A feast of public transport

How splendid to awaken to sunshine and the prospect of an outing with my sister June! By mid morning, armed with our cameras, we took the train to Victoria, then the bus to Westminster to descend into the cavernous depths of the Tube station opposite the Houses of Parliament for a ride on the Jubilee line out to Canary Wharf. June was here a good while ago before the docklands redevelopment was complete, so much of it was new to her, as it all was to me. We strolled through quiet avenues and photographed vast canyons of tall buildings glittering in the sunshine, with man made tributaries of the river Thames as the setting for many.

This new aspect of London, except where you can catch glimpses of the old heart of the City of London on the horizon to the north of the  London to the on the horizon, looks no different from dozens of other twentieth century city-scapes around the world. Descend into the shopping mall, and the retail mix of stores, whether selling consumer chain fashions or luxury goods greeting, conveys no particular sense of place. You could be anywhere in Britain or Europe for that matter. It's all beautifully clean, safe and well run by polite and cheery people, but lacks unique identity, it lacks soul. Eighteen century writer Samuel Johnson said that those who tire of London are tired of life. Despite its amazing architecture and great facilities I can't help of thinking of Canary Wharf as a place to go when you're tired of London. Anyway, my photos are visible here.

The next stage of our outing was a ride on the excellent Docklands Light Railway out to Greenwich for a brief visit to the Cutty Sark.

We then took the DLR to cross the Thames, and join the Tube line at the Tower of London for the return leg to Victoria, and from thence home to Wandsworth Common by train for a mid- afternoon lunch. Catching the five to five train back to Victoria, I was in good time for the five thirty coach back to Cardiff. I'm just amazed at how much travel around can be achieved with ease in just a few hours, with a day ticket costing only eight quid. People complain that fares have gone up, but when it's possible, with local knowledge and planning to do so much in a short time, the day ticket is really good value. After a clear run out of the capital, the coach arrived ten minutes early. Altogether this day out was a true celebration of one of the world's best public transport systems. 

Back on the ground in Cardiff, however, there was a twenty minutes wait for the first of the four buses that would take me back to Pontcanna from the bus terminus. It was just as quick to walk. After so much time seated, I needed the exercise to clear the brain and get a sermon ready for tomorrow.