Streets of London : Under the Chelsea sun

Today was such a glorious day: the sun was shining, the sky was clear, all jackets and wraps were pulled off and tucked away, and we ended up doing what we usually do when the weather is incredible: talking to people. So, we went nowhere slowly. In truth, if there is one place in all of London that is ideal to spend such a day we chose it: the Chelsea Pensioner's Hospital.

Our walk today was supposed to take in the entire Chelsea embankment. We actually made it to the water at about the time to come home, so we didn't really see any of it. We set out with that intent in the morning, but were slowed down almost immediately, as overnight the cherry blossoms had broken out in our streets here, demanding to be photographed. For the next few days as they come out in full our neighbourhood will be 'in the pink', so to speak: gorgeous.

A bus took us right to Sloane Square where we hopped off and found, of all things, a hairdressing salon that served coffee to their clients, and on the side, to the public. We spent about an hour there just chatting to the gay barista who was from Spain, but had been here 10 years, and goes home twice a year. So, the best of both worlds, he has: with no worry about Brexit affecting his status, which is great.

The Chelsea Pensioners Hospital is probably not a place I would think to visit on my own, but that is often the way with some magical days we experience: someone else suggests something and I often immediately think I would probably not choose to do that, but, then, the experience frequently ends up becoming so unforgettable it is up there with some of the best memories we have. As was today. Thanks to the sun and the amazing pensioners who live in this hospital. This was to be the first stop on our longer walk. It became the last: but we did walk, and talk, all day.

The hospital was built by Charles 11 as a home for his retired military. Rumour had it that he chose to build it because Nell Gwynn, his mistress, had a special fondness for the little old guys who had supported the crown in battle. But, more likely Charles 11 wanted to build something similar to what Louis X1V did across the pond when he constructed Les Invalides in Paris for his aged military, and, in doing so, amp up his brownie points with the public.

This hospital looks a little like Les Invalides. The grounds, the space, the stateliness. In fact when we first walked up towards it, I commented as such. Charles 11 had no money to fund the project, and Parliament refused to cough up the dollars either, so someone came up with an ingenious solution of taking a small annual contribution from the salaries of all servicemen for its construction and maintenance. They wouldn't even notice it, was the argument. And over time that tiny portion would multiply exponentially, I imagine, if used well. So, a clever idea.

From that, Christopher Wren designed this Hospital around three square alcove gardens with accommodation wings to the sides of the alcoves and great green garden spaces looking southward to the Thames. And on days like today it is magical. And it is not really a hospital. More a place of hospitality. It is like a retirement village for veterans. They wander the grounds, or chat together in small groups visibly taking in the sun, the space, and the fresh air. A delightful lot: everyone with a smile.

There are some rules, they told us. Vets who are selected to live here have to have no dependents. The assumption is, that dependents will want you to live with them, and that those without are the ones in most need. Vets must also have served the equivalent of twelve years.

In recent times, female servicemen have been admitted. We chatted with one lady in a wheelchair, from Wales, who had been in the artillery in WW2 and shot at a German plane that came down over Wimbledon Common. Horrifying her, she said, when she suddenly realised then that war was about killing real people the age of her brother. Her father did not speak to her for 18 months after she enlisted, so shocked was he that a woman would do such a thing. He did eventually write to her, though, and apologise, begging her to come home and visit as soon as possible as he missed her so much, and was so proud of her, despite his earlier aggrievement.

Today there are about fourteen women here as residents, the rest are men. Many women did not hold permanent service positions in the military so were not able to built up that criteria for admission. There are about 300 residents all up, though the space was designed for 500, but over time, individual space needs have grown. All give up their military pension to stay here; though their old age pension remains their own. Their lodging is provided, all meals are prepared for them, and paying jobs are available to them if they so wish, such as serving some way in the hospital, manning the gates, handing out leaflets, and so forth. Such a lovely group; and so jolly.

When they are in the grounds, they told us, they are encouraged to wear their 'blues': a casual outfit, that identifies them from the visitors. If they have to go further 'abroad' they are encouraged to wear their full red regalia, which come with tricornes included; or at other times, a peaked shako is worn. They have two full time hairdressers in the complex and a full time medical infirmary. They get their dental work free, but do have to go out into the burbs for that: which is fun and not a problem to them.

In recent times their rooms have been expanded by taking over one of the two halls that used to run up the centre of the buildings. This space they redesigned as individual ensuite bathrooms to replace the ancient one loo to a floor regime they had had till then. They were also able to expand the living space in each suite, to incorporate a sitting area, rather than just the bare bed space and storage chests as in days of old.

The residents can tootle off to France for a holiday, too, if they so wish. Or, make arrangements to go, wherever. Or attend art classes in the grounds. This is now home. Rules are easy to live with, and this seems a lovely way to spend retirement. In the sun. In the grounds where the Chelsea Flower Show will soon be held; so we will be able to visit again then. And where, I believe, though we did not go seeking this, the ashes of both Margaret and Dennis Thatcher, were interred, as was their wish.