London in 1990

Time for a final retrospective post about my six-month journey through Europe in 1990. This final post, one of 26, covers the 16 days I spent in London. At the time, I was travelling with Dean, a sheep farmer friend from Portland, Victoria.

We arrived in London on 23 October after crossing the Channel by hovercraft. For the next few weeks, we based ourselves at my Auntie Shirley and Uncle Tony’s home in Lewisham. Dean and I had arrived in the UK with working holiday visas. Our original plan had been to find work in London and base ourselves there for up to two years.

However, after six months on the road, we were both exhausted. Dean was also incredibly homesick. We were also shocked by the cost of living in London. As a result, Dean decided to return to Australia. I debated staying on alone. I’d clocked up a huge debt on my credit card and thus desperately needed to clear it. I didn’t hold out much hope of saving money while living in London. I ultimately decided a Summer in Sydney, earning Australian dollars, was far more appealing than scraping by in the UK.

Dean and I decided to make the most of our final days in Europe by exploring all that London had to offer. We also spent a week exploring Scotland, based in Inverness. Our trip to Scotland split our time in London neatly, with eight days in town before heading north, followed by another eight after our return.

Like all good tourists, we ticked off all the bucket-list sights, including Tower Bridge, the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London, St Paul's Cathedral and Trafalgar Square. We watched the changing of the guard outside Buckingham Palace and explored the British Museum. Check out the photo above of Picadilly Circus. First, Foster's beer was a huge brand in the UK at the time, and second, every sign was a traditional neon billboard. The neon is long gone, replaced by high-resolution digital video screens.

My cousin Hilary also managed to secure a behind-the-scenes visit to Westminster Palace, otherwise known as the Houses of Parliament. At the time, she was the Public Relations Manager for Scotia Pharmaceuticals. She was promoting a new Evening Primrose Oil (EPO) supplement while we were in London. She organised a media day that included a series of interviews conducted at Westminster Palace, followed by an evening event hosted in The Wellcome Galleries at the British Science Museum. These galleries display artefacts tracing the history of medicine from ancient times to the modern day.

Hilary invited me to join her for the day. I helped her with the media interviews and final preparations for the museum dinner. I manned the registration table, greeting attendees and handing out press kits. As I recall, she was promoting new research on the benefits of EPO for alleviating premenstrual syndrome (PMS).  I was also suitably impressed that she'd scored an interview with The Lancet, the world's premier medical journal.

I recall a few vague highlights from our time at Westminster Palace.  For example, I remember climbing an internal stairwell lined with heavily lacquered wood panelling, plus a landing framed by a soaring wall of stained glass. It was all wonderfully ornate and undeniably Victorian by design.  We also got to briefly peek inside the Parliamentary chamber. 

My day with Hilary later became a career milestone of sorts. It was my first public relations event, and my first PR job. Little did we know that three years later, I’d join a technology PR agency and spend two decades working in the public relations industry. A career that culminated in me becoming the Chief Operating Officer of a global PR company.

On another occasion, I recall Auntie Shirley taking Dean and me on a walking tour of London’s lesser-known sights one afternoon. This included a visit to Temple Church, an iconic circular church built by the Knights Templar in the 12th-Century, the Royal Courts of Justice and the Old Bank of England. Shirley was determined to infuse some cultured British history into our otherwise backpacking, box-ticking tourism endeavours. I’m glad she did. Her passion for more obscure history was a timely reminder for me to look a little deeper wherever I travelled in the years ahead.

A final comment regarding my UK-based relatives. The first photo above of Shirley, Tony and me was taken at Crofton Park station. The second shows Tony trying on Dean’s classic Akubra hat, much to my aunt’s amusement. These are the only photos I have of my Uncle Tony. Sadly, I never saw him alive again. He had long since passed away by the time Garry and I relocated to the UK in 2005.

I don’t recall much of our time in London beyond the experiences I’ve already outlined above. However, a series of ticket stubs I’ve kept shows that we visited the Imperial War Museum, Westminster Abbey and Madame Tussauds. We also visited the Guinness Book of Records exhibition, where entry cost the princely sum of GBP4.00. I’m sure I was excited to visit this attraction. For many years, I received a new hardback copy of its annual edition for Christmas. It was always one of my most treasured gifts.

