My first day
I am already excited as I approach Somerset House. I enter through one of the west wing doors, past a restaurant that evokes continental terrace dining with some tables set in an indoors-imitating-outdoors passage, and out again into the impressive establishment’s equally impressive courtyard. I make my way to Seamen’s Hall, the reception in the south wing, one of my only sure points of reference in this vast estate.
As I wait to be taken to security for my pass – my official Somerset House Exchange co-working space aka this is where I work and will now be a member of the community pass! – I scan the exhibitions currently on: these I will be able to take in on a break, or pre- or post-work. What a privilege, I think, to be able to treat this magnificent Central London arts and cultural centre as an office.
Pass now in hand, I make my way to the uppermost floor of the House’s south wing and into one of the spaces available for co-working. I am in a peaceful, forest green room, high-ceilinged and dotted with modern sofas, armchairs, and large wooden tables. Immense windows flank the room up to which one a small set of steps leads and allows a privileged Thames view. I experience a small frisson of pleasure.
Before I get down to work I need to locate some necessary facilities and, on my way along a corridor I pass several bags stuffed full of what look like cushions covered in African print fabric. The bags are labelled for the MOBO awards – Music of Black Origin. Already I feel I am in a place I want to be.
The second time I choose to work at Somerset House, I decide against the grand courtyard approach (dancing fountains and ice rink sadly absent at this time of year) in favour of taking a route up the west wing, varying the commute to my new favourite forest green ‘office’.
I enter again from the north-west-ish corner and take a right past Spring the inviting continental-feel restaurant . Down a long corridor I trot, lined with meeting rooms, or some such, and a second fancy restaurant, Pennethorne’s Café. Savoury smells waft around me but this is not the moment to test out the extent of my Exchange pass benefits in the eateries of the building; I am taking this variant course to see what new I can discover. I feel I will not be disappointed as I see a woman further ahead taking photos of a sight elusively out of my eye line.
I reach her spot to find myself facing an installation: sculpted trees from delicate wood and cardboard grow and erupt into chairs, waterwheel paddles, ships and bugs, coloured and lit up in pale aquas. A uniformed security guard sits, incongruous, beneath the shadows cast. A sign informs me that the installation, Ulmus Londinium, celebrates “the elm’s relationship with London’s historic built environment, crafts and biodiversity”. The pleasing associated website reveals the significance of the elm to, and where to find them now in, London.
But I am then quite quickly distracted by an exhibition in the room opposite and I peek in to find exposed pianos, lying on their sides! I plan to re-investigate all later when sitting in front of my laptop starts wearing thin. My mission now, though, is to find my way in this unfolding Wonderland maze to my third floor spot with giant windows.
I try my access pass on the first set of doors I come across and – success! – I am through. I assume I will find my way eventually by trial and error: that my my blippy pass will dictate my path and lead me to my desired destination. This method proves workable but not entirely efficient as I climb floor after floor to only discover that I am cut off again and again by a series of stubbornly firmly shut doors.
Even so, my frustrating ascent of the grand, Napolean staircase is not without its silver lining as I am accompanied by the sounds of a beautifully-played stringed instrument. I am enticed, like Alice after the smoke rings of the caterpillar, to the innocuous door number 61 from behind which the music emanates.
I linger awhile, enchanted by the proximity in which I am brought to a whole different world of aural beauty. A modest laminated sign by the door reads Benjamin Hebbert. Consultant for fine violins, violas, cellos and bows. Captivated, I imagine, behind the door, days spent floating in the lofty and ethereal sphere of exquisite instruments and sounds; above the mundane, frivolous, bottom-feeding antics of the rest of us where callings are less clear and the meaning of it all blurred, buried or lost to sights, sounds, anxieties and constraints…
I pull myself away. I’ve enjoyed my diversions and circuitous meander but I am, unfortunately, here to achieve some kind of job-work.
Down down down in to the labyrinthine more industrial-like bowels of the building I go. A few turns, dead ends and accessible doors later and I’m sure I’m abso-bloody-lutely lost until I come across a lift claiming to give me access to the upper levels of the south wing. And sure enough I have the sesame to open up the way (erm, i.e. my pass works to operate the lift) and, sure enough, I find my way again to the peaceful forest green room…
Adventures over for now, I regretfully burrow down into my hole of work, where time unfortunately means money rather than an anxious fantastical white rabbit, late for a date.
A palatable perk
Third day working at Somerset House and I am pleased as bloody punch. Hunger having overcome me, and my normal working from home routine leaving me unaccustomed to sorting out a packed lunch, I have gathered together my things to head off with no destination in mind but an empty tummy to fill.
Should I cross over the river to grab something on Southbank? Or wander in a little more centrally? I only make it a few floors, however, as I’m drawn into the little cafe, Tom’s Deli, on the ground floor of Somerset House’s south wing.
I poke my head in to find an agreeable selection of salads, sarnies, cakes and biscuits. A friendly server approaches me and it turns out that he will be dishing up my meal and, joy oh joy, he confirms when I wave my pass in front of him that I am entitled to a discount! It doesn’t just open doors – or refuse entry – it gets me up to 20% off virtually every eatery, drinkery and, I’m hoping, shops, exhibitions and events too.
It’s only a few days in, so I’m sure the novelty will wear thin, but I’m truly enjoying my time as a member of Somerset House and all the perks that I’ll get to test out. For a different type of co-working environment, look no further.