Are we cut out for London?

A trip to London Town was well overdue. Daughter in the midst of revision for test week at school…a whole weekend away was out of the question, so a day trip on the train to primarily see a textiles exhibition was ideal. We have an incredibly early start, on the train for 6.40. We treat ourselves to a bacon buttie and a coffee from the buffet and we are there…London baby.

The Textiles museum doesn’t open until 11 am so we hop on a bus to Oxford Street. It’s just gone 9 am, which appears to be the perfect time to go to one of the busiest shopping streets known to ladies with a desire to spend. No other shoppers. Unfortunately not all the shopkeepers are there either - 10 am start - what southern softies. From the bus we spy a desirable open shop and all pile in. I wander round aimlessly, wife and child spot the sale rail. New skinny jeans tried on and purchased all before 10 am! Impressive. That's teenagers for you. Right - on to Muji!

Textile time. On the tube and on foot to Bermondsey. Lots of walking, but it's in the glorious sunshine to it's all good.

John Rombola "circus scene'

We love love love the textiles. Artists textiles form Picasso to Warhol. There were fabric samples, videos, stories, dresses made out of the fabric from the relevant eras, women bending Maisie’s ear saying when I was your age I would have loved a dress like that and a decent cafe. All happy. 

Still life with jug

We head off in a Tate Modern direction. I’d located a Sushi bar which looked fun. What’s this? Closed! Pah. We are hungry and choose the restaurant opposite which looks OK. Trendy with trendy prices but very acceptable, even provided a still life should you wish to sketch at the table. We didn’t. 

Cy Twombley 'Untitled'

After a bit of stamping around the Tate, catching up with old favourites...it's cut out time. "Henri Matisse The Cut Outs" Along with hoards of others we are filed into the exhibition. We met up with my cousin and all together we vaguely manage to translate some of the accompanying text to his artist's book 'Jazz'. We are in awe of Matisse's cutting out skills and loved the video of him pointing with a large stick at his art work. Assistants then dutifully pinned the scrap of paper to the wall as directed, all under his watchful eye. I want to do that! I wonder if child would be amenable to being my assistant? Moving on...I really appreciated seeing images only previously seen in reproductions. I loved seeing the holes left by the drawing pins, the imperfections in the paper and the scale of the work. Cut outs - far out!

How much more stamping around can we do? Not much. Weary day trippers head back to the train, back to home and to bed. We didn't see the queen but we had a right royal time. 

Every one was taking this shot...so I did.

Fell Trail Fit?

It's that time of year when crazy ideas arrive in one's brain. Take running up a really steep hill and down again for example. I took part in the local fell race last year....as a  marshall...the organiser saw me running up the road and said "I don't know if you are interested, but I organise the local fell race" He obviously hadn't clocked that I was gasping for breath after only barely reaching a run up the gentle incline of our road...I was however happy to help. Anyway...this year I'm thinking "why not?"

Several things do come to mind as to why not
1) It's up hill
2) It's back down a steep hill over rough terrain
3) There are menacing looking sheep up there
4) I'm an unfit middle aged weak ankled lazy cake eating librarian
4) Did I mention the uphill bit? 

So I did the sensible thing...contacted friend of friend Andrea for some hill/fell running tips and to run the route with me after work one evening. (She's a proper runner (and swimmer and biker) check out her blog: Trepid Explorer)

I run around the countryside to prepare for this, I ran around the coast track in Cromer (to be recommended - it's lovely) and the evening of the test run arrived. I drive home from work and there's a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Actually the glimmer is thick fog...here's me thinking nobody in their right mind will want to run up a hill into that? How wrong can one be. My new personal trainer arrives, with back up in the form of husband...they quickly quash any ideas of whimping out in favour of a light skip around in lower territory.

Then they pull on all the running gear, I don my grotty old trainers and a sweat shirt and there's no turning back. Off we trot. Unfortunately I didn't even quite make it out of the village at a run. Resorting to large strides...we get to the start of the countryside bit. Into the fields and the territory of the wild sheep. My running companions are skipping around like mountain goats whilst I concentrate on not throwing myself on the ground to demand a helicopter take me back to the sofa.

There's more hill, then a bit more, thank goodness for gates to open and maps to read. More hill...I hear occasional "ooh look at the lambs" "awhh look at their lovely ears". If I'd had the ability to speak at this point, I may have muttered "never mind the ****** lambs my lungs are about to explode"

We see what I hope is the summit several times and then finally, finally in the mist I think the summit is achieved. The view is stunning I expect, all we can actually see is a few sheep and trees. The valley below is completely obscured by thick fog. 

We jog around a bit, trying to find the right track a little error involving a scramble over a fence and a very loud bleating at by several indignant sheep and their lambs, and hooray some flatness. Flat I can do. Also the advantage of being very warmed up at this point. 

Running running, avoiding sheep, a bit of 'pacing' (aka walking in fell race terminology) and looking out for the giant transmitter arial thing on Calver peak which should be on our right at this point...oops it's on the left. Oh well, we trot down the hill the same way we come up, at least our error of navigation hadn't meant we'd fallen down a mine shaft. We run down to the bottom of the road and up a part of the track which is actually the end of the official fell run route. At the first gate, Andrea bravely decides to carry on running for half an hour, for me and Andy it's back to the comfort of a nice dry house.

I ran 4.99 miles according to my phone...bugger, should have gone just that little bit further. However in reality, I didn't think I would ever move again, both lots of calf muscles objecting strongly to any movement, lots of stretching and a hot shower to enable shuffling to the sofa.

Today is the next day....oh my word, there is not a muscle in my body that is not complaining. 

I'm so doing that again on Saturday...Calver Fell Race watch out...here I come! (Weather permitting  - wether I chicken out maybe! Watch this space)