London....for those who may be interested.

[Scully]

I'm not into football really, but my 15 year old son is a big Chelsea fan so had promised him a couple of years ago I'd take him to see them play at Stamford Bridge.

Anyhow, finally managed to get tickets so last Friday off we went.

We got down to Euston early Friday afternoon and left our luggage there and he decided he would like to see the Imperial war Museum as he's going to Flanders later in the year with school.

I'd forgotten how impressive those Naval guns were out front, and all I could recall from a previous trip in the '80's was a Spitfire hanging from the ceiling, and there it still was, alongside a 'Doodlebug', and the V1 (or was the rocket V2?) and a Harrier.

He was most intrigued with the T34, and even more so when I described to him where the various crew sat and their chances of getting out if hit by the dreaded 88mm or one of the larger German tanks. As was quoted by an officer of the Sherwood Rangers 'tanks were designed for getting into, not out of'.

No dedicated Gallipoli display as I was led to believe, but the entire Great War experience was just that, a great experience. For anyone who is particularly interested in this period as I am, it is well worth a visit. Too much detail to go into here, but nothing is overlooked, and what my son didn't understand I was fortunately able to explain. A truly fascinating and informative display, but one which left you puzzled with the futility of it all.

'A Land Fit for Heroes'....what did they get?

WW2 was no less impressive but the personal and physical aspect of it's effects on individuals was lost somewhat ( until graphically explained in the Holocaust section) chiefly consisting of some superb displays including a two man submarine, a full size torpedo (very impressive) the front end of a Lancaster and the aforementioned feared and mightily impressive 88mm. A wrecked and bullet/shrapnel pocked Mitsubishi Zero was also an eye opener.

The Holocaust was, as I'd expected, grim and heartbreakingly sad. There was a very informative film explaining the origins of why the Jews were despised as they were, but the actual footage of Jewish women being stripped naked by former neighbours and abused, spat on and beaten (sometimes to death) as they were forced to run through their own streets in Poland beggars belief. I'd never seen that before, and I often found myself shaking my head in shame and bewilderment at what people can do to each other, and realised that my son was somehow distanced from all this as it seems like long ago history to him but is in fact history carried out by people of my parents generation; it is no time ago at all. I think he started to realise how recent it was when some of the footage was in colour, and after i had explained to him that some of the people who had fought in that war were still very much alive.

There were images of the naked and mentally ill being 'caringly' wrapped in blankets by female nurses before being shown into a building where they would be gassed by means of a car exhaust outlet venting its fumes into the building; engineers and scientists developing the means of industrial scale execution to speed up the 'process', and footage of men being booted, spurred on to running to their own deaths in deep trenches lined on one side above them by troops with rifles and pistols. Footage of survivors describing their ordeals.

An actual size railway carriage in which up to 100 people would be trundled to be processed; no room to sit let alone lay and their only means of relief a bucket which would be full to overflowing within the first hour of a journey which could take days in all manner of weather.

And then a truly impressive scale model of Auschwich, covered in snow, showing in detail the trains route through that archway, the separation of males from females, young from old, able from disabled, and the fortunes of each.

There were two pregnant women walking through the display, and I couldn't help pointing out to my son that if those two had arrived in Auschwitch in that condition they would have been led straight to the gas chamber at the far end of the compound. Truly astounding.

This subject should be compulsory school curriculum, in every nation. But that said, would we learn anything? After all,didn't most of the governments of the day play their part in denying sanctuary to a displace people prior to the war? And to a certain extent allowed ethnic cleansing again in Bosnia?

We cheered ourselves up somewhat by continuing to the Lord Ashcroft(?) medal collection where the deeds of some extremely brave men and women were explained, along with their medals, from Balaclava to Iraq.

We found a cracking hotel in Hounslow last year so were staying there again, and as it was late by the time we got there we went to an Indian restaurant we discovered back then. It is an excellent place where we have always been made to feel very welcome, even though that welcome is shouted at you and you have to shout back to order, as the place is always packed and very very loud with locals simply having a night out, so much different to the reserved English in their restaurants. My kids love it.

Saturday after a slow breakfast it was back into town and a visit to the Mall Gallery which had nothing of interest to us so wandered down to Buckingham Palace which was surrounded by thousands after the news Kate had popped one out, but she wasn't taking visitors so we had a bite to eat in St Martins before having a browse in the National Portrait Gallery. Some excellent work in here, but wont bore anyone with this as it's probably only of minority interest notwithstanding a self portrait of an artist whose name escapes me at the moment moulded from 8 pints of his own blood, which took on an entirely different persona to one elderly lady when I explained it was basically black pudding. Always glad to be of help.

Tower Bridge as son has never been, and he wasn't interested in going in the Tower nor HMS Belfast so we jogged off to the Natural History Museum.

