Not the Royal Wedding

No this is not going to start with a Republican rant. At the outset I must profess to being pro monarchy and anti-Republican, I have no truck with those killjoys who hate the idea of people enjoying a good party. In particular, that little group of Scots (about 100) who gathered to shout anti-monarchist slogans at  Holyrood, or about a 100 who had a republican street part in the East End. The difference is a million people went out into Central London and will remember the day for the rest of their lives. While those little groups will go home with just their bitter resentment to keep them warm. Off with their heads I say.

And I have a strong constitutional reason for being pro-monarchy. If we were a republic we would need a head of state to do all the ceremonial stuff and that wouldn't be enough. So we would be in the business of finding them things to do. And the great thing about  the monarchy is they don't do anything, bar being a bit glam. So no to some elected head of state and divisive contest among the great and the good for a sinecure. And thanks be to our first family as a nice contrast to the first families around the world in North Korea and Libya. Nominally not monarchies but of course places where power is indeed passed down through the family. Ruthlessly. So hooray for our royal family. Bless 'em all.

But just don't expect me to watch. Sorry, but weddings bore me silly. Fine when they are friends but I have never even made the acquaintance of the Royal couple. Indeed only by seeing the highlights (well I wanted to see who won) did I realise how beautiful Kate was. Previously I can honestly say I didn't even know what she looked like. My eyes glaze over whenever Royal gossip appears. I similarly have no idea who is on Eastenders or Corrie. Wouldn't recognise any of them (which is why I have similar difficulties with these celebrity contests - I don't have a clue who these people are.) And of course they are all really variations of a soap opera.

So for me it was a day at the V & A and the chance to limp around the Cult of Beauty exhibition in relative isolation on a Saturday. I successfully tunnelled my way under the hullabaloo in central London (courtesy of the Tube) and popped up the other side in South Kensington. Quite a nice exhibition too on the aesthetic movement, that rather louche bunch of artists of the late Victorian era, Rosetti, Burne-Jones, Wilde, Beardsley, Godwin, Whistler, Moore, Alma-Tadema, Crane and Dresser amongst others. Quite a disparate movement really, not all to my taste, but I do rather like the neo-classical wing of it, especially the languidly reclining women of Moore, Leighton and Alma-Tadema and the muscular but graceful statutory of Alfred Gilbert (famously the Sluggard and Eros, the latter you can actually see properly in the aluminium cast in the exhibition which can't quite be appreciated in Piccadilly Circus). Plus the excessive use of peacocks.

Unfortunately you can't take photos in the exhibition, so I have added a few here of other parts of this eclectic collection.

Dungeon to Dome

Ok the London Dungeon might not be everyone's ideal for an Easter Monday. Ok not mine either, but it was a treat for my friends' 11 year-old and it seemed to go down well. And frankly a happy 11 year old is quite infectious. In a good way.

If you have never been, and I hadn't for 30 years, its a combination of clever advanced ghost train techniques along with some 5th rate panto. At the start there is a rather clever mirror maze called the Labyrinth of Lost Souls and I rather liked that. Much of the rest are little scenes played out by the actors the RSC (and one imagines just about everyone else) rejects. And the end is the drop - meant to sort of simulate the drop when being hanged, but without the hanging bit, thankfully. Basically its a stationary roller-coaster. You get hauled up in your seat and then suddenly you drop. Very quick sudden shock sensation.

Tamsin wimped out of that bit, and then we returned blinking to the beautiful sunlit day outside and trotted off to nearby Southwark Cathedral. Nice spot, which includes a memorial to Shakespeare who of course spent his professional life in the vicinity

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Then after lunch we headed off to the big boy of cathedrals - St Paul's. Tamsin wimped out of the climb up the dome too this time so it was just me with gammy leg and Tom making the climb. Actually it wasn't too bad, and the views are terrific. But not to be undertaken by those who dislike heights or spiral staircases. Actually down is rather worse than up, not least as you get a bit mesmerised by spiralling down and down. Still a true marvel of architecture. And Tom loved the climb and the view, and he got a few very decent photos. I also like the crypt, and Nelson's tomb. But by then an 11 year old's tolerance of cathedrals had begun to reach breaking point. Well in truth he had done pretty well as not many would survive two cathedrals in a day.

And for me, well as much exercise as a broken ankle could really take. I don't think climbing St Paul's is quite what a doctor would order. See what my physio thinks tomorrow. Basically if I can walk through the pain barrier its not too bad, But getting up first thing in the morning is agony. I can barely hobble to the bathroom. Will have to see how long this persists for.

