It was late that night. He opened the Tube app to check until what time the trains were running. There was still time. Few more trains before they would shut the doors of the stations until the early morning. He had to change train in Baker Street and walked slowly to the platform. A train had just stopped but he did not rush. He had his headphones on and had stumbled upon an interview on BBC Ulster. The host was interviewing Ciara O’Neill. They were speaking about her new album. They were talking and his mind rushed back to memories of living in Scotland, to a trip he took in Ireland (though not Northern Ireland) many many years before. He remembered the winters up in the north. The strong winds. The waves in the ocean. The rain. The hills. The daily runs along the river. The warm pubs. All that came back in a matter of seconds and the distance to the train changed and there was no need to rush anymore. He listened to their nice Irish accent and then she sang one of the new songs. He thoughts about her courage to pursue her dream and become a songwriter up there in Northern Ireland and, for a moment, in Baker Street’s tube station as well.
There is this electricity pole in Brixton. I passed next to it every day last June, on the way back to the flat of a friend where I was staying. Looking up, to the wires and the clouds, the houses of the street disappeared and it was like this was somewhere in the country side, not in London.
Large photos taken with iPhone6 are decorating the walls of the London tube. I liked this one with 3 kids on a frozen lake. It reminded me of Finland.
I landed at Heathrow early morning and as usual took the Heathrow Express to Paddington. I always have liked the perspective, lines and curves of the Heathrow station.
I was on the escalator on teh way down to the Northern Line. A young couple was hugging just above me. Nice.
Waiting for the next train southbound. On the way to a friend house for the weekend. Maybe thinking about the evening and whom she is going to meet.
Stockwell tube station. Interchange to get to Brixton. Trains pass through southbound as well as northbound. If you avoid the rush hour you can pause in a corridor, wait for a train to pass by, and to capture its blurry motion.
The end of June in London was incredibly hot. For the week I was there the sky was blue most of the time. No clouds in sight and very low humidity. Every morning I walked through Brockwell Park to get to Herne Hill railway station and catch the train to Blackfriars Bridge. I was walking through early, at around 7 or 7:30. The colours were crisp. The greens very green. The blue of the sky very blue. Very nice.
It is nice to walk from one station to the other. Look at the tunnels that connects different underground lines. Low down to the floor level and seek a different point of view.
I was in London for a week in late June. The usual week I spend there before the summer holiday, catching up with the colleagues at the Overseas Development Institute. This year I wanted to pay attention to two things while in London: 1) interesting perspectives of the urban landscape ; 2) people in their daily life. This photo was taken at Heathrow while walking to the Heathrow Express underground station. I like the perspective and reflections.
it 7:20. The blue sky is covered by clouds tjis morning. The Costa Coffee has opened just 20 minutes ago. I am one of the first customers. Two men and a woman work here, dressed in modern-coffee-place-style uniforms. The two men speak a language I do not know. We are all foreigners in this place. The woman has black hairs with some red dye in it. I sit at the table I have been sitting for breakfast during the last few days. I am at the large window and can see the entrance of the tube station. A man enters the coffee opening the door with a deep sigh. He has a bag on his left shoulder. I saw him the first morning I was here. It was rainy. I wore a blue suit and was walking in front of the door while finishing a cigarette. He has now more classic clothes. A tweed jacket on a thick cotton shirt. He orders as last time a coffee to take away. Most of the people do so. Nobody seems to have time to sit down and sip their coffee. I look outside the window and see cars and bycicles rushing to work. Few joggers wearing headphones and a rucksack with their office clothes. Next weekend there is the London marathon and they are getting ready for it. People exit from the tube stations at regulat intervals. Some wear winter clothes, others spring clothes, apparently Undicided as to what the weather will bring today.
Arnaldo posted this using BlogPress from my iPhone
To run or not to run. It is Sunday morning. Blue sky outside the windows of the hotel. Just before 8. Ok, run. I take the running shoes, running clothes, my heartbeat monitoring, the GPS watch which will draw a path on a Google Map later on.
The first few metres are chilly. The legs feel the cold. The lungs hurt a bit. It will get better in few minutes. I reach the Tower Bridge, run down the stairs and I am on the walk along the river. I decide to go east, towards Southbank.
It all look empty. I see two Asian tourists, maybe Japanese who walk dressed in winter clothes. They may be jet lagged as I am. I look at the watch to choose the pace. it is 6:15 min/km now. I slow down a bit while I get warmer. I pass next to the Town Hall building made of glass and looking as a reverse shell. Start to get into my thoughts and pick up random images. My rhythm is now nice and steady. Feel warmer and am happy I decided to take this run after a month or so. Bars and coffee shops are opening. Waiters prepare tables that will be later filled by tourists and Londoners enjoying the sun. Two guys talk loudly to to each other and over the music they listen in their headphones while the clean the floor in front of a cafe. I see a family of four near the Shakespeare theatre. Two kids between eight or ten walking in front of the parents. He is in his mid forties and helps his wife in her later thirties who cannot walk well. She seem to be recovering from a stroke at her young age. She wears jeans, comfortable jogging shoes. She has short blonde hairs with nice colourful hair clips and sun glasses. They enjoy the sun and the nice morning battling the change in their life.
I see other runners. Some alone. A couple racing for a sprint with red cheeks and happiness for the effort. A man with a dog. A German couple passes on my right hand side on their runner blades. She seem to be learning, while he moves effortlessly. He goes a bit head and then waits for her. Then again ahead and then waits for her once more. We are the Tate Modern. I pass another couple walking at a fats pace, kind of power walking. He is tall, short brown hairs and beard. Glasses. She is the one doing the talking and she talks as fats as she walks.They seem Swedish. He replies at short interval saying ‘jo’. While I pass next to them I hear him saying ‘jo’ at least six times.
I am on my way back to the bridge. I pass Tracey Thorn who is running toward the London Eye. She looks down on the pavement. I am thinking about listening to her music in Dumaguete, 9600 km from here. Then getting up this morning to go for a run. She, doing the same thing. And now being on this walk path along the river Thames at the same time.