused

I just can not decide whether the adding of a snow cock to this fountain in St James’s Park is an act of vandalism or the work of a genius

Keep warm.

TLT x

Looking up at the Palace Gardens Beneath Prague Castle – the best wrong turning I’ve ever made

As well as the amazing views over the city, the perfectly manicured shrubs and a complete lack of fellow tourists hovering around (bliss), there was also something different to discover on every terrace level. One flight of steps led me down into the beautiful Baroque Ledebour Garden with its romantic porticoed mini-palace.

How romantic

Inside this dainty, Italianate building the walls and ceilings were covered with delightful mock-Grecian style frescoes and figures, one of which I couldn’t help but see an uncanny resemblance to cinema legend Orson Wells.

Orson Wells – the thin years (wow, those hands are big)

Leaving the gardens a little while later, I made my way to the equally beautiful Wallenstein Garden just around the corner, although it took me quite a while to actually find it. I spent the best part of an hour circumnavigating what I’d hoped were the Garden’s outer-perimeter wall, looking for the entrance or at least any sign that beyond the wall was indeed the Garden my guidebook insisted I should visit. I eventually found what looked like the courtyard of a Government building or Police headquarters with guards lolling around the grounds and not a spec of greenery in sight. The sign by the curb of this courtyard certainly didn’t suggest in my mind that across the tarmac and beyond the arch ahead was indeed a public space of utter tranquility.

Please keep your guns off the grass

Having watched several members of the public casually walk across the courtyard, disappear through the arch and not draw the attention of the guards in the process, I decided I would attempt to do the same. I reached the steps of the arch without being whisked back at gunpoint to the main road and walked down the steps into yet another enchanted public space.

A classical concert by local students taking place on the steps of the delightful Baroque Palace in the Wallenstein Garden. The (shocking) woman in (shocking) pink decided the orchestra needed a second conductor. What she lacked in ability, she made up for with enthusiasm

As well as the beautiful palace architecture, the Garden was also home to a rather  unusual stalactite grotto.

Arguably not the most beautiful sight in the Wallenstein Garden, but certainly a sight to remember

Although not entirely taken by it aesthetically, I was in complete awe of its grand scale and marvelled at the power of nature to create such a wonder. As I stared at it for a little while longer I thought my eyes were starting to play tricks on me:

Is that a face in the rock?

A few blinking exercises later, the prominent face was still there and for a split second I congratulated this apparent fluke of nature. But then I started to spot even more distinct and rather comical faces all over the grotto, some human, some animal-like. And then the penny finally dropped; this wasn’t a natural phenomenon at all, this was (as a nearby sign later confirmed for me) a man-made piece of art by a local artist with an interesting sense of humour! The fact that the rock was bone dry should have told me straight away that water alone didn’t create these stalactites. Embarrassed by my gullibility, I moved on.

The views over Prague are breath-takingly romantic. But whether seen from the top of the Old Castle Steps, along the statue-adorned Charles Bridge or by the banks of the charming Old Town, there was one strangely familiar structure that punctured the skyline from almost every viewpoint in town, and I was fascinated to know what it was.

What is that on the hilltop?

The Petrin Lookout Tower stands at the top of Petrin hill, one of the city’s largest green public spaces. It is both an observation tower open to the public, and a transmission tower … and yes, the similarity to Paris’s Eiffel Tower is deliberate.

Ooo-la-la! Ooo, no, this is the Petrin Tower

A group of Czech officials visited the World Exposition held in Paris in 1889 and were so impressed with the then new Eiffel Tower they decided to build their own version in Prague on their return. Two years later the Petrin Tower was revealed. Although not quite as tall nor as stunning as its Parisian cousin, the Petrin Tower is certainly well worth climbing the 299 steps (or taking the lift for a few Koruna more) to the top for yet more amazing panoramic views across Prague and the countryside beyond.

Prague Castle as seen from the top of the Petrin Lookout Tower. I wasn’t sure whether it was the stunning views that had taken my breath away or the climb up the 299 steps to the top of the tower

The actual observation level at the top is a tad small but enough to hold around twenty to thirty people at a time. The structure itself may look as though it has seen better days but it is well maintained and safe to climb. I was amazed however, to find that the windows in the observation room could easily be slid across so the more adventurous tourists could lean right out with nothing but their balance to stop them from falling the 63 metres down to the tarmac below.

As my ticket didn’t grant me access to the lift, I had to take the ‘manual’ route back down again. The spiral descent left me as dizzy and as delirious as Alec Guinness and Stanley Holloway were after attempting the same on the Eiffel Tower in the Ealing movie classic The Lavender Hill Mob.

There’s nothing to laugh at. A-ha-hah! A-ha-HAH! ArghhhHHH …..!

I needed a sit down after all those steps and plonked myself on the nearest park bench. Once Prague had finally stopped spinning I noticed that even the public street furniture here emulates the city’s wry sense of humour.

This reminds me of that public information film shown in cinemas warning the auditorium to watch out! thieves (in the shape of a snake) are ssssilent

There are two main ways to get to the Petrin Tower; the easy way and the stamina-testing way. The easy way is to take the delightful Petrin funicular built in the same year as the tower. The station is at Ujezd (trams 12, 20, 22 & 57 stop in front of it), near the west bank of the river, south of Charles Bridge. All of Prague’s public transport travelcards and tickets are valid on the funicular which departs every ten minutes and takes as long to reach the top of the hill (via the midway stop of Nebozizek). From there it’s a short, effortless walk to the tower.

I however chose the other route. My guidebook recommended to take the path along Vlasska for its scenery and only hinted on the need to climb some steps up the side of the hill along the way. The scenery may have been worth the energy but I was too busy puffing for breath, wiping sweat from my brow and coaxing my knees to not give up to see any of it behind me. Once past the US and German embassies, the Vlasska road is a long, steep, lonely climb. Beyond this point it is also a one way lane for traffic going downhill only, so any hope of a bus or taxi passing by to rescue me and take me up the rest of the way was futile. I didn’t see any signposts to reassure me I was on the right track but the increasing altitude and the popping of my ears suggested I was at least climbing up some hill in Prague. After about twenty minutes I came to a fork in the road and the foot of a set of steps which I began to ascend, still not quite sure whether this was the way to the tower. The steps seemed endless.

When will they end?

After around another half an hour’s climb I finally reached the top of the steps and landed on flatter ground. Still no signpost to speak of, I heard a crowd and saw what looked liked the tower between the trees in front of me, so I headed for it. Finally, I had the confirmation I needed: a sign pointing to the tower … right in front of the tower!

Thank you Prague. Most useful (sigh)

Less strenuous and much easier to find at lower ground is the emotionally moving John Lennon Wall opposite the French embassy. After his murder in 1980, Czechs suffering under Communist rule were inspired by Lennon’s pacifism in his later years and painted his image on the wall in homage to the musician, and silent protest to the authorities. The struggle between the police who continuously painted over the image and the Czech people who painted it back became iconic in the city’s struggle to revolt and break free of Communist oppression. By the end of the decade the revolution was won, and the city was liberated … apart from the wall which to the frustration of the owners – the Knights of Malta – has attracted thousands of tourists yearly ever since adding their own messages of love and world peace, and paying homage to Lennon and the Beatles.

These two girls were adding how they ’4′ed Justin Bieber to the John Lennon wall. Well, I guess it is an expression of love

Looks more like Harry Potter to me

The modern National Nederlanden building or the ‘Dancing House’ – after the Czech architect behind it Vlado Milunic nicknamed it ‘Fred and Ginger’ - stands on the east bank of the river, right by the Jiraskuv Bridge. It is absolutely lovely and further illustrates Prague’s cheeky sense of humour.

