Reflections on reaching the end and what might have been discovered

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THIS IS A PICADILLY LINE SERVICE TO (HINT OF A PAUSE) COCKFOSTERS.
This was just about the first formal words we heard when we arrived 8 weeks ago in London. The reprise hearing of this line this afternoon as we caught the tube after our flight from Ireland, had a poignancy tinged with equal parts sadness and exhaustion. We are both very tired. Somehow this has been more exhausting a tour than last time. I suspect it’s because for the latter part of our last trip we were “based” in various places for up to a week. We have been on the go solidly for 7 weeks.
If the purpose of a holiday is to make you forget things like work then this has been a very successful holiday. I have given work hardly a thought other than the odd email from my colleague Dale. But you can’t escape the inevitability of your return. The reality that you have avoided for the past however many weeks is there waiting for you when you arrive home.
Saturday
Drove.. again from Blarney to Dublin airport. Caught the plane (smoothest touchdown i have ever experienced) then the tube to Paddington. It rained. Decided to eat in.
SUNDAY
Had a wonderful ramble (UK for walk) through Kensington gardens and Hyde park. Detoured to take in the Albert monument and Albert hall. I fear i may be accused of understatement if i use the word ostentatious to describe the Albert Monument. One could certainly not accuse Victorian England of holding back. Albert hall is equally idiosyncratic. Round with main entrances in the 4 corners (as I was heard to mutter to Liz). But it has another 20 or so individual entrances from the street for stalls etc right around the building. Must be a nightmare to staff.
From there it was on to the V&A (Victoria and Albert museum) for a quick tour. THEN we went to Harrods. Not sure how to describe Harrods. One part David Jones, One part British aristocracy and one part Geoffrey Edelstein. You can get anything there. Each section of the store appears to have a bar. And then in the middle of everything is a KRISPY KREMES. Bizarre. We bought Danishes so we could keep the receipt. On the way out i set off the Harrods alarm and was frisked by a security guard. There! How many people can claim that?
Then we moved on to Speaker’s Corner at Marble Arch. We so take our free speech for granted. It’s like we never had to struggle for it like they did over here. Speaker’s Corner only arrived in the 1870s. It attracted speakers as varied as Marx, Lenin and George Orwell. When I was a kid I would go into the Domain (the site of Sydney’s Speaker’s Corner) on Sundays to hear our local version. It was inhabited by regulars such as ADA the crusading Christian complete with tambourine (Repent Repent! – AND PAY THE RENT the assembled crowd would chorus back). There was Jack White of the Moscow faction of the communist party and of course the wonderfully erudite and eccentric WEBSTER
http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/anarchistic-demagogue-has-the-last-word/2008/12/16/1229189622994.html
Sadly Speaker’s Corner is now occupied by religious nutters. Wit and aggression couched in the velvet glove of humour and charm have been replaced by rote quotation and dogma.
Speaker’s Corner has been superseded. In the nineteenth century and much of the twentieth, word of mouth was THE mode of communication. If you wanted a message to go viral, you printed a pamphlet or a newspaper or created some agit prop theatre. These days you start a Facebook page or create a You Tube video and everyone who has a blog is, by definition, a wit and a savant aren’t they? What is left of the Speaker’s Corner’s proud tradition is this pathetic group of people who are driven by religious zealotry mixed with their craving for any form of public spotlight. Each Sunday they subject themselves to the mindlessly aggressive taunts and heckling (again witless) of the barracuda pack which shows up each week to observe and take part in the freakshow. All rather sad really.
Monday
Wandered around Covent Garden and the West End prior to meeting Lucy Skillbeck and her daughter Alexis for lunch at the British Museum. Then picked up our bags and on to the airport.
Permanent reminder of a temporary feeling
Amnesic episodes that never go away.
It's no complex memento, it's no subtle revealing.
Just a permanent reminder of a temporary feeling. – Jimmy Buffett

This has been 8 weeks of our life which we have been spent travelling and learning and discovering . There have been amazing highlights, some disappointments and experiences which have been once in a lifetime. We have been moved on occasions almost to the point of tears. We have had our breath taken away by the natural beauty we have confronted. We have met some wonderful people, been looked after by hosts and strangers alike. On the trip to the airport this evening we were overwhelmed by the people who stopped to assist in carrying luggage up stairs. Overall we have been met by good humour and a welcoming good nature.
We have our photos and we have our memories. And for me, i have this journal. It has been my attempt to contextualise the trip. It has not been a diary and for those expecting same I apologise. In many ways it has been me working through and trying to make connections between the various threads that we have observed and experienced. I hope it has been at least worth the time it took to read it. As to the effectiveness or otherwise I’ll leave that to Mr Buffett to judge.

Chromosomes and genes, spawn these fateful scenes.
Evolution can be mean, there's no 'dumb ass' vaccine.
Blame your DNA, you're a victim of your fate.
It's human nature to miscalculate.

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