I love that feeling that you get when you see a photo and think ”I’ve stood there! Right there! I was there!”
D’: I stood on the other side of the street so I can’t say that. Maybe I’m hiding behind that creepy orange truck.
A short while before Sherlock season 2, I want to post this photo I took in London and express my thanks to Chris, the owner of Speedy’s.
I don’t know about you, but this shop is now a part of my Sherlock world. It wouldn’t be the same without that red tent, would it? And I’m looking forward so much to the scene that will take place at the inside of Speedy’s.
When I was in London I strolled into Speedy’s rather more casually than I felt, sat myself on a table, ordered a tea and some lemon cake and wrote. Soon I was feeling completely relaxed in the cosy, friendly atmosphere of the shop, it was the kind of place you want to hide into on a rainy morning and enjoy a hot beverage before work.
I was itching to ask about Sherlock, but I was embarrassed to do so before the other clients. It was past 2pm however, and they were soon closing. I had realised that the amiable, salt-and-pepper haired man was the owner so, when he sat at the table opposite me, I mustered up the courage and asked him (as if I didn’t already know) if that was the street where Sherlock had been shot.
Now, there are a few interview tricks one can learn from Sherlock Holmes, and one is that if you don’t appear too eager or knowledgeable, people are far more inclined to share their stories with you. The man’s eyes lit up and a small, embarrassed smile came to his lips. He assured me that yes indeed it was, and this was the shop that was featured in the show. I said I was glad I had the right one, I loved that show. He was relaxed and very nice, he asked me if I was in London on holiday and where I was from. When I told him I was from Greece he laughed and replied he was a Greek-Cypriot. We introduced ourselves, Chris got up and came over to my table and started talking in Greek.
While we were discussing the shooting he kept fidgeting with his phone, and I was instantly afraid I was boring him, but I didn’t have the nerve to walk away from such a conversation. But then he pushed his phone over to me; he was looking for the photos he had taken from the shooting to show them to me. “Hold up,” he said, and disappeared in the back room. He reappeared with his laptop, saying that all his photos were there. Meanwhile, the shop had closed, the chairs were already upside-down on the tables and the waiters chatting while cleaning up. We sat together and continued our conversation.
Talking about Sherlock seemed to make him happy. He fondly remembered the rain and the snow the crew had made happen, showing me the photos of the crew setting it all up. He moved on to the photos of the crew and the cast, where in many of them he stood beside them smiling in his humble way. He knew them all by first name- Mark, looking dapper in his Mycroft outfit, Sue being busy as a bee, Benedict looking tired and content.
“Martin was the nicest one,” he reminisced. “He was always dashing in and out. Chris! Can I have some coffee? Chris! Hold my coffee for a moment, will you? And he’d run out, shoot a scene and dash back in the shop for a quick chat and a sip.”
He was thoroughly amused by the Christmas setting. He showed me his photos with the twinkle lights and the reindeer. I asked him if he used to decorate for Christmas and said he didn’t; I suggested this year it would be a good idea, and he agreed. He seemed to enjoy telling me the stories of how they painted the walls indoors to avoid glare and when they were about to paint them back he asked for just a lighter shade of the hue they had used; “the place needed a paint job anyway”, he said and laughed. The crew had taken the neon sign off to put the lamp over the 221B door, and when they re-installed it it wasn’t working any more, so they ordered him a new one. He looked quite pleased and grateful for that: “Do you know how expensive these things are?”
“This shop is iconic now, I’m afraid,” I told him. “You will need memorabilia.”
He cracked a smile. “I have some wonderful photos of myself with the cast and the crew. I’ll frame them and soon they’ll be hanging here. And I’ll get new menus. It’s amazing how many people come here because of Sherlock now. Just the other day we had visitors from New Zealand.”
We talked for a long time, he told me stories of his life and his parents and the place where he was coming from. After an hour or two, when the accidental interview was coming to an end, I asked him if he’d like to step out and let me take a picture of him in front of his shop. He indulged me. Before I left, he shook my hand warmly.
I walked away with a smile and a warmer heart.
I don’t think you understand how difficult watching Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy was.
And why I was texting Inkie.
I was at London and TTSS was playing at the Renoir, right by my hotel. So of course on my second night there I had the ticket in my hand and my butt warming the seat. The movie was supposed to start at 8:30pm.
9pm came and still nothing. A nice lady came and told us that there had been a power cut and they were trying to fix a problem that had occurred with the projector. If nothing could be done we’d get a refund. Minutes and more minutes passed.
The trailers finally started. Still the problem was persisting, so they showed many more than usual. It was almost 9:30pm. And finally, the film began, I curled up and held my breath.
Then smack in the middle of the film, as Tom Hardy was talking, the screen went fuzzy and everything went white, then black. The projector was acting up again. The film stopped for a quarter of an hour and it looked like we were getting our money back.
But then it started up again. Not from the same point though, but 5 minutes before that.
It was psychological torture.
Only then did the film deign to proceed as normal.
A Study In Pink Week
SPEEDY’S!
Speedy’s speedy’s speedy’s speedy’s speedy’s speedy’s speedy’s speedy’s speedy’s
Yes, I still have the water bottle I bought there.
Did I ever mention that the owner of Speedy’s, Chris, is a Greek Cypriot? Talking with him for an hour, long after the shop closed, in Greek, about the shooting of season 2, was a wonderfully surreal experience. He even took out his laptop and showed me photos of the shooting, the snow, the rain, the Christmas decorations, him with the cast. He knew everyone by first name (Mark! Stephen! Martin! Benedict! Sue!) and had several stories to share. He had said Martin was the nicest, and always had a little smile on whenever he was talking about him. It was almost like an interview, an interview where I had to make serious effort to contain my feelings because of how close the matter was to my heart.
Highlight of my trip to London, right there.
A Study In Pink Week
Oh wonderful Russel Square Gardens, where Stanford, Mike Stanford altered the course of modern bromanticism.
I must confess, because my hotel was right across the street, I would pass through that park and linger there every other day, regardless of where I was going.
Went into a shop with Doctor Who memorabilia and tried on the official Eleven tweed jacket. Damn it was nice. And 250 pounds.
Best London view plus excellent fresh gourmet food, tea or coffee?
Tate Modern restaurant/cafe on the seventh floor, overlooking the Thames.
Baker Street tube station.
The Sherlock Holmes tiles are on the Metropolitan line, if I remember correctly.
One day I hopped on a bus and went to Greenwich, where I met the lovely Amber.
She showed me around the Royal Naval College and the National Maritime Museum, and we walked around the beautiful neighbourhoods.
We soon became so immersed in our conversation that I completely forgot about seeing the Meridian and the Cutty Shark. We sat at the cafe of the local Waterstones and chatted the hours away. It was a lot of fun. And quite a challenge keeping up with her, conversation-wise; I hadn’t had decent oral practice at that level in years. Hopefully I pulled it off?
Many thanks to my mom, Titika, who made the trip possible with her knack for finding the best-priced tickets and best-located hotel combos. Even though she had knee injury she let me drag her around London with minimum rest, and followed my schedule. Love ya, mom.