Isn’t Ginger Rogers’ dress lovely, if a little see-through

In contrast, the Old Town Square, one of the largest city squares in Europe, is surrounded by stunning examples of medieval architecture and craftsmanship.

The early Gothic Church of Our Lady Before Tyn keeping watch over the Old Town Square and the Old Town Hall’s famous Astronomical clock (not the two-handed white faced one on the far left)

The Astronomical clock is over five hundred years old and although looks gothically romantic as well as remarkable for its age, it is actually rather sinister in detail: Death (the skeletal figure to the right of the top face) rings a bell on the stroke of each hour, and is kept company by his fellows Invasion, Pagan and Vanity (he’s the one on the far left gazing into a mirror). Either side of the lower face are the city’s crusaders against those evils above: the Chronicler, the Angel, the Astronomer and the Philosopher. The top face is a complex yet accurate chart of time and its path through the zodiac. It is an absolute marvel and tourists flock to it hourly to see the mechanisms crank into gear. The movements however are slight and barely noticeable as the moving figures are high up from street level and rather small in scale. As a result, most spectators leave a few minutes later disappointed having clearly expected to see more. Surely the fact that after half a millennium the clock is still working perfectly, should be enough to satisfy?

For those not trained in astronomical time telling, there’s a modern-day two-handed clock just around the corner

The crowd in front of the Astronomical clock moments away from being unanimously underwhelmed

One of the charms of Prague is that literally around every corner there will undoubtedly be something weird and wonderful to discover. When walking back to my hotel from the Old Town Square I took a short cut through to the quiet courtyard beyond the gate of the Klementinum. Being early evening, the courtyard was quiet and peaceful albeit not aesthetically exciting … until I looked up:

Oh good Lord! Don’t jump little one!

This modern sculpture called Vlastovka is of a little girl playing with a paper plane depicting “the innocence and peace of childhood”. I have to admit when I first set eyes on it I nearly jumped out of my skin! Reassuring myself that it wasn’t actually a real child sitting on a precariously high ledge, the figure reminded me of those charity collection boxes shaped in the form of a blind child that used to stand outside sweet shops in the 1970s and 80s. My guidebook incorrectly said that this figure was of a little boy, but Magdalena Poplawska the sulpturess who created it, kindly contacted me to confirm it was indeed of a little girl and explained more about the symbolism of the piece (see her comments at the end of this blog).

‘Vlastovka’ by Magdalena Poplawska

The food in Prague is fantastic, although the more traditional dishes, tasty and hearty they may well be (yummy sauerkraut and potato dumplings) are probably best eaten in moderation due to extremely high animal fat content in them. The food is absolutely drenched in the stuff!

For obvious reasons I decided not to dine here

Smoking is big in Prague and to do so in public places is not only legal but seems to be obligatory. Even though there are designated areas for smoking and non-smoking in bars and restaurants, there is often as little as a postage stamp separating the two so trying to eat without the smell of nicotine wafting over your dumplings can be near impossible.

A smoking Government Health warning, Czech style

Finally, there are several unique museums dotted around the city of which the Museum of Medieval Torture Instruments I particularly enjoyed (more aww-factor than wow-factor). But I also paid a visit to the Museum of Communism which although small was full of fascinating propaganda posters and artefacts, and documented the city’s struggle and revolution over the oppressive regime in minute and moving detail. Yet, the highlight of this museum for me was its location, which couldn’t be any more ironically situated if it tried:

The Museum of Communism situated above the restaurant of Capitalism (bottom right). Would you like fries with that?

TLT x

Getting into the spirit of things at Farrington Tube station (although this particular night was the 13th January)

The London 2012 legacy continues: lovely volunteers keeping us trainspotters informed of the evening’s events

The first evening’s journey pulled by the steam locomotive was planned to depart from Kensington Olympia at 7.15pm, heading eastbound non-stop for Moorgate. Although it was a bitterly cold night and Farrington is an open-air Underground station, this didn’t deter me nor the hundreds of other enthusiasts who wanted to see this exciting event. The problem was where should one stand for the best vantage point?

The crowds taking their places

I wanted to stand along the platform so that I could watch the full length of the train pass through the station. As the train was going to be travelling along the eastbound platform, it made sense to me to stand and watch it on the westbound platform. But, this was a huge gamble; the Circle and Metropolitan lines were still running a normal service along the track and so there was a very high risk (as apparently happened earlier in the day) that as the celebratory train would be coming into the station, a modern westbound tube train could come along the other way and block the view!

Damn! Shoo train, SHOO!

I became rather nervous by this prospect and darted my gaze from eastbound information display board to westbound information display board for several minutes praying that the times would not coincide. Finally, the celebratory tube train was on her way …

She’s coming, she’s coming!

… and luck was on my side (of the track) …

Hurrah!

A ‘poop-poop’ in the distance and the graceful Metropolitan steam locomotive No. 1 arrived into the station.

It’s the Hogwarts Express!

A close-up (albeit blurred – sorry) of the locomotive’s chimney

Stunning. If only the modern Metropolitan line trains could look as clean

If I could travel to work everyday in one of these, I wouldn’t grumble about the fare rises

Whenever commuters push me in Tube carriages during the rush hour, I often suggest to them that they should try the first class carriage as it is usually far more spacious and requires less need for rudeness!

Slumming it in third class

‘Sarah Siddons’ looking swell: the electric locomotive on the end ready to take her turn to pull the train back to Kensington Olympia later in the evening

… and then she was gone.

More events to celebrate the London Underground’s 150th anniversary are planned throughout the year. Details can be found on the London Transport Museum’s website.

TLT x

More Winter Wonderland than humble Bethlehem stable

… sometimes with some extra characters thrown in …

I thought only three wise men and a couple of sheperds came to visit

….  and why even bother with the Holy family when you can have a family of celebrities instead …

I’m sure the baby Jesus is hidden in there somewhere

Although not quite the traditional scene one would have otherwise opted for, I particularly liked Usain Bolt pointing to the Dark Knight Batman Angel Gabriel at the top of this ‘stable’. It was however, hard to spot the Holy family amongst all the celebrities and personalities that have marked 2012 …

Amongst the Italian home-grown celebrities were more international familiar faces including Gaddafi, Angela Merkel, Nelson Mandela, Pope Benedict, our dear Queen Elizabeth, a naked Prince Harry (oh dear) …

… and legendary Paralympian Oscar Pistorius

I would have bought the whole thing and brought it back to London with me, but I doubted I would have been able to get it all into my hand luggage and through airport security too easily.

TLT x

Seeing beyond the graffiti and (literally) looking beneath the city’s surface for hidden Roman beauty

Graffiti is rife in Naples. Some examples clearly have something to say …

… other examples are rather beautiful …

… some are crude yet comical …

… and others just simply odd …

… but the most prolific form of graffiti found in Naples is ‘tagging’. It is absolutely everywhere

Some may argue it’s rather apt that Naples showcases street art so prolifically being so close to the apparent birthplace of ‘graffiato’: Pompeii. Tradition and self-expression aside, I’m sure I am not alone in finding tags rather vulgar and on this scale it certainly doesn’t help to endear this otherwise delightful city to visitors. Locals seem resigned and unfazed by it all … or maybe they just think it’s best not to stop and dwell on it should someone come up behind them and spray an illiterate squiggle on their back.

