Emma's Best Day, Ever

Some time ago, I scored a copy of the Illustrated Pepys, by Robert Latham (it was a JI cast-off when they shed books in Christchurch). I've had great fun reading Sam's diary over the last few months. He was an interesting character who recorded his life and thoughts solely for himself - as he wasn't writing to please others, and never expected his diary to take on the very public life that it has, I don't feel inclined to judge him for his peccadilloes. Anyway, yesterday, we did the first part of a "Pepys Walk" through the east City of London. See the photos here as you read.

Spot the bobby

After breakfast at Carluccio's, we tubed to the start of our walk (via a brief stop at Oxford Circus to discover that Liberty doesn't open until 10:00 am). First up, George and I climbed the Monument (a memorial to the great Fire in 1666) - all 311 steps of it - then we all went in search of the church St Magnus the Martyr, where I managed to find the London bobby on the model of Old London Bridge.

Next on the walk was No. 13 Philpot Lane. It was fenced off for health and safety and the street was filled with blokes in hard hats, so we were struggling to locate the "smallest public sculpture in London", of two brown mice nibbling a piece of cheese. One of the workers (the elder of the two who spoke to us) wanted to know what we were looking for, so I told him the story. During construction of the building for spice merchants in 1862, they were apparently plagued by mice, so the builders added the little sculpture. He got quite interested, and wanted to let us inside the cordon but another (younger) chap wasn't 'aving a bar of it. Anyway, our new friend spotted  the sculpture first and pointed it out to us, and was rather tickled I think, because he had discovered something from us. Simple pleasures for all concerned!

St Dunstan's - the ruined church

I won't give a blow-by-blow account of the walk, although I definitely recommend visiting St Dunstan's in the East, which is the most gorgeous garden. Ever. We also visited All Hallows and the garden in Seething Lane. The last place I wanted to visit was St Olave's, where Mr and Mrs Pepys are buried, but it was bolted firmly shut, so that was that. We didn't feel very tempted to visit the Tower, which was possibly silly, but that can be a treat in store for another day. Or trip.

Incomparable Liberty

We tubed to Oxford Circus and parted company - ironically the lads went in search of shoes, although I'm the one that actually bought some. I really wanted freedom at Liberty's, pun intended. I spent a goodly amount of time there, wishing my mother was with me. I had lunch and then continued to wander, dazzled by the products but even more so by the building. Then I succumbed to the lure of a pair of Liberty "Strawberry Thief" Doc Martens. With both guilt and delight writ large on my face, I left Liberty to find that meanwhile the rain had started. I headed off with my purple parcels to Hanover Square, where I plodded around damply looking for Brook Street. Eventually I found it, but I walked straight past the Handel Museum, which is extremely missable, to Claridges and back again. The doorman at Claridges said as I passed the second time "I reckon I saw your twin a few minutes ago!". Ha ha, Cockney humour...

I finally found my way into the museum and spent a marvellous hour or so there. The house has very squeaky floors and wonky everything - I didn't feel entirely safe! But there's nothing wrong with a bit of adrenaline. It was incredible to be standing in Handel's composing room (where he wrote the Messiah) and bedroom. There were lots of paintings of his contemporaries, and several very old instruments too.Well worth the 6 quid, and another highlight in an already quite brightly lit day. On my way out, I asked the lovely chap at the desk where to find the nearest Tube station. I then followed his very clear instructions to the Bond Street station, went down the escalator, and then suddenly remembered this is the one we normally get out at - being the nearest station to our hotel, so there really wasn't much left to do but come back up the escalator and hope no-one was watching me blush!

After the day I've described, by the time we were all back at our room, you will understand when I say we were more than ready for a cup of tea and a lie-down. The only plans we had were very gentle ones, involving a simple assembled meal (Chicken Tonight - sorry Claudia) and a lot of lolling around.

While I was throwing said meal together, Ian got a text from cousin Katie saying that cousin James had tickets for us to the Paralympics opening ceremony! "We must GO!" said I, so we did. We gobbled down dinner and leapt on the Tube, meeting cousin James at Canary Wharf, then dashing back onto the Tube to Stratford. What an amazing experience. Some of our photos are here. George took so many that I have spent most of this evening culling them back. It seemed a little surreal to be seeing the Queen and fireworks and listening to Handel on a day when I had been visiting the Handel museum.

I am just very sorry that we left before Ian Dury's "Spasticus Autisticus" was performed - but we desperately wanted to beat the crowds to the Tube home. The fact that this music was chosen makes me very happy - how delighted Ian would have been - he was a Londoner, a punk, and a poet and "normal land" has taken a long time to hear his message. And as for the evening in general, "there ain't 'arf been some clever bastards" - simply unforgettable.

What a day!