Last time we visited this museum he was much younger and was disappointed we couldn't view the dinosaur display due to crowds of schoolchildren, and unfortunately when we got there the queue was horrendous (possibly the same one) so we browsed the other exhibits, the Giant Sequoa slice being the only one he could remember. However after deciding to leave as the place was due to close in 30 minutes we found there was no queue for the dinosaur exhibits, so finally managed to see it, which he greatly enjoyed.

Made our way to Leicester Square where we ate in Chinatown as he'd enjoyed it so much last time. That place is mental on a Saturday night.

Leisurely breakfast Sunday before making our way to Fulham Broadway and Stamford Bridge. Had been told by a mate that I'd be ok taking my luggage as there was plenty of places to leave it in the grounds while watching the game; don't know where he's got this from despite him having been several times, but after the sniffer dogs had finished with the suitcase (and finding nothing explosive nor more toxic than our used underpants) I was told there was nowhere to store it but could try the two hotels within the grounds. Neither hotel could or would oblige unless I was booking in (had I known I could have asked Jezza as he was there apparently) and despite asking numerous stewards etc no one could offer a solution.

With only minutes to go in all the ensuing chaos before kick -off I ripped our tickets apart and giving son one told him to go in without me, and if I couldn't find a solution would meet him outside the stand at the games end. Off he went. I was very disappointed that I wasn't going to see his face when his team ran onto the pitch; this was a huge day for him and I was going to miss it.

I considered going into one of the local shops and asking if I could pay to leave my suitcase there after they had searched it minutely, but knew i was clutching at straws really; like I've said I have the appearance of your local terrorist, especially after being in the sun for a couple of minutes, so decided that was a non-starter. However, was halfway to a shop when asked another steward if he had any ideas, he pointed me towards a woman shouting loudly at some fans so I approached her but with a sinking heart, I'd lost count now of how many stewards I'd asked. She was very nice and pointed me towards a door. In there she said I would find a very nice man called Paul, who may be able to help. The door was barred by a big bloke who told me his name was Leroy. Leroy was a nice bloke but the lady was right, Paul was a nice bloke also and although I offered to open my case and scatter the contents after explaining my predicament he said there was no need and he would store my case 'til after the game. I could have kissed him.

Anyhow, the noise by now was tremendous and I actually arrived in my seat before son, whom I shouted to join me after seeing him searching for his seat. His face was a picture; we had a tremendous view and he sat down next to me high up near the commentators stand in the East Stand. He'd been for a bottle of pop, the top of which had been removed so he couldn't throw it on the pitch.

When Chelsea ran out onto the pitch his face was, well, every Dad and Mam will know how I felt.

We both thoroughly enjoyed the game ( I think I may now know why players are paid such huge amounts, and while I believe skill undoubtedly plays its part,I believe the remainder is marketability hype; that persons ability to generate and attract income ) and although we didn't know any of the songs ( despite a couple of lads in the row behind doing their best to deafen us) we joined in with enthusiasm. And to top it all, my son was there at his first Premiership football match when the team he follows won the League. It doesn't get much better than that in my opinion.

If players were paid on their performance on the day, Drogbar would have been in debt.

Coming out I thanked Leroy and Paul and then we had the misfortune to get on the same tube as quite a few Palace fans; entertaining, very loud, but a relief to lose them at Victoria. Made it back to Euston with 15 minutes to spare, found a table and settled down for the 5 hour journey home.

The gate alone for the day, based on a £56.00 ticket, was £2,296,000. In comparison I spent in total somewhere in the region of 500 quid for the weekend. Worth every penny.

Edited May 4, 2015 by Scully

[grrclark]

What a fantastic adventure and running the whole gamut of emotions too.

 

I think London is a fantastic city with so much on offer if you are prepared to make an effort.

 

Pleased you had a brilliant father and son weekend

[TIGHTCHOKE]

Great story, but why is it posted in GENERAL SHOOTING MATTERS?

[Scully]

Great story, but why is it posted in GENERAL SHOOTING MATTERS?

I was just wondering that myself. Meant to post it in Off Topic. Put it down to my age.

[Scully]

What a fantastic adventure and running the whole gamut of emotions too.

 

I think London is a fantastic city with so much on offer if you are prepared to make an effort.

 

Pleased you had a brilliant father and son weekend

Thankyou very much grrclark. Had a great time. Son is down town playing in the cricket practise nets with his mates. He had his Chelsea shirt on when I got home from shoot this morning and I see his League Champions scarf (hurriedly bought on the way out of the ground) has gone with him.

[B725]

If you enjoyed the Imperial war museum go to Duxford Air Museum it is a realygood day out.

[steve_b_wales]

I've moved it to here (Off Topic)

 

Very interesting. I would like to see this for myself.

[shoot and be safe]

Great read. I could have been there with you

[Scully]

Thanks all, and to Steve b for putting it in the right section.

[johnphilip]

I've moved it to here (Off Topic)

 

Very interesting. I would like to see this for myself.

steve you should have made scully type it all out again