It’s true though that one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, and certainly in Naples there are hidden gems to be found if one looks beneath the surface … literally. The Napoli Sotterranea is a network of underground tunnels and aqueducts below the Neapolitan streets. First excavated by the Ancient Greeks and Romans for its stone to build the city’s walls and temples, the tunnels were used more recently as an air raid shelter during the Second World War. Excursions around these fascinating tunnels and passageways take place daily in English (five per day), and as long as you are not claustrophobic nor wide around the waist (as will be explained below), then this is definitely worth a visit.

The entrance to the Napoli Sotterranea, hidden away down a side street next to the Chiesa di San Paolo Maggiore on Piazza San Gaetano (nearest metro station: Cavour), where the city’s Roman Forum once stood

One of the many narrow passageways in the Sotterranea. The deeper one went the narrower the passageways got …

… and narrower …

… and narrower

The passageways are well lit both by electrical means and more traditional methods

The Roman Cistern – water was once drawn from here using clay vases lowered down on a pulley into the pools below and slowly drawn forty metres back up to street level

The passageways are dry, not at all spooky and the Guide reassured the party I was in that there were no rats or creepy crawlies to be found down there. The highlight of the trip (for me anyway) was walking through the narrowest tunnel of the network. Well, I say ‘walk’ through but at barely 20cm wide at its narrowest point most of my party had to shuffle and squeeze their way along it. Not wanting to show off but I was able to skip along this 100m long tunnel face-on waving my candle high above my head with glee (and also to prevent singeing my hair). At one point the person just ahead of me turned and said “how comes you’re not even walking sideways through this?”. I grinned smugly at him and replied “twenty years of starvation and self-loathing have finally paid off!”

Squeezing our way through the 20 cm wide tunnel (for those who didn’t fancy this one, they were welcome to wait at the entrance of the tunnel until the rest of us returned)

Wee Willy Winkie … everyone was armed with a candle (of their choice) to light their passage through the tunnels. Health & Safety would never allow that in Britain

The whole tour lasted just under an hour and on returning to street level I was just about to go on my way contented with my visit, when the Guide announced that the tour wasn’t actually over. As my eyes were getting used to daylight once again, the Guide explained to the party that we were standing where the city’s Roman Forum was believed to have once stood. To prove this, she took us around the corner to see a Roman arch:

The characteristic thin brickwork is a tell-tale sign that parts of this arch are Roman. The tell-tale sign just in front of it is evidence that the business next door is probably turn-of-the-century

What this arch also illustrated was that over time more modern structures were built on top of these Roman buildings with little regard for preserving the latter. The law in recent centuries, as our Guide explained didn’t allow for building and settlement to expand beyond the city walls and so residents had no choice but to build on top of the ruins of previous occupiers’ homes. With this our Guide took us down a nearby lane and stood outside a rather ordinary looking front door:

What’s behind the door? (may be the sign gives us a clue)

She led us through it into a traditional Neapolitan one-roomed apartment, typical of the kind of dwellings poorer residents in recent centuries lived in. It was very small with just enough room for a kitchenette, a few pieces of essential furniture and a single bed. The tour party looked baffled as to why we were here, until our Guide explained. Apparently, up until only twenty years ago, an old woman lived in the dwelling and had done so for most of her adult life. When she died the archaeological association behind the Sotterranea asked her family could they explore the foundations of her home for signs of any Roman ruins. After explaining this detail to us the Guide with a knowing grin across her face walked over to the bed and gave it a shove. It immediately wheeled backwards and disappeared into the wall behind revealing a trap door underneath. The Guide lifted up the trap door and invited us all to take the stairs down into the basement. What we found down there was simply remarkable; below, more than three times the size of the apartment above was a perfectly preserved section of a Roman Amphitheatre. The Guide explained that it was never established whether the old woman actually knew this was in her basement. Some stories suggested that most of the basement had been partitioned off and the ruins were only revealed when the archaeologists pulled the partitions down. Another story however suggested that the old woman was aware that these may have been Roman ruins but was scared to reveal them to anyone should her home be taken away from her if found to be of historical value.

The bed (top centre) disappeared into the wall behind it revealing a trap door to the basement below

Did the old woman know she was living above a perfectly preserved Roman Amphitheatre? (apologies that the photo is rather blurred)

The Guide continued to explain how frustrating it was for the archaeological association behind the Sotterranea to know that the area was no doubt teaming with equally preserved ruins waiting to be discovered, but because these ruins were buried away under people’s homes and businesses it was understandably difficult to procure these buildings for excavation. The association can only wait until a local building comes up for sale which is rare as property and businesses in the area are usually kept in the family and inherited by future generations. Even if the association does manage to buy a property in the area there is no guarantee that Roman ruins will be found on the premises, so it can be a costly gamble for the cash-strapped organisation. One success story for the association however was the recent purchase of a local cobbler’s workshop a few doors down, after the owner could no longer make a substantial living from the business. The walls of his premises showed fine and beautifully preserved examples of Roman brickwork:

Inside the old cobbler’s workshop showing fine examples of Roman brickwork. The windows belong to the B&B next door. No doubt the price for one night with breakfast in one of these rooms shot up on learning that it wasn’t just a cobbler’s workshop guests could peer into

Directly opposite from the Sotterranea in the corner of the Piazza San Gaetano is a small, Gothic church called the Chiesa di San Lorenzo Maggiore. The church itself and the courtyard within it are of some interest (I’m not a particular fan of Gothic architecture) and the exhibits upstairs of Papal gowns and Eucharist chalices pass the time. But it’s what lies in the church’s basement that is of great interest. If you are not Roman-ruined out after the Sotterranea then pop in to this church and walk through a well-preserved ancient Roman marketplace. As so few tourists seem to know about this church and what lies beneath it (this is not part of the Sotterranea and is preserved by the church itself) I had the place virtually to myself.

A Roman marketplace, part of the Roman Forum in Naples underneath the Chiesa di San Lorenzo Maggiore

Neither are part of the city’s Artecard scheme that would otherwise allow free/discounted entry into both establishments. But then neither are too expensive anyway: around €8 per person.

TLT x

Amazing scale …

… but clearly not everyone was impressed

Eros with probably the most evil looking dolphin ever sculpted

What a lovely pair of … feet you have. Trying not to stare at the obvious (and weirdest) part of Artemis (Diana) of Ephesus

Now that’s a water feature. Stunning Roman water spouts

Young Caracalla not making the best of impressions with older Caracalla …

… he clearly isn’t Mr Popular around here, is he?

It was at this point my puerile sense of humour kicked in and I just couldn’t help but notice how some of the statues looked remarkably like certain modern day celebrities and characters:

… Hollywood actress Glenn Close …

… Hogwarts’ favourite friendly giant Hagrid … (and ironically this piece was absolutely colossal in size)

… reporter and ex-BBC newsreader Michael Buerk …

… and surely you must agree that the resemblance here to controversial football legend Ron Atkinson is uncanny

Ganimede making friends with Gonzo

Before I left, I spotted this empty display case and wondered what could have been here that was sent to London weeks before to help celebrate the London 2012 Olympics …

… and what instantly came to mind was this …

Londinium Wenlock, 21st Century AD

The museum is next door to Museo station on red metro line 1, or five minutes walk from Cavour station (turn right out of the station), on blue line 2, one stop direct from Garibaldi. If you have an Artcard it can be used at the museum for free/discounted entry depending on the card you have and how many times you have used it to date.

