Category: Travels

In a heatwave, it’s not ideal sitting indoors with all the windows closed to keep the smoke from the wildfires out. After a few last minute chores, I set off for Whitby, soon after noon.

The drive was easy enough and only in a couple of places did I see smokey haze in the distance. Google Maps took me to the backdoor or my Airbnb, but luckily, Lucy was there to let me in.

To access my room, from the town, you have to walk up hill, then climb a dozen steps to reach the front door and then climb a further two flights of stairs inside. I’m glad it was a bit cooler here on the east coast: that was the plan, after all! And the bed that I invariably collapsed onto was very comfortable.

I went for a wander down into town, sight-seeing and people-watching. It’s hard to avoid seeing the Abbey high up on the hill, but on this visit, I resisted the temptation to climb the 199 steps to reach it.

The swing bridge is still closed to traffic, and I was impressed by the two very large Lego bricks blocking its entrance.

I found myself at the end of the very long jetty before thinking to look for somewhere to eat. In the end, I went for a pizza, a marguerita, which in this case was cheese, cheese, cheese and maybe it looked at a tomato at some point.

The wind felt cool but it was playing rough with the incoming tide.

Usually when we’re staying in a b&b, we don’t bother with the TV but I turned this one on. Strangely, Freeview wasn’t connected, but Netflix was. So, at last, after all this time, I watched Geeta Gandbhir’s Oscar-nominated film The Perfect Neighbor. It’s a tough watch but well worth the time. Unfortunately, it just confirms there are some nasty people around.

Meanwhile, Liesel, Leslie and Jyoti were out at a gig in Indianapolis, at the world famous Jazz Kitchen.

When the gulls aren’t stealing people’s chips, they can be seen trying to gain access to people’s homes.

In the morning after breakfast, I visited the local library to do some writing. It was peaceful inside, despite the background noise of seagulls squawking, other people typing and the odd vehicle outside proudly announcing its reversing skills.

I was surprised to see Māori text on the wall.

This translates to: Through discussion comes awareness, through awareness comes understanding, and through understanding comes knowledge. I was pleased to be able to show off my knowledge of Te Reo Māori to the library assistant. (Well, thanks, Google translate)

Captain James Cook has strong connections with Whitby. He was a British explorer, navigator, cartographer, and captain in the British Royal Navy. Famous for discovering Australia, totally ignoring the native Aussies who’ve been there for 60,000 years. He had absolutely nothing to do with the Titanic, although this model in the library is rather cool.

So, who wants to see how steep the path was up to Pannett Park? It was very steep, especially for those of us who live in the flatlands of Northenden.

This archway reminds us of the genuine whalebone archway nearer the town centre. There are carvings of ships and other nautical items, reminiscent of scrimshaw.

In the park, I saw a painter at work. He was reluctant to speak but he did agree to me taking this picture.

He didn’t tell me his name, but he did confirm that none of his work was on display in the nearby Pannett Art Gallery, which I visited after enjoying a coffee. I learned about the Staithes Group of Artists, British Impressionists from the late 19th, early 20th century.

The Museum is in the same building, but I decided not to visit this time.

Looking for a nice view and I thought, thistle do.

There are a number a wooden sculptures in the park too, some people are very talented.

Passage to India is, I believe, a good book by E M Forster, but I’ve never read it. I did visit the restaurant that shares its name though here in Whitby. Great food, yeah, but far too much for me, so again, no dessert.

Having seen the work of the Staithes Group of Artists, I thought it might be interesting to visit Staithes itself. It’s a short bus ride north, more or less along the coast, providing some nice views. I noticed there seems to be a disagreement between Google Maps and the local bus company. Is it Nettledale Close or Netterdale Close?

I got off the bus at Captain Cook’s Close, and walked for ten minutes into Staithes, which bills itself as Captain Cook’s Village, 1745. Well, he did work there for eighteen months as a shopboy to a grocer, but his skills lay elsewhere, as history shows.

You’re never too far from a lovely view in Yorkshire, and here was no different: this sight in particular caught my eye.

After a quick stop at Coastal Kitchen, I wandered into the very quaint, old town. The streets are narrow, cobbled, and modern vehicles really do look out of place here.

There’s a small stream, Staithes Beck, that flows by this historic fishing village, but right now, it’s really dry. On the other side are located coastal cliffs, which provide a lovely backdrop to the traditional red-roofed cottages on this side.

The museum was just up my street. Plenty of maritime artefacts, old maps, and an unusual sundial.

And yes, of course, there was a lot of information about Captain Cook. Who, by the way, died in Hawaii, which is where Liesel was born.

Dog Loup in the narrowest alleyway in the north of England. I had the pleasure of squeezing myself through its 45cm width to see what was at the other end.

Nothing special, so I went back the way I came.

I didn’t make the effort to walk over the stepping stones that cross the beck. It would have meant walking down a steep slope and then back up again. And I didn’t want to miss the bus back to Whitby.

Where’s my fix of Keiran? Here he is on his first visit to the local playground. What an adventurer.

And over in Indiana, Liesel has been buying fruit and veg to take back to Anchorage, as well as admiring the copious local bindweed.

The drive back home was uneventful. I stopped a couple of times to look at the view, well, because I could.

This natural amphitheatre is near Saltergate Bank. It has a fascinating geological origin. A local giant, Wade the Giant, scooped up a handful of earth to throw at his wife during an argument, creating the hole, and leaving behind Blakey Topping where the earth landed. She must really have annoyed him.

That was a most enjoyable few days away, and I’m pleased to say that when I returned home, the stench of smoke had dissipated and the heatwave had eased off a bit.

In Indianapolis, Liesel, her Mom and Jyoti had therapeutic pedicures. Definitely needed after all the walking they’ve done.

I say walking, but I think some of it was running away from the giant squirrels they have in that part of the world.

Back home, back to normal, the only deadline being completion of the week’s radio show.

While I was enjoying my train journey to Reading, Liesel was having her own little adventure. On the way to Martha and Williama’s school Summer Fair (Fayre?), she got a puncture. Well, not Liesel herself, it was one of the car’s tyres. Less than two months ago, we bought a set of four brand new tyres, and here we are already with a puncture. It was sorted quickly by the nice young men at Halfords.

It was a momentous day down under too. Helen Scissorhands gave Keiran his first haircut.

And afterwards, he still has more hair than I have.

After arriving in Reading, I took a bus to my Airbnb where Rosie welcomed me and as soon as I had privacy in my room, I had a lie down. Plans to do some sight-seeing in this town bit the dust, but later on, I did go for a bus ride and a wander while I sought somewhere nice to eat. In the end, I settled for nachos. Nothing special, but just what I needed at the time.

Whereas Northenden has 101 vape shops, Reading seems to specialise in mobile phone accessory outlets, several next to each other in one alleyway.

No, I wasn’t staying at this old hotel, dating from 1506 apparently. I was in fact in the basement of a Buddhist retreat which I was grateful for, it was much cooler here than outside. Reading has a Business Improvement District and I was impressed by this four-tier floral display in the town centre.

