As a child, our capital city seemed a magical and unattainable place, steeped in history and filled with exotic places.
And as an adult, everything still resonates with equal intensity and I relish every opportunity to gawp like a bumpkin at the wonders on display.
And there is nothing as unearthly and exciting as the London Underground...
Wednesday 21st December
Despite obvious Doctor Who connotations, the Underground has always had a near totemic quality for me, and it was a shame that my first experience of it was a rather confusing one in the company of someone equally as clueless as myself.
However, subsequent trips have more than compensated.
From the initial comforting descent below ground to the excitement of navigating the corridors, I welcome the intermittant blare and sudden blasts of hot air that many seem to find irksome.
An unemcumbered quiet afternoon seems the best time to explore, and not when dragging overweight and overladen family behind oneself in the human traffic of a Friday rush hour.
(And let's not forget the map, which is a triumph of modern design that actually bloody works).
Of course, native Londoners (if such a breed indeed exists) will by this stage have given up in sheer puzzlement, and will continue planning their summer excursions "Up North", to find some of the trees that David Hockney made famous in recent daubings.
Pleasure. It's all relative, innit?