TLT x

Where to find an Usain Bolt fairy for the top of the Christmas tree in Naples

The Campania Artecard (right) with leaflet

Much as I appreciated having this card during my visit to Naples back in September, I did experience a rather irritating problem with it; after I had validated it a few times on the metro (it must be validated every time you use it), the yellow ticket-validating machines couldn’t read the damn thing anymore and so wouldn’t validate it. This wasn’t too bad if I was on a bus as I could simply flash the card at the driver. Trying to locate an attendant at a metro station to cast his eye over the card however, proved rather more difficult as they do seem to be an elusive race in the city. Persevere. Technically, the card has to be stamped on every use so make sure someone in authority has seen you at least try.

Getting to Pompeii and Herculaneum from Naples is easy enough by catching the Sorrento-bound train from Naples’ main train station Garibaldi. They are fairly frequent: about two or three trains an hour. It’s finding the platform to which the train leaves from that can be the problem. When you arrive at Garibaldi station follow the signs for “Circumvesuviana”, the name of the train company operating the route. Be warned though: the signs at street level may confuse. I saw two such signs side-by-side pointing in two completely different directions. Ignore them and simply take the nearest set of stairs down to the lower level where the signs are much clearer and will lead you to the four platforms where the Sorrento-bound trains depart from. Don’t be worried if the train appears late. Nothing seems to run on time in Naples. You shouldn’t have to wait more than ten minutes longer than timetabled, unless something really has gone wrong with the service. Also, don’t be surprised if you see passengers smoking on the platform (it’s allowed).

The stunning views of Vesuvius out of the train window will take your mind off the not so stunning views inside the carriage. Unfortunately I didn’t have time to visit Herculaneum during my trip this summer, but the stop to alight from to visit the site is unhelpfully named ‘Ercolano-Scavi’, which the train passes through approximately 20 minutes after leaving Garibaldi. I’d advise looking at the train-line map and counting the stations along the way from Naples to Ercolano-Scavi, as like most things in Naples (sadly), station signs along the line are often heavily obscured by graffiti and there are no announcements by the train-driver to confirm which stop the train has arrived in.

There is little mistaking the stop for Pompeii however. If a huge crowd suddenly alights from the train then you’ll know you have arrived. It’s a 40 minute journey ride from Garibaldi and seems a little too far for Naples’ street artists to travel with their spray cans, so the platform signs clearly read ‘Pompei-Scavi’. Once you’ve fought your way through the tourists along the platform, you will then have to fight through the scouts bombarding you with tour-guide leaflets. If like me you decide to go it alone, then unlike me obtain a detailed map of the site from the booth inside the little station or by the ticket office (come out of the station and turn right – you can’t miss it). It’s well worth the few Euros because there are very few signs within the site to guide you to the main points of interest, and as one ruined building can look much like another in there, it is extremely easy to get lost (as I did several times).

When you enter the site you may spot the odd pet dog walking about or lazying around. However tempting it may be, I’d advise not to touch them. They are not local pets but apparently wild, abandoned dogs, unpredictable and possibly carrying disease. They seem placid enough but it’s best to keep out of their way none the less.

He may look cute but wild, abandoned dogs nonchalantly roam around Pompeii. They won’t bite if you just stay out of their way

Even if you have an Artecard you will still need to queue up to get a ticket, but once you’re through the turnstile the wonder of Pompeii instantly greets you and the photo opportunities begin:

The grand Porta Marina gate, the main entrance into Pompeii

From the Porta Marina gate to the Forum

The remains of the stunning Tempio di Giove (Temple of Jupiter)

Vesuvius lurking in the background

The Forum was the main piazza to the city, flanked by shops, market-stalls, keys political buildings, important temples, and this:

… and after all these years it’s still open for business

Is this really what Pompeiians snacked on around here 2,000 years ago? And what a hefty price to pay for it

Not really in keeping with its surroundings, I was more perturbed by the food this establishment had on offer. I expected the choices to mirror dishes typically eaten by ancient Pompeiians. Where was the spit-roasted wild boar? Fig-stuffed peacock? Succulent grapes fed to me from a dangling vine by a giggling Vestal virgin? … and at €12.90 I would have expected her to be thrown in for free. Very disappointing.Sexual appetites however, seemed far better catered for in Pompeii. There is an exhibition just outside the site near the Porta Marina gate where the most salacious mosaics so far excavated can be viewed, but this apparently needs to be booked online at least 24 hours in advanced if you can find the website. I’m still trying to find it! There are however some equally titillating examples within the site itself. Unfortunately the Casa dei Vettii was closed to the public whilst I was there. This houses the blush-inducing mosaic of Priapus weighing his rather large … erm … well, I’ll leave you to search that one out for yourself through Google Images. Clearly size didn’t matter even then, but unlike now it would seem that it was how much it weighed that counted.

Thankfully, Lupanare – Pompeii’s only dedicated brothel in its day – was open at the time of my visit, for curiosity purposes only of course. When I eventually found it (it’s rather difficult to find, especially without a map!), there was a small tourist party just ahead of me with a Guide who was detailing the history of the small dwelling with great enthusiasm to his group. He explained that the ladies who ‘worked’ here were probably from either Greece, Africa or Asia and unlikely to have been able to speak Latin. To get around the language barrier with their clients, the Guide revealed how mosaics depicting the various services the ladies could offer were painted on the walls so that potential clients could point to what they wanted. “A bit like choosing which Happy Meal you want from the menus above the tills in McDonalds!” the Guide chuckled. Quite.

One of the ‘services’ available in Pompeii’s brothel Lupanare. It’s good to see that the establishment demanded a high level of decorum from its clients – no flashers allowed

Although clearly self-absorbed, this gentleman is certainly not ‘navel’ gazing here

I’m not quite sure what service was on offer here. If it’s what I think it is, then surely the client could have saved his denarii and did that in the privacy of his own home?

Looks like the brothel also offered a side-line in chiropractic care

South of the site are the spectacular remains of the Teatro Grande, the city’s main theatre cut into the rock with a 5000-seat capacity, and the perfect place to sit down and have a spot of packed lunch.

The stage of Pompeii’s Teatro Grande, with some magical acoustics (as explained below)

I guess the spot lights on the end of each row are a modern addition

Whatever happened to the Popular Front of Judea? Splitter!

As I sat along the top row chomping my way through a ham sandwich, I watched a group of lethargic tourists being lead into the stage area below by a rather good looking, French-speaking Guide. He directed his group to stand behind him as he journeyed alone to the front of the stage. He turned to face his group with theatrical flare and addressed them with some words of French before clapping purposely at them four times. This seemed a little odd and unexceptional both to myself and evidently to his unamused gathering. But then he took two large steps towards them landing in a worn out spot right in the middle of the stage, addressed his group with some further explanation and then clapped again - four times at the same tempo as before - only this time the sound created was very, very different.

The claps echoed around the open air theatre sounding like the buzz from a dying electrical wasp, and the French Guide’s audience were suddenly and completed transfixed. To prove this hadn’t been a fluke, and to relish in the attention, the Guide took one step back, clapped, then one step forwards again onto the designated spot and clapped once more. The former clap was barely audible, the latter buzzed magically through the air. The Guide bowed proudly at his party as they clapped their approval (without acoustic magic). But before any of the group could step forwards onto the magical spot and recreate the sound for themselves, the Guide hurried the group out of the theatre. Either the Guide was on a tight schedule or maybe he wanted to capitalise on the group’s rejuvenated enthusiasm for his tour.

I too was intrigued by this demonstration and I was yearning to try the clapping trick out for myself. However, as this meant literally performing on a stage in front of a fair number of strangers, I had to build myself up to the part. I waited to see whether I could catch a moment when hardly anybody was in the theatre, but being such a popular site it was obvious that this was not going to happen anytime soon.