You learn something new every day. The idea for Paddington Bear came from Reading, and the Reading citizens are very ptoud of that.

After a good night’s sleep, I did wander the streets a bit more, despite the heat. I try not to be full-on British and complain that it’s too hot when we’ve been waiting so long for some warmth, but I did find myself heading for shade whenever possible.

Reading does have a heart, and as I walked by the River Kennet, I found it.

From the explanatory plaque: The Reading Amnesty Art Project incorporates reclaimed weapons from knife amnesty bins, to form part of a sculpture for our local community.

Working with young people around ideas of reflection, peace, hope, togetherness and safety – Stuart Melrose has created ‘The Armoured Heart’ a symbol ol respect and love.

When knife crime happens, it affects everyone –  real people and real lives. Every person matters. We need to respect each other and ourselves, and ensure that Reading is a safe place to live

Make a positive choice to not carry a knife or use violence.

Support each other and we can make Reading a safer place for everyone.

Many people were enjoying the sunshine in Forbury Gardens as I walked through on my pilgrimage to Reading Abbey. On this site, I encountered only a couple of other visitors, which I thought strange. The Abbey was founded in 1121 by the first King Henry and it has a fascinating history.

Here are some ruins with a very modern building, The Blade, in the background. Construction of this modern office block began in 2007, so it’s just 886 years younger than the Abbey.

I’m always on the lookout for songs for my radio show, so I was delighted to come across this one:

Sadly, there was nobody else around to hear my recitation. Their loss.

I sat on a park bench where I met and chatted with a retired Scottish guy who spends half his time in Romania. Following his recommendation, I have watched some videos on YouTube made by @BlackBeltBarrister, plenty of food for thought there.

While enjoying my late breakfast slash early lunch, I wasn’t expecting to see a Zebra go by. A Zebra is, of course, a Zero-Emission Bus for the Reading Area. But all the buses here seem to be colour-coded. The buses I used most often were Yellow 26 and Jet Black 1. While enjoying coffee and a muffin in BB’s, I watched someone taking pictures of all the buses going by. Other colours include Azure, Sky Blue 15a, Lime, Purple 17 and more. I saw one with Global Warming stripes as its livery. And the replacement buses all seem to be grey.

Something else I thought was a very good, modern idea was, on buses terminating at the railway station, there was a display showing the next few train departure times and their platform numbers.

One job I don’t particularly fancy is that of Environmental Enforcement Officer, pounding the streets of Reading. I can’t believe the amount of equipment they carry around.

The reason for my visit to Reading this weekend was to attend Jesstival. Jessica Lee Morgan has just turned 50 years of age (she’s not coy about this fact) and she was celebrating by performing at The Purple Turtle with various guest musicians.

I was pleased to meet Sue, another big music fan, who shares my birthday. It was hot outside but we agreed that the air conditioning inside was unnecessarily turned up to 11. Still, the music was good. Jess performed several 20-minute long sets with her partner Chris and other fellow musicians that she’s worked with at various points in the past.

They performed plenty of Jess’s own songs, plus a few Bowie tracks, and a few others from the old Those Were The Days shows. The tongue-twisting When did it all Begin was well-received by all.

Simon Adams played drums on a few songs. Jess played sax and kazoo but sadly not at the same time.

Frank Zappa wasn’t there today, but having his image outside the Accessible Toilet was quite funny, I thought.

Crispin ‘The Pump’ Taylor, a member of The Blow Monkeys, played the  drums beginning with a fantastic cover of Son of a Preacher Man. Other covers included Dock of the Bay, Big Yellow Taxi, Lady Stardust, You’re so Vain, and of course, Those Were the Days.

I’m sorry I didn’t get all the names, but I think we saw and heard Laurie Wright on bass, Pete Doyle, Jules Hay and Peter Byrne from Coda Led Zeppelin. Someone White was visiting from Brisbane and I think I heard the name Mick Anchor. Nor did I get around to getting a copy of the set list.

I was surprised that there was no food available at this pub, not even crisps, so, during one of the breaks I visited Subway, next door but one, and bought a dozen cookies which I was happy to share.

Under Pressure, Locomotive Breath, Play that Funky Music White Boy, I Heard it Through the Grapevine, Pink Floyd’s Money, Video Killed the Radio Star, Twentieth Century Boy and possibly my favourite song of the day, Sandy Denny’s Where Does the Time Go?

The gig finished about 9.30, with two of Jess’s own songs that we all sang along to, The Less Said The Better and This is My Love Song, ending very nearly six hours of entertainment. I caught a bus back to my accommodation but I don’t know why I bothered, it was only two stops!

Thanks to Jessica for the invitation and for the entertainment. I’m sorry that your parents weren’t there but I’m sure they celebrated your half-century in their own way!

I said farewell to Rosie before checking out after another good, comfortable night’s sleep. Although I did hear some Buddhist chanting fairly early. From the bus on the return journey to the station I spotted Muffin Break. I had breakfast here and a coffee. The coffee was so good, I had a second cup along with a muffin. It passed the time until my train turned up.

I saw this train at the station and thought that’s what trains are supposed to look like. It’s very nearly the same shade of green that the old Southern Region trains were, the ones that took us into London as children for many enjoyable days out in the capital.

It was good to be back home.

And good to pick the children up from school on a very hot day. The post-school snack, for all of us, was an ice cream in the park. Both Martha and William were pleased that the zipwire had been fixed.

I accidentally left my phone at home on the day we went to watch Martha’s cricket team play a match. She batted well and bowled a wicket, so we were very pleased that she was announced Player of the Match.

The weather this week was challenging. Very hot. So, one afternoon, Liesel, Leslie and I went to the movies. We enjoyed The Tuner although it was slightly more violent than anticipated. Again, too many adverts and trails though.

And the following evening, Liesel and I attended one of the few performances of The Surge: An Ode to Sinéad O’Connor at Aviva Studios. It’s always good of course to hear Sinéad’s voice, whether singing or speaking, but the troupe of ten dancers made the show.

If I said they spent a lot of time dancing on park benches and moving them around the stage, you’d probably think, that sounds a bit daft. But no, it was a fascinating show, full of energy, skill and stamina.

While we were being entertained here, Martha was on the world stage. The Women’s T20 Cricket World Cup is taking place, and tonight at Old Trafford, Scotland played Sri Lanka. Martha was proud to be a mascot joining the Scottish team as they played and sang their national anthem, Flower of Scotland.

There’s a ceremony at the start of each match where they bring on the national flags, huge flags, and Liam volunteered to help carry the Sri Lanka one onto the field.

Of course, it was only fair that Martha lift the trophy, supported by her cousin.

It was well worth visiting Quarry Bank Mill for a quick walk. Mainly though, we went for the scones since Liesel and her Mom will be leaving very soon for America. Purple/pink flowers seem to be the flavour of the day.

