Today
I've learned three things:
1- always
buy the Pret Christmas sandwich when you see them in stock
2-
running with a backpack is hard work
3- taking
selfies outside tube stations is weird when you're on your own
Jess and
I had to run our latest leg of the Tube Map independently this week because,
well, we modern girls who want it all can't necessarily have it all when it
comes to running schedules coordinating.
So,
Oxford Circus - Brixton on the Victoria Line was the route of choice.
It's been
a slightly upside down week, not least because of the US Election result...
Having spent most of my day inside a windowless room teaching singing, my lunch
break was met with the horror that Pret had run out of their Christmas
sandwich. When I'd walked past earlier to the sight of a long queue I'd
thought, "That'll have died down by the time I take my break." I was
right, but so had the number of Christmas sandwiches. They'd died done to zero.
Nothing. Nadda. Anyone who knows me well will know that, aside from the Pret
chocolate croissant, their Christmas sandwich is my favourite thing. In fact,
the two together make for a heavenly meal in my book. Anyway, all this meant
that when leaving my teaching spot just off Piccadilly Circus, the thought of
running up to Oxford Circus only to run back down to Piccadilly did not appeal.
Sometimes not having the sandwich you want can really alter your day. So, I'm
afraid I only ran Green Park - Brixton on this occasion; I'll make up the
missing stop when I've had my sandwich fix.
Piccadilly
Circus was heaving as you’d expect at 6.45pm on a Friday and the volume of
people didn’t die down much as I gently jogged down to Green Park. I
immediately felt the weight of my backpack a burden and realised I need to
invest in something lighter weight. Much of this Tube Map Training project will
involve running back from things, so it’s inevitable that a bag of ‘stuff’ will
be in tow. I got to Green Park, which we’d visited on Sunday’s run too, and
realised that taking selfies outside stations, especially when it’s obvious
you’re a runner and not a tourist, is slightly awkward in the absence of
friends. But a cheesy smile and a click later and I was on my way and free of
the crowds.
Passing
the Bomber Command Memorial at the nose of Green Park was especially poignant
considering its Remembrance Day. A tribute to the 55,573 Bomber Command Crew
who lost their lives in WWII, it got me thinking about the pain of conflict and
the senselessness of war. The political cloud of this week hanging over my head
made the statues seem even more haunting as they were lit up against the
evening sky, surrounded by poppy wreaths.
Turning
into Grosvenor Place I was sure I could smell horses in the air. You can take
the girl out of Devon… I like to the think the Queen was mucking out the
Buckingham Palace stables in the crisp evening air, but if she had any sense
(and if she was home…) she’d have been indoors, feet up with a Domino’s.
Coming
down to Victoria, which has been something of a maze the last couple of years
as it undergoes regeneration, I weaved my way in and out of people, buses and
taxis to get through to Vauxhall Bridge Rd, a quick snap of the station facade
and the emerald signs of Wicked on the Apollo Victoria theatre nestled
in the background. Following the scent of the fish stained streets of Tachbrook
Market, I had reached Pimlico before I knew it. Running two choirs in this area
means that for me Pimlico is something of a ‘choral stomping ground’. For
almost seven years I’ve been coming here at least twice a week, but I’ve never
run here, or taken a selfie outside the station…
I am a
lover of London bridges, so had to stop for a quick snap of the moon shining
over the many glass-walled developments of Vauxhall. A quick station photo and
it was off down South Lambeth Rd to get to Stockwell. I was beginning to get
cold by this point, my bag heavy and my stomach hungry, so was grateful I
didn’t have much further to go.
As I
entered Stockwell Rd, I noticed it had been shut off by police following an earlier
car accident. A Mini that didn’t look in the best of shape sat alone in the
middle of a police-taped quadrangle with lots of people looking on. I ran
quickly past it all towards my Brixton destination, the glorious diversity of
London never more present than in the various restaurants and bars en route.
The Stockwell Skatepark looked like a melted Soviet plot, moodily lit by street
lamps reflecting off its graffiti-clad ramps. I love London for these changing
landscapes. To pass The Ritz, a Royal Palace, MI6, a car wreck and a skatepark
in just 4.5 miles of road is what makes London London. As I was bombarded by
the hordes of people on Brixton Road, I had reached my finish point. Freezing
cold once I’d stopped, I’ll admit that I hopped in a cab home, where I quickly
wolfed down a take away (just like the Queen…)
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