I took a deep breathe and tentatively made my way down to the magical spot. Thankfully nobody seemed to take any notice of me standing there, so I counted to three and made a lame, half-hearted attempt at a clap. The noise created was so loud and distinct I am sure the whole of Naples heard it. Everyone in the theatre was suddenly staring at me but I was so absorbed by the effect of my clap that I didn’t notice my new found audience at the time and clapped again, this time with much more conviction. The result was amazing. I was so pleased with myself that I clapped again and again, grinning and giggling to myself with such contentment. That was until I caught sight of a group of excited Japanese tourists pointing and frantically taking photographs of me from the wings, headed by a European woman with an official guide’s badge on her lapel. From her contrasting glare and her firmly crossed arms, I guess I had spoilt her planned surprise.

Other visitors clearly not impressed by my demonstration of the special acoustic effects created from the centre stage of the Teatro Grande

Below are some more photographs I took (that lend themselves well to a quip) from this most fascinating site. I spent most of the day there and still didn’t get to see everything. Lucky for me it was slightly overcast the day I visited as there is little shade available to take cover under when the sun does beat down. Back in Naples after my trip, a waiter told me how he hated Pompeii because it was always so hot there. “Even at Christmas it can be snowing in Napoli” he groaned to me (in perfect English), “but it will still be baking hot in Pompeii. Phew!” So, if you do decide to go to Pompeii bring a hat, sun cream and plenty of water with you.

In the grounds of the Casa della Venere in Conchiglia, the cherub on the right of this stunning mosaic is clearly not impressed with his mistress’s physique … or maybe he’s just spotted her verruca

Looking up at one of the earliest examples of a shower head. Inside the glorious Terme Stabiane

Solar powered lighting in the Terme Stabiane

I spotted this well preserved detail in the Teatro Picolo but I couldn’t stop thinking why this statue had been given man boobs (puerile, I know. Sorry!)

The stunning Amphitheatre. As I walked across the pit I just couldn’t resist; I raised my arms up high and in my best Russell Crowe voice proclaimed to the hundreds of empty seats “Are you not entertained?!”

A section of script seen by gladiators before they walked out into the pit of the amphitheatre, and possibly to their death. Is ‘Vomdeder’ the Latin word for ‘vomit’?

Seemingly untouched by the ravages of Vesuvius, the famous bronze statue in the Casa del Fauno looks rather like a bedraggled version of Tennis superstar Andy Murray to me. Look, he’s even in a serving pose

TLT x

Mandeville!

Isn’t he adorable

I ran after him like a child trying to outrun an ice-cream van, screaming ‘Mandeville, Mandeville!’, but sadly the truck was going too fast to keep up with it.

Pulling myself together and remembering how old I really am, I decided to set off towards the Riverbank Arena to watch some football. The queue to get inside was long …

An event the British (able-bodied or not) are exceptional at: queuing

… but as soon as people were allowed in it moved along quickly, and there were plenty of seats for everyone.

The subtle blue and pink tones of the Riverbank Arena

The match was between the current gold medallists Ukraine, and the USA. Although I don’t usually care for football, I thoroughly enjoyed this game. It was an absolutely thrilling match … if you were not supporting USA that is, for the final score was a colossal 9-0 to Ukraine.

The first of NINE goals against the USA by Ukraine, scored within 30 seconds of the game starting

The atmosphere during the first half was strangely subdued which actually was rather pleasant: no rowdy yobs bellowing ridiculous monosyllabic chants, instead just civilised albeit half-hearted applause whenever Ukraine scored. At first I thought this was simply because the audience was made up of similar unseasonal football fans like myself and also because GB weren’t playing (their match was to follow). But it turned out this restrained collective behaviour was actually due to a bit of confusion as to who exactly were playing.

Most of the spectators mustn’t have realised that there were two types of football competitions taking place at the Paralympics: the 5-a-side and the 7-a-side. Apart from the size of the teams, the difference between the two competitions is that the former is made up of players with visual impairments who use a ball with a bell in it, and the latter is made up of players with varying mobility impairments (no bell in ball required). One can be forgiven to be curious about how blind footballers play football, and it would seem that most of the spectators around me were looking forward to watching such a game. After Ukraine impressively scored a hat-trick of goals within the first ten minutes of the game, I could hear whispers of doubt behind me as to how blind the players on the pitch really were and whether anyone besides the players could actually hear the ball.

Soon there was an echoing shuffle of papers as disgruntled bystanders started to refer to their programmes for an explanation, before looking up and mouthing with a lot of accentuation to the person two seats away from them (never the person beside them) the syllables ‘SIR-REE-BULL-PAUL-ZEE’. The receivers of this information instantly responded with a look of genuine surprise that quickly changed to a mixture of politically-correct concern, slight confusion and disappointment (that the players weren’t blind after all).

There was little for the Ukraine Goalkeeper to do in the second half as his team-mates scored goal after goal against USA down the other end of the pitch

The Ukraine Goalkeeper wondering if he slipped away for 10 minutes would anyone notice

Is there any point in him even being there?

It was Wheelchair Basketball at the Basketball Arena after that to watch Japan play Germany. The speed at which those guys went around the court made for many a cringe-worthy moment with the anticipation of vulnerable fingers getting in the way of unavoidable collisions. I’ve heard Wheelchair Rugby, known ‘fondly’ (ha!) as ‘MurderBall’ is a lot, lot worse:

Please slow down! (I can’t bare to look)

Now look what’s happened!

That’s better, take it nice and slowly, and in a more orderly fashion. Then no one gets hurt

Spectators invited to show off their rhythm impairment and tone-deafness in a ‘dance-off’ during a break in play

Goalball followed at the Copperbox and it was simply mesmerising. I watched China play Algeria. Goalball is made up of two teams of three players, all blindfolded so their sight impairments are equal. Each side takes it in turns to throw a large ball (with a bell in it) into their opponent’s goal. The game is made up of two halves of ten minutes. Players defend by literally throwing themselves across the mouth of the goal. The whole game is as one would expect, dependent on sound and of course spectators are asked to remain quiet during play. The female referee (who at one point mistook Algeria for Iran) had the air and appearance of a strict librarian. Her shrill demands for silence every time the ball was brought back into play seemed to do the trick, but I have a feeling that somebody else adopting a different approach was the real controller of the crowd that afternoon:

Guess who drew the Copperbox Volunteers’ short straw this morning

Silence is golden … but can be rather dull to enforce

Probably not the most glamorous volunteer job to tell the grand-kids about, hey?

It would seem that this game in particular attracted a large number of parents with typically over-tired toddlers. Almost every couple of minutes during the game another hassled-stricken mother would try to stand up in slow motion to avoid her folding seat from creaking behind her whilst trying to balance several pieces of baggage and a screaming two-year-old in her arms before tiptoeing out of the venue. Oh dear.

One of the Chinese Goalball players had a distinct style of throwing the ball: he would perform a lightning-speed pirouette before launching the ball with great force at his opponents. Considering he had no sight and relied only on sound to direct him during his spins, this technique proved highly accurate and eventually scored the winning goal

Algeria ‘throwing’ themselves whole-heartedly into the game and into the path of the ball

One of the Chinese players taking inspiration from the film ‘A Clockwork Orange’ to protect his yarbles during the game

Oh, it was so lovely being back in the Olympic Park again. It’s a magical world run by really nice, friendly fantasy people. Why can’t real people be like that in real London?

The London 2012 salute: high fiving with the magical nice people who will sadly disappear from London forever on the 9th September

Police horses turning their noses up at a Cadburys chocolate treat from a magical Olympic Park treat shop (that’s because they probably prefer Nestles’ “Gallopsy” chocolate! Hawh hawh!)

