Ordinary Heroes

A couple of Fridays ago I caught a train to London — on my own.

Now that may not seem like much to you but it's not something I would normally do. When I think back over my life I realise that I have not really ever done much on my own, unless a trip to Morrisons every few days counts. I have definitely not done much just for myself and because it's something I want to do. Which seems extraordinary when I think about it now. Being a stay at home Mum for over 20 years has meant I have got used to putting what I wanted at the bottom of the pile and going along with what everyone else wanted. It was fine and I was happy to do it, and would definitely do it all again. But now when I have a little more time, with a half empty nest, I, like so many other women it seems, started wondering what I actually wanted to do. What did I want for myself.

I have wanted to visit the National Portrait Gallery for quite a long time — it was one of my first entries in my bucket-list book — I kept putting it off. I love London. My daughter and I went quite a few years running for her birthday and I would let her decide what to do and would happily follow along. Friends tried to encourage me to just get on a train and go to the gallery on my own but I always found some excuse. But the wish was still there. Being a portrait painter myself it was quite a pull to stand in a building dedicated to one of my favourite subjects, I kept saying next year, maybe next year, and then I started finding a few things that I wanted to see and started thinking about whether it would be possible to fit them all into a couple of days. When I found out there was a Marilyn Monroe exhibition on and that there were personal effects and clothes on show it was enough to finally tip the balance.

I was telling my daughter, who now lives in Manchester, about wanting to go and she said she would meet me in London. I started saving up and we started planning. We found a weekend that she wasn't busy, which is quite a feat in itself, and she said apart from trying to get tickets for Kinky Boots she was happy to do what I wanted all weekend. So it was all decided and booked. I asked her if she was interested in the Portrait Gallery and she said she'd go but wasn't particularly bothered, so I made what was, for me, a slightly brave decision — I would go up earlier in the day, visit the gallery, and then meet her in the evening.

I got completely stressed the day before as there were problems with my train being cancelled due to the heatwave. I looked at the insurance policy and considered cancelling. It was going to be too hot. Was I even going to make it on the train. What if my daughter's train was cancelled and I was stuck on my own. My brain was screaming not to go. It really is the sucker of fun and doesn't like me to do anything different. I rearranged my plans and got an earlier train.

My husband dropped me at the station at 7am. It was already quite warm so I looked for somewhere to sit and wait. An older lady with grey hair was sitting on one of the benches and I asked if it was okay to join her. She was quietly spoken and seemed a bit nervous. I asked her where she was going and she said she was going to Portsmouth to meet her friend. She was going on a cruise to Norway and it was her first holiday after her husband had passed away a couple of years earlier. She could have said no and stayed at home and who would have blamed her after such a loss, but she was here, sitting on a bench, waiting for a train.

At my next change I complimented a lady on her lovely edgy grey haircut. She told me she had become allergic to hair dye and that was it, we spent the next five hours exchanging bits of our lives. We talked about our families and losing our mothers, hers to cancer and mine slowly to a stroke. She told me she was meeting her cousins for their annual meetup and going to see Take That. She told me about the two back to back brunches her cousins had booked for the next day and we wondered what her head would be like the following morning. We were quieter the last couple of hours, the heat and the sunshine starting to take a toll, but it was a comfortable silence. She was really lovely and I am still a little sad that we didn't exchange details and keep in contact. She said that us meeting was serendipity. I told her it was one of my favourite words.

After an extremely arduous walk to the gallery, where I was a bit concerned I might faint in the 36 degree heat, I finally arrived. I nearly cried when I saw Marilyn's dress. I have loved her since I was a little girl. I don't know why. Maybe it was what I then saw as her childlike demeanour. When I grew older I think I just saw sadness in her, but it drew me to her. Seeing clothes and shoes that she had actually worn was very moving.

I left the gallery early evening and made my way to meet my globe-trotting daughter, who thinks nothing of getting on a plane. "It will be all good Mum."

We caught up that night over dinner. I was just me and she was just her.

The next day was Battersea Power Station, a walk along the Southbank, wine in Covent Garden, last-minute tickets for Kinky Boots, and dancing in the street in Soho, where someone had brought a speaker to an impromptu party.

On Sunday we went to the East End, walked down Petticoat Lane, through Spitalfields Market, had brunch, and then on to the Lightroom to see David Bowie: You're Not Alone. When I heard his voice and saw his image as high as a house on the screen I once again felt a wave of emotion. I have been a fan for years — I love listening to him talk as well as sing. He was strange and fascinating and I would have loved to have met him.

Bowie has been one of my heroes for years, nearly as long as Marilyn Monroe. But that weekend I met other heroes. The older lady who found the courage to go on holiday after losing her husband. The lovely lady I met on the second train who was just comfortable in her own skin. And my intrepid daughter, who leaves me in awe. She did a gap year when she was younger and I remember dropping her at the gate to board her flight alone. It was hard. She would come home for a couple of weeks and then go off again. She visited a lot of Europe that year completely alone. I remember once asking her if she was scared and she said yes, but she had no one to go with and she wanted to go.

There will always be people we look up to, some famous, some not. And maybe, just maybe, we can be our own heroes too — even if it's only for an afternoon, in an air conditioned gallery in London.

— Jewels