Day 4 London

Day 4 - Tuesday 6 May (continued)

Hot in the city
Midday was practically sweltering as we boarded the train from Hornchurch into London. At 25 degrees Centigrade, we appeared to be the only ones at home in the heat: everyone else was fanning themselves and puffing out their cheeks. On the platforms we passed, it wasn't uncommon to spot a young guy in his jeans and shirtless.

This ain't no ride through the Andes
At one of the stops, an intriguing guy boarded and flopped down in front of us. He kind of looked part Greek and part Peruvian, well into his fifties and overweight. He wore dark grey cargo pants, a dirty red plaid lumberjack shirt over a dark t-shirt and ported a no-frills shoulder bag. His hand wrapped in a grimy bandage, he leaned on his walking cane. And sweated. Boy, could this guy sweat. Station after station, I had front row seats to him mopping his forehead with a rag that was once a light handkerchief. And he couldn't stop fidgeting. Removing the sweatband from his greasy taupe locks; replacing it; removing it. Parts of his body were always in motion. And the more he fidgeted, the more he sweated. I've never seen anyone so uncomfortable in his body. I hoped for his sake that it was just because of the heat. Somehow I don't think so.

Making plans
We rode the Underground until we could get off near Leicester Square. We had a plan. We checked out the prices at the "TKTS" booth, saw no discount was available, so found cheaper prices at another stall. We booked ourselves into the theatre show we wanted to see later that evening: Billy Elliot. Then we purchased tickets for the next day on a city tour by bus: the "Original City Tour". Plans set and mucho money spent, we grabbed a quick bite at Burger King overlooking the square - "filthy bathrooms", Marsh said; I don't notice these things. Especially since I don't go into the Ladies'. We priced souvenirs at a nearby shop...

Where the streets all have names
Then it was off into Chinatown, on foot:

Oh, ho, Soho
A left, a right, a left and we were into Soho, full of interesting little shops, restaurants and quirky people, to say the least. We passed two giant males, all buff and muscles bulging out of skin-tight t-shirts... and daintily holding hands. We stopped over briefly in an interesting shop of music and magazines going back a few decades:

Drama onstage - less drama offstage
After the debacle the previous day where we were late and rushing for our London Eye ride, we decided things would be different today with getting to the Billy Elliot show. So we made our way with plenty time to spare… except that our bus was halted by ‘rush hour’ traffic gridlock! It took us 45 minutes to traverse Piccadilly Circus. Stress again! Still we found the theatre opposite Victoria station in enough time (that's what they call "Little Ben" in the foreground):

Let the show go on!
In the hour or so before the show was due to start, we wandered around the W. H. Smith bookshop, Marcia adding to her giant collection of stationery (folders!!) Then it was off to the theatre, something I'd been dreaming about since I was about 13. As we made our way inside, they gave many of us a free upgrade to better seats. I like. And the show was magnificent, truly awesome. They really put on a show in such style, whether it's the actors, the innovative stage design, the costumes or the songs.

Remember it's about a boy in a mining town who wants to do ballet. (The entire audience was treated to Marcia's gasps upon hearing 5-year-olds on the stage swear!) It took about 3 hours, ending at about 11pm, so we had to race to catch the last train back to Dave and Victoria's – apologising for not being able to see them that evening. In bed after midnight. Smiling after the fulfillment of a dream.