I had the opportunity of getting some proper professional photos done by a Labour party photographer up in Westminster and decided to take up the offer and use it as an excuse to do a bit of tourism at the same time.

My first instinct was to start the day by going to the Chunnel Bar in Lower Marsh for a spot of breakfast with an old colleague and then kill a little time by popping in to the old office to see what has changed in the year since I left so, like a dog returning to it’s vomit, ((A lovely phrase isn’t it?)) that is just what I did.

That little bit of socialising left me with just enough time to walk across Westminster Bridge and do some posing.  I really dislike having my photo taken, and resisted the temptation to do the now-legendary ‘Littlewoods catalogue poses’.   I  thought about taking a look around Parliament while I was there, but I did all that 35 years ago on a school trip and besides – plenty of time for that after Labour defy the bookies and take Horsham 🙂

I was then left at a loose end, with the whole day in front of me and a Travelcard in my pocket, and my mind went blank.  The whole of London was there for me to visit and I couldn’t decide where to go.  In the end I took a tube to the City and walked over the wobbly bridge to Tate Modern.

Maybe that was a bit of a wastesince I have been there so many times before, but I wanted to see Doris’ Crack.  I saw four of the previous five installations in the Turbine Hall and could not resist seeing this one while it is still there.  It was a good move actually, because I got there about 11 o’clock and the place was quite empty.  In the past I have always been at lunchtime and you can’t move for school parties and other office workers on their lunch break.

Not sure about Shibboleth though.  Its a remarkable feat of artifice, but doesn’t have the impact of Anish Kapoor’s Marysas or the Weather Project.  The thing is that the space itself is fantastic on its own and in this case the installation is not as impressive as the place it is in.  I’m sure some people love it, but it doesn’t really do much for me.

Talking of which, I tried that room of Rothko paintings again.  It left me distinctively underwhelmed in the past and I thought I would give it another chance.  I am still underwhelmed, but its starting to grow on me a little.  What was much more interesting to me was the Maison Tropicale being erected outside the gallery.  It is supposed to open for business on Feb 5th, but is still a building site.  The house is an example of a 1950’s flat-pack pre-fab which was supposed to be mass produced and shipped out to French Colonial Africa, but the French ex-pats weren’t really keen on living in metal huts on stilts.  It is possible, or even probable, that I won’t be back in London before the exhibition closes in April so today was likely my only chance to see it even if it is still under construction.

After a stroll along the river as far as the London Eye, it was lunchtime, and so I joined my erstwhile colleagues again for a sandwich and some gossip.  It was good to see them again, but I am so glad I am not there any more.

A reminder of one reason why I am glad I left came when I returned home.  It took four trains to get back to Crawley from Waterloo.   The first one took me to Clapham Junction where I found that the Bognor Regis train was cancelled and the PA advised us to get on the next train and change at East Croydon.    At Croydon there was a Horsham train advertised in a couple of minutes on platform 5.  So I stood near (but too near) the edge of platform 5 for a couple of minutes and looked up to see that it was the right time for the train but a different one was showing as next train on the display.  Then I noticed the Horsham train pulling away from platform 6 behind me.

That is the sort of thing that used to infuriate me – last minute ((literally)) changes of platform.  I may have sworn under my breath, before looking at the timetables to see that it was nearly 30 minutes until the next Crawley train.  So I crossed to platform 3 and got a Brighton train (crappy old Thameslink stock. I really dislike those carriages compared to the Southern ones) which meant I had to get off at Three Bridges and change again – onto an earlier train which we overtook on the way there.  At least this was before the rush hour, so not as bad as when I used to commute and a cancelled train would somehow cause every other train to be even more packed than normal, and even when you found one going the right way it was a struggle to get on it.

I think that it was as I got onto my fourth train that I remembered Tex Pemberton’s proud boasts about getting a bus link from Waterloo to St. Pancras for all those Sussex travellers who prefer the convenience of multiple changes to get into Waterloo (or back) instead of the absolute hell of having to choose between a service that goes directly to St. Pancras or one which goes direct to Victoria with its direct tube line to St. Pancras in five stops.

At least I managed to take a few photos while I was out.  It was starting to look like I would be getting through the whole of January before taking my first pics of the year.