Likewise, I loved seeing all the famous tombs inside Westminster Abbey. Weeks earlier, we’d visited the tombs of Michelangelo, Galilei Galileo and Christopher Columbus. This time it was recognisable names like Charles Dickens, Sir Issac Newton, David Livingstone, and Charles Darwin. I was surprised to discover that Queen Elizabeth I is also buried here.

On 15 November, Dean and I caught the Tube to Heathrow (that’s us above waiting for the train) and boarded a flight bound for Singapore. Our life-changing journey through Europe had finally come to an end. Along the way, we’d visited 22 countries, travelled as far north as Harstad, more than 300km above the Arctic Circle; as far south as Meknes in Morocco; as far east as Varna on the Bulgarian Black Sea coast; and as far west as the Strait of Gibraltar.

I’d just turned 25. It was time for another life-changing adventure. This time, establishing myself in Sydney, Australia, the city that ultimately became my home for more than three decades. I’d eventually return to London on business in 1998, stopping off in Beijing on the way there. I’d continue to return time and time again on business until the present day.

In hindsight, the decision not to use my UK working holiday visa has served me well. My life in Sydney has been filled with wonderful memories, friendships and once-in-a-lifetime experiences. My career has flourished, frequently paying for me to literally see the world.  Fifteen years later, I’d even fulfil my dream of living and working in London. Although, as friends often point out, Garry and I enjoyed a backpacker’s experience in the UK, but did so on a champagne income.

No, I never met Yasser Arafat. This photo was taken at Madame Tussauds. As an aside, the padded jacket I’m wearing was purchased years earlier in the USA. I’d bought it to survive a snowy winter in upstate New York as an exchange student in 1983.

London update

I've finally completed a series of posts about our week in London this month. Follow these links to join us on our latest adventures in the UK.  It's hard to believe that last month we celebrated 15 years since our return from living in Swiss Cottage. That's insane!

• ABBA Voyage - just as good a second time around.
• Climbing to new heights at Monument.
• A rainy day at the British Museum (and a trip to the West End)
• The day I bought a rubber duck.
• A play I've waited 42 years to see.
• How to almost miss a flight (again!)

Hell on the M25

We spent our final day in the UK reviewing toy samples and meeting with our second-largest supplier in Folkestone. It was miserable weather all day. At one stage, the rain was so heavy that we could barely see more than 50-100 metres ahead of us on the M25.

Disaster struck on our drive back to Heathrow. An accident on the M25 Ring Road saw westbound traffic brought to a halt for more than 45 minutes, about an hour’s driving time south of Heathrow (according to Google Maps). Even more frustrating, we'd just passed the last viable off-ramp, less than 100 metres behind us.  The accident was also less than 500 metres ahead.  Had we driven through ten minutes earlier, we'd have missed it.

Traffic alerts warned that the motorway wouldn’t reopen until 6:30pm. The bag drop for our flight closed at 7:10pm. Google Maps said it would take at least 48 minutes to reach the rental car depot. Surrounded by four lanes of traffic going nowhere, Garry and I quietly resigned ourselves to our fate. Another flight missed.

Then, a small miracle occurred. The road reopened shortly after 6:00pm. Even better, the lengthy road closure had cleared all previously reported congestion approaching Heathrow. Google Maps claimed we’d now reach the rental car depot in 30 minutes. The race was on.

We pulled into the depot at 6:35pm. Our lucky streak continued when a dedicated shuttle bus bound for our terminal arrived six minutes later. Upon hearing of our dilemma, the driver offered to take us there immediately.

Qantas called me as we approached the terminal (I guess there are benefits to flying First Class, even on a points upgrade). When they heard how close we were, they offered to keep check-in open until we arrived. Our bags were finally tagged and dropped shortly after 7:00pm. We’d miraculously made our flight with barely minutes to spare. Never again!

