Yesterday.
I had an appointment, you may recall, to get my passport sorted - one of those fastrack one week things. My mother had kindly agreed to pay the exorbitant 90 squid fee, and come with me, and as the appointment was at 12.15 we planned an afternoon of fun in London.
Well. It was a day of triumph over tribulation! First I was late, because I couldn't find the light buggy (which, needless to say, was in the back of the car, which was in Marlow). Eventually I found the other pushchair, which weighs about the same as a baby elephant, but at least would transport child and bags. Got bus to station, got train, got underground, all fine; arrive at Victoria, phone mother and try to work out which of the 17 exits to Victoria station she is at.
Located errant parent, had coffee, located passport office after a false start, small issue: you're only supposed to take one person in per application. But I need my mother to pay! I wail. Well, explains the kindly bouncer on the door, you can give her a letter saying she can act for you as regards this application. I look at her in desperation; she further adds, you can just write a note on the back of your appointment letter. Phew! I do so.
While so doing, mother starts to make noises on the lines of "Oh Steph... I've got a really bad feeling..." while rooting through bags and purses. This is not a good sign. She's forgotten her credit card; probably emptied it out of her bag this morning, she thinks. She's already told me she's lost her debit card somewhere; she doesn't have a chequebook. I remain surprisingly calm, we check all purses and realise we have enough money between us to pay. Another phew!
The application thingy all goes fine; they're very efficient and since by now I'm exactly on time, I don't have long to wait. The woman goes through my application, types a few things, looks at my driving license and statement, and sends me off to pay. Should be with you in a week, she nods and smiles. Well, all good then.
Reclaim mother and son from outside office; it's a glorious day which is lucky since we brought a picnic. But - oops. We spent most of our cash on the passport fee; where are we going to take Tom? How much is the NHM anyway? En route through Victoria I find one of those 2-for-1 Travelcard leaflets; aha, if all else fails, we can all get in to the Science Museum for a tenner.
Off to South Ken then; and the Natural History Museum is still free! All the pride I have in what is quite definitely the best family museum in London returns, and we have a picnic on one of the benches outside. Tom, of course, adores the museum. Dinosaurs are the best! Shame the blue whale is being cleaned at the moment; it will open again on my birthday, apparently it's 70 years old this year.
Interesting fact: The man who built/founded the NHM, Richard Owen (I think) was also the first man to recognise that there were species of reptiles of unknown types and called them "Dinosauria". The museum's famous dinosaur collection is finally properly explained and in context.
All was good; Tom got a couple of presents from the shop, and our feet were definitely aching when we left.
Off we toddle, Mum to Romford to go home to Suffolk, me and Tom to Paddington. And here another small issue; FGW are utterly poo. If you have a cheap day ticket, you can't get a fast train between 4pm and 7pm. I wouldn't have minded getting a slow train, if there were any to get; you've no idea how frustrating it is waiting for 40 minutes in the station when EVERY train on the board goes to Reading, but you can't get any of them. Twyford trains run every 15 minutes; but they stop at Twyford, which is the stop before Reading. Why on earth couldn't every other one be run on to Reading during the rush hour?
The Oxford train we're allowed to board has its platform announced with 4 minutes to get on the train. It's been 45 minutes since the last one, so there's a crush to get on, and I have a pushchair. I might curse at it, but I'm also glad Tom had somewhere to sit in the station while we were waiting. I had to stand, of course, as far as Maidenhead, carrying Tom. My phone battery lasted just long enough to phone and beg Matt to pick us up, and to tell him when we would be in... My personal batteries managed to get me home, eat pizza, put Tom to bed and then fall into bed myself - mildly ranting and composing rude letters to train companies :)
So anyway (the short version) - Passport office is good, Natural History Museum is fantastic, trains are poo, is my general conclusion.