There were plenty of bees and a couple of butterflies. But the insect we got closest to was a moth, back in our apartment block. Because it’s hot, we leave the windows open. And because the motion-senitive lights don’t work and stay on all night, loads of bugs fly in.

It was beginning to cool down, no more 30° days for a short while. Quite pleasant in fact, especially with a light breeze. We heard some thunder rumbling in the distance but didn’t see any lightning. Certainly nothing like the 93,000 lightning strikes they’d experienced in Oban a few nights ago.

Usually, these posts appear in chronological order. This one is an exception. Something that I needed to get off my chest, so I can sleep well tonight.

A couple of weeks ago, we’d successfully paid a visit to Manchester by train, so I thought I’d travel by train for a couple of days away in Reading. Apart from anything else, it would be rude to deprive Liesel of the car for the weekend.

Liesel dropped me off at Gatley station from where the train took me to Manchester Piccadilly. This is a busy station but I found the platform for my Reading train easily enough. So far, so good. I even found my booked seat. I made a mental note that this train’s final destination is Bournemouth, so, one day, we might travel to the south coast this week.

I was enjoying the ride, reading a book, when the train was held at a red light. Apparently, there were trespassers on the line and it was taking a long time for the police to get there to remove them. Someone suggested a protester had superglued themselves to the track. Someone else said it might be cattle or sheep on the track.

It’s so long since we last took a long train ride, I was gobsmacked that the wifi was working at all, never mind quite well and consistently. The train guard wasn’t saying anything, other then apologising for the delay and we’d be on the move as soon as possible. Via the Trainline app, I wondered whether the Travel Assistant AI chatbot would be of any use. Well, yes and no.

This Travel Assistant is powered by Al and its contant may be surprising or inaccurate. Please don’t input sensitive informationn like credit card or phone numbers.

[As if I would.]

Hi! How can I help you with your booking?

I said: My outbound journey was delayed by an hour or so, do I get compensation?

Based on the real-time information and compensation guidelines, here’s what you need to know about claiming compensation for your delayed journey:

Yes, you should be eligible for Delay Repay compensation since your train experienced significant delays and appears to have been cancelled partway through the journey.

[Well this was news to me. I chose not to share it with my fellow passengers: it might be wrong.]

CrossCountry operates Delay Repay you can claim compensation when your train is delayed by 15 minutes or more… etc

How to claim: Visit the CrossCountry website or contact them directly to make your Delay Repay claim… etc

Claims can usually be made online and you can choose compensation as a refund or rail vouchers.

Important: If you didn’t complete your journey due to the cancellation and had to make alternative arrangements, you might want to consider claiming a refund instead of Delay Repay compensation. Would you like me to help you with anything else regarding your booking or journey?

[At this point, I just assumed I would complete my journey, even if I was an hour or so late arriving in Reading.]

I said: The train guard hasn’t yet told us anything about a cancellation

I can see what’s happening with your train. Your Cross Country service from Manchester Piccadilly is currently running about 1 hour and 13 minutes late. Here’s the situation:
Current Status:
Your train departed Manchester Piccadilly
on time at 11:25 It’s been running late since Stockport (about 1-2 minutes initially) The delay has increased significantly – it’s now estimated to arrive at Stoke-on-Trent at 13:16 (originally 12:03)

The service is cancelled from Birmingham New Street onwards – thus it won’t continue to Reading. For Delay Repay compensation: Yes, you’ll be eligible since your train is delayed by more than 15 minutes

Cross Country operates Delay Repay… [yeah yeah you said all that already]

The train guard should make announcements about alternative arrangements when you reach Birmingham New Street. You’ll likely need to catch a different service to complete your journey to Reading. Keep your ticket as you’ll need it for any compensation claim. Would you like me to look for alternative trains from Birmingham New Street to Reading to help you plan the rest of your Joumey?

I said: yes that would be helpful please

Good news! Since your original train is disrupted, your Advance Single ticket is valid on these later CrossCountry services at no extra cost.

[Very generous]

Here are the next available direct trains from Manchester Piccadilly to Reading:
Status updated at 12:19
14:25 On time Manchester Piccadilly 17:41 On time Reading
15:25 On time Manchester Piccadilly… etc

If you keep your original ticket and your journey runs late, you may be able to claim Delay Repay compensation… etc [Yeah, yeah]

The 14:25 departure would be your best option to minimise the overall delay to your journey.

[Is it really suggesting I have time to return to Manchester to catch this later train?]

I said: what time will the earliest train depart from Birmingham New Street?

I understand you’re asking about trains from Birmingham New Street specifically. However, the alternative journeys I can show you are the free options available with your ticket, which are all direct services from Manchester Piccadilly to Reading.

Since your original train terminates at
Birmingham New Street, you’d need to catch
one of these later direct services from
Manchester instead. The earliest available
option is:
14:25 departure from Manchester Piccadilly
Arrives Reading at 17:41
Direct service (no changes needed)
Platform 4
Free to use with your existing ticket.

This would be much more convenient than
trying to piece together a journey from Birmingham New Street, as you’d avoid the
hassle of changing trains and potentially
buying additional tickets.

[So, I can avoid the hassle of changing trains to continue on to Reading by chnaging trains, going back to Manchester, and catching another Reading-bound train?]

Would you like to head back to Manchester Piccadilly to catch the 14:25 service, or would you prefer to explore other options?

I said: No that’s a ridiculous suggestion. Tell me which train to catch from Birmingham New Street to Reading

I understand you need trains specifically from Birmingham New Street to Reading.
Unfortunately, the system I have access to
only shows me the free alternative journeys
available with your original ticket, which are all from Manchester Piccadilly

[Well the system needs to change so you do have access to more sensible alternatives.]

For specific train times from Birmingham New Street to Reading, you’ll need to:
Check the departure boards at Birmingham New Street station.
Ask station staff for the next available services.
Use the National Rail app or website for live departure information.
Since your onginal ticket was for a direct Manchester to Reading service, any onward
journey from Birmingham New Street would likely require a separate ticket purchase.

Is there anything else I can help you with regarding your original booking or compensation claim?

I said: No you’ve been absolutely useless. There will be a lot of disgruntled passengers at Birmingham New Street: this train-ful of people will squeeze onto the next available train which will already be full

I completely understand your frustration – it’s

[No you don’t, you’re a badly programmed chatbot.]

really annoying when trains get cancelled and you’re left stranded. You’re absolutely right that Birmingham New Street will be chaotic with everyone trying to get on the next available services.
Unfortunately, I can only show you the free alternative journeys that are valid with your existing ticket, which are all from Manchester Piccadilly, I don’t have access to search for connecting services from Birmingham New Street to Reading.

For trains from Birmingham New Street
onwards, you’ll need to:

Check the live departure boards… etc

I know this isn’t the halp you were hoping for, and I’m sorry I cant provide the specific Birmingham to Reading train times you need right now.

Is there anything else I can help you with, perhaps regarding compensation for the disruption to your journey?

