HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN, JIGGITY-JIG

July 13, Monday

 

Well, Monday became one very long day.  We set the alarm and I was up by 6:00 AM.  Now, if you do the math, 6:00 AM in London is 1:00 AM in Florida.  At the end of the day, I was in my own bed in Florida just before midnight, making Monday a 23-hour day.

 

Linda had arranged for a driver to pick us up at 7:00 for our drive to Gatwick.  That meant navigating through rush hour traffic.  We had allowed plenty of time, so we were worry free.  We also allotted extra time for the duty-free area of the airport.  And, I might say that of all the airports I have ever been in, Gatwick security is the most extensive, comprehensive and efficient I have experienced.

 

It goes without saying that the eight and a half hour flight from Gatwick to Cincinnati is really long.  Linda had taken a last minute upgrade into first class so I took her assigned window seat in coach and slept off and on much of the flight.  This gave me lots of time to mull over some random thoughts and memories.

 

When in London, ALWAYS look for the zebra stripes before trying to cross the street.  Cars and busses must stop if you are in the zebra stripes.  Since I couldn’t train my brain to first look to the right when crossing, zebra stripes saved my life on many occasions.

 

Wardrobe management is very simple in London.  Everyone looks so chic.  All you need are a pair of leggings under anything, and you are in style.  Leggings under a sundress.  Leggings under a mini skirt.  Leggings under a tunic top.  Add a big cinch belt and gladiator sandals and you are cutting edge. 

 

While walking though the city streets, shopping, riding the tube and sight seeing I noticed that, other than English, Italian seemed to be the most widely spoken language, followed by French.  And women in burka’s are not an unusual sight.

 

I am now much more aware of the epidemic of morbid obesity in the U.S. compared to other countries.  People walk or ride bikes in all of the European cities we visited. Public transportation is the best way to get around in cities with narrow streets.  Parking is impossible.  You don’t see many buildings dedicated to huge multi-story parking garages.  The subway system in London is accessed by flight after flight of stairs.  This forces people to exercise.  To be honest, I think it would be difficult for a handicapped individual.  You don’t see people in scooter chairs zooming around like they do in Wal-Mart, Disney World, Kroger’s, and every shopping mall in the U.S.  People in Europe walk.  Some might be heavy, but few are morbidly obese.

 

I had a six hour layover in Cincinnati before catching my flight to Orlando.  So, I am home now.  Jet lag is real.  I was fine on the first day home, but the second day it hit me.  Not to worry.  I will be rested up in plenty of time for Mike’s and my excellent Irish adventure at the end of August.

A GRAND FINALE

Sunday, July 12

 

It’s our last day in London.  I had started organizing my suitcases Saturday afternoon but planned to leave the finishing touches till later in the day Sunday.  Over coffee, Linda and I decided that the Royal Mews at Buckingham Palace would be our last stop in our twenty-one day, eight-country adventure.  And maybe a stroll down Sloane Street for some window-shopping and brunch.

 

A short tube ride and we were back at the Queen’s house.  The Royal Mews are around back.  I thought I knew what the word mews meant.  It’s just English for alley, right?  Nope.  It’s where the falcons go to molt.  Falcon molting is called mewing, thus they mew in the mews.  Are you still with me?

 

The Mews are built as a quadrangle with coach housing along one side, and the other sides containing stalls, harness rooms and parking for limousines.  One section holds the Gold State Coach with four-life size Windsor Grays wearing the Morocco harness and two postillion riders.  It is a breathtaking sight to see this coach in all its brilliance.

 

We worked our way through the mews, taking lots of photos and listening to the audio tour.  Of course, we found the gift shop at the end of the tour and managed to pick up a few more items to tuck into our suitcases.

 

Next stop Sloane Street and a very nice café for a late brunch.  My scrambled eggs must have been made with cream and I can safely say were the best I had ever eaten.  And, the belini and fresh waffle that I couldn’t turn down meant we needed a nice walk and a bit of window-shopping.  Then, hop on the tube and back to the flat for serious packing.

