I’m packed up and out of Falconry Court earlier than usual. I’ve got a flight to catch back to Bahrain this afternoon and want to make the most of my last half-day in London. I step out into a 39° fog and notice a significant change overnight. Many shops are closed, the cafes have their outdoor chairs put away, and the number of people out is few.

I stopped at a bakery in Teddington, and I’m sure it’s usually worth the visit, but today has the worst cronuts ever (lemon and apple spice) as they try to get rid of inventory before the lockdown at midnight. A memorial for Timothy Bennet was erected in 1900 on the corner of Sandy Lane and Cobbler’s Walk for his £700 spent on legal fees in 1752 to establish a public right of way through Bushy Park that is still enjoyed today.

I encounter more leaves, moss, and spiderwebs than people or traffic on my way towards Teddington Village. In 1065, King Edward the Confessor gifted the manor, and the village grew away from the river. In 1536, King Henry VIII acquired the manor that remained in the hands of the crown until 1603, when it was given to John Hill and remained in his family until 1728. John Barton sold the land in 1862, and Teddington grew from 1,000 residents to 10,000 in 40 years.

The first house on Broad St. was used as a library until the Carnegie Library opened in 1906. A school for boys was opened in 1831, became a church school in 1862, and was demolished in 1979 along with the church. The coming of the electric tram down High St. left houses leveled after only 20 to 40 years of occupation. St. Mary’s Church has been enlarged and repaired many times since it was built in the 16th century. It was closed for a while when St. Alban’s opened across the street in 1889, and after more repairs, it was able to reopen. It is still in use today, even though it lacks a loo.

I come out of a pedestrian bridge over train tracks near the Feltham Social Club, and a lorry (truck) driver makes a face at me that makes me smile. I’ll finish walking at Lansbury Ave Stop F, about a mile from the airport (property, not a pedestrian entrance), and go into a shop for coconut water. The first one costs £2 with a card minimum of £3, and next door’s costs £1.39 with a £2 minimum, but the clerk lets me buy it anyway.

At the airport, I chug water, charge my phone, and eat before getting more food (to have it available). I start my period, which is always a blessing after a trip, instead of going into one. I message with Dad and talk with Caleb. I meet Will, from Scotland, and his friend who are traveling to Switzerland to escape the lockdown. I eat the food I bought earlier and walk laps for half an hour until my gate is posted. A man is upset that the shops are closed even though the lockdown doesn’t start until midnight.

I heard another guy say that his flight is at 6 pm tomorrow. He showed up with dinner 26 hours before his flight, as perhaps where he was staying would kick him out at midnight, or transportation options would be limited or nil. I’m sitting at the gate, reading a magazine, and this guy comes up panting and sweating, thinking the airline was about to close the gate. The ticketing agent tells him he still has half an hour since there are only 50 people on a 300-person plane.

Each person gets their own row. I met some British Bahrain kids and talked with Kian, who is traveling with her sister and boyfriend. I eat the food that is passed out, even though I’m not hungry, and skip the tea to avoid getting warmer as I’ve already taken off my coat, sweater, and socks. I’ll attempt to nap with the remaining hours of this 6.5-hour flight in hopes I’m not too tired tomorrow, even though Caleb will be at work.