[At this point, the train guard announced that this train would terminate at Stafford, well before Birmingham New Street]

I said: I have to wait at Stafford for the next train to Reading

I understand you’re stuck waiting at Stafford – that’s really frustrating. Unfortunately, I can only show you the free alternative journeys that are valid with your existing ticket, which are all direct services from Manchester Piccadilly to Reading.

[It still wants me to return to Manchester.]

Since you’re already partway through your
joumey at Stafford, you’ll need to:
Check the departure boards at Stafford
station for the next available services to
Reading
Ask station staff… etc

I know this isn’t ideal when you’re already stranded and waiting.

[Far from ideal.]

For future reference, you do have free alternative direct services available from Manchester Piccadilly, but I understand that doesn’t help you right now.

You should definitely be able to claim Delay
Repay compensation from CrossCountry for
this disruption…

[Yes, I know, that’s all in hand. It should be an automatic thing to compensate all affected passengers, you know who we are, but I know that by telling us we have to apply for compensation, you know a certain percentage of people will forget thus saving the train company money. My problem right now is, I want to get to Reading. Stop going on about claiming compensation.]

Is there anything else I can help you with regarding your booking or compensation
claim?

[Stop asking this pointless question.]

I said: I will claim compensation for the delay, but can I also claim for the cost of events in Reading that I will potentially miss?

[There wasn’t anything really but I wanted to test the bot to its limits.]

I understand you’re concerned about missing events in Reading due to the delay – that’s really frustrating on top of everything else.
For Delay Repay compensation, you can
definitely claim from CrossCountry for the train delay itself. This covers the disruption to your rail journey.
However, for additional costs like missed
events, I’m not able to advise on what
Cross Country might cover beyond the
standard Delay Repay scheme. Train
operators have different policies regarding
consequential losses (like missed events, hotel bookings, etc.).

What I’d suggest:
Make your Delay Repay claim first for the
train delay. When you contact Cross Country about compensation, explain the full impact of the delay including any events you’ve missed. They’ll be able to advise what additional compensation, if any, might be available.
You could also check if you have travel insurance that might cover missed events due to transport delays.
Sorry I can’t give you a definitive answer the event coels-the train operators handle these cases individually based on their own policies.

Is there anything else I can help you with regarding your booking?

I said: How can I save this chat?

Sorry, I cannot help with that. I can only assist with train bookings and Trainline related enquiries.

Is there anything else I can help you with regarding your journey or booking?

[No.]

And that’s it.

In the end, I saved the chat by taking a screendump of the whole thing.

Eventually, we reached Stafford and we all disembarked. The next train turned up, full as expected, and the person in my booked seat wouldn’t let me sit on her lap. Even this train, the service that followed my original one, was running late. The obvious solution is of course to go faster. But that was impractical. No, CrossCountry’s solution was to terminate this train at Leamington Spa! I am not making this up. So, after standing for a long time, two trains’ worth of hot, sweaty, peeved passengers disembarked at Leamington Spa. A lovely place, I’m sure, under different circumstances.

The next Bournemouth via Reading train turned up. I let most people board it. I chose to wait because I noticed that the next train to turn up was for Reading. I hoped it would be less busy, and that worked out. I even got a seat and after a few stops around Oxford, I arrived at Reading Station. Only three hours late. By the time I disembarked here, I’d already put in my claim for my Delay Repay payment. And I didn’t even return to Manchester to catch a later train. Thank goodness. Because if I had been able to do that, I would still have been kicked off at Leamington Spa.

Yes, I know the initial problem, trespassers on the line, can’t be helped, but I think the train company’s solutions to this and to subsequent events were not good enough. They may have saved money by not running all the trains to their final destinations, but we passengers (oops, customers) who were very badly mistreated.

A couple of days later, it was time to return home. At Reading station, the train from Bournemouth arrived a few minutes late and a herd, a horde of people boarded, many with huge cases. I found my booked seat but there was someone in it. I asked her to move. She didn’t. She showed me her ticket. Her seat was the one next to mine. But there was someone else sitting there. I got my phone out to see if there was a way to get in touch with the train guard without having to walk up and down the train. This horrid person asked, “Are you taking my picture?” “No. Why would I want to take your picture?” you rude, antisocial, nasty piece of work, I don’t need a memento of your ugly face, thanks very much. I didn’t say that last bit.

A couple of rows behind, there was an empty seat. I asked a really nice lady if I could sit there for a minute while I resolved my issue. It was a hot and sticky day already and even though the train was cooler than outside, I really was sweating a lot now. On Saturday, something went wrong but I got there in the end. Today, though, this felt more personal. So I revisited the online Train Assistant, as it was so useful the other day…

I said: I’m on the return journey, someone is in my seat C 49 and won’t move

I understand how frustrating that must be! Unfortunately, I can’t help directly with seat disputes as this needs to be resolved with the train crew.

[I think a useful feature for this Train Assistant would be the ability to send ‘help’ or other messages to the train crew or another person if relevant. The clue is in the word ‘assistant’] 

Here’s what you should do Find a member of the train crew (conductor, guard, or ticket inspector) Show them your ticket with your reserved seat number (C49) They have the authority to help resolve the seating issue The train crew check the other passenger’s ticket and help sort out the situation. They’re experienced in handling these matters and will be able to assist you properly.
Is there anything else I can help you with regarding your journey?

I said: where would I find the crew? towards the front or the rear of the train?

Train crew members typically move throughout the train during the journey, so they’re not always in one specific location. However, here are some tips for finding them:
Look for them walking through the carriages – they regularly patrol the train checking tickets.
Check near the doors between carriages: crew often position themselves there.
Try the front or carriages crew sometimes have designated areas there.
Listen for announcements: they’ll often announce their location when making stops
If you can’t spot them immediately, you could also: Press the passenger alarm (only in genuine emergencies)
Ask other passengers if they’ve seen crew recently

[No, I didn’t press the alarm. And the lady I sat next to hadn’t seen any crew member. After a couple of minutes, there was an announcement. Lots of information, but nothing regarding whether I should walk towards the front or the back of the train to find him]

Wait a few minutes – they usually walk through each carriage regularly Since you’re dealing with a seating issue, the crew will definitely want to help resolve this for you. They should be doing ticket checks during the journey, so keep an eye out for them.
Is there anything else I can help you with?

I said: how many carriages on this train?

I can see from the real-time information that your train is a Cross Country service, but unfortunately the system doesn’t show specific details about the number of carriages your train… etc
The good news is that your train appears to be running on time overall, so the crew should be doing their regular ticket checks and patrols…
Is there anything else I can help you with?

I said: is there a way to contact the crew without moving through a moving train which some of us might find difficult?