 

 

 

 

 

THE ALPHA AND OMEGA OF CULTURE

July 11

 

What to do on a Saturday in London?  Well, when your digs are one block from Portobello Road, you must join the thousands of others strolling through Portobello Road Market.  I had walked for several blocks along this road a few days earlier and it looked rather like an old woman who had seen better days.  The road was lined with antique shops, tee shirt stores and second hand clothing stores, most of which were closed.  The road was narrow and winding and appeared quite sleepy.  On closer look, you could see where the pavement along the curb was painted and numbered with each section being about eight feet wide.  Well, you sure can’t judge this book by its cover.

 

By early Saturday morning, each week, you cannot drive a car down this road.  It is a solid wall of people.  Most of those little shops opens up to become an alley way from front to back with stalls for eight or ten vendors inside each narrow store front.  The road, where the painted hash marks are, has become an unbroken line of tables and booths selling the most unbelievable mix of used items you can imagine.  Need a camera from the 1935?  There is a vendor that specializes.  Need an alligator hand bag from the 50’s.  It’s there.  Are you searching for a set of antique sterling silver plated fish knives?  I know where they are.  How about brass hotel faucets from the 1800’s?  Yup.  I stopped at one vendor that specialized in vintage ladies fur wraps, caplets, fox tail stoles and such.  He must have had over a hundred and fifty pieces to choose from.  I lifted my camera to take a photo and he jumped in front of me, waving his hands.  “No photos.  No photos.”  Sorry.

 

The market is more than used items.  There are several blocks of fruit and vegetable stands as well stalls selling new merchandise.  There are crepe vendors.   I stopped and watched as a young French girl prepared a banana and nutella crepe for me.  There were many street musicians along the road as well.  I stood for about twenty minutes listening to the Hightown Crows perform their own raw rock/blues on a suitcase, a bass and a pair of old guitars.  Their flyer says “…we’ll play your wedding…we’ll play your wake…book us now.”  I didn’t.

 

As I was walking back to our flat, I passed a pair of young men, maybe in their mid twenties.  They had set up a table and were offering free architecture.  What?  How do you offer free architecture?  I must have looked puzzled as one of them volunteered, “we’re not giving out free buildings, just free ideas.”   I laughed and told him I was relieved as I was going to have to pack for my return to the states and wasn’t sure if I had room for a building in my luggage.  They handed me their card and said to call if they could be of service.  Well, have you ever had one of those moments where you are not sure how someone from another country will interpret a phrase or slang expression?  I wanted to say to these young men that I thought their marketing technique was fresh and innovative.  What I said as I walked away from them is, “Wow.  You have a nice tool.”  Was that wrong?

 

I returned to our flat and took a ten-minute snooze before beginning to think about dinner and the theater.  We walked to a lovely restaurant, The Black & Blue, for an early dinner and a glass of wine.  Then we found a cab for the ride to the theater.  As previously mentioned, traffic in London is indescribable.  The city is currently in the midst of replacing every water line.  This means that sections are blocked off making the flow of traffic through the maze of narrow streets, mews and alleyways even more challenging.  I think I read that a London cabbie must study and memorize 40,000 streets in London to pass his test for a cab drivers license.  Our driver earned a nice tip based on the route he was forced to take to get us to the theater.  It was worthy of James Bond trying to shake a tail. 

 

We had tickets for a performance of War Horse at the New London Theater.  The theater opened in 1973 and was home to Cats for 21 years.  Our seats were fabulous.  (I highly recommend that anyone traveling to London and wishing to see a play use the ticket service at Harrods).  This play is based on a children’s book about a farm boy who raises a horse and then his father sells the horse to the cavalry as a war horse in the First World War.  But, it is also the story of the one million horses that were taken to France from Britain with only 62,000 returning.  What makes this play so unusual is that the life size horses in the production are puppets, each with three puppeteers inside.  The actors actually are mounted on the puppets at times.  The skill of the puppeteers is so profound that you don’t even see them; you only see a real horse.

 

Then back to the flat and sweet dreams of packing.  Only one more day to enjoy this wonderful city.

HAMPTON COURT

July 10

 

What will we explore today?  Linda hadn’t been to Hampton Court before and, of course, I hadn’t been there.  This is the home of Henry VIII and the Hampton Court Flower show.  But first, we put in a call to the box office at Harrods and ordered our tickets for Saturday night’s performance of War Horse.

