A belated Mother's Day treat was for mum and I to journey to London to see the Ideal Home Exhibition, check out her favourite US shop, Whole Foods (or Whole Paycheck as I have heard it described), which has a new branch over here in Kensington and hit Borough Market, before Mum heads home and I had a few days in the big city to myself.

I found us a deal on an hotel in Ealing, so the Friday morning, before joining the thronging hoards at Earl's Court, I persuaded the Aged P to go backwards one stop from Ealing Common to mop up North Ealing.  I'd not seen Ealing Common in daylight before, so was pleased to notice leaded lights with roundels, and pretty tiling.




However, from this Modernist beginning, of  geometric brick and curved concrete platform supports, we discover North Ealing to be a cricket pavilion.



 

There was a for the weekend plan...it involved spending Sunday afternoon playing on trains with cohorts, with Monday reserved for shopping at the wholesalers I usually can't get to on my weekend jaunts, before an elegant tea and home.

Woke up on Sunday to find that for once the forecast for snow had been correct.  Whereas Friday had been almost balmy, Saturday had grown gradually colder and more wintery  - especially during a 40 minute wait for a later train at Wimbledon due to a cable fire at Waterloo where I lost feeling in my feet and almost my temper* - and overnight a thick dusting of snow had fallen. 

The view from the kitchen window:


Now, I know to many of my Canadian friends, the definition of what constitutes 'heavy snowfall' will be somewhat different, but this is London, and the slightest case of anything akin to adverse weather throws all transport into confusion and general headless chicken behaviour.  There were already rail replacement bus services to factor in, but we decided to brave it and wrapped up warm in Doctor Who scarves and extra mittens to take on the Jubilee line after failing_angel had already called to wisely baulk at doing the DLR as originally planned.

Once outside however, where big fat flakes were still coming down and getting into eyes it was our resolve we found melting away in the April sun...we made it as far as the local cafe for a fine breakfast of poached eggs and fried things, and from there dragged to Surbiton train station, but at the site of people shivering in the cold waiting for the bus replacement gave up all pretense that we were actually going to go anywhere. The good old-fashioned British spirit of 'bugger this for a game of soldiers' kicked in and we headed home to lie on the sofa, watch junk telly and stare out the window as flurries came and went through out the day.  Pair of wusses!



Score for the day: weather,  1  Tubewhore, nil.