This past weekend has been a first for me. A long time friend from the other side of the world - a huge Harry Potter fan and collector - made the trip to this side of the world - alone - to visit the Studio Tour at Leavesden - where Harry Potter was filmed.
Being the Dudleyest of Dudley Doo-rights, I offered to help out - to firstly spend a day showing them how public transport works around the city (the wonderfully colour coded underground map and stations), and then to tag along on their visit to the Harry Potter studio tour - which involves quite a train journey to the outer reaches of London.
Seeing London through the eyes of a visitor was interesting - the many small things that separate our cultures. Obviously the language, but also the behavioural differences. The stand-off-ishness of british people - particularly in the cities. The silence on underground trains. The reluctance to strike up conversation with anybody in the street about anything. I guess for my part I amused greatly with occasional unintelligible idioms that had to be explained.
On Sunday we “played underground trains”, and popped up in South Kensington to visit the Victoria and Albert museum, then Kings Cross (obviously in search of Platform 9 3/4), visiting St Pancras along the way to see the wonderful statue of the couple that towers over the departing railway lines.
We wandered along the south bank - past Cleopatra’s Needle, and quite by accident nearly got run over by the peloton of a one-day-classic cycle race through the city. The huge benefit of the cycle race? All of the roads were closed, so we could wander around the gothic arches and spinnerets of the law courts with no other tourists in sight. It was kind of eery but wonderful at the same time.
We ate on the run throughout the day - stopping for sushi at Kings Cross, and a burger bar on a corner of the south bank. Over twenty thousand steps throughout the day, according to my watch.
Sunday was a slower start - exploring some wish-list shops in and near Oxford Street (I’m such not a “shopper”, but happy to tag along), before heading towards first Euston, and then the long train journey out to Watford Junction, and the coach to Leavesden Studios.
It was interesting - again - to see the studio tour through different eyes. Where many might have seen “Harry Potter” through theme park installations replete with animatronics and such like, at Leavesden you’re seeing the studio itself - the sets, the props, and a few minimal re-creations of moments from the movies.
It’s probably a little less polished, and a little less immediately impressive than a theme park, but there’s a real sense of care about everything - a sense of duty to the fans - to tell the story of how a children’s book became something greater than anybody imagined, and how the author, the movie makers, and the cast were impacted by it.
I guess Harry Potter is up there with Star Wars and Lord of the Rings in terms of the dedication of the fan-base to the source material, and it’s various manifestations. Being “where it came from” is somehow wonderful, in a way that’s difficult to describe.
After drinking Butterbeer, and quite possibly the biggest hot-dogs in the known universe, we made the long trip back towards London, and I said farewell to my friend - waving from the platform as her underground train whistled off into the darkness - fingers crossed that she would find her way without me.
I should have had no such fears. She’s a smart so-and-so. I had to explain that idiom too. I guess it’s just a bit city, and I’m a father of daughters - and even though they’re grown up now. It’s hard to switch off caring and worrying for others.
I eventually got home a little after 11pm, with the rest of the family already in bed. I quietly cleared the kitchen - a surprise of sorts for the morning - then fell into bed and slept “the sleep of the just” as my late father-in-law called it - waking with the alarm at 7am and walking back through the memories of the previous days.
Today has been unintentionally amusing. After filling the washing machine and firing up the work computer first thing to begin writing a technical document, I joined the regular team meeting mid-morning and my project manager frowned.
“Aren’t you on holiday today?”
“Am I?”
I looked at the calendar. And laughed.
And that’s how I’ve spent the morning so far getting on with all the small chores that usually get pushed to one side. My other half is only working half-a-day today, so I will invite her out for lunch on her return and tell all the stories of the days away. I’m sure I have much to catch-up on too.
I thought I would be more tired this morning, but strangely I’m fine. This whole “getting away for a day or two” seems to be a good thing. I’ve never done it before.