Just hope this weather can persist for the summer. Just so nice. And the garden really enjoys it too.

Easter off crutches

You know you can forget how to walk. Felt very strange taking off the cast and actually walking. Well hobbling would be a better description. But I am getting about. Planted some bedding plants in the garden, made my first trip around a supermarket and even done my first bout of ironing for two months. No I wouldn't say simple pleasures but some relief to get back close to normality.

But at least its farewell to the tyranny of my air cast, and my hands can try and recover from the bashing they have taken over the last 2 months trying to bear all my weight.

But the disappointing thing is not being able to get out and enjoy the beautiful weather over Easter. While I can get out, walking is too much of an effort to enjoy the experience. So I am rather limited to the garden, which is at least doing quite nicely. And everyone I know has taken advantage of all the Bank Holidays to go away.  So a quiet Easter. Can't quite summon up the energy to go and see the Saw Doctors tonight.

From St Paul's to Relentless Garage

Have put myself as far as I can easily go on crutches. Went to see Ed Byrne at Hammersmith Apollo (very funny and really a breeze on crutches) went round the Museum of London with a friend and her 10 year old, a bit hard work but not too bad, then took them to Clerkenwell for lunch then back to St Pauls. They both took the opportunity to actually climb up the Dome. I thought the 500 odd spiral steps might be testing the crutches a bit too far. Then Sunday I headed up to see my mum for the first time in ages. Poor mum. She was trying to tell me how easy it was to visit with a broken leg as I could just sit in the armchair. Yes, but its the combination of bus, tube, trains and taxis that is the struggle! Then onto see some friends in Stratford.

But the big test was a venture into Islington last night to a venue I have never been to before - the delightfully named Relentless Garage. Not sure how crutches and a punk gig would mix, but then again the punks (well I think the Undertones were more New Wave if one wanted to get technical) would all be older than me so I hoped pogo-ing would be kept to a genteel minimum. The mate I was going with had just told me he is expecting a second baby in September, so I expect our gig going will be even more curtailed in future. He is a pretty besotted dad.

Anyway, when I turned up at his flat (only a few hundred yards from the gig), he announced that his first born had just been doing a bit of projectile vomiting, and pointed to the stain in the stair carpet (at the bottom of four flights of stairs which I was about to scale. However, upon reaching the flat I was, instead of being greeted by an ailing child, met with a happy beautiful smiling little girl. Clearly it must be me. Everyone gives me warnings about their children but I have an almost Lazarus like effect on them. Maybe I could become the cheap alternative to Lourdes. High success rate and won't try to fob you off with a plastic model of the virgin mary.

Gig was excellent. Well awful Belgian support act (never heard a Belgian band? - maybe a good reason for this. Cross between the White Stripes and the Ting Tings, without the merits of either) But the Undertones just went breezing through their extensive back catalogue, and indeed through their first album cover to cover. Interested to see they had a fair young following jumping around at the front. But then I was watching them from the back over a see of bald heads, reflecting that those who saw them in their pomp are now the far side of 50. Along with most of the band. But a great venue, basically a glorified cellar with a bar. And although I was standing safely at the back, the back was still closer to the band than I get at many festivals when standing at the front.

Spring has sprung

Ok I am convinced Spring has come. Sun shining sufficiently to venture out without a coat (although currently I won't do so as I appreciate the extra pockets in which to carry things), my clematis blooming on the patio, the cricket season has stared and, the real tell-tale sign, so has my hayfever. Itching eyes today and a nice sneezing fit on the Tube. Yes spring is here at last.

Years gone by I had horrendous hayfever in the summer like normal people, but then there was safety in numbers. But my allergy to grass pollen has all but disappeared now, leaving just my allergy to tree pollen. Which starts ridiculously early. So no one believes its hayfever but assume I have flu and try to give me a wide berth. At least I think that's why they give me a wide berth...

Anyway, took my life into my hands today and decided to experiment with public transport on crutches. Bus easy to get on and off, BUT not so easy to get to a seat before the driver sets off, making it feel like a game out of Total Wipeout. The Tube was also easier than I thought, at least in getting ON to the escalators. Getting off at the bottom is a little scary and you need to have your wits about you to get feet and crutches off together sharpish.

Visited the Afghanistan exhibition at the British Museum. Nice enough, but a little short to justify the £10 admission fee. And I wish I had noticed the disabled lift on the way up rather than the way down.

Have started physiotherapy on the old foot now. Quite pleasant experience, other than finding  the physio's room is up four flights of stairs.