We drove to Luton and caught a train from there to London. Sarah (the theatre nurse) asked for a single to St Pancreas (via the pancreatic duct no doubt) which brought a smile to the hardened ticket collector's face...and ours!
Bafta arrivals, London eye, Canary Wharf, No 10, Westminster, Big Ben, underground stations galore, machine gun toting police, sword bearing soldiers and stone faced Nelson as well as the thrill of the race and flag waving demonstrations.
We've seen kind people, tearful people, rude people, dangerous people, pretty, funny, tired and courageous people.
The Queen was home and the Palace looked truly majestic against the cloudless sky.
The Union Jack fluttered briefly and perchance I saw a curtain twitch as our eyes met in a moment of mutual recognition...or perhaps it's my imagination breaking free of this exhaustively long queue for the runners 'meet and greet'.
St James's Park with it's lawns thick with people sitting, chatting, laughing or dozing in the warm sun and harmoniously sharing the occasion with the pelicans pure and white reflecting against the shimmering and glittering water, or space with the squirrels and a varied selection of birds. Life feels good right now.
Today's been everything and now we are as tired as Martin as he crossed the finishing line.
A few photo's of Martin. Well, he could be in the first one...it catches the atmosphere.
Well done Martin...finishing in that heat is no mean thing. You were the star of the show.
No comments:
Post a Comment