For a big city, London actually has a lot of green!
It was St. Georges Day, and, in what seems to be an English tradition, it wasn't being celebrated. Bizarre that what you think would be their National Day gets complete overlooked.
But for us it was an excuse to find an event and celebrate the slaying of a dragon.
I found what looked to be an expansive Fair in the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. Lots of excitement as we boarded the first of two busses. 45 minutes later and we crossed the river, pretending to be spies as we drove past MI5.
We had reached our destination. A lovely wee park nestled in between a rail bridge and a U shape of Victorian terraced houses, all modernised of course. But as we drew closer we noticed a distinct lack of 'fair-atmosphere'. Entering the park we saw that the St. Georges Day Celebrations were decidedly more quaint than the internet had alluded to!
Four tents we spread out at the far end of the park. One contained a dude teaching kids how to fire a bow, one contained beer, the third belonged to the Falconer and underneath sat a collection of vultures, owls, eagles, and falcons. The fourth and final tent was where the noise was coming from.
An array of shouting, loud-speaker-commentating, and metal on metal clashing. We advanced towards what was a circular arena with full armoured sword fighting.
Laura and I tried to figure out exactly how the knights won each match without the necessary killing of Ye Olde Days. After getting our fill of colliding iron we popped over to the Punch & Judy show. Creepy... We didn't hang around to see whether or not Punch would actually bludgeon his wife and baby to death in this rendition. Besides, we had a limited window of sun and many more parks to explore.
After a brief excursion to the Vauxhall City Farm (lots of donkeys, chickens, and a some exciting llama) we headed off towards Vauxhall Park, and my parents old stomping ground.
Remembering my way to the park and Mum and Dad's wasn't difficult, as we visited the area in '09. The weather was doing that really annoying band-y/finger thing where you get sunny for 10 minutes, then cloudy rain for the next 10.
But as we arrived at the next park the sun shone through and the grounds responded with a vibrant array of daffodil, tulips, and other flowers that were nice, but I don't know the name for...
Chasing squirrels and avoiding pigeons started to lose it's novelty for the day and we boxed-on to Mum and Dad's old place and the famous Tony's Deli, but not before an interesting encounter...
Walking out of the park through a lavender grove (there you go, that's another flower name that I know) we made a diversion early due to the three bobbies frisking a Male IC4 and a Female IC1 (thats a 'West Asian' dude and a 'White' chick in cop code).
Neither of the perps looked distressed, so we figured it must be a routine pot bust, something for the Met to do on a lazy Saturday.
But as we exited the lavender grove we walked past fifteen or so guys milling about with big grins on their faces, all sweeping the same four leaves.
As we approached, the closest, who also had the biggest grin, gave us 'the look'.
"Yep, they we're doing exactly what you're thinking"
To this, five of the guys burst out laughing, I gave a knowing nod, and heard one proclaim;
"Yeah, for an hour and a half!"
We left the park with 'fair enough' expressions on our faces, and the amazed realisation that those four leaves hadn't broken down after ninety minutes of being swept by fifteen brooms!
Swinging past my folks old digs, and Tony's for a jam donut, we moved on towards Battersea Park.
This took a little longer than we thought. Which means, considering the dodgy 'south-of-the-river' estate we walked through as fast as we could, it must have been further away than we thought.
The park itself was awesome. Classic London, to be able to enter park gates and be in a completely different world. Now that it's spring, that world it green, and full of life. It's nice to feel like you aren't in a city.
Unfortunately the whole time we were in Battersea Park the weather fingers decided to be cold, rainy, and generally miserable. So we grabbed a takeaway tea and moved on, along the Thames Walkway, back towards the city.
Our final park for Saturday was Victoria Tower Gardens, the little park nestled at the western end of Parliament. The ornate sculpture to commemorate the abolition of slavery in the UK glistened in the sun. The park was full of laughter, and yelling, playing, and picnic-ing. London is rather pretty in the spring.
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Sunday comprised of a quick excursion through Hyde Park. Since we have lived here I have neglected to explore Hyde Park, and the brief time I have spent there was spent wading through the slush under winter-dead trees.
But now, even though it was cold and windy, the park was transformed. Optimistic sun bathing chairs lined the banks of The Serpentine, people were out with their children, dogs, bikes. The flowers were in full bloom, not holding anything back. Tourists hunting squirrels blocked most of the pathways. The city was a distant memory as we walked through the green.