I completely understand – moving through a moving train can be challenging and uncomfortable for many people. Here are some options that don’t require you to walk through the train.
Wait for the crew to come to you they regularly patrol… etc

The seating issue definitely needs resolving, and the crew will went to help you. They’re trained to handle these situations and will sort it out once they’re aware of the problem.
Is there anything else I can help you with while you wait for the crew to come through?
Your train is still running well and should get you to Manchester Piccadilly on time. Is there anything else I can help you with while you’re waiting for this to be resolved?

I said: can you give me a nice recipe for rhubarb crumble?

Sorry, I cannot help with that. I can only assist with questions related to your train journey and Trainline bookings. Is there anything else I can help you with regarding your current journey from Readingto Manchester Piccadilly?

I said: but i want to prepare that dessert on the train, so it is relevant

Sorry, I cannot help with that. I can only assist with questions related to your train joumey end Trainiline bookings, such as ticket information, delays, or travel-related queries. Is there anything else I can help you with regarding your current joumey from Reading to Manchester Piccadilly?

I said: i don’t believe a crew member will be walking through any time soon, I didn’t see one at all on my outward journey

I understand your concern if you didn’t see any crew on your outward journey, that is unusual as they typically do ticket checks and patrols throughout the journey.

Here are a few other suggestions:
Wait until the next station stop this might be your best option as you can safely approach crew on the platform or find them more easily when the train is stationary.
Ask nearby passengers if they ve seen any crew
Check if there’s a customer information
point or help button in your carriage area
The seating issue with someone in your
reserved seat C49 really does need resolving,
especially since you’ve paid for that specific
seat. Train operators have a responsibility to
ensure passengers can use their reserved
seats
If you still can’t locate crew, you might want to consider contacting CrossCountry directly after your journey to report the issue.
Is there anything else I can help you with regarding your journey?

I said: how long until the next stop? Oxford is it?

Yes, you’re right-Oxford is the next stop! Looking at the real time information, your train is currently running about 2 minutes late and is scheduled to arrive at Oxford at 12:40 PM (originally 12:38 PM) Since it’s currently 12:32 PM, you should be arriving at Oxford in about 8 minutes.
This could be a good opportunity to:
Look for train crew on the platform when you stop at Oxford
Approach them about the seating issue with seat C49 while the train is stationary
It’s much easier and safer to move around when the train has stopped
The train will only stop at Oxford for about 2 minutes (departing at 12:41 PM), so if you do see crew on the platform, make sure to get their attention quickly about your reserved seat situation.
Is there anything else I can help you with?

I said: if I ask you to stop asking if there is anything else you can help me with, would you comply? because it’s really annoying

Absolutely, I’ll stop asking that question.
Thanks for letting me know!

[An hour and a half into the journey, a crew member did come through the carriage to check tickets. He wasn’t a guard, he was the Train Captain. Oops, sorry, Sir. He spoke to the woman in my seat. He spoke to the girl sitting in that woman’s seat. He spoke to that girl’s Dad who was in the seat behind. It turns out that the same seat number had been allocated to two different people. Not me, but there was now a daisy-chain of people sitting in the wrong seats. Captain Craig came and suggested I move to First Class and if anyone else queried my presence there, to say Craig sent me.]

I said: cheers, anyway the good news is Craig the train captain sent me to First Class since there had been a problem with a double-bocked seat, not mine

That’s brilliant news! Craig sounds like a proper legend for sorting that out for you
Getting upgraded to First Class because of their double booking mistake is a nice result, much better than having to deal with someone refusing to move from your seat
Hope you enjoy the rest of your journey to Manchester in comfort now!

I said: what could be better than a nice cup of tea and some biscuits

That sounds perfect for a First Class journey!
Nothing beats a proper cup of tee and biscuits when you’re settled in comfortably on the train. Enjoy the upgrade and the rest of your journey to Manchester!

Well, the rest of the journey was good, I had a comfortable seat, and I checked several times that this seat was designated ‘Available’ rather than ‘Reserved from…’ some other place. I did have a cup of tea and some biscuits, expecting to receive something more substantial later on.

My neighbour here was a tattooed gentleman, something in Chinese on one arm, something more geometric on the other.

We made good progress, I read my book, I looked out of the window and I kept an eye on our location.

Just before Stoke, we were told that due to a points failure at Macclesfield, the train would be diverted, missing out Macclesfield and the stop after Stoke would be Stockport.

As time went on, the ETA at Manchester retreated into the distance. I was chatting with Liesel and we agreed that I should get off at Stockport where she could pick my hot, sticky, sweaty, stinky carcass. Thanks, Liesel. The train was by now 50 minutes later than scheduled, which means I can claim half of my fare back.

Let the train take the strain. Well, I notice adverts don’t say that any more, and I think I know why.

Jean joined us here in London to keep Leslie company while Liesel and I went off to do our own thing. On the first tube train, I finished reading a book I’ve been struggling with for a very long time. It’s by an author I greatly admire, but this particular novel was, I thought, far too long, the language was, to me, often not natural, and I found it hard to know what was going on. But it has received great reviews so I guess we just weren’t a good match on this occasion. But I feel it would be mean to say which book it was.

From King’s Cross Station we walked north towards the venue for a special event.

So what was this special event? Here’s a clue.

Yes, today was our David Bowie Day. And here at the Lightroom, we watched David Bowie: You’re Not Alone. As the blurb says, the show invites us to step inside the creative mind of an icon, through film, photography and audio. Showcasing a wealth of material from the David Bowie Archive in New York City, this audio-visual spectacle transports audiences back in time to experience Bowie up close and celebrate the enduring power of songwriting and creativity.

We were surrounded by photos, footage from concerts, some of which I’d enjoyed myself. Yes, I looked for myself amongst the audience, but I didn’t see me, or anyone I was with. Don’t miss this epic multimedia spectacle at Lightroom, which runs until October 10th.

The show lasted about an hour, I sang along, listened again to some of David’s interviews, cringed at Russell Harty’s interview, and was reminded again why I am such a big fan. As well as the music, he was such an interesting person.

We admired the redevelopment of the area and ate lunch in one of its top end restaurants, Pret a Manger.

By Victoria Line and Mildmay Line (formerly London Overground), we travelled to Stratford. The shopping centre was, as usual, very busy, and we walked through to the old Olympic Park. Our destination was the V&A East Storeroom, a recent addition to the Victoria and Albert suite of venues. The main attraction for us (mostly me) today was The David Bowie Centre. There are 90,000 artefacts from David’s own archives, many of which are on display.

The walk from Stratford station was longer than anticipated so it was good to arrive and sit down with a coffee. Ten minutes later, we would have had to join the queue outside in the drizzle. Sometimes we are dead lucky with our timing.

It’s called a Storeroom for a reason. It is literally a storeroom full of old furniture, pictures and a million other things. Exhibits isn’t quite the right word here, since they’re not really on display.

But there are some humorous captions too, whether intentional or not, I don’t know.

So, a million objects on display, and yet after queueing for the toilet, you can only imagine the disappointment on finding there was no loo paper.  This has to be one of my worst phobias, certainly in the top two.

