Plague and plinth

Our run today started with a nose around some filming going on in Smithfield - unfortunately it was only for a hand cream commercial - not sure why they needed 4 juggernauts of gear to film cream being rubbed on hands.

Mark had seen something on TV in the week about the Crossrail construction project running through the meat market. He took me to the site below, a covered up Plague mass burial pit, which may have to be disturbed to build the new railway - just when we've got through swine flu in 18 months time we will have to deal with bubonic plague.



Apparently the plague peaked in 1665 in London and was only erradicated by the Fire of London in 1666 .

The symtoms of the plague were best summed up in a popular nursery rhyme of the time:
"Ring-a-ring of roses,
A pocketful of posies,
Attischo, Attischo,
We all fall down."

Now I never knew that .

On a jollier note we were met by polka dot trees on our regular route along the river



and then by a real Angel on the Plinth.



She didn't respond well to our request to jump ..

Running alone

This Sunday the run was cancelled due to much more important events happening up North - Mark's son , Richard was competing in the British Weightlifting Championship - more of this in a future post.

With somewhat less enthusiasm than normal, I went on my regular run along the Thames from Barnes Bridge to Hammersmith Bridge and back.

Nothing much happened - there were no busty models to leer at, no Plinths to fill and no butchers' shops to nose around. More importantly, there was no fellow runner to chat to.

The highlight was looking at the scaffolding going up to support the £3m of repairs to Barnes Bridge ,



I know - I need to get out more...

Too many distractions.

"Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."— Samuel Johnson .

The run this morning was surprisingly eventful - we initially stumbled on a Harley Davison fashion shoot in Smithfield Market.



This was followed by watching some really big lifting gear in action ...





... and then some piano playing near the wobbly bridge ...



The final preparations for the plinth were being made but we were unsuccessful in the ballot to stand on it so our plan to send up 60 rockets in 60 minutes will have to wait for another occasion.



We finished off with a trip round the new Smithfield Butchers shop with a detailed discussion on knives ...



And finally back to the fashion shoot ...



Whew - time now for a long lay down.

Warming up for Wimbledon

Blimey, its a scorcher - much too hot for running so we decided to watch some tennis.

Keep your eye on the ball.

For peat's sake

On our trip to Donegal, in addition to climbing some local peaks we also went on a long mountain bike ride through the peat bogs. Fortunately these vast tracts of bog are criss-crossed with rough tracks to allow the locals to get to their designated area for cutting. We learnt that

@ cutting rights come with ownership of a local farm

@ each farm in this area has the right to cut up to 1/65th of the common peat bog land but can choose where that is - disputes over who cuts where seem to be settled down the pub

@ an average family cuts between 600 and 1000 bags a year to fuel house fires and kitchen ranges

@ the best quality peat is deep down but you are not allowed to cut within 10 cm of the base rock and hitting the rock will wreck your expensive cutting machine

@ peat is made from compressed spagnum moss -turf is the term for dried out peat sods .

@ peat regenerates at 1 cm per hundred years

@ peat turf is easy to balance on your head

On tour in Donegal - back next week accidents permitting

No time for sitting and gazing - the peaks and peat bogs beckon ...

Running can be dangerous

Accidents happen - you have to concentrate when running through London. Pavements are rarely even and your attention can be diverted at any time. We always say we are but one second away from some sort of disaster.

Luckily this major foot splinter did not result in an injury.

These racing bollards were not quite so fortunate ...