I continued my Paralympic tour a few days later at the ExCel Centre to watch Wheelchair Fencing. Clearly there was nothing wrong with the Chinese Women team’s vocal cords as every time one of their female fencers thought she’d won a point she’d screeched orgasmically. This was fine whenever she did win the point, but a little embarrassing when it was proven that she hadn’t. What must she be like in the bedroom?

On Guard for a medal and an orgasm. China’s Yao Fang being rather vocal on every point whether she had won it or not

When posters attack: the Paralympic barrier winning this fencing point

Half way through the competition I’d noticed a rather pudgy, slightly dishevelled Scandinavian looking figure dressed up as a chicken wobble along and sit down in a seat a few rows in front of me:

It’s not, is it? Is that our dear Mayor of London Boris Johnson watching the Wheelchair Fencing … dressed up as a chicken?

If this was Boris, it was certainly an interesting way to wind down after a busy day at City Hall. Strangely, a chicken costume isn’t my first choice out of the wardrobe when I get home from work, but Boris’s unusual selection certainly looked comfy: like an extra-large poultry romper suit. I wonder whether he wears something similar in the office on ‘Dress Down Fridays’?

I’m sorry I didn’t take a more conclusive photo. Excitement, adrenalin and a lack of a flash prevented me from holding the camera firmer

I just couldn’t keep away and returned to the magical park of niceness the following night, spending the evening in the Aquatics Centre. What an amazing venue. The ceiling is like a huge blue whale, the diving boards like tame vipers in defence mode, and anyone who suffers from Vertigo and/or shortness of breathe would be advised not to climb the very steep steps to sit up at the back. The rows go up so high I’m sure the air was thinner up there. At least there wasn’t a suffocating smell of chlorine floating in the air and the humidity was kind to my frizz-able hair.

ParalympicsGB did us proud with Oliver Hynd winning the first gold of the night:

ParalympicsGB Oliver Hynd seconds away from winning a gold. His brother Sam was in lane 3 creating what the presenter described as a ‘Hynd sandwich’ for Deelen Maurice in lane 4. Nice

Oliver Hynd receiving his gold medal. I actually cried whilst singing ‘God Save the Queen’ with him. So Proud

USA’s lovely Jessica Long just out of the pool after winning yet another gold in the Women’s 200m. I have all my limbs and can barely swim ten metres!

USA’s Jessica Long receiving her gold medal. Isn’t she simply lovely? During the 200m when Long opened up a healthy lead, the presenter couldn’t help himself and said: ‘Jessica Long & Strong in the lead’. Inspiring continuity

Although I have been lucky enough to attend a number of Olympic and Paralympic events this Summer, this was the first I had been to where British athletes were actually taking part. The rapturous applause, screams and cheers from the thousands in the centre whenever ParalympicsGB were in the water was nothing I have ever heard nor experienced before on that scale, and probably never will again. It was truly, truly emotional.

Our GB ladies doing us proud: Charlotte Henshaw and Elizabeth Johnson proudly showing off their medals with the endearingly sweet Viktoriia Savtsova from Ukraine, whose only 14 years old!

… and a Tory Prime Minister and former Chancellor of the Exchequer who wasn’t actually booed during a medal presentation: Sir John Major receiving a warm and surprisingly fond reception from the crowd … unlike his successors Dave & George earlier in the week

During the controversial ticket ballots of last year I wasn’t very successful in securing tickets for any Olympic events, so thinking the Paralympic ballot would be just as disappointing for me if I didn’t try to increase my chances in securing those tickets, I decided to request more Paralympic tickets than I actually wanted (and could afford). As seems to be the case with such financially-risky plans, the worse case scenario actually occurred and I won almost all my selected tickets which I was obliged to pay for. This left an unfortunate dent in my current account, but organisers did allow ticket-winners to sell their tickets back a few months later for a full refund. Amongst my plethora of tickets I had a pair for two different nights of Athletics: one for the last Thursday night, and one for the last Friday night. Thinking that the Friday night would be the more exciting night simply because it was a Friday night, I had no issue at the time with selling my Thursday night tickets back. Oh how silly that decision seems now: last Thursday night turned out to be the best night on the track for ParalympicsGB with Gemma Cockroft and David Weir winning golds, and Jonnie Peacock beating legendary Oscar Pistorius in the most anticipated race – the T44 100m – ever seen in Paralympic Games history to date!

Even though the following day has been called ‘Frustrating Friday’ in comparison, it was still a fantastic experience sitting in the stadium listening to the roar of 80,000 well-behaved spectators.

Wow!

The Orbit trying to find out what all the noise is about

I’m so glad I wasn’t sitting in any of the seats near the flame: it was a very humid night

ParalympicsGB’s Josie Pearson being presented with her gold medal for the Women’s Discus (and yes, I cried again singing ‘God Save the Queen’)

ParalympicsGB’s Richard Whitehead warming up for the T42 100m (he’s the one on the left)

… and no Paralympic Games would be complete without seeing the gorgeous Oscar. Here he is gently jogging into the 400m T11 final for the following night

After seeing Oscar cross the line barely out of breathe, the evening was over and it was time for me to leave to magical kingdom of the London 2012 Olympic Park forever. Never again will I laugh and joke with the fantasy nice people that live there in their purple-and-beige fairy track suits. Never again will I happily high-five their large rubber hands, experience their warm smiles and genuine desire to help, hear their infectious cheers and encouragement for everyone else to do the same and have a good time. In a few hours time they will all disappear and London will return to normal, where no one makes eye contact with anyone else unless they really have to, where ’2 mins’ on a display to wait for the next Tube is a lifetime, where the slightest bodily contact with a stranger on the street or on the Tube results at best with a tut, at worse with a barrage of expletives. Yes, good ol’ cynical London returns next week and the happy, fantasy world of London 2012 will sadly be just a memory ….

Oh well, there’s always Rio (and I will be there).

TLT x

Where am I?

There was a sort of country village feel about the place. Although seeing and hearing a Royal Guards brass band play before the match was an utter delight, it was certainly not something I was expecting to see at an Olympics event:

Is this really an Olympics venue, or a quaint village green?

Yes, the statues are very tall and not the brass band being very small

The slightly creepy Beach Volleyball statues inside the Horseguards Parade Olympics venue. The male one looks a bit like Barry Manilow, and the female one just looks bored

Far from being glamorous as one might expect, the whole venue had a controlled yet understated quaintness about it.

Some remembering our great war dead, and others remembering to buy a Twix before the match

A quaint little golf buggy doubling up as a taxi driven by one of the almost unnaturally friendly uniformed volunteers

Parasols and marquees for those who want information … information … IN-FOR-MATION! Hang on a minute…

Friendly, compliant staff, eager to help, eager to please (but for what true purpose?), golf buggies for taxis, quaint ‘village’ stalls, quaint ‘village’ feel: this wasn’t London, this was the Village from 1960s TV series The Prisoner! Well, just as long as there weren’t any large, roaring weather balloons tearing around the place I guess I could live with being a number for the afternoon …

Good Lord, it’s true I am in THE Village! Down Rover!

In the safety of the court, not only was the atmosphere fantastic, but having a seat so high up in the stands I had a view of London that until this stand was built no one had ever had before … and will probably never have again in this lifetime. The views were simply breath-taking:

Horseguards Parade looking absolutely stunning surrounding the largest, albeit least private cat litter-tray in the UK

The London Eye and Shard trying to catch a glimpse of the Beach Volleyball matches over Horseguards Parade

Big Ben being all coy and hiding its face(s) from the sexy Beach Volleyball ladies

As I was being distracted by my surroundings, my fellow male spectators were being distracted by something else:

One woman is clearly not amused by her husband’s enthusiasm for the ‘Horseguards Parade Beach Volleyball Dancers’

There were two matches played during the time I was there. One played by the men:

Norway v Latvia

… and one by the women:

Netherlands v Brazil (hello ladies!)