We’re up on the second floor and we’re watching the queuers in front. We joined the line for the David Bowie Centre just a little bit beyond the sign that said not to queue beyond this point. I suppose it’s good that such a place is so popular, but we would have liked a wee bit more space.

I didn’t count the box folders safely stored on the shelves, but there were a few that we could examine, left out for us on the table. It was interesting to see some of the paperwork, images and behind-the-scenes pictures form Labyrinth. A film whose premier I was happy to see along with my wife Sarah and my sister Pauline. And that’s forty years ago now.

Here are early hand-written lyrics for the song Right which appears on the album Young Americans. We can only imagine what was going through his head at the time, but the end result is a wonderful, well-crafted song, featuring David Sanborn on alto saxophone, Carlos Alomar on Guitar, Mike Garson on clavinet plus Luther Vandross, Ava Cherry and Geoff MacCormack (David’s old schoolfriend) on backing vocals.

We wandered around the storeroom some more before leaving. Not fancying the walk back to Stratford, we decided to catch a bus to… well, we didn’t know… anywhere. In the end, we enjoyed a nice ride to London Bridge. Hackney’s a fascinating place, we passed by Mare Street (where my Dad’s Uncle Charlie lived), Bethnal Green, Brick Lane (where we’ve had bagels on a previous visit), Commercial Street (near where Sarah used to live) and The Monument (which Liesel had only asked about just a couple of days earlier).

Whinge of the day. Why can’t restaurants put their menus on a website that I can browse and even search? Why do we have to download a PDF which is much harder to read on a phone? Grrr.

London Bridge to Temple by tube then a walk to Thai Square on the Strand for a delightful meal. The light rain persisted but we dodged it when we walked to the Peacock Theatre. Not for a David Bowie-themed entertainment but a Japanese Drumming group called Yamato. I was so glad they put up this warning.

I think we would have been disappointed if it wasn’t loud! But it was fun, rhythmic and at times, incredibly funny. They really did play with joy, passion, stamina and strength.

Jean insisted that Liesel and I go out for breakfast so we walked to a lovely little place in Ealing called ‘The Moon & Maybe’.

‘The Moon & Maybe’: that’s a strange name, isn’t it? But the veggie breakfast was delicious. Glad we left when we did, as a family of about twelve were settling in. I wasn’t quick enough to shoot the bunnies, but it was quite cute to see them being taken for a walk on leads. One was picked up as soon as a dog appeared. That reminds me of the old Ricky Gervais line. What one item would you save if your house caught fire? One of the twins.

When a bee pooped on Liesel’s hand, I couldn’t convince her it was honey.

Back at the ranch, Jean packed and we all traipsed off to Euston Station. I was too slow at Gloucester Road station to take a picture of the gigantic waterlily sculptures on the disused platform.

Then, at Embankment station when we changed from the District Line to the Northern Line, we heard the original ‘Mind the Gap’ announcement by Oswald Laurence. It’s played for his widow Margaret, who travels via Embankment whenever possible just to hear her husband’s voice again. The announcements have been standardised across the rest of the network. I found it quite moving, on this day especially, since it was the twenty-fifth anniversary of Sarah’s death and of course that memory kept popping into my head.

Jean caught the train back to Manchester while Liesel, Leslie and I walked through the old University College area, past the Bloomsbury Theatre (where Sarah and I saw Tasmin Archer all those years ago).

We crossed over Tottenham Court Road and strolled on to The Carpenters Arms. Here we met Liesel’s cousin, Andi. Unfortunately, Steve was working today over in Richmond, where they live.

The pub seemed familiar, and after seeing the roof terrace, I knew I’d been here before, just a couple of times, when I worked at the University of Westminster. Sunday roast was the order of the day, nut roast for me of course. Again, no photo of the family, sorry.

We walked to Fitzroy Square, a very peaceful place right in the heart of the city.

After returning to our riding school in Ealing, we sat around and yakked for a while. After Andi left to go home, I think both Liesel and I felt comfortable enough to relax, have a lie down even! It had been an exciting but exhausting week in what will probably always be my favourite city.

After breakfast, we walked to Ealing Common station. Back on the Piccadilly Line, this time to Leicester Square. It’s daft, I know, but I did feel at home hearing all the familiar tube stops being listed: Hammersmith, Earl’s Court, South Kensington, Knightsbridge. Each comes with its own memories. Unfortunately, the crowded train was very familiar from years ago too.

While in transit, we received the latest photo from Australia. Keiran is celebrating six months on planet Earth, his ½th birthday, so to speak.

So, why Leicester Square? It’s the closest stop to Liesel’s favourite clothing shop, Gudrun Sjödén. She and Mom spent a long time in the shop, browsing, trying on and eventually buying some lovely garments. Meanwhile, I went for a wander around the Seven Dials area.

Mainly, I was looking for a nice, little, independent coffee shop. I sat outside, and on the next table were a group of Americans. How did I know they were Americans? I just knew, mainly the assault on my lugholes. And it was confirmed when it started to rain, very lightly. They grabbed their stuff and scuttled inside. Yes, I can recommend Monmouth Coffee Company, in Monmouth Street, if you’re in the area. I enjoyed a few minutes quiet outside, letting my ears recover, before finding my way to Forbidden Planet, a very popular science fiction and fantasy book shop.

I did not however succumb to temptation and buy an ice cream here.

The assistant in the Gudrun Sjödén shop greeted me like an old friend. She gave me a seat and a glass of water while I waited for Liesel and Leslie to finish.

We walked to the Strand and caught a bus to St Paul’s. My old farts’ bus pass won’t scan on London buses so I have to show it to the driver every time. Then they press a button on the machine.

It started raining, lightly, as we walked over the Millennium Bridge but I did enjoy being able to scrape my shoes along the ribbed extruded aluminium panels that make up the surface, made smoother and more slippery after 26 years of heavy pedestrian traffic. Younger folks were brave enough to run and skid on the surface. Liesel looked at me in a manner that said ‘Don’t you dare’.

The queue at the main entrance to Tate Modern was quite long, outside, in the rain, so we walked round and went in via the Turbine Room entrance. Our bags were cursorily checked and we went into the café. It was heaving and too many tables were occupied by people ‘working’ on their laptops. As we left the café, our bags were searched again. We realised that we could have entered the café from outside through its own door. So much for security. We don’t mind having our bags checked, they’re trying to keep us safe after all. But at the same checkpoint, don’t have one member of staff telling us to stay put while a colleague is beckoning us over to her little desk. Grrr.

We decided to slum it and have lunch in the restaurant several floors up. Our view of St Paul’s was only partially obscured by raindrops on the window.

We were here at the modern art gallery to visit Tracey Emin: A Second Life. I tried to buy three tickets online. It said I had to create an account. Reluctantly, I do so. I buy three tickets. Go to check out. There are 6 tickets. Go back to remove 3 tickets. Pull some hair out. Give up. Hashtag enshittification. So I went to the ticket office and bought 3 tickets from a human. Easy.

