This was a solo trip as, for some odd reason, the prospect of joining my in re-living my egghead (academic) time in London and then heading to the countryside for three days of a British union and labour history circus/festival didn’t appeal much to Geri.
Pearson was a nightmare. My travel date was right in the middle of the giant mess that the airlines created by trying to fly a normal schedule whilst leaving as many employees on layoff as possible, just cause the pandemic losses needed to made up somehow. So flights were being continually delayed or cancelled. On the up side, my Air Canada return fare with one piece of checked luggage (reading the news made me go carry-on only), was less than $700.
There were lines to get into all restaurants and bars and people were sleeping on the carpeted floors in the duty-free shopping area in Terminal 1. I eventually got a seat at a table of elderly folks on their way to Israel. They had been at Pearson the whole day (my flight out was around 19:00) after their connecting flight arrived from Winnipeg.
My flight was delayed repeatedly so when we were told to go to our gate and line up it seemed as though it might happen and so I popped a couple of cannabis gummies. Inevitably there was a further delay and so the weed had well and truly kicked-in by the time I boarded.
Which was a good thing as a couple that had somehow gotten past the Air Canada staff checking luggage for size with two large suitcases masquerading, successfully (!!!), as carry-on, managed to cram their luggage into an overhead bin. Which promptly collapsed at one end under the weight.
Thanks to the gummies I found that funny, unlike the fellow who had been sitting under it.
That generated another flight delay of about a half hour while a tech came and fixed it. All in all I think the flight was delayed about 5 hours.
Heathrow was fine in comparison (something I never thought I would say) and I was on the tube and headed into central London right quick as I had only a carry-on. Long lines at the luggage carousels as a result of staff shortages made me feel downright smart.
I try and have almost always succeeded in staying at the St. Athan’s every time I am in London. A comfortable but cheap hotel in Bloomsbury. I first stayed there in 1984 I think and as I like (am obsessed with?) being a ‘regular’ and because the London portion of my trip was meant to be a nostalgia binge, I had one of the small singles I stayed in for a couple of months in 1989 as well as a couple of times whilst there for shorter periods.
How small you ask? Take a gander HERE.
I wandered around (but not in, as security is now rather tighter than it was in 1989) SOAS and UCL. I finally, on foot even, made it to the Cable Street Mural (photos HERE), visited the pedestrian underpass at Blackfriars where I was once mugged…all the big tourist spots. 😊
I also got out to Clapham to see a young old friend now working for the ITF and for a few pints at The Bread and Roses, photos HERE, run by the Workers Beer Company, a worker-owned co-op, one of my fave pubs in London.
Speaking of pubs, I was able to meet up with David (stepson #1) and his Kate at The Lamb. Been a regular (as in I drop by for a pint once every 5 years like clockwork) there since 1989 I think. One of the few pubs in which snob screens (see definition HERE) survive. Which I love.
Whilst David and Kate weren’t as enamoured of the snob screens as I am, we did have, I think and hope, a fine time. I certainly did. There’s something really lovely about meeting-up with people you know when all are far from home. We parted, me to continue my goofy farewell tour and them to sleep before heading to Scotland, David having won a lottery that got them tickets to the British Open at St. Andrew’s.
Photos of our visit at The Lamb HERE and of them in particular HERE.
Another couple of days of that and I decamped for Muswell Hill in North London for time with Eric Lee and Cindy Berman. But before zipping up north I horned-in on Cindy’s birthday dinner for Eric at a very nice Argentinian restaurant not far from my hotel. Some fine and unusual cocktails were consumed before dinner. On an embarrassing note, I hadn’t realized that Cindy was picking up the tab for the whole shebang and so ordered us a very pricy bottle of wine. Despite Cindy’s protests I tried to make up for it over the week that followed but suspect that I failed dismally.
Eric gave me the tour of his neck of the London woods (literally: some very nice park walks in MH), which on one day included a giant full English of course. And we spent a day down on the South Bank catching me up on the food carts and restaurants that have sprouted there since I last visited. One of the restaurants we used for a lunch with another old union fart, Roger Darlington, someone I see regularly about once every 20 years. Photo HERE.
An artist of some renown who lives in Muswell Hill hates gum on the sidewalks there and so decorates them, turning them into tiny works of fine art. Lovely things really. See HERE.
Cindy, Eric and I then packed-up and headed to the village of Tolpuddle for the Martyrs Festival. Cindy drove (I was very glad of this), Eric navigated (we got there, despite Eric never having had a driver’s ticket), and I sights-saw.
Cindy had booked a lovely Airbnb outside the village (pop. 400). Photos HERE.
I don’t know quite what top say about The Tolpuddle Martyrs Festival. Even though it was the first since the 2020 lockdowns began there were still over 5,000 paid attendees (normally it is close to twice that) plus the folks who don’t pay but who can join in even so.
Going to the festival the same year that I attended the London (Ontario) ceremonies at the monument to the Martyrs was near the top of my Bucket List. Deservedly so as it turned out.
Labour history workshops, current struggle panels, surprisingly good food, union banner displays, and of course the LabourStart table and presentation.
It was a union geek and nerd circus all lubricated by the tent set up by The Workers Beer Company (operators of The Bread and Rose – see above).
Best of all, the LabourStart table in the gallery was right across from the table occupied by a bunch of comrades from TUFAC, the Trade Union Football and Alcohol Committee. Lovely folks who work at weaning young workers away from yobbism and the far right types who recruit footie fans into racism etc. This they do with high-quality football gear, a brewery and their own brand of gin and vodka. They do their own organizing on the side of good but also give away all their profits to support others with more expertise in anti-fascist work.
I had a really wonderful time and would happily go back, hopefully after the village pub and its rooms above re-opens. Unless you camp (lots of spaces for it), booking a room there would be the only way to avoid having to drive back and forth each day. And now that we know how things work LabourStart could have a much bigger presence there if we were to return.
For more on the Martyrs see HERE. For my many, many photos of the festival see HERE.
The Great Heatwave was in the news when we headed back to London. Put paid to my plans for more wandering. Hung at Eric and Cindy’s. The impact of over-40 temperatures (photo proof HERE) on a city where little is air conditioned was quite striking. Trains cancelled or running slowly. Most of the Tube trains sidelined. Shops and other businesses closed.
Fab night at a play near their place that I REALLY enjoyed, a Turkish restaurant beforehand. So, a fine time despite the heat on my last night before Tubing it to Heathrow for long lines on the way home.
As Bucket List items go this was a great one, in large part because of the company (in order of appearance: David, Kate, Cindy, Eric and Roger).. And the nostalgia bits fun as well.
Next up at some point: The Mother Jones Festival in Cork.
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