… and although both matches were rather enjoyable, only the players seemed to be taking the whole thing seriously. The fact that we couldn’t be further from a beach in London if we tried was probably a main factor in this, and it also didn’t help that the players first entered the court to the theme tune of Benny Hill!

As the ladies played desperately against each other to try and qualify to the next round, spectators just simply weren’t paying them any attention (well, not to their game-play anyway). People were singing and dancing in their seats, doing Mexican waves (I got bored after the seventh round, and simply waved my hand dismissively when it came my way after that) and Congas. All this was actively encouraged by the commentators.

Clearly not interested in the match, Prince William and Her Majesty the Queen lead the Conga between the stalls

Those poor Volleyball girls. This was like the twenty-first century equivalent to Elizabethan actors trying to perform Shakespeare at the Globe theatre whilst the inebriated, rowdy audiences in the stalls did everything but listen intently to the words of the Bard. Even the sand rakers were given more attention than the players as spectators gave them a round of applause between sets.

Simon Cowell is rumoured to be interested in signing The Rakers up after the Olympics

There was one mystery figure however that did seem to pay the Volleyball ladies the attention they deserved … and not just ogling them in they bikinis either. But, who was he?

Important enough to have a soldier by his side, who was the mystery man on the roof of Horseguards Parade? Too laid back to be the PM. Too smartly dressed to be Boris. Was it Lord Coe?

Although more like ’Blackpool Pleasure Beach’  than Rio Carnival, the whole event was absolutely superb and I enjoyed it immensely. Being a born-n-bred Londoner (apologies, gushing prose coming up) the pride I feel for my hometown and for TeamGB at this moment in time (22 Gold medals and counting), to see the city looking so beautiful and at its best, simply overwhelms me and I have fallen in love with dear ol’ London town all over again. Someone pass me a hankie (and maybe a bucket for me dear reader).

TLT x

Yes folks, it’s raining

The Olympic Stadium from underneath the roof of the Water Polo Arena – one of very few places in the Park to take shelter under when it’s raining

Once the shower had passed I had a little walk around the lovely meadow and waterway that surround the stadium. The only thing that seems to mar the simple beauty and tranquility created by the corn flowers is The Orbit looming over the whole thing. I’m afraid I don’t particularly like The Orbit. In Alien:Resurrection terms, if the Eiffel Tower is Ripley number ’8′ then the Orbit is Ripley number ’7′.

Definitely a Ripley number ’7′

Part of Sir Danny Boyle’s brilliant Opening Ceremony celebrating all things British. Here is the part recreating H. G Wells’ famous London-based novel ‘War of the Worlds’

London’s anwser to the Eiffel tower? More like the ‘Awful’ tower (sorry Mr Kapoor)

Then it started to rain again so I decided to dash over and take refuge in the official London 2012 merchandise Megastore. Unfortunately, there was a queue to get into it … a long queue … a very long queue:

The mega queue for the Megastore

Almost as long as the queues in Primark

Queuing, raining and the Olympic Park. How much more British can one get?

After drying out in the store and parting with more money than I really should have done, it was time to go to the Copper Box and watch Sweden v Tunisia followed by Serbia v Spain.

Inside the Copper Box

Before the first game, a round of ‘Give Us a Clue’: it’s a sport. Ball? … Hand? …

Sweden v Tunisia getting ready to start in front of some pesky empty seats

Sweden were very good but Tunisia put up a good fight. It’s a very fast moving game. A bit like Basketball but played by shorter men.

Sweden about to score again

I really enjoyed Handball and had a great view from the front row on the first level. But, as I said yesterday regarding my trip to see the Gymnastics, all good seats come with a price: today’s was enduring the smell of my neighbour’s feet.

Most British women are determined to get wear from their sandals and flip-flops in the Summer months regardless of the unseasonal chilly-wet weather. If I could bear my feet feeling cold – which I’m afraid I absolutely can not - I would probably do the same. I know wearing leather-uppers or even little ankle boots is not really in vogue with the season, but they are more effective at keeping feet dry, warm and pong-free than paper-thin canvas pumps and a pair of tights. Alas, my neighbour chose style over function this morning, and as her pumps dried under her seat, the cheesy damp smell of nylon was inescapable during the whole game.

It was a rather awkward situation: she seemed so very nice (at one point we had a mutually appreciative chat about Sir Danny Boyle’s brilliant Opening Ceremony) and I felt I couldn’t really ask her to deal with the odour before I died of asphyxiation. I would be mortified if a complete stranger came up to me and said my feet smelt, so I’m sure she would have felt the same way even if I had subtly whispered it in her ear, accompanied by a sympathetic smile. Yet, the smell was quite unbearable. Even the couple sitting behind me were muttering quite disapprovingly about it. They were getting more and more vocal about the stench as the game went on, so to protect my neighbour’s feelings I tried a more indirect approach.

After the third quarter of the Sweden v Tunisia game I discretely composed a text to my gentleman friend informing him how delightful Handball appeared to be, adding: “The lady sitting beside me is just lovely but her feet are a tad whiffy. I know she can’t help it but it might help if she’d put her shoes back on”. The fourth quarter had started by the time I had finished typing out the message so I used the restart of play as an excuse to distract me and delay sending the text, casually holding my mobile out in a way that any curious neighbour could sneak a look at over my shoulder. After Sweden scored two further goals, my performance in realising I hadn’t sent my text after all this time and ascentuating the act of pressing the ‘send’ button, would have won me a BAFTA.

I don’t know if she did see the text, but on my return for the start of the Serbia v Spain game, the air smelt far, far fresher.

A thrilling game between Serbia v Spain. Although Serbia were strong to begin with, Spain fought back and won. The sweet smell of success to Spain and of less cheesy feet for the rest of us

TLT x

The Millennium Dome … sorry I meant ‘The O2′ … no, got it wrong again: the ‘North Greenwich Arena’ on Day One of the London 2012 Olympics Gymnastics

Before the main event began an Irish presenter warmed the crowd up. Well, I hope she was from Ireland because only an Irish person can get away with the line “let’s walk around the arena for a bit and have some crack!” without it meaning something very different indeed. She did her job well, but I was rather perturbed when she introduced a short film explaining the main features of the sport by calling it the “A to Zee of Gymnastics”. A to Zee? A to Zee?! My Dear, I know the USA were competing today but you’re in London (and clearly not American with that Celtic accent) so at least pronounce it properly: it’s “zed”!

A stunning presentation in the art of Men’s Gymnastics before the main event

I had a great seat in one of the suites giving me a fantastic view of the whole floor. Alas, all good seats appear to come with a price and not just a monetary one. Mine was to be seated beside the world’s most irritating eight-year-old. He just wouldn’t stop asking his poor mother the most ridiculous and banal questions which she couldn’t possibly know the answer to. He was a true why-ner: “why is that man standing there?” “why is the floor pink?” “why did the woman say that?” “why can’t I sit down there?” Yes, why can’t you sit down there, anywhere, just not here, next to me! (there were plenty of empty seats he could have chosen from). I’m so glad now I decided not to have that Pimms with my lunch beforehand (it was a ‘buy one glass get one free’ special offer in one of the arena restaurants) otherwise I might have slurred something rather regrettable into his ear.

