The tube strike finally arrived. When I worked in London, I don’t think I ever faced one (I’d just train in from Isleworth or Richmond to Waterloo and walk to Soho). As a tourist, it’s a different story.
We set our sights on Battersea Power Station. Easy enough by bus, and after years of false starts the redevelopment is finished. And honestly? It’s damn impressive. Yes, it’s a mall, offices, and apartments… but on such a scale, and with enough of the original structure preserved, that it feels like the building’s story continues, rather than being erased.
And it has a party trick… a ride in a glass elevator up one of the chimneys. At 109 metres, it’s not the Shard (which is three times taller), but the view is still something else.
Afterwards we bussed back to Fulham (via Chelsea, Sloane Square, Stamford Bridge) and walked up North End Road to West Kensington. The strike meant the roads were a bit more jammed than usual, so it was slow going.
Quick turnaround at the flat, then into Haymarket. Half on foot, half wedged like sardines into struggling buses, we crossed town for the National Theatre’s ’til the Stars Come Down. Excellent… and nice to see National Theatre live rather than National Theatre Live. Afterwards, another wrestle with the theatre crowd on a bus back to base camp. Collapse.
A day of London’s contradictions… shiny, messy, crowded, chaotic, and everything in between.
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