I really hate that bit in the Sound of Music.
That bit where Mother Superior warbles Climb Every Mountain to a crestfallen Maria just before she walks out through the convent door for The Real World.
In my experience, when Peggy Wood starts up it’s time to switch off the sound and potter out to the kitchen for more tea and a box of Quality Streets.
Hers is such a lofty sentiment: but so heavy and Wagnerian.
Climb every mountain until you find your dream? I’d quite like my dream to find me effortlessly when I least expect it, thanks. All that climbing gives me emotional vertigo, especially when delivered by a plumby anti-valkyrie with the kind of institutional authority that has me reaching for my soapbox.
But today I did indeed climb a mountain.
And it felt like it.
It wasn’t a very high mountain because it was metaphorical, and its summit was a parking space somewhere in Kensington.
But oh, the altitude sickness; the lederhosen; the craving for a ham sandwich three-quarters of the way up.
About a fortnight ago, my daughter went to the Victoria and Albert Museum with her school.
They arrived at the steps of the V&A on a divine Autumn day. And then, it began to go every so slightly pear-shaped for Maddie.
The party marched straight past the mediaeval gallery with the fountain in it. Maddie does not do walking past galleries. We have a skim and scan approach: we speed through everything and then home in on the exhibits which have a particularly siren call.
The siren called, but Maddie was powerless to answer: like Odysseus, she was lashed to the proverbial mast.
She was already quietly fuming, then, when she took out her camera in the stunning Iron Gallery: a collection of some of the most beautiful wrought iron work she had ever seen. The patterns! The figures! Great keys in wrought iron, treasure boxes, altar rails, trivets and weather vanes!
She pressed the shutter: and behold: the battery died.
She returned home in the evening chronically dissatisfied.
There was nothing for it: we must return to the Iron Gallery with as much speed as we could muster, and the first opportunity was today. And I must achieve a personal first: I must drive. Alone.
I was quietly agitated.
I didn’t say anything. I had satnavved across London before: but always with a reassuring male presence in the passenger seat. This was me. On my own. Pitted against London taxis and seasoned city drivers. On the day the great and good were clogging up the city roads towards the Cenotaph.
Sometimes, you just have to get in the car and start the engine.
Just like Dick Whittington before me, I headed for the road signs that said “Central London.”
I hugged the middle lane the whole time. I bet the taxi drivers were cursing me but I can’t lip read so I don’t know for sure. But conservatively, I fenced my way right past the Natural History Museum and began to look for somewhere to turn right.
Into a side road I turned, and was immediately faced with yellow lines and impossible parking restrictions.
On any other day people would be too busy: but today, dogs were being walked and city folks were in the mood to stop and talk. I wound down the window to tackle a tough ageing skinhead with a slightly overweight dog. “Excuse me, you don’t know anywhere I could park, do you?” I asked.
He walked me up the road and pointed out spaces. Anywhere on a yellow line, he said almost volubly. As he went on his way with his four-legged companion I would swear the corners of his mouth turned upwards.
I asked a few times. Everyone wanted to stop and advise. A colonel-type in fustian tweed: a lady walking her labrador. You’re safe here, they smiled, enjoying the sun and the debate. Just park anywhere round Montpelier Square.
So I did.
We sauntered along Exhibition Road past the Brompton Oratory, with its domed roof, to the florid arched entrance of the V&A. It was almost deserted; lazy Sunday mornings become its great marble pillars and bohemian, eclectic galleries.
The Museum was almost indulgent today. We oohed and ahhed our way through a deserted iron gallery; we meandered around the Mediaeval galleries and Maddie got to see her fountain and dawdle with marble angels and saints.
We pondered Leonardo’s little notebook written in perfect reverse writing, and admired a great ancient Persian rug. We could have tarried longer but we were due at a provincial theatre before two.
Pure, unadulterated heaven: and all because I climbed my personal mountain, and some nice Kensington residents helped me reach its peak.
Kate Shrewsday 
The lederhosen?! Oh, you made me laugh, AND re-read. Doubly clever! I think your metaphorical mountain made you even headier than usual.