A great view of Italy on the Parallel Bars. His ‘M’ and ‘C’ were near perfect also, but his ‘A’ lost him points

USA being absolutely ‘awesome’ at everything, but Danell Leyva and John Orozco (pictured) were particularly breath-taking on the High Bar

There was a great atmosphere in the arena and the whole event was very well produced. The voice-over presenter however, on introducing each round just couldn’t help himself and ended his introduction to each piece of apparatus with an appropriately cringe-worthy pun:

Italy ready for the Pole Vault …

… the run up …

… and the launch. Damn! I didn’t have my seat belt on for the ‘take off’ as advised by the pun-tastic presenter

Italy being ‘floored’, USA ‘saddling up’ on the Pommel Horse and Japan attempting to be the ‘Lord of the Rings’. Gold medal for worst puns goes to the voice-over presenter

He clearly was stumped however when it came to the parallel bars. I’m surprised he didn’t try something along the lines of ‘parallel parking’.

A really enjoyable event, very well presented and extremely well organised. There were volunteers galore everywhere, all friendly, knowledgeable and keen to assist. Security was tight but not overwhelming nor overbearing, and as a result there was a nice, friendly atmosphere going through the airport-style security area. Only one small bag per person is allowed through. There are lockers you can use should you have more baggage with you. You can bring your own food but liquids are not allowed, although you can bring an empty plastic bottle with you which can be topped up with water free of charge inside the actual event grounds. There are plenty of eateries to choose from (though surprisingly no McDonalds at the Arena) but bring plenty of cash with you as they can be pricey …

… and hats off to Transport for London. Even when the event was over and the crowds dispersed, London Underground staff were well organised, got the crowds moving and onto trains quickly and effectively. I even got a seat in my carriage.

Day One. Done.

TLT x

Being inspired by the Superhumans at the London 2012 Paralympic Games and the possible sighting of a well known politician dressed up as a chicken

It is wonderful that after six weeks of constant rain, the sun has finally appeared just in time for the Opening Ceremony this Friday (proof that the Olympic flame does have Apollonian powers). Today had been a sweltering 31 degrees which was glorious, that was until rehearsals for the evening’s Olympic event ran late and delayed the opening of the gates by a good twenty minutes. This resulted in those with Celtic skin (like myself) queuing up to get in being exposed to the sun much longer than Factor 30 could guarantee protection for.

The Olympic stage at Alexandra Palace hours before Daley Thompson arrived to light the cauldron and mark the end of day 68 of the Olympic Torch Relay. After queuing up under the blazing sun for nearly an hour to get in, I was near enough the colour of the official’s bib in the left of this photo

When I finally got into the grounds, I needed to go and ‘powder my nose’ so to speak, and an official kindly directed me to where the toilets were. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised with the ‘experience’ as the London 2012 Games are supposed to be the Greenest ever, right down to the smallest … but most vital detail:

Powdering one’s nose whilst saving the planet and the reputation of the London 2012 Games’ green credentials

As I walked into the tent I was rather bemused to be handed a wooden spoon and told rather enthusiastically by the gentleman who presented it to me that I was number twenty. I couldn’t resist and replied that I only wanted to do a ‘number one’ before asking him what on earth was I supposed to do with the spoon. Apparently, I was to use it to lock the door to my appointed cubicle (number twenty).

Securing the door to my toilet cubicle with a wooden spoon (hopefully not a sign as to how basic security will be at the Olympics due to the recent G4S fiasco)

View from the loo: thank goodness there were no helicopters flying over during my ‘visit’

Afterwards, I took my place by the front of the stage for the celebrations which started off with the very talented Haringey Young Musicians Steel Band:

The Haringey Young Musicians Steel Band

This was followed by the first set of dancers and performers led by two young fellows called ‘Twist’ and ‘Pulse’. The two young girls standing beside me took a shine to these young lads and professed their approval by screaming incredibly loudly and continuously at them through my right ear. But, this was fine as I had already lost most of my ability to hear anything due the extremely loud and unrecognisable music (although my two young friends seemed very familiar with the tunes) booming through the loud speakers which were directly in front of me.

Love’s young dream (apparently) – Twist & Pulse with friends after their energetic dance routine

I now know why two sign language experts were employed on stage during the whole event. They were not there to assist the deaf revellers in the crowd but to help out bystanders like myself who were rapidly losing their hearing as the evening carried on. Every organ in my body was unpleasantly vibrating due to the large speakers I had unwittingly stood in front of (and due to the crowd, couldn’t move away from). The music was so loud that the Coca-Cola drum pads handed out to bystanders to make celebratory noise with actually vibrated when held up in front of the speakers.

Bystanders demonstating the damage being done to their eardrums with the use of vibrating Coca Cola Drum Pads and an extremely loud sound system

The “Lloyds TSB Torch Followers” took to the stage next and performed amazing acrobatics, albeit to further loud and unrecognisable techno music.

Like a techno version of Dirty Dancing

But on the other hand …

Family friendly Pole-Dancing

As easy as that

Then the big act of the night (apart from Daley) made his much anticipated appearance. Everyone cheered, swayed and sang along to his big chart tunes but I’m afraid I had absolutely no idea who he was and didn’t recognise any of his songs. I was however not the only one as I saw someone who was roughly the same age as myself, trying to look him up on their Smartphone. My young friends had no difficulty however knowing who he was and were extremely excited to see him. So I asked them who he was, but because my hearing was now non-existent I didn’t catch the name they gave me.

He ended his set with what seemed to be his biggest hit to date (going by the even louder screams and energetic jumps of glee by my dear young friends). I did catch one line of the song – something about being on a ‘roll’. I’ve since done a search online with this piece of evidence and I think the young man was Loick Essien?

Is this Loick Essien? (Is this showing my age?)

Loick duetting with the Sign Language expert

Then the time had come: Daley Thompson had finally arrived with the Olympic torch and at last I recognised someone! It was my turn to show my two young friends how to really cheer after someone you fancied.

Daley Thompson arrives!

Daley Thompson cheers!

Daley Thompson lights the Olympic cauldron

Daley Thompson admires his stirling work

Although it was a joy to see him, I was rather disappointed that he didn’t re-inact his famous 1984 celebratory backflip which he was probably prevented from doing by Health & Safety officials (not a wise act to attempt I understand, so close to an open flame).

Isn’t he simply adorable … Daley Thompson and the presenter weren’t too bad either (I just love Wenlock)

A great evening of Olympic celebration. Next stop: Stratford!

TLT x

Oh, I just love a mascot in uniform

Wenlock is so large here by Lambeth Bridge, he can actually hold the Shard in his hand

These are just a couple of over eighty two-metre high sculptures dotted around the Capital in various guises as guides to the Mayor of London’s Stroll: Discovery Trails. There are six specially themed and plotted trails presenting strollers with the best London has to offer without parting with a penny. One trail explores the beauty of Regent’s Park, another the buzz of Theatreland. There’s one that reveals the stunning architecture around Piccadilly and Oxford Street, and another that zig-zags through the famous markets of the East End. Wenlock and Mandeville act as sign-posts along the routes and will remain in their positions until the 9th of September when the Paralympic Games come to an end.

‘Victorian Wenlock’ in Victoria Tower Gardens. A stunning look, though probably inspired more by Mrs Beckham rather than by the 19th Century era

So, always up for a challenge, I have found them all and here they all are! Enjoy.

TLT x

Meeting the Superhumans at the London 2012 Paralympic Games, and the possible sighting of a well known politician dressed up … as a chicken x