Petticoat Lane

 ...one photo before we leave home ...

We had some choices today.

Viewing the goods at an auction.

Hampstead Heath.

Petticoat Lane.

Leaden Market.

The Monument.  Walking across London Bridge.  Southwark Chapel.

We were going to try to do them all and we knew we had to get going before the day slipped away from us. Duncan was the one who set the pace for us – no matter how we felt about the day, we knew that when his interest or energy flagged, then it was time to change venues.

... the joy of Petticoat Lane Market ...

He was taken at the auction with the mystery of the black cat that daintily leapt from table to table, and then slid in and out of small spaces between the 8 place settings of the the gold and white china.

No paper in the ancient typewriter that was still in a case, and for good reason.

He was not the only one who wanted to take just a few taps on those old keys or roll the carriage on a machine that is so passé.

... I wish we could buy one of these typewriters ...

Duncan was also disappointed at KFC.

He was promised a Crush-em and when he got in the store, the clerk said, “We don’t sell those at this outlet.”

False advertising.

A crime when he had taken so much energy to get his mother to give her permission.

... auctioneer's cat meets Duncan ...

Petticoat Lane was full of goods – twin flake was the best of the cones.

Having had no breakfast, a small shop that offered breakfast all day.

The sign in the shop said Bathroom Out Of Order.

Rebecca said, "Can you tell us where the closest public bathroom is."

The clerk told us, "Yes, a bathroom upstairs.  The sign is just to keep the general market customers out of our bathroom."

... I have to dress up for dinner? ...

Rebecca and I were in Petticoat Lane looking for black shirts for Duncan – something for the evenings on the boat.

He is in pain, knowing that we are going to have 14 nights of dining together as a family.

Hard to imagine 14 straight nights of no TV with one’s meals.

Just the extended family unit.

How brutal is that!

... Rebecca studies the Google Map ...

Petticoat Lane behind us, we took some pictures outside of the Gherkin, and then headed to the The Monument.

Rebecca said that 3 pounds each was a great price to pay for getting the best view of London.

Duncan made it to the top – and did a quick circle, white knuckles hanging onto the rail and saying now that he had made it up the 331 steps, and knowing that they had to be doubled to make it back to the bottom.

We had no idea he shares a fear of heights with some of the rest of us.

... a rest outside of the Gherkin ...

The Monument to the Great Fire behind us, we walked across London Bridge to Southwark Church, a spot where Shakespeare’s brother is interred there.

Duncan and I sat outside and listen to the carillon wildly ringing, spotted the Gothic arches inside of the church, looked at the Corinthian pillars at the doorway, talked about the attributes of the Saints we saw at the altar piece, and felt a little bad, for just a moment that we aren’t Catholic.

Arta's Attribute: shoulder bag with Oyster Pass

If we were, we would be able to name all of the saints and describe the attributes.  For example, St. Catherine with the broken wheel, St. Jerome with the arrows in his chest, Peter with keys or the church in his hand or standing on a rock, -- you can see I am not that good with the attributes -- or the saint's names.

As it was, Rebecca had to pull out her small green leather notebook, where she has jotting from the National Gallery about pictures there, and she could tell us about the swords, the books, the wheels, the arrows – and the names of the saints to whom they belong.

I guess the choice is ... be Catholic or attend the National Gallery Taster Art Tours with greater frequency.

Arta