The boy, all of sudden, has decided that he wants to go to the beach. And since this is an island, a beach isn’t too far away. But it could take an hour and a half or even longer if the traffic is bad. And all the nearest beaches are pebble beaches. Which suck.
Yesterday, I had a meeting at City Hall (nearest tube London Bridge) and then decided I wanted to head on over to the RSA to do some work (nearest tube Embankment). There’s not really a super-duper easy way to get from one to the other. But there is a boat. And since I’d overshot the cut-through from the south bank to London Bridge station and the boat was pulling up and it was a beautiful day. So, even though it was the more expensive option and I’m not clear if it was the faster option, I took the boat.
And out on the back deck of the boat (is that the stern?), it was gorgeous. Beautiful views of London, Tower Bridge, HMS Belfast and the Houses of Parliament as I reached my stop (port? landing?). Oh, and I also saw a beach. On the Thames. I guess somebody from Southwark or maybe the mayor’s office has dumped a bunch of sand on the muddy banks of the Thames and opened the hitherto shut gates down to the river.
So, looks like the trip to the beach might be a little more handy and convenient. I feel the slight guilt of the slacker parent, but being a slacker parent – it doesn’t last long. Not sure how I’m gonna keep the boy out of that filthy ol’ river, though.
It’s a bank holiday and you don’t know what to do to entertain the critters. I’m in that position today. How can I burn off the extra energy of a young boy? I’m sure we’ll head on down to Wisley or Richmond Park or maybe Wimbledon Park. Old haunts.
But what else could we do today? I happened to stumble across this attraction in my Flickr photostream. I picked up this brochure ages ago in the North East of England.
Seriously fun. Who doesn’t want to take their kids to a mining adventure land called Killhope. The name alone conjures up such joyous associations as silicosis and cave-ins.
And what do you get to do at Killhope? Well, play with lead. Which is great, especially if you’re worried about your kids having some annoying extra IQ points or are concerned about potential excessive fecundity. Who wants grandchildren anyway?
Yesterday at the play ground the boy, whose language skillz are not yet mad, was telling me about a bird. A big bird. With big wings. And flying. And then he was telling me about a baby that was sleeping. And he seemed to be quite upset.
Did the bird wake up the baby? No, he said.
Did the bird scare the baby? He considered this a moment. No.
Did the bird fly over the baby? No.
The bird ate the baby in its mouth.
And the boy flapped his wings and said the bird had a very big mouth and opened his mouth wide and said that it was eating the baby.
Oh…right. When we got home, I showed him some stock images like this.
A positive ID. That was the dastardly bird in question.