I’m not sure what we were expecting really, just an exhibition of Tracey’s artworks, including a couple of really famous pieces. We weren’t expecting to learn so much about her personal problems and health issues. In the end, I just wanted to give her a hug, she’s had it pretty tough at times.

Liesel and I often looked at each other in disbelief, feeling a lot of sympathy for Tracey. Perversely, I’m not sure she would necessarily feel that sympathy was justified.

Afterwards, we walked along a damp South Bank to Waterloo Station. And it’s reassuring to see some things don’t change. The booksellers are still out in force underneath Waterloo Bridge.

And I did have a chortle to myself when I noticed the Southbank Centre are celebrating 50 years of skating in the undercroft, under the Royal Festival Hall.

It wasn’t that long ago that the management here wanted to shift the skaters a few hundred yards along the river so the space here could be ‘redeveloped’. Public opinion won, on this occasion, hooray.

As planned, we met Helen and Steve from Chessington under the clock at Waterloo Station and we walked over to Tas, the Mediterranean Turkish restaurant on The Cut, opposite the Young Vic. A very pleasant meal was enjoyed by all and we witnessed a couple of brief downpours, watching several people fighting umbrellas or running for cover.

We returned home to our stables and slept very well.

Meanwhile, Jyoti and Rupert had arrived in Rome and already walked several tens of thousands of steps in a very busy city.

After breakfast, we returned to central London. We parted company at South Kensington. Liesel and Leslie went on to enjoy coffee and cake in the crypt of St Martin’s. They then wandered over to Chinatown, not sure how much food was consumed there.

I spent much of the rest of the day revisiting my old haunts in Kensington and Notting Hill. There are many more shops at High Street Kensington Station than there used to be. That’s progress, I suppose. My first port of call was Kensington Central Library.

A couple of hours writing and reminiscing followed. I’m pretty sure the place has seen some changes in the half century or more since I visited, as a student. But the WiFi is much more reliable now than it was in 1975.

Sarah and I spent a lot of time in and around Holland Park for a few years, so, feeling a little nostalgic, I had to pay a visit today.

I’m not sure whether we ever entered the Park through this ornate gate, but as you can see, it was locked today.

It was good to that artists are still inspired by Holland House. None of them wanted me to pose in front of the building, though.

Lunch was taken at the café along with visitors from all around the world.

The drizzle was half-hearted and it didn’t deter me from walking over to Campden Hill Road, the location of my first accommodation away from the parents. Freedom. Queen Mary Hall, my halls of residence, has now been converted to luxury apartments of course. Top floor, second window from the left, that was room 118 which I shared with my old mate Nick, who died far too young.

I walked along Campden Hill Road to Notting Hill Gate, a path trodden many times, on a visit to the chippie or on to Portobello Road market. I didn’t get that far today. But I was pleased to see The Gate cinema is still going. We spent one night there watching a film marathon… but for the life of me, I can’t remember what the movies were!

I spotted this sign on a lamppost, some very sad news.

When I turned round, I noticed that he had  been found in the east Asian inspired restaurant.

Along the road, there is some wonderful street art.

This mural, featuring colourful figures with fragmented faces was created by artist Barney McMahon in 1997 to brighten a previously dingy alleyway.

And if that’s not enough art in a public space, I thought this mosaic was pretty impressive too. Just a few yards away from the mural, this is one of eight glass mosaic panels titled ‘Jumbie Jubilation’ located on the façade of the Ruby Zoe Hotel. It was designed by British-Trinidadian artist Zak Ové and created by mosaic artist Oliver Budd. It depicts a character from traditional Trinidadian Carnival masquerade costumes, celebrating ancestral African folklore.

When I lived in Kensington Palace Gardens (great address, dingy bedsit), I utilised a laundrette on Notting Hill Gate. It was and remained 20p a load for much longer than its nearby competitors. Sadly, I coudn’t find it today. But that’s OK, I didn’t bring any laundry with me anyway.

I strolled back up Campden Hill Road to The Windsor Castle. This pub was frequented a few times by we students from Queen Elizabeth College.

So it was good to return, again, after over fifty years! And yes, the prices have gone up a bit. I suppose it’s a traditional English pub, with wood panelling, bare brick fireplaces and small doors. I found the hidden garden but in the end, we sat inside.

Yes, it was a very pleasant afternoon chatting with Ade and Gideon, who I’ve not seen since we moved to Manchester. Sadly, the group was incomplete. Dear old Ken died suddenly a couple of months ago, so we drank to his memory. I invited both to get in touch the next time they’re up north for work, or anything.

I staggered to Notting Hill Gate station, well, not literally, but I had consumed more beer in one go than I have for years.

To Euston station where I met Liesel and Leslie. We were there to meet WI friend Jean. Unfortunately, her train was an hour late arriving, so it was quite late by the time returned to Ealing.

Yes, I realised later, I don’t have a photo of Ade and Gid and if I have one featuring dear departed Ken, it will be from over twenty years ago. I wish I were a bit more diligent in taking photos of people. I didn’t even shoot Helen and Steve. But I wanted some pics of the area because the ones I had from when I was living here, as a student, and later on, well, sadly they are no longer available.

‘When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life’. ‘London is a modern Babylon’. ‘A bad day in London is still better than a good day anywhere else’. ‘Nothing is certain in London but expense’. ‘London is the place for me’. Most of the quotes could have been produced by the London Tourist Board of course, but that doesn’t mean they’re not true. The last one in particular is a great song by Lord Kitchener which always deserves a listen.

Anyway, we spent a most enjoyable week in London. We decided to drive since this was cheaper and more convenient than going by train. The journey was uneventful: in fact, almost unbelievably, we encountered no roadworks on the M6. Zero. Does that mean they’ve finished it at last?

One thing I did notice on the three and a bit hour long drive though was just how many illegal number plates there are now. I suspect most of these are so the driver can avoid detection by speed and ANPR cameras. Yep, we haven’t even reached the capital city yet and I feel the need for a bit of a whinge.

We were able to check in to our accommodation for the week nice and early. Ealing Riding School is a bit off our usual beaten track, but we thought a bit of horse-riding would be fun. Well, actually, no. Liesel hasn’t ridden a horse for about 25 years and I’ve not been on top of one for 65 years.

Mum and Dad took Pauline and me to the Epsom races a few times, including when I was 6 years old. I was given the opportunity to sit on a horse, way up there. I was extremely reluctant. Just hold onto its mane, they said. Well, I know what it feels like to have have my hair pulled, so I didn’t really want to do that. Just relax, they said. What? Up here? Easier said then done. Then, horror of horrors, it started to move. It walked round in a circle while the parentals encouraged me to relax and try not to be so stiff. The relief at being lifted down has lasted a lifetime. And now, at this riding school, seeing horses close up, I still don’t want to be on top of one, about six feet off the ground. It was quite nice chatting to them, though.

