“ havin the most borin time in London after b’in dragged here by my mum”

Middle Son’s entry on facebook read during our recent trip round London.   How much entertainment do teenagers need to keep them from the riotous anarchy that has taken place in the capital.

To the Tower!

What is boredom?  Can this tedium, monotony or dullness lead to anarchy, disorder, chaos and lawless mayhem?     Three weeks into the holidays and teenagers are complaining of being bored.  There is nothing to do, friends are away or they are bored of just watching telly, playing on the DS or updating facebook status.  Emotions begin to run high, there are more arguments, more tears and more injuries.   Are the riots in London an extension of the symptoms belligerently being played out nationwide by bored teenagers with nothing to do but re-enact their “call-of-duty” battles as a release for frustration and energy.

Unpopularly, we took our teenagers away for a couple of days.  We meandered through Hyde Park against a barrage of ennui and lethargy demanding bikes from the bike pools that are now cropping up throughout London.   No way would I allow myself or anyone remotely connected to me to be permitted into the fracas they call traffic around the town. I didn’t plan to spend my holiday at yet another A&E.   However Hyde Park itself has a myriad of cycle lanes and on a damp midweek afternoon in the middle of the summer was not overly populated with unsuspecting tourists.  I relented.

It is not a straight forward process dismantling a bike from the pool but we succeeded in the end. Freedom and off they went; mini son took a turn before Sexy Sporty Dad led the older two round the outskirts of the park, I suspect to where the London Triathlon was conveniently being set up.  Mini son, still young enough, was placated with a large ice-cream.

The motivation for this trip had been to take them to see the Lion King.  Wow!  A fantastic production, the whole theatre came alive and the show was incredible.   The scenery a mind-blowing feat of engineering as it turns and grows up from the stage.  Animals so convincing, a picture could not do them justice; their characters, movements and elegance flowing with the music.  We all took away a special memory but I cannot tell you which bit the teenagers found boring, as they watched awestruck at the spectacle unfolding before them.

Booking in to our hotel we were directed down a steep set of stairs into the basement of the tall building where we found a small room housing a double bed with a further three singles in a row.  With barely leg room between them meant the boys were almost sharing a triple bed.    We did have our own private en-suite which, in a previous existence may well have passed for a built in wardrobe.   The toilet had the basin perched precariously above it.  The shower; a particularly small cubicle with the side panel not quite reaching as far as the wall, left about a foot of unused and inaccessible floor space.  Unbelievably the water that powered out of the tiny shower head was strong and hot, washing away the lack of other facilities.   It was cheap, clean, central and it gave us breakfast.

My Favour rests with Lord Neville

I had vouchers for the Tower of London where, having climbed along the various castle battlements and found the square where so many famous gruesome executions are supposed to have taken place; they disappeared in to the armoury.  Animated with the idea they should have been knights or kings of the realm, these children ran around interacting with bows and computer graphics.  Suddenly we found ourselves on differing sides of the battle of Roses supporting opposing duellers in an “impromptu” battle.  I am delighted to say my allegiances lay with the victor on this occasion; Lord Neville who beat Lord Woodville in the final dramatic battle.

Later we dragged the children to Bella Italia where we fed them copious amounts of pasta and garlic bread followed by the “Godfather” of all puddings; a combination of whipped cream, chocolate ice-cream, chocolate mousse and brownies.   Pudding was demolished in moments!

The next day with the weather unable to concur with the sun promised we found ourselves sat in sporadic showers watching the end of the ladies triathlon full of patriotic emotion as our British girl won not only the triathlon, but her place in next year’s Olympic team.    Having collected every possible giveaway we could manage we caught a cruise down the River Thames where an entertaining crew member gave a colourful commentary of the history as we passed by.

Cafe Rouge, a favourite I have to admit of mine, was the choice for that evening with the French atmosphere and wonderful food.    Despondent teenagers tucked into plates of mussels, garlic bread, steak and of course French fries.   Needless to say the Ice-cream sundaes did not stay in the glass for long.    Still bored we went in search of Covent Garden and the nightlife.

Bearing in mind that it is 30 years since I lived in London and even then my constant companion was my A-Z, maybe my memory isn’t quite what it was.  Turning left instead of right out of the restaurant will not have helped.   We trudged along streets and through still open shops until finally we agreed we were in the wrong place.   Two teenage boys slowed their unenthusiastic pace to a standstill, eyes opening wide, a flush visibly creeping across their faces.  No longer bored; their mother was dragging them through SOHO just as it woke up for the evening.

I remember coming here in my former life; we would frequent a particularly good Chinese restaurant where I learnt to use chopsticks and eat authentic Chinese food.   I don’t remember it being quite so loud or bright. It was dismally dull as we furtively scurried down the shadowy lanes bypassing the occasional noise blocking door or young beautiful Chinese lady beckoning us.

The ladies have been replaced by big thuggish looking bouncers, the dull black replaced by bright colour posters displaying scantily clad young ladies.  Striptease clubs, lap dancing clubs, casinos with music blaring out competing with the neighbours all advertising their wares.   Punters tumble already inebriated out of pubs as they make their way to the clubs, some of them particularly the females dressed in not much more than the girls in the posters.  Apparently SOHO has become more upmarket since my time; we had found one of the few streets still heavily reliant on the sex trade.

Keen to speed them up, each turn took us further into the depths of SOHO, for the first time on our trip not a word of boredom, in fact not a word even babbled from their open mouths.

Not so bored now!

“Oh cause ur funny dragging me through sex ally in London”  

Tiggy