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Of Travelogues, Statues and Tolerance

I watched the first three episodes of Clive Myrie’s African Adventure last night. I love travelogues almost as much as I love travelling itself, so it was captivating to see Myrie explore a part of the world I still know very little about. The three episodes I watched all focus on South Africa, although no doubt later episodes, which I’ll probably get to later, will look at the wider continent. As such, there was quite a bit in the programmes about the history of South Africa, apartheid, it’s legacy, and Nelson Mandela. He is a man who still stands head and shoulders above all other politicians, and whose legacy should never be diminished.

While it must be said that, above all, watching the program filled me with the intense urge to go to South Africa and explore it myself (well, probably with John), it also filled me with an intense pride that Mandela’s statue now stands in Parliament Square: he deserves to be there, just as much as the statues of Churchill, Gandhi, and the other great politicians. His is the statue I go and pay my respects to whenever I go to Westminster, and in fact I may well now head that way later today. What he did, in his forty year struggle to rid his country of racism’s abhorrent stain, is testimony to human fortitude.

But then, another, darker thought occurred to me: we all know that, these days, society is more fractured than ever and that racism is on the rise. To some, outright xenophobia is seen as a perverse form of rebellion and a way to strike back against ‘the liberal elite’. Such dunderheads might not like that statue of Mandela being there, and want to attack it. Naturally, that thought made me want to go to Westminster even more, just to check all the statues are still there. Surely that square is the place we, as Brits, celebrate such great people irrespective of their ethnicity, gender or whatever: people whose impact upon history can only be recorded in iron and stone. After all Mandela, like Gandhi and Lincoln, was not even British; yet we nonetheless had the wisdom and foresight to commemorate him there among all of our other political champions.

The thing is, I then thought, how would I feel if a statue of Farage or Yaxley-Lemon appeared there? What if a hoard of racist dishcloth heads held a petition to get a statue of one of their charlatan heroes built? Naturally I’d be indignant, and probably head up there to physically try to stop the square being so desecrated. But wouldn’t that be hypocritical on my part? How is it my place to only allow statues of politicians I agree with to be built, in Parliament Square or anywhere else? If I truly want to champion and celebrate diversity, should that not include diversity of ideas?

Mind you, as it stands I doubt we’ll ever see a statue of Farage or Tommy Ten-Names in parliament Square: as political figures. they’re still far too contentious, and I think there would be a widespread rebellion against it. Many people would, like me, find it repugnant to see such deceptive, divisive charlatans celebrated in that way. Yet the fact remains, if we are truly the open, tolerant society we desire to be, and if we truly respect the lessons which people like Mandela and Gandhi taught us, then we must accept and respect the views of those we so vehemently disagree with.

The Greatest Broadcaster Comes to London

It has happened again: Just when autumn is setting in and things are beginning to get a bit dull, something absolutely incredible crops up. I think I have blogged about my respect for Sir David Attenborough before. As far as I am concerned, he is the greatest broadcaster to have ever graced our screens. To think that he started making natural history programmes before either of my parents were born but is still going strong, is utterly, utterly incredible. Given that he turns a hundred next year, you would think he would be enjoying a well-deserved retirement, but you’d be wrong. I just got wind that he is set to present a new series of natural history TV programmes this winter, including one called Wild London, about the wildlife in the metropolis. As fascinated as I also am by this vast, urban microcosm, that is something I now cannot wait to watch.

“Having lived in London for 75 years, David has an intimate knowledge of the city’s natural history and there’s no better guide to introduce us to its most spectacular wildlife secrets….Whether it’s pigeons commuting by tube, snakes slithering along Regent’s canal, parakeets raiding city parks or beavers building a home next to a busy shopping centre, David reveals the incredible wild encounters to be experienced across his hometown.”

Quite frankly, that sounds incredible. Every day, when I go out on my trundles in my powerchair, I head through pretty green parks and along quiet urban streams. London is greener than you might assume, and also a good deal prettier. Over the last fifteen years, I have begun to get to know this vibrant, wild side to the capital, teaming with life. The prospect of watching the greatest of all broadcasters reveal that side of the city to the world, in the fascinating, methodical, immersive way he has always had over the last seven decades, is something I now can’t wait to see.

