Google quickly turned up a very reasonably Citadines aparthotel in the Goswell Road, so we settled for that. A place which turned out to be French flavoured and so e-savvy that they sent us an email reminding us to bring our passports with us for identification purposes - but not so e-savvy as to tell their computers that this was a rule in France rather than in England. As it happened, my passport was in the post, so I took along my senior bus pass - which includes a photographic element - against the possibility of their really meaning it - which, as it turned out - they did not.
Failed at aeroplanes on the way, but did score one Chinook over Westminster or thereabouts.
But we did find a No. 4 bus which got us from Waterloo to Barbican Tube Station in fairly short order, thus proving that one could get to the Barbican from Epsom without using my usual Bullingdon.
Checked into our hotel to find our room quite small but very nattily equipped, including the kitchen illustrated. It says something about today's travellers that it was worth spending some of the very limited space available on a dishwasher. It is also true that it is a pity that hotels such as these were not available in my travelling days: snacks very decently provisioned by the next door Tesco Express in the comfort of one's own hotel room, with Cortana for company, would have been a lot more wholesome than all that calorie, salt and e-number filled stuff you mostly get in outdoor eateries.
Notwithstanding, out to one of the few cafés in the area still open, late this Friday afternoon, to take a very decent bacon sandwich. Bread a little thin and bacon a little salty, but decent none the less.
On and across the Barbican Estate, where we were amused to find a number of micro-allotments in wooden tubs for the use of the plant-deprived residents of the tower blocks round about. There were even some broad beans. An estate which, to my mind, has worn well in the half century or so since it was put up and still looks pretty good. A monument to high class concrete work.
A further snack at the Benugos inside the Barbican Centre, this time a slice of carrot cake, so excess of sugar rather than excess of salt.
After the concert, we retraced our steps. We decided against a late supper in one of the various Italians available, settling instead for the Sutton Arms, probably a gastro-pub during the day but a brown-wood, old-style boozer in the evening. Some of the people in it may even have been locals and the only thing missing was the smoke. They also managed a good pork pie, good but too big for one sitting, so they were even good enough to cut it in half and wrap one of the halves in cling film for later. As it turned out we had it for first breakfast - after which we went back past the place to find it newly covered in scaffolding. We had liked the place, so hopefully it will survive.
A second breakfast somewhere in West Smithfield, in a café full of workmen and tourists, this being around 1030 on a Saturday morning. This café was chosen in preference to the next door Paul's - places where I find the bread tasty but apt to smash one's fillings. Crust far too tough. Also a touch pretentious. The café we had chosen came with Italian trimmings, but was possibly staffed by Turks, like the one in Whitecross Street. But unlike this last, still on lady waitresses. See reference 2.
Back across Blackfriars Bridge, where we were able to examine the the workings of the two-way cycle track running between the footpath and the north bound carriageway, complete with traffic lights to enable south bound cycles to get onto it. All terribly complicated, and I would prefer to simply use the road, but I suppose that will be forbidden some time soon.
Cycle track further decorated by a great herd of north bound cyclists out on some stunt or other. A chap on a penny-farthing leading the way, followed by various people in Edwardian dress, followed by lots of young people, possibly French, on hire bikes which said they came from somewhere in south east London. We did not manage to find out what it was all about.
Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/winterreises-old-and-new.html.
Reference 2: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2016/04/back-to-st-lukes.html.
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