Today was a day when I was going to escape. To escape from the routine of the last three months. Something different. So why was I excited. I hate the dentist. Not the dentist but THE dentist. Any of them. Ever since I was a child when the dentist thought it a good idea to spin me around on the chair. ( remember them?) and move it up and down. I admit it. I was sick all over the surgery.

That and the needles. But today I was putting on decent clothes. Realised I had to comb my hair and brush the cat hairs off my jumper. I was going out on my own. Just me. Headphones in. Old mans train pass. Even if it was only into central London. To the dentist knowing everything would be closed.

But. It was out.

Oh. The excitement. A train ride. All 15 mins of it. Masked up. In a carriage that was virtually empty and social distancing not an issue. Well it’s easy when you are in a carriage on your own. Train 2 was the same.

Old London Town is eerie. There’s no getting away from it. The streets are quiet. There is little traffic. The offices are closed. There are a few shops open but it’s so sad. Will things ever be the same?

Leaving Charing Cross I need to head up to Wigmore Street. First past Trafalgar Square. In February just gone I celebrated 39 years of living in London. I remember my first day. 1 Feb 1982. I hated it.

I was homesick. I missed my family. I wasn’t going to stay. But I did and in those early years I walked and walked around London. Looking at the sights. The shops. Everything.

But in all that time I’ve never seen London as quiet. Trafalgar Square is usually full of tourists. And pigeons. But today it was virtually empty. Save Nelson looking down wondering where everyone was and when they would be back. Me too Nelson. Me too.

Heading away from Trafalgar Square I headed up Haymarket. I didn’t have to dodge the traffic either. Sad to see the empty theatres. The empty shops.

The Phantom must be so bored hiding in the basement of the Haymarket theatre with no one to entertain. These magnificent buildings empty desperate to return to business. To become alive again.

I often hop on the No 12 bus in Haymarket ~ destination the Plough though I get off in Camberwell. But the road is quite. The buses nearly empty.

A hopeful sign in a shop window. Things will get better. Return to normal but it will be a new normal. Patience is a virtue. Not one of my better attributes sadly.

One more time round Piccadilly Circus. Driver follow that bus. Another place that people usually congregate. You know. I’ll meet you at Eros. Outside Lillywhites. Today. You wouldn’t be missed in the crowd today. You’d stand out.

Heading up an empty Regent Street. Usually full of tourists. Of people shopping in the fashion stores. Window shopping. Me dodging the people who head straight at you like you are the pins on a bowling alley and they are the bowls. Me invisible to their elbows or umbrella. Not today. The only thing I’m dodging is the rain.

Hamleys. Usually crowded inside and out. Excited children. Parents holding onto their wallets ready for the onslaught of I want in the store. Today like all the other stores. Closed for the duration. Imagining lockdown Toy Story within those walls.

Up through Oxford street. Through Cavendish Square to Wimpole Street.

A 2.5 hr sit in the dentist chair. Im not a fan of dentists as I’ve said. After treatment I decided to walk back to Victoria Station to head home. To see how long it took for my face to regain its shape. For me to stop drooling. A significantly unattractive post dental issue.

Along Oxford street and down Bond Street or bling street as I used to call it. Full of fashion shops. Chanel. Gucci. Dolce and Gabbana. Hermes. Ralph. Bling jewellery. Tiffany. Cartier. An Auction house. But like everywhere else closed. Some forever. A lone girl skateboarding easily along the street not having to dodge pedestrians or large parked SUV’s.

The Burlington Arcade. A stunning arcade.

From the Burlington arcade website

‘Burlington Arcade opened in 1819 ‘for the sale of jewellery and fancy articles of fashionable demand, for the gratification of the public.’ It had 51 independent boutiques across 72 units, selling luxuries like hats, gloves and jewellery – it was notably the place to go for a bonnet. At 196 yards long, the beautiful covered shopping arcade was – and remains – one of the longest in Britain’

It is indeed very beautiful. Very fashionable. Quiet to walk through as everything is closed. Waiting to reopen when the route out of lockdown allows.

Across the road and past The Ritz. I’ve never been in the Ritz. I love the Savoy especially the Savoy Grill which is high on my list for my first return to a restaurant post lockdown. A haunt of ours for the pre theatre menu. Where we had lunch just the two of us after our civil partnership. Where 5 of us went for my 60th. Low key.

The Ritz Hotel and restaurants and ballroom are closed but the planters are full of joy. Of daffodils. Of hope of a return to doors opening.

Past the planters and into Green Park.

Green Park is a royal park and from the Royal Parks website

‘Rumour has it, back in the seventeenth century King Charles II’s wife demanded all the flowers be removed from The Green Park after she caught him picking flowers there for another woman. The park still has no formal flowerbeds but is riot of yellow in spring, when around one million daffodil bulbs are in bloom.

The Green Park is one of London’s eight Royal Parks and covers an area of just over 40 acres’

It’s a lovely walk from Piccadilly through to Buckingham palace. It felt spring like as I walked past swathes of spring bulbs. The Royal parks website says 1 million bulbs. I didn’t have time to count them. I had a train to catch.

I have often wondered why there were no flower beds like in St James Park. Now I know the rumour why!

A great view from the end of the park of the Queen Victoria memorial. Usually surrounded by people. Today just a handful. Taking selfie’s. Sitting down.

I didn’t knock at the palace I guessed they have had enough problems without me turning up for a cuppa tea and a digestive biscuit. The clouds were dark enough over the flag pole. They didn’t need me to add to their woes. So I didn’t. And headed off to Victoria.

Distant views of the wheel. Standing still. Unlike me who had to keep walking unless I seized up. I knew If I sat down I’d never get back up.

Victoria Station. A 15 min train journey to Peckham Rye. Past the building site of Battersea Power station. And home.