Trying Out The Bakerloop

The main piece of news I have to share today is that I have ridden a bus. I realise that might not sound particularly exciting, but today I thought I would try out the new Bakerloop bus route. If you haven’t heard of it, the Bakerloop is a new express bus route from Lewisham to Waterloo station. I had been hearing quite a bit about it but on various London public transport YouTube channels, and I thought it might be worth checking out.

Of course, if I had simply wanted to go to Waterloo I would just have taken the good old Jubilee Line: a tried and tested route, and probably a bit quicker. What I found so enticing about this new bus route, though, was that it was instated as a test route ahead of a possible extension of the Bakerloo Line to Lewisham. To be honest that’s a prospect I find rather exciting: Not only would such an extension help to open up south London even more, making getting in to the city centre even easier, but presumably it would also mean that the existing part of the line would be redeveloped and made wheelchair accessible. Whenever such extensions have been created before, the obvious example perhaps being the Jubilee Line itself, the rest of the line has been updated in the process. I really think that is something to be encouraged, which is why I went to Lewisham and caught the bus earlier.

In the end it wasn’t much to write about. The trip just took about half an hour, and before I knew it I was at Waterloo station.  From there I thought I’d have a little trundle along the river,  the Palace of Westminster looking radiant in the sunshine, before crossing the Thames and catching the tube home. Perhaps the biggest advantage busses have over tube lines, though, is that you get to see more of the city you’re passing through, and on my way I caught a glimpse of the vast amounts of building work happening along the Old Kent Road. London is developing ever more quickly. It’s also shrinking, thanks to the initiatives like the one I tried this afternoon. A metropolis which once seemed so vast and daunting now feels increasingly accessible and homelike. 

I’m sure that won’t be the last time I use the Bakerloop: the possibility that it might eventually give rise to something even more substantial really is exciting. Getting across the city is becoming easier and easier, but that slow shift towards modernity will only continue if guys like me actually try out and start to use the improvements being offered.

Of Parades, Backsides and Trains

Yesterday proved to be a complete waste of time – albeit an interesting one. After breakfast, I thought I’d go up to Westminster to see what all this. VE day fuss was about. After all, it’s only a few stops away on the Jubilee line, so what would be the point of just staying at home and watching it on TV? A few minutes after leaving the flat, though, I came back for a coat; the hints of summer we had a few days ago were definitely a deception.

My trip up into London proved easy enough. Once up there however, I almost immediately saw that staying at home would probably have been the better idea: the area was teeming with people, so much so that I could barely move. Watching the parade, even getting a glimpse of it, was off the cards – all I could see from my powerchair was other spectators’ backsides. I tried to move around a bit, up and down Whitehall, to try to get a decent view, without avail. Mind you, it must be said that I lost count of the number of people who complemented me on my ‘Make America Think Again’ cap.

After a couple of hours or so I gave up. I caught a glimpse of the flyover, which was fairly cool, but that was about it. With the parade over and the crowds slowly dispersing, I decided to go for a bit of a trundle up The Mall and through St James’s Park. I rather like that area of central London with it’s parks, ponds and fountains. I initially intended to find my way to Bond Street in order to get the Elisabeth Line home, but somewhat predictably I got lost. I eventually found myself at Victoria Station: at first I thought I would just ask for directions there, but then, on the tannoy, I heard that a train would be stopping at Kidbrooke. Catching it would make getting home far easier and quicker, I presumed.

I found one of the station staff and asked, using my Ipad, if I could get on that train. They duly obliged, and I was helped to board the train, only to be asked to get back off two or three minutes later because nobody would be at Kidbrooke to help me with the ramps there. I got off the train and was told to wait for the next one.

That wasn’t so bad: I just connected to the station Wifi and checked my Facebook. Twenty minutes or so later, though, exactly the same thing happened: I was helped to board the train only to be told to get back off at the last moment. Needless to say I was furious. Back on the platform I demanded to see the station manager, only to be told, rather condescendingly, to calm down. If other people can get on and off overground trains with such ease, why couldn’t I? London public transport has come on in leaps and bounds in terms of accessibility over the last few decades, so why is the overground still so shitty?

To once again cut a long story short, I got home an hour or so later: it wasn’t late, but I was hungry. I would have been home far earlier if I had just taken the tube; although it must be said that, sat in the train carriage, I was treated to some intriguing views across South London. More to the point, if I had stayed home I would also have had a much better view of the entire parade. Yet trying out the London overground is something I had been wanting to do for a while – I now know it sucks.