Happy 2012!
So the plan was to catch the 2230 to London King's Cross (arrival 2331), take the tube to Waterloo and then see the fireworks erupt from the London Eye live on the river. Then catch the 0120 back to Cambridge and reach my flat shortly after 3.
Got back less than an hour ago. It's past 6.30am now and my feet hurt.
Instead of following plan A I participated in the "run [in heels] in the direction of the booming and argh buildings suck" frenzy. Then had a glass of port (bad, bad idea) since it was rude to just use the telly to watch the no-longer-live fireworks at the cafe place - though seriously, getting a pastry would have made more sense, and I did in the end anyway - which led onto a bottle of toffee and apple flavoured cider (lovely stuff, but even worse idea).
What happened next best stays in London, but I'd mention that it involved about an hour and a half (or whatever) of moderately plastered queuing to get into the Waterloo tube station, during which I was not alone and also got to stroke a couple of police horses. EDIT (in the afternoon): from what's slowly coming back to me, I also think I kissed the warm, silky side of one of those delightful creatures.
Upon arrival at KGX at about 3.30 I was told that the closest I could get to Cambridge (before the 6.30-ish train) was Biggleswade. Basically got home in a 6-seat cab from Peterborough (to which we got by train from Biggleswade) with 6 other people - 4 army guys and 2 women one of whom lost track of her sozzled husband at the fireworks along with her and her friend's money, credit cards and phone which were all in his rucksack. All 7 of us sharing the 6-seat cab also shared the dubious pleasure of having missed the last train to Cambridge (though I was the only one who missed the point of going to London, i.e. the fireworks). We had some amusing conversations throughout the various journeys though I still don't know most of their names and probably never will. Lovely people.
And my socks are going in the bin. The 6am streets of Cambridge were no kinder to them than they were to my feet, and were no kinder to my feet than the heels which I probably shouldn't have been wearing for this sort of thing.
Oh, and this is how it all started: at about 2217 I was glad that I'd left plenty of time since the 2230 got cancelled due to "missing driver" issues and the 2221 to Liverpool Street was leaving in 4 minutes. The problem with the Liverpool Street train was that it arrived at 2345 which left me insufficient time to get to the fireworks, and apparently Waterloo tube station was closed just before midnight, too. So I followed the frantic crowds running from London Bridge (and for something with "bridge" in its name, there was no river in sight), going at about 5mph with little or no certainty as to where I was. By the time I got to a spot where I could actually see anything, the fireworks had finished and I felt like having an adventure in the spare hour I had. And then I had a few more spare hours when I missed my train and the train after that. Port is nice, and so is cider.
Okay, "plan" B was a whole lot more fun than plan A, despite costing me an extra tenner for the taxi from Peterborough (and the cost may have been split 7 times, but the journey duration didn't get reduced to whatever 1/7 of an hour is), and I'll youtube the fireworks.
And now I really need a quick shower and some sleep. Happy New Year! If the world does mysteriously end this year, at least for the first time in my life I started the year with a bang (though missed the pretty bangs coming from the London Eye that I really wanted to sing Auld Lang Syne to. Oh well!).
Got back less than an hour ago. It's past 6.30am now and my feet hurt.
Instead of following plan A I participated in the "run [in heels] in the direction of the booming and argh buildings suck" frenzy. Then had a glass of port (bad, bad idea) since it was rude to just use the telly to watch the no-longer-live fireworks at the cafe place - though seriously, getting a pastry would have made more sense, and I did in the end anyway - which led onto a bottle of toffee and apple flavoured cider (lovely stuff, but even worse idea).
What happened next best stays in London, but I'd mention that it involved about an hour and a half (or whatever) of moderately plastered queuing to get into the Waterloo tube station, during which I was not alone and also got to stroke a couple of police horses. EDIT (in the afternoon): from what's slowly coming back to me, I also think I kissed the warm, silky side of one of those delightful creatures.
Upon arrival at KGX at about 3.30 I was told that the closest I could get to Cambridge (before the 6.30-ish train) was Biggleswade. Basically got home in a 6-seat cab from Peterborough (to which we got by train from Biggleswade) with 6 other people - 4 army guys and 2 women one of whom lost track of her sozzled husband at the fireworks along with her and her friend's money, credit cards and phone which were all in his rucksack. All 7 of us sharing the 6-seat cab also shared the dubious pleasure of having missed the last train to Cambridge (though I was the only one who missed the point of going to London, i.e. the fireworks). We had some amusing conversations throughout the various journeys though I still don't know most of their names and probably never will. Lovely people.
And my socks are going in the bin. The 6am streets of Cambridge were no kinder to them than they were to my feet, and were no kinder to my feet than the heels which I probably shouldn't have been wearing for this sort of thing.
Oh, and this is how it all started: at about 2217 I was glad that I'd left plenty of time since the 2230 got cancelled due to "missing driver" issues and the 2221 to Liverpool Street was leaving in 4 minutes. The problem with the Liverpool Street train was that it arrived at 2345 which left me insufficient time to get to the fireworks, and apparently Waterloo tube station was closed just before midnight, too. So I followed the frantic crowds running from London Bridge (and for something with "bridge" in its name, there was no river in sight), going at about 5mph with little or no certainty as to where I was. By the time I got to a spot where I could actually see anything, the fireworks had finished and I felt like having an adventure in the spare hour I had. And then I had a few more spare hours when I missed my train and the train after that. Port is nice, and so is cider.
Okay, "plan" B was a whole lot more fun than plan A, despite costing me an extra tenner for the taxi from Peterborough (and the cost may have been split 7 times, but the journey duration didn't get reduced to whatever 1/7 of an hour is), and I'll youtube the fireworks.
And now I really need a quick shower and some sleep. Happy New Year! If the world does mysteriously end this year, at least for the first time in my life I started the year with a bang (though missed the pretty bangs coming from the London Eye that I really wanted to sing Auld Lang Syne to. Oh well!).