 

We again took the tube to Wellington Station and from there caught a train west to Hampton Court.  Because of the flower show it seemed that a train to Hampton was running every five minutes.  We were able to catch an express and we were whisked, and I do mean whisked, to the lovely town of Hampton. 

 

Upon arrival we decided on a lunch before touring Henry VIII’s love nest.  There was a charming café across the road from the castle and we sat outside and had a nice lunch.  This is where I learned about a new drink.  We had a Pimm’s lemonade.  Very tasty.  I will have to look for Pimm’s when I get home.  From there we simply crossed the road and entered the world of Henry’s royal court.  They have audio devices that talk you through the many rooms and give you a commentary on what you are seeing.  It was very interesting to see the kitchen as it was set up just as it was in Henry’s day with huge fireplaces and rooms for cooking fish, another for meats, a baking area and finally the serving section that looked rather like a cafeteria sort of arrangement where the servers would pick up their trays for serving the guests.  This is where we bumped into Henry himself.  He was on his way to the wine cellar and we followed him in for a bit of theater.  All very jolly.

 

The castle was originally the home of Cardinal Woolsey, but Henry coveted it and proceeded to ruin Woolsey causing Woolsey to give the castle to Henry.  This is where Henry enjoyed his many wives.  Henry then added a wonderful astronomical clock, the tiltyard for jousting and a tennis court.  This castle was also the home of William and Mary and others, so the periods changed from royal apartment to apartment.  But, many of the furnishings are original.  Outside are beautiful gardens that are being restored to their Elizabethan splendor.  The gardens contain a famous shrub maze and we had to try it.  Yes, it is a maze and you do get completely lost in it.  We finally made it to the middle and then took the gate out.  Had we not exited from the middle, we would still be there.

 

We took a look at the Garden Show being held on the grounds.  This is a huge event in the summer calendar and entry is pricey.  We decided that it was way too crowded for our taste and we had seen enough.  So, back to the train to London.  From the train we headed back to Harrods to pick up our theater tickets for Saturday night and so Linda could get her gift shopping done.  While she did that I parked myself in a little cappuccino bar and watched an amazing parade of shoppers.  Of course a trip to Harrods isn’t complete without a stop at the shrine to Diana and Dody.  Remember, Dody’s father owns Harrods. 

 

To finish our day we each made selections from the Harrods Food Court for take-away dinner back at the flat.  Then a tube ride home.  We made a couple of wee errors and found ourselves on the wrong line, but after some backtracking we made it home.  I’m starting to get the hang of this tube.  

WALK THIS WAY

Thursday, July 9

 

Today’s plan is for Linda and me to make our own plan.  She is fighting a bit of a cold and plans a day of laying low and re-energizing herself. 

 

I had one must do for my time in London.  Marthe (Mike’s Mom) had lived in London as a girl and remembered the number of that house.  In the strangest turn or fate, the flat where Linda and I are staying is a mere five or so blocks from Marthe’s childhood home.  Our landlady had left a great street guide and the pages for this bit of geography were loose from the binding.  I pocketed those pages and set out to find and photograph 5A Elgin Crescent.  It was an easy walk down Portobello Road, which is the flea market capital of London.  I found the house and took a couple of great shots.

 

Now my question was what else did I want to do on my own.  It’s a sad thing to say but I had been scarred for life by being lost in Toronto a few years back.  There is a bit of the small town girl in me and I get a bit panicky when I am in huge crowds and I don’t know where I am.  So, I decided that I wasn’t quite ready for prime-time subway (tube) hopping.  Instead, I would only go somewhere that I could stay above ground and be on foot.  That meant a trip back to Harrods.  I had to do it.  I recalled that the food court had a sushi bar, so I would go for lunch.

 

Well, the street guide was small help.  I only reversed my direction seven times.  I am sure that the police were following me because I kept passing the same houses as I retraced my steps, back and forth, looking for Kensington Gardens. A brief side note about the police – there are no trashcans on the streets of London or any other public place such as a tube station.  This is because the danger of a bomb being placed in them is too great.  People seem to carry their trash with them until they get home.  Isn’t that civilized?  And there are police walking beats everywhere.  So, my planned route to Harrods meant crossing through Kensington Gardens and then taking a diagonal route through some mews to emerge at Brompton Road.  There was further zigzagging