And yes, sometimes you just have to get in the car. Occasionally you have to also put your foot to the floor; this piece reminded me of when I was sixteen and in the driver’s seat, unexpectedly heading into Mexico City, with nowhere to pull over. The good thing about being young is that you learn quickly: the main rule of the road then and there (this was 1964 or so) seemed to be that whoever was in front, and honking the loudest, had the right of way. I was driving my mother’s VW Beetle, jam-packed with said mother and two ample aunts with their hair in pink rollers, plus luggage and a meringue pie that launched from the back shelf into various laps when I lost the right of way and had to hit the brakes. My aunt never forgave me, which was one of the delicious side effects of the day.
Congratulations! It’s good to be reminded that a coming-of-age story can happen at any time.
🙂
Oh, Barbara, I can just see it, you describe it so vividly: relatives festooned with lemon meringue pie after someone stole the march on your little VW! You are an arch-summariser, someone who has a knack for cutting right to the heart of the matter: yes; a coming of age story can happen at any time. Wonderful. Thank you.
I had a great giggle too 🙂
Good. Everyone can use a giggle on a Tuesday morning 😉
Oh Kate, this is just brilliant. I love the comparison of driving in London to Climb Every Mountain. Good for Maddie for making you return!!
Like Barbara, this piece brought back a vivid memory for me, only mine is of the V & A. We visited London for my 40th birthday, and the only thing I wanted to do was see the Stephen Jones hat exhibit at the V & A. We arrived in the great Chihuly filled dome and got our ticket and proceeded to cram ourselves into the already packed space. There were too many people to see not enough hats. Abruptly, we were ordered outside, because a wing of the place was on fire. We waited and waited, but the doors were bolted shut, and the fire brigade was scurrying along the side of the building. We did what we normally do in any situation of inconvenience; we walked around the block. There, screaming “you’re not really hungry, but you will eat anyway” was Le Pain Quotidien, one of our favorite restaurants. We had a coffee and a pastry, which makes everything right with the world. When we walked by the V & A, not only was it reopened, but pretty much everyone decided not to return. We had the hat exhibit to ourselves, and I was probably as overcome as Maddie in her Iron Gallery.
What an amazing turn of events, Andra: is there anything sweeter than a coveted gallery, empty and inviting? So glad you got it all to yourselves.
The things we do for our children, Kate. And you reap the benefits by overcoming your fear too! I loved this…
It was a momentous occasion in every way, Denise. Thank you 🙂
Now I want to go to the V&A. Now. Will you be able to drive me?
One Sunday morning, when you’re passing, and before Westminster have instigated their fiendish plans to charge for parking on Sundays, yes, Speccy, I will 😀
While the rest of us rest and recuperate, Kate climbs mountains and all before a matinee theatre date! Crikey!
Lovely photos
Thanks Pseu. It was fun. But I’m knackered today.
Thanks for taking me to parts of the V & A I’ve never been to! 🙂
That’s down to Maddie, Earlybird: I had never heard of the Iron Gallery until she discovered it! What a treat it was…
(ps, just have to say how totally delightful your olive harvest post was yesterday. Turned me into a gushing schoolgirl, I was so excited….)
Oh, Kate, I’m sitting here clapping with glee. What wonderful pictures and what a wonderful exhibit you’ve now taken me to.
Our Jennifer entered a photo/modeling contest when she was in middle school. She won. Her prizes were many; a word processor, which was quite the thing at the time, clothes, a one-day modeling gig, and a modeling scholarship. Only thing was that she was a child and I had to take her on Saturdays downtown for her classes, which meant I had to park the car on a busy Chicago street. Ah, I feel your pain at your mountain to climb and I feel your pride at having conquered it. Yea!
Penny, how brave: not once, but every week; not London, but the windy city! I’m not sure how brave I would have been faced with your challenges….what very clever children you have, by the way 🙂 I see great things ahead for Kezzie…
“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.” ~ Ambrose Redmoon
You climbed your mountain, conquered a fear, and gave Maddie (and yourself) a wonderful treat in the doing! Great lesson here, Kate and beautiful pictures, too!
Oh, Karen, what a beautiful quote! I know nothing about Ambrose Redmoon and feel I must go and begin to dig straight away. Thank you!
Delightful post – congratulations Kate 🙂 A good dose of “carpe diem” and you got to see wonderful objects – win/win! We are suitably proud – dont think i’d like to drive across London, irrespective of what day of the week it was :O
Now I’ve done it once, I’ll do it again, Bandsmoke. We got in so quickly, 50 minutes Shrewsday door to V&A! Just fab!
