‘I need to see the Christmas lights’ said Madam.
I looked up from my iPad. I had been reading how we would only get a return of unicorns to our green and pleasant land if we had a hard Brexit and privatised the NHS. I’m not at all sure that was what the Leave supporters promised. Somebody definitely promised me that unicorns would return immediately the day after a vote to leave.
‘Christmas lights my sweet’, I replied, ‘I think they are in the garage.’
I actually thought they were buried under several other boxes and had almost certainly rearranged themselves into an elaborately tangled mess that would take me all day to sort out. Then I would plug them in and there would either be a sudden flash and a smell of burning or a complete absence of even the slightest twinkle. I would spend the following day switching and swapping bulbs before throwing the whole lot in the bin in exasperation and going to the supermarket for a new box.
‘No! I want to go to London to see the lights’ said Madam.
That will be quicker than trying to sort out the lights I thought.
I won’t go into a lot of detail since it mostly involved lots of walking, dodging pedestrians more intent on peering into their phones than looking where they were going, looking for a place to sit down, and searching for a free toilet. We walked about eight miles in all, even though we used the underground for longer trips. Not a great distance normally but the ankle I sprained back in Oxford decided it was a good time for a relapse, so I was limping much of the time.
Here are a few pictures. Some are as slideshows so may take a minute to load.
Oxford Street and Regent Street Lights. Seemed familiar. Are these the same every year? It’s been a few years since I was in London for the lights so I may be wrong. Madam told me they were supposed to be angels. I took her word for it.