Blighty 2025 - The Paddington Bear Experience

Trip number two to the Big Smoke, London, and a visit to the Paddington Bear Experience for young Charlie.

I'd managed to replicate the good deal on train fares from Didcot to London, so we made our way there in time to get a mid-morning train. Trying to negotiate the payment machine in the car park, I realised that I may not have paid for the full stay last week, so I'm wondering if there will be an excess charge waiting for me at the car hire place when we return the car. That and the speeding ticket I may have picked up. Tsk.

The morning trains into London are busy, so we elected to take the slow train that started from Didcot, having seen the hordes awaiting the fast train from somewhere further west. We were right, too, because as the fast train pulled out of the station, there were people standing in its aisles. It's an interesting sight for people who live in North America to see a fast and very frequent service to London always rammed full. Public transport in Ontario is sparse, expensive and, as a result, poorly used.

We arrived in London with plenty of time to spare, and made our way by Tube to Westminster to witness Big Ben sounding out the twelve "bongs" of noon. The trouble was, just like our visit in 2023, it was pouring with rain. We shuffled around a bit in the lobby of the Tube station, bought a quick Greggs lunch and ate it standing up outside the shop. At about 1140, we ventured out and the rain had mostly moved on, so we took up a position part way across Westminster Bridge and waited in the spitting rain and blustery wind, admiring the iconic scenery of Central London. London is constantly changing, so the skyline is quite different compared to when I moved to London in 1977. But, most of the older buildings have been cleaned up and are no longer soot-blackened. Indeed, Big Ben's home, the Elizabeth Tower, has been so well restored that it looks new.

Bongs duly delivered, we shuffled over to the old Greater London Council's offices on the South Bank, which is now a hotel and home to various tourist attractions, including the Paddington Bear Experience. On the way, we took a quick gander at the National Covid Memorial, something the conspiracy theorists and anti-vaccination people should do, it's sobering. That side of the river, opposite the Palace of Westminster, is often used as a film location, and if I can dig out my favourite photo of Ingrid Bergman and Alfred Hitchcock there, I'll add it to the blog.

I opted not to partake in the Paddington Bear bonanza, but grandson, grandma and mum were ushered in, some way in advance of the time on their tickets. I shuffled off in search of a seat, maybe in a bar or a coffee shop, but ultimately never found one. I don't like drinking in pubs on my own, nor sitting in coffee bars, and I wasn't in the least bit hungry, so I walked around Waterloo Station for a while, then made my way back to the pre-arranged meeting spot. Sadly I had underestimated the Paddington Experience time, and spent the next hour waiting alternately outside by the river, or inside the building when it rained, all without a seat.

While there, I spent my time admiring all the adult teachers and chaperones leading big lines of school children on their summer day out (what a job!), listening to the multitude of languages being spoken, and marvelling at just how noisy London is, even outside. Perhaps I should have turned my electric ears off?

When the Paddington thing was done, and a good time was had, I believe, Emma decided to take Charlie on the London Eye, the big wheel thing by the river. It was £42 for her and £38 for him, so a combined total of £80, which was far too rich for us grown ups, and frankly quite the rip-off for a 25 minute spin on a wheel. There were combination deals available that dropped the individual price if you visited other attractions, but the costs were alarming when you add them all up. It is expensive in London, I know that, but there's some serious gouging going on in the tourist hotspots. It was ever thus, I suppose, but it annoys me all more now I'm older.

We had an afternoon to use up, and the rain had abated, so we decided to head up to Chalk Farm and the filming location for the Brown's house in the first two Paddington Bear films. There's some serious money (and a lot of Range Rovers) in Primrose Hill, and it showed as we walked through leafy streets. I'm sure the owners of 30 Chalcot Crescent must get fed up with with people photographing their house, but we did it anyway.

From Chalcot Crescent we walked through to Primrose Hill Park, and that wonderful vantage point over London that features in so many films (although curiously not Padding Bear films). It's quite a steep walk up there, but the view was a great reward. For Charlie to see the London Eye and the Elizabeth Tower from up there made the excursion worthwhile.

Michael Cain at Primrose Hill in the film, The Fourth Protocol

An executive decision was made to schlepp over to Hackney to visit Sutton and Son's Fish and Chip shop, home of the extensive chip shop vegan menu. We were there in 2023, and really enjoyed the food, so felt it was worth the effort of getting there.

Transport for London (TfL) has an excellent phone app that will plan you a journey based on your location, but it has to be used with some discretion. The first couple of options it threw up would have taken us on exciting trips through London but without getting us very far, very quickly. Using my local knowledge, I filtered out the impractical options and went for a bus to Camden Road Station, and the Mildmay Line to Hackney Central. There were other options has I chosen to go to Hackney Downs station, or any other location nearby, but when you enter a specific location, the app has no discretion, although you have to use some.

The traffic was bad, but sat on the top deck of a bus it doesn't seem so awful. We missed a train at Camden Road, faffing around using the lift at the station, and the next train that came along, only ten minutes later, was rammed. But it was only a few stops, and we tumbled out of the train with lots of other people at Hackney Central. It's only a short walk around to Graham Road, and Sutton's. Well, the meal was fab, as it was before, and made a fitting final event of the day. 

Emma made the point that in Hackney, were surrounded not by tourists, but by local people, and it made her happy to think that. I'd add that the ethnic mix in Hackney is wonderful; everyone's a Londoner, but from a multitude of global backgrounds. It's excellent.

