After that shakeup at the restaurant the night before, I decided I better sleep in and get as much rest as possible. So in the comfort of my big comfy bed, trying to rest my injured chest still smarting from Manchester, I slept until about 8. I would have slept longer, but at precisely 8 AM - at the same exact time every morning - the cleaning crews would decide that was the moment they'd be dumping all their glass bottles. I thought I was dreaming: I insisted to myself that I must be by the rubbish bin outside a pub, because where else would there be so many beer bottles? I didn't leave my room until about 10, which was good anyway, because my 7 day travel pass wasn't valid until 9:30 anyway.

oh...hairdresser on fire...
all around Sloane Square...

I alighted from the tube with a bunch of well-dressed professionals. I didn't feel so professional, so I waited until everyone had left before I took the requisite phoot of the Sloane Square tube station sign. Sorry it's a little blurry, because I stood as far as I could away from the wall, and one step further, I would have fallen onto tracks.

Sloane Square is an interesting place to begin one's discovery of well-heeled London. You come out of the tube station, and you're assaulted by all the cars, buses, and motorbikes. It is a true "square" in the sense that there is a fountain and a park of sorts in the middle where you can sit and ponder the rest of the day. The square is named after Sloane, the man who donated money to open the Chelsea Physic Garden, way down by the Thames. I've heard it's a wonderful place to visit for gardening buffs, so maybe I can make there next time. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I did not find a hairdresser in Sloane Square or anywhere while I was walking around Chelsea and Belgravia. Nor did I have time to find one of Vivienne Westwood's boutiques. Boohoo.

I took the following two photos after stumbling around the various lanes and mews right off Sloane Square, a well-to-do part of London. I'm a flower person, always have been, and with our current deer problem at home, I consider seeing flowers in window boxes, untouched by wild animals, in the middle of the city to be a special treat. Having never lived in the city, I'm amazed by the industrious ways builders have managed to increase the living area of small pieces of property by building upward and onward. If you've ever seen a Beatles documentary when they show the ill-fated Apple offices in their white-washed glory, you will remember the black "gating" directly in front of the lower level of the flat where the offices were housed in. I always presumed Apple owned that flat beneath, but I guess it's certainly possible that now the top and bottom of the flat are owned by different people.

Leaving Sloane Square in search of Patric Doonan's house (by way of Kings Road, not to be confused with Kings Road of Stretford), I snapped this photo of a lovely Roman-inspired fountain of the goddess Venus. There currently is a petition going around to get this fountain recognized by the city. (Beats me why this photo is coming up so small.)

Southwest on Kings Road, I walked past the Duke of York park, which was this expansive piece of land that commanded quite a presence in the middle of a big city. While there, I asked a "local" - actually she was from South America! - for some advice about riding the buses and getting to where I wanted to go. And I figured I would ride a double-decker bus by myself this day, because I wanted to say later that I actually used and knew HOW to use the city bus system. I rested a bit on a bench, watching a group of uniformed schoolkids get scuttled onto a small bus for a field trip. They were all wearing white polo shirts and these cute blue and white plaid shorts or skirts. I considered asking the teacher if I could take a photo of them before they left, but the group seemed to be in a hurry. And you know kids. They hate it when their teacher says, "okay kids, now follow me!"

It was a nice, sunny day but a bit hot for me. I stopped in an accessories store called Tabio and took a look at some of the socks they had on the window display. The pair of sandal "socks" with a bow on the back of the ankle I bought was certainly the most expensive pair of socks I've ever bought (9.50 quid, yikes). But it's CHELSEA! What do you expect, really? I still haven't worn them as I just found out my new employer that open-toed shoes are prohibited as part of the dress code. Er...where, praytell, in an office building are the laboratory grade acids that made us not wear open-toed shoes in chemistry lab in uni?

After the socks, I stopped into an original movie poster gallery, realized the print for "Roman Holiday" was out of my price range, and so was the little metal mouse in the window I had been eyeing. I kept walking for a while without bothering to look at my watch or my map. I took the following picture of the front of the flats supposedly lived in by the Beatles in the film "Help!" The door colors aren't right, as they're missing a blue door, and they're out of order too. Someone's motorbike is about to be ticketed in this one.

Then I got a bit tired, so I took a look and said to myself, oops, I've walked too far. I'd already passed Margaretta Terrace. Had I passed another 10 blocks, I would have made it to Nick Rhodes's house. But, I took a southerly turn and headed towards Battersea Park (which was used for the location of the picnic scene in the "You're the One for Me Fatty" video. Upon reaching the Battersea Bridge, I was out of breath and my legs were getting tired. No walking over the bridge to the park today; I just did not have the stamina for it. I snapped some photos from the the bridge, of the interesting notice to the military, and of the rather Egyptian-looking decoration on a bench I sat on overlooking the Thames.

I got some writing in whilst enjoying the river view and took a moment to write in my journal what had happened so far. The next installment (2b) will be of interest to you if you're a Morrissey fan.

(2b)

posted 12/04/06
London photojournal index

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