Dear Kate,
The slideshow introduced me to an art form that I’ve seldom noticed. Sad but true. The intricacy of those metal grates and weather vanes and gates–all of them spoke of quiet beauty waiting to be noticed.
I’m glad you took your courage in hand and drove to the museum with Maddie. Climbing every mountain can be futile, but choosing the one that beckons us can lead to great adventure and there somehow always seems to be welcoming copses along the way to shelter us and fruit barrows sprinkled here and there amid the rocks to refresh us.
Good traveling. Always.
How beautifully you do write, Dee 🙂 And you’re right: not every mountain; rather, the right mountains. If we’re going with the way things are meant to be, and choose our battles, somehow something always materialises to help us, even if it’s an ageing skinhead with a dog to tell us the right place to park 🙂
I can imagine Maddie’s delight after her earlier disappointment, and from the pictures too I gather it was well worth it, to climb that particular mountain. Well done. 🙂
It was, Ruth. The museum is arranged like the household of a beautiful and bohemian woman: it leads the eye ever further in….
I climbed a personal mountain today also… I had my first injection since I was a baby, even though I kind of have a phobia… Still hurts like hell 😉
Emily May, that is a hell of an achievement. Well done. These mountains can quite take it our of us!
Another perfect post, Kate – and great photos! Not having been to London, I have enjoyed vicariously your brief tour! If I didn’t have to drive on the left, I could probably make it in London – I’ve driven through new York City a number of times with no ill consequence (to me at least. Maybe some of the drivers around me had a bad time of it, but I didn’t notice!).
Good on you!
New York! Now you have my admiration, Paula….Kensington simply doesn’t compare!
I thought I already had it! 😆 Now I see that gaining your admiration only takes driving through NYC!
There are many kinds of admiration in the Shrewsday house, Paula 😀
So that’s why Saudi authorities were asking me about you…
😀 Notorious, Brett…
You get a big ‘UP’ for driving in London alone. The last time I did it was years ago – on a motorcycle. Mind you I have driven in Madrid and Valencia more recently – so I’m not totally gutless. All you have to do in those cities is just give up being sensible, laugh like an idiot, and put your toe down. One day I’ll brave Paris.
Madrid and Valencia: impressive. Their roads are a living demonstration of chaos theory, Tooty.
I’m looking at a job in London and we’re doing the sums about season tickets. Phil naturally, just wants to buy a moped and mope in every day.
I’m a fan of two wheels – but an accident is inevitable. And motorcycles are to be enjoyed – not endured, which what happens when you use them to commute.
Our kind of mountain! So sorry we missed out on a wander in Londinium this time round.
However, before sounding too agreeable, I must say I rather LIKE that song, and her rendition.
Surely Maddie is not typical. Most of the young would want out of there as fast as release happened, never to return unless dragged.
Col, the song’s all yours 😀
Kids in museums: we have great museums here, very family friendly with lots for children, but no: not all kids are hooked on them. I don’t know when Mad and Felix developed a taste for them: we’ve been trailing around them for years; but I’m glad they did. It means we can all enjoy ourselves together.
What a wonderful and quite brave and hearty experience! I navigate some pretty nasty freeway/highway gridlock and at times white-knuckle terror to get to the Getty Museums in Los Angeles and Malibu. I sing in the car to keep my sanity…so next time, “Climb Every Mountain.” I will definitely chuckle thinking of your reaction to Mother Superior. I must say I find that really amusing! You are nurturing artistic and tremendously curious children, Kate. What joy! Have you ever taken Big Al to a museum? In time, I’m sure…now I’m chuckling again! Debra
*Shudders* No, I have not taken Big Al yet. I think we might start with a provincial museum before we let. him loose on London 😀
Love the photos Kate! And the words too! ‘Plumby anti-valkyrie’ made me smile :D!
I don’t think I could drive in London. I was a front seat passenger once and got so stressed out by that experience I was put off for life. I think I’ll just have to fly myself up and over that mountain! 😉 Great post!
….or just take the train: they’re so good these days. If we can, we grab a hotel and stay overnight in the city.Like a mini holiday.
I suppose it is a beautiful inspirational song. If you don’t live in the Alps, that is.
😀 Indeed, Carl.
