There’s no such thing. In its sedate qualities, Blackheath outclasses even Nelson. But there’s plenty of time in these two weeks to show Daniel the parts of London that roar. For now, jetlagged as he is, sedate is just what the doctor ordered.
On the tube and the train back from West to South-East London I find myself looking at him all the time, even as we chatter excitedly about a dozen subjects at once – that’s one aspect of our relationship that’s come back like it never went away. Other things have changed, however. Daniel was eighteen when I left for the UK, and he’s now twenty. He carries himself differently, appears older, wiser. He’s started tertiary education now too, and some of the maturity that requires is showing through. It’s not just the long hair, it seems.
After unloading his luggage at Hopedale Road we venture out into the crisp winter chill. I know a sudden change in temperatures can play havoc with one’s health and find myself mommying Daniel incessantly, enquiring whether he’s warm, whether he’s brought his coat, whether he’s alright in general. It’s not long before he starts hitting me, another dearly loved family tradition.
We’re off to see Greenwich, the borough that Blackheath is a part of. A brief excursion to the local area is about as far as I want to push it today, for my health as much as Daniel’s. After all, I was up at 4:30 this morning. Not that this will necessarily be boring. Greenwich Park used to be the original Elizabeth’s royal abode. Time is kept here. There’s even squirrels, which for people raised in Oceania is as much of a revelation as insects the size of one’s outstretched hand is normal.
It’s midday, and the Royal Observatory that stands atop a hill in the middle of the park is swarming with schoolchildren. The enthusiastic teacher has them all line up on one side of a streak in the pavement, and then jump to the other side on cue. This is supposed to not only engender an lifelong fascination with science but also give the experience of time travel. For this is, of course, the Prime Meridian Line, the thing people are talking about when they refer to GMT (although, when’s the last time you had a conversation about the nature of time?), the G standing, naturally, for Greenwich. The rest of the Observatory doesn’t offer much that’s revelatory (see what I did there?), what with us being too late for the planetarium shows. View’s nice, though.
Down the hill and towards the Thames, we come upon the Old Naval College. We mostly recognise it for being a location in the first Tomb Raider film. In fact, I earlier pointed out the Millenium Dome to him as being from Bond flick The World Is Not Enough, and one of the skyscrapers next to it as featuring in Bond parody Johnny English. It’s not really that odd – for us, much of the mystique of a place like London has come from seeing it on the big and small screen. If I had time (and, I admit, the inclination) I’d show Daniel ’round all the Harry Potter locations.
Part of the network of grand buildings that take up the northern edge of Greenwich Park is a museum called the Queen’s House, and presumably it once had royal-related things happening in it, but nowadays its focus, as that of all of Greenwich, Thames gateway as it is to the rest of London, is on seafaring. We’re in luck, because the gallery is currently showing an exhibition of Flemish masters and their visions of sea battles during the Dutch Golden Age. I study Daniel intently for his reaction to the museum, because if he’s not averse I’ll be dragging him to quite a few more of them. We, in turn, are studied by the museum sentries (I don’t know if that’s the correct term for them but it certainly feels appropriate) who must be confused by and suspicious of two people under fourty voluntarily visiting a place of learning. By the time we escape our self-imposed education it’s gotten dark and we find ourselves standing under a green laser being projected exactly along the Prime Meridian. We’re standing under time. That’s pretty groovy for about ten seconds.
