One of the most beautiful landmarks in London, as far as I’m concerned, is the fountain in the middle of the square at Bart’s.
I spent a good chunk of my childhood at Bart’s. My mother was a nurse there. My father was a contracts’ manager/carpenter on the building team. That’s how they met. Without Bart’s, I wouldn’t exist, and you’d have to read something else. You see how much devastation would have been wrought? Doesn’t bear thinking about.
Anyway, whether my mother was at an AGM or having coffee with friends or even when she was a patient there, I used to wander around the hospital. I never got lost, which is a surprise given what a compassless adult I have become.
I know I’m in the smallest of minorities here, but I actually like the smell of a hospital. There’s something comforting about it, probably because I spent so long around hospitals in my childhood.
There are a couple of small shelters dotted around the square. They look a little like the ones you sometimes see at the seaside, except they look out onto the fountain.
It’s really pretty. Plus, it’s right around the corner from St Paul’s Cathedral.
Very much in the vein of the Niagara bottle, I collect some water from the fountain on a trip to London in 2001. When I subsequently fainted on the Tube, it was slightly green Bart’s water that brought me round.
So, there you have it – Day 160 of #365HappyDays, Bart’s.