Dear Kate,
Here’s Dee again, thanking you for commenting on my recent posting about splotching and spotting. I wish I had a camera and could take photographs of the convent and do a slide show as you did today. The buildings themselves speak of longevity and sit in a lovely setting in a river town in Kansas. The years I spent there, so long ago, are with me still and inform my life daily for I learned to live in community and few things are more important to me than forming communities of friends wherever I am.
Peace.
You writing on the convent is so vivid, Dee. Lovely.
Good on you, Kate! Loved the slide show. What vistas you attained by climbing that mountain. 😀
Yup, there were some great views up there, Nancy!
What a stunning exhibit. I’d never thought about collections of ironwork, but these examples are just exquisite. How wonderful that someone thought to preserve it as the art it is.
It’s a very V&A thing to do, PiedType: they tend to preserve beautiful heritage and display it so artfully….
I remember in 1976, renting a car in the center of London with my new husband – on our honeymoon. In short order, he confessed he hated driving and I confessed that I hated reading maps. This Canadian country girl learned to love traffic circles…we could go around them forever while the map was being scanned! 😀
Stunning shots of the iron work…thank goodness you faced the mountain. What a mom!
🙂 Thanks Amy. Now I have you superimposed on that shot from National Lampoon’s European Vacation going round and round the roundabout noting the same tourist attractions again and again through gritted teeth…
Good on you! Feel the fear and do it anyway 😉 or something along those lines (I am not one to talk – I feel the fear and run away half the time.
Now you’re unstoppable!
I can see why Maddie needed to go back to see the exhibit.
I love the V& A, although I’d never try to drive there, and you’ve reminded me that I’m due another visit. You know that notebook of Leonardo? We were amazed to see that it’s wrapped in this http://tiny.cc/8yvgr – and they bought it from us!
As for the Sound of Music, Andrew Lloyd Webber forever ruined it for me – and that was just with the adverts for the show. I can’t listen to any of it now without cringing. (Yes, I’m a crochety Old Woman of 175)
Promise I’ll be back to following and commenting on everyone soon. Thanks for your visits to me in the meantime.
Well done for overcoming your fears. And well done to Maddie for refusing to be fobbed off.
Well done, some cities are hell for drivers.
I love climb every mountain (when I’m alone and a little pie-eyed) because somehow it’s notes resonate in the bits of me that pretend they can sing. I hated it in the movie as well.
Don’t you think people who can make delicate things from iron are such an interesting combination, they take heavy stuff that needs heat and is scary and then they make shapes with it and shapes beween its bits as well
It is an incredible skill, Sidey. I watched a British programme which set four people up to see i they could win a coveted iron smelting apprenticeship with the National Trust. There was so much skill involved! Amazing stuff.
Lol, this post touched me on several levels…the climb every mountain header as that is exactly what the newly unchained non-mum part of me wants to do right now, I have recently regained my freedom from an awful 10 yr tenure, and there is a volcano acting up in Africa that I badly want to go watch lol, but being a mom, no can do, Maddie reminds me so much of me when I was her age, if I got an idea in my head, nothing and no-one could ever stop me from pursuing it!
And as for the memories you have invoked re driving through London, well, I remember clearly now the day I bought an old banger of a volvo estate, for £200 if I recall correctly, ( I managed a couple of bands back in the day, and needed the space for all the gear!) and oh, the sheer bliss of driving through the thronging streets in the centre of town, with even the taxi drivers giving me and my lovely tank a very wide berth once they nioticed the female driver!
Mibs, I know exactly what you mean about wanting to climb mountains. Being a Mum means you end up with a list of wonderful experiences which have to wait until the little ones are grown. I have to rail across America, travel India, take up a bit of acting: I guess our plans make life sweet….
A few dents on the car does make those London Taxis think twice, doesn’t it ? 😀
Now that is my idea of a perfect day
BB, it was 🙂
you are braver than I am, London driving is not on my list, ever. I rely on my Oyster Card to get me around 🙂
Ah, and there speaks someone in the know 🙂
Congratulations to you! I have never driven in London before and was a little later than some learning to drive, because I was a bit on the nervous side about it, so I really appreciate where you’re coming from on this. I’m glad it paid off and you both had a wonderful time. Marvellous slideshow. Thank you for sharing these lovely pictures. 🙂
My pleasure, Heather 🙂 A Sunday morning is just about do-able, and it transports you right to the centre with so little effort! Magic!