A journeyman's world

It was a hot summer day in July 2007. Covent Garden was bright and incandescent. I had walked around the piazza a number of times already, going around in circles, somewhat dazed and a little confused but nevertheless determined to find my elusive target destinations. I was trying to locate, firstly, the Theatre Museum, and secondly, Shaftesbury Avenue. The Avenue extends from Oxford Street to Piccadilly Circus, and this is where most of the playhouses are. This is West End physically embodied. Ambling along the piazza, I chanced upon a magnificent building that turned out to be the Transport Museum. I decided to take a break from my bootless wandering and venture in. I thought I’d sit on a bench and rest but that was impossible amidst the feats of engineering on display. The exhibits were enormous and impressive; the museum shop had heaps of little curiosities. Can you imagine Tube trains packed in a room? Unwieldy, old-world, horse-drawn carriages? Beautiful old cars and sleek modern ones side-by-side? I simply had to look around.

After my rest, and subsequent failed attempts to walk in the right direction in spite of my map, I decided to wander into Soho. Soho, which is nefarious and beautiful, is at once a bewilderingly complex network of streets and alleyways and a relatively easy place to navigate. When you're there, you'd be forgiven for thinking it was the center of the world. The shops and sleaze and markets become progressively more beguiling as you plunge further in. You can go in, but once you do, you feel like you’re slipping further away from the outside world, a wonderful feeling. There's a quaint little place called Neal's Yard which is filled with cafes and tobacconists and where psychedelic works of art adorn red-brick walls, a mad, stormy mixture of yellow, green, purple and red. On the main street, you’ll find a cornucopia of sex shops and video stores selling dreams, fantasies and peccadilloes. Enticements abound everywhere. 'Come in for a peep-show, darling? It's only five quid, darling. No? So what are you looking for in Soho, darling?' It's immeasurably chaotic. One has to learn to throw oneself in, plummet into the madness of Soho. I'd do that happily. But first, I have to find the Gielgud Theatre in Shaftesbury Avenue. I can’t afford to be late for Peter Shaffer’s Equus tomorrow!