I had planned to go back to Town on the bus, but was outvoted by Charlie, We climbed onto another rammed Mildmay Line train to Highbury and Islington, then onto rammed Tube trains back to Paddington Station and our train back to Didcot. All the day's running around had been using our pre-paid Oyster Cards, just tapping into a station and back out at the other end, or tapping onto a bus. There are lots of other ways to pay your way, but Oyster is easiest and cheapest. This was our second time in London on this trip and I'd still only used about £15 of the £25 I'd pre-paid. We may need to top the cards up for our next visit, but given all the travelling we'd done, it's been great value.

Back at Padddington Station, we had to wait a short while as our cheap day tickets were not valid until after 7pm. The first fast train was up on the destination board, but no platform number was listed. The platform was only indicated with about nine minutes to go before the train was due to leave, which meant a massive crush of people suddenly headed to the entry gate at once. This is standard practice at London termini, and I'm not sure I understand why given that the train had been sat at the platform when we arrived at the station. Network Rail who operate the stations, and the train companies, have been roundly criticized for this practice, particularly at Euston where crushes of people have reached dangerous proportions. It doesn't seem like anything has been done to address the issue, though. I can't imagine having to suffer this day after day.

The fast train was fast and we were back at Didcot before 8pm, and home by 9pm. A very long day, for sure, but heck, that's what we're here for.

Blighty 2025 - Family and Herefordshire

Today's jaunt was a trip into the wilds of Herefordshire, specifically to Leominster (pronounced "Lemster"), Kimbolton and Bromyard, to get some family vibes for Dear Wife, for that is where her family hails from.

It's an interesting story, too, from agricultural workers in Herefordshire, to tradespeople in Birmingham, to Royal Navy in Plymouth. It's a path trodden by many others, but so much more pertinent when it's your own family.

We had to make a stop en route first, and that was at a Gregg's Bakery in North Worcester. I chose North Worcester because it was sort of on the way, it was a full shop and not a cabinet in a petrol station, and there was free parking right in front. It was well worth the trip, too, because they had everything we wanted, despite the place being very busy with workers from the nearby Business Park. 

Once back on the road we made our way through the lush Worcestershire and Herefordshire countryside to Leominster. I'd looked at the area extensively using Google Maps, but that is only two dimensional and doesn't even hint at the relief of the land. Goodness that land has some relief. It's not tall mountains, although those were visible to the south (The Brecon Beacons in Wales), but it was gorgeous little hills and dales, carved in the soft red soil by water from the Welsh hills.

Leominster is a small market town north of Hereford, and it's seen better days. In the little town centre there were a lot of vacant shops, and there was an air of decay about the place. That said, the many half-timbered buildings were still standing tall, even if they looked a little past their best. I should make the point here that the short-term car park only cost £2.40 for two hours, and it wasn't a mobile app only pay system, either, as the machine had a bank card reader. South Devon councils please take note.

We searched out the addresses of a few of DW's ancestors, thought about the people, and thought about the buildings and what's left them given that the records we've been looking at go back 200 years. Etnam Street looked to have been a grand thoroughfare once, and as it led to the station, it probably was. School Lane was one of the narrow streets leading to Corn Square, as was Corn Street, and all those places were homes and businesses for DW's family in the nineteenth century. It's quite cool to think that you're walking the same streets as your ancestors.

After a bite to eat and a drink at the Flying Dutchman Cafe, we made our way out to the village of Kimbolton, about two miles north of Leominster. We debated about the pronunciation of Kimbolton; was it Kim-Bolton, like the one in Cambridgeshire, or Kimble-ton? We may never know. 

In Kimbolton, St James' Church stands on a hill above the village, and very nice it looked, too. The road to get there was a Devon-style lane, but it was good to know that DW's ancestors had made their way up that hill to the church to get married. The church is made of local stone, and has a square tower topped with a wooden spire. It looks very old, and indeed parts of it are, but the church was extensively remodelled in 1875, and the interior shows it. The large graveyard that surrounds the the church is filled with sandstone headstones, pretty much all of which have been worn smooth over time and give no clue as to who is buried there. There were plenty of modern graves there, as well, and there was one grave dug and ready for use (covered, of course); it's unusual to see old graveyards still very much in use.

We stood inside the church for a while and tried to imagine the wedding of Dear Wife's ancestors that had taken place there so long ago. The family, established themselves in Leominster, but parts of it moved west to the little town of Bromyard, twelve miles to the west of Leominster, and from there moved onto Aston, which is now part of the wider Birmingham conurbation. This was a path followed by so many people, moving from the land to the factories of the growing industrial cities. Life in Britain's industrial centres was terrible in the nineteenth century, but it may have been worse in the country, if work was scarce. 

From Kimbolton, we drove to Bromyard, which is a lovely little market town nestled in the red hills of Herefordshire. Dear Wife's family are recorded as being resident there in the late 1800s, and we drove past houses that were listed in the Census records. We also drove past places where houses were no more, which is a common theme in both our family trees' research. There is a house in Bromyard that bears DW's surname, but we haven't tied it to any of her immediate relatives yet.

Finally we set a course for home, and motored across the River Severn in Worcester, and across the Cotswolds back to Shipton. I have been moaning constantly about the number of Range Rovers and Land Rovers on the roads in the Cotswolds. My general assumption is that they're driven by wealthy "Townies", who think they need a big, rugged car to negotiate the country roads of the Cotswolds. The reality is, of course, that the roads of the Cotswolds are no different to the roads anywhere else, except for being a bit narrower at times, when a big Range or Land Rover is a positive disadvantage. The Range and Land Rovers are, in reality, status symbols. They are so common in these parts, and are usually driven my numpties. I found this out when not one, but two, Range Rovers pulled out of side roads on the run home, forcing me to jam on the brakes. My driver training  at least allows me to anticipate these things better than many, but it's still an irritation when people drive like that, and it's dangerous, too. As I said, numpties.

Our next expedition will be on public transport, so maybe some time away from the Range Rovers will be beneficial.