So, why Ealing? Jyoti and Rupert are off to Italy for a visit to Rome and a walking tour in and around Vernazza. They decided to spend a couple of days in London, seeing friends who live in Ealing. We met up in a coffee shop, of course before setting off for that major visitor attraction: Southall. This was my first ride on the Elizabeth Line. Only a few stops from Ealing Broadway, but I can now tick that off my bucket list.

Last time I visited Southall was about 50 years ago, for an interview for a job that I assume I didn’t get. The streets felt properly alive, vibrant: sari shops bursting with every colour, especially gold.

The spicey aromas from dhabas and sweet shops mostly won out over the traffic fumes. We heard all kinds of music from the shops and a couple of buskers. Southall shows multicultural London at its best, as close as we’ll see maybe to Blue Mink’s Melting Pot. Busy, busy, busy. I know: it is a bit of a naff song by modern standards.

We noted this restaurant, but we didn’t enjoy its offerings on this occasion. Nor did we visit the nearby Hindu temple.

One thing that I don’t think anyone noticed was that in my bag, I was carrying some scones. Liesel was carrying the clotted cream. This was our gift to Jyoti and Rupert. In return, they presented us with a dozen cans of diced chillies.

In a cute little resaurant, Poornima, unusually, rather than coffee, I chose a masala chai. The ingredients as listed on a blackboard: black tea, cardomom pods, ground black pepper, sugar, ground ginger, cloves, milk and a(n invisible) cinnamon stick. Refreshing is the word. And my samosa chaat was very nice, very tasty.

Back to Ealing where we walked to Jyoti’s friend Kirin’s house. I was surprised how quiet Ealing was, certainly the residential areas that we walked through.

We paid a visit to the Duke of Kent, the pub, not the late Queen Elizabeth’s cousin.

Over a most delightful meal, we chatted about music and about how the roses here in London are in bloom a lot earlier than they are up north, at Dunham Massey, say.

Back at the riding school, I think we were all glad to be able to lie down. As is often the case, we had a bit of a fight with the heating system. How to turn it off in one room, and how to turn it on in another.

Hawaii has an interesting if somewhat sad history. The Hawaiian royal family seemed to have a good relationship with the British royals. Until they sought support from Queen Victoria and her government when the USA decided to invade. UK said, nah, you’re on your own. Which is why, now, Hawaii is the 50th state. Its flag still includes the flag of the United Kingsom though. The exhibition at the British Museum was fascinating, and I noticed that the captions describing the items went to great lengths to emphasise that the artefacts had been legally acquired, donated or lent. Except where something was donated by someone with its earlier provenance beng ‘unknown’. Well, I think we can guess. Hawai’i: A Kingdom Crossing Oceans runs at the British Museum until May 26th.

Kūpe’e hoʻokalakala (bracelet)
Boar tusk, olonā plant fibre
Hawai’i; mokupuni (island) unknown

Possibly collected during Captain Cook’s third voyage (1776-80); documented as part of the British Museum’s collection in the late 1800s.

I’m not an expert in bracelets but I’m fairly certain this must be one of the most uncomfortable ones to wear.

Umi, exhibition co-steward and cultural practitioner based in Hawai’i.

I made the leiomano (shark tooth weapon) as a makana (gift) to the British Museum for inviting our stewardship group Hui Maki’ilohelohe to London to help care for collections here. But I also wanted to add a protective element and energy, those of a kia’i (guardian), for nā akua hulu manu (all the feathered gods). I wanted to bring this protective essence to them in a land so far from home.

Kanaka ‘Õiwi (Native Hawaiian) artist Dennis Kana’e Keawe based this lapaiki (drum) on an ancestral drum displayed earlier in this exhibition. During the Covid-19 pandemic, British Museum staff documented and photographed the original drum to guide Keawe’s work in Hawai’i. He gifted this drum to the Museum, opening a new chapter in the continuing shared stewardship. Milo wood, kapa (barkcloth), shark skin, nylon, fibre, ‘ie’ie aerial root. Made by Dennis Kana’e Keawe in 2020; donated by the artist to the British Museum in 2021.

The captions are from the Museum of course, thank you very much.

For some reason, I used to think that one day, after 100 years or so, Hawaii would be handed back to the UK, in the same way that we gave Hong Kong back to China. I just wish I could remember where that snippet of misinformation came from.

The plan was to go to a gig in Camden, at a favourite venue, in the evening. With this in mind, we booked a meal at a nearby favourite restaurant. At 1pm, I received an email apologising that the gig had been cancelled. Liesel hastily found and booked an alternative show, in Holborn.

I’ve mentioned enshittification before and here was a good example. The email said if I wanted a refund, then just reply. So I did. Only to receive a response that that email address isn’t monitored and my email would be deleted. I found an alternative email address and accused them of being scammers. Not because I thought they were, but I thought such an accusation would at least elicit a response. The revised dates for the gig were unsuitable, so I look forward to receiving the refund soon.

Liesel and Leslie enjoyed afternoon tea for lunch while I had my default: chips and salad.

We paid a visit to the Americas area in the Museum too, to pass the time but also, it had suddenly become much darker outside, a sure sign that there was about to be a torrential downpour.

Dennis Zotigh designed this regalia in the 1970s and wore it for powwows. Powwows draw different tribes together for dance competitions, drumming, and celebrating their shared history and heritage. The best drummers are paid to play for the dancers, who win money. Men, women and youth compete in different types of dances. The men’s Fancy Dance performance is the most dramatic and athletic. Dancers win based on their skills and regalia. Ute beadworker Angie Jacket sewed this regalia. Constantly innovating with new fashions, artists make dance regalia using available ribbons, mirrors, and plastic beads, in addition to feathers, furs and porcupine quills used historically. Kiowa/San Juan Pueblo/Santee Dakota regalia.

After the deluge, we met Jyoti and Rupert, caught a bus to Camden and walked to Mildred’s. This branch of the vegan restaurant chain felt less crowded than the Soho one. The food was, as usual, terrific. We were joined by Lydia, here to study in London, all the way from Anchorage.

After dining, we wandered over to Camden Lock and the market.

Instead of now visiting the Green Note for a show (at least we didn’t have to worry about having to sit on a beer keg because they’d run out of seats!), we caught the bus back to Holborn. Playing at Pizza Express was the Sonia Elisheva Jazz Collective. Sonia was a good performer, but the band were terrific, almost outshining the singer!

Piccadilly Line and District Line trains took us back to Ealing Broadway, and from there, we took a cab back to the Riding School. The outside gate was locked, so we had to crawl underneath it. The inside gate was locked, so we had to climb over it. We’ll never know how undignified we looked on the CCTV footage, which we requested to be destroyed. Also, however hard it was climbing over to get to our accommodation, it would have been much harder climbing over to get out, with a stilen horse over our shoulders. If we were criminally minded.

Later in the week, we learned that we could have just squeezed through the hedge to the side of the outer gate, and in fact, that it wasn’t really locked anyway, it just looks like it. To confuse people.