We’re now in Singapore reacclimatizing to warmer weather in preparation for our final flight home on Sunday. Loving our hotel on Sentosa Island. It was once home to the British Army barracks. A quick dip in the pool is the perfect antidote for jet lag. And before you ask, we cashed in more Amex loyalty points to pay for these fancy digs.

London redux

London turned on some unexpected good weather today. It's been wet and miserable since our arrival, with more rain predicted tomorrow. I decided to make the most of the sunshine and enjoy a walking tour of inner London's most iconic sights. Garry is still feeling less than 100 per cent, so he joined me briefly for a walk to Sainsbury's before returning to our hotel. 

But first, we dropped into Duck World. I'd heard about this store on Instagram. It specialises in selling nothing more than rubber ducks. I couldn't resist temptation and bought myself an Admiral Nelson duck, served by a quirky Michael Jackson Wannabe behind the counter. Garry just laughed.

I carried on down Charing Cross Road to Trafalgar Square, where the crowds were out enjoying the sun. I then turned toward Buckingham Palace. I reached the Mall in time to catch the Horse Guard rehearsing for a forthcoming parade. Once again, the crowd was out in force outside the palace.  I decided to head for St James Park to enjoy one of my favourite views of the palace from the Blue Bridge. 

Next on my itinerary was Parliament Square, the Palace of Westminster and Big Ben. I crossed the Thames via Westminster Bridge, stopping long enough to capture another iconic photo of a red double-decker bus passing the famous clock tower.  I walked as far as the London Eye in the hope that I'd encounter Luke Silva, a popular busker with more than 1.2 million Instagram followers.  He regularly performs in Covent Garden and outside the Eye.  Sadly, I wasn't in luck.

I consoled myself with a walk through the infamous Graffiti Tunnel under Waterloo Station. This throughfare has become a haven for some spectacular street art. The tunnel didn't disappoint.  

I completed my circuit back to Charing Cross Road via Somerset House.  I had hoped to see its picturesque seasonal ice skating rink.  However, this was packed up and removed immediately after the New Year. My afternoon finished with a matinee performance at the Wyndham Theatre.  You read about this here.

This evening we caught up with Martin and Jonny for dinner.  It was lovely to see both of them again.  How quickly a year flies by!  This is our final night in London.  Tomorrow evening we'll head to Heathrow for a flight to Singapore. We're finally on the homeward leg of our round-the-world journey.

5,000 years in the making

Some rather dreary weather has inspired me to visit the British Museum today. It’s been more than 15 years since my last visit. Garry’s feeling a little under the weather, so he stayed back in the hotel. It seems others were similarly motivated by the wet weather as the museum was heaving.

My return visit brought back fond memories. The central soaring glass atrium, known as the Great Court, still leaves me in awe. It’s iconic architecture at its best. Likewise, as always, the Rosetta Stone drew a crowd, and at times, the Egyptian mummy galleries resembled a mosh pit. 

To escape the maddening crowd, I slipped in my AirPods and spent three hours on an audio tour of the museum’s more eclectic exhibits. It’s all too easy to forget how ubiquitous the British Empire was and how prolific its explorers and adventurers once were. Artefacts from literally every corner of the globe and every great civilisation since the Mesopotamian Empire fill the museum from top to bottom. It was a timely reminder that great civilisations the world over have left their mark for more than 5000 years.

Sadly, today’s excursion was made possible after a meeting with Aedhmar, my long-time friend and business mentor, was cancelled. A last-minute diary change saw her cancel a previously scheduled trip to London. We’re now hoping to reconnect in July.

We’ve finished the day with a dinner and a show this evening. Dinner was at Chengdu Chengdu, a simple “hole in the wall” venue in Chinatown. The sizzling Sichuan Chicken was to die for. Gerrard Street also look the part, bedecked with red lanterns for Chinese New Year.

Tonight’s performance was “I’m Sorry, Prime Minister” at the Apollo Theatre starring Griff Rhys Jones and Clive Francis. A last-minute booking had us seated in nosebleed balcony seats. OMG, these seats were high above the stage - and every bit as steep as advertised. However, the script was driven by witty dialogue rather than physical comedy, so our seats ultimately didn’t detract from the experience.