Jean was at the station with her friend when I arrived at Paddington. Ike turned up in his car, and we all got in. My first impressions of London were that people were somehow detached from the bustle and noise of those around them. While I was preoccupied by this, their comings and goings, Ike broke into my thoughts.

"We're now in the Old Kent Road, Ron. A couple o' miles up the road and we're there," he shouted, to be heard over the noise of the traffic.

"Is it as busy as this every day, Ike?"  I asked.

"Oh, yes. You wait till this evening. It'll be chock-a-block from end to end."  Ike still had an inimitable way of speaking, his Welsh lingo, and some of the old Welsh sayings I was comfortable with.  For all the years he'd lived in the city, he still hadn't changed, not really.

Everything in London appeared larger, the roads seemed wider, the buildings higher, and every bit of space occupied by an endless array of commercial premises: Large stores, offices, hotels, and those countless insignificant little shops in endless rows. It wasn't until we drove along the Old Kent Road that I began to notice the rows of terraced town houses. All of them had been built with the same monotonous brown and yellow 'London Stock' bricks, and were well coated with grime. The houses were certainly economic in design. Occasionally, we passed some contrasting architectural edifices, evidence of the distinction between the social classes of London.

Eventually, we turned into Wickham Road. The street sign was marked S.E.4.  Ike and Millie lived in a rented basement flat in a large well-kept period house. Their flat had been attractively converted from stables.  I was pleasantly surprised.

I soon realized I had neglected to plan properly for travelling in London. Consequently, each day after breakfast I prepared, noting transport times and changes. Although brimming with places of interest, there were large distances between them. Having a few newspapers and an A-Z map really helped, but I still had to learn my way around the London underground system.

Gellyn, one of Ike's Welsh relatives, an apprenticed bricklayer who'd worked at the same building site as me in Caerphilly, had also come up to London to live with Ike and Millie. We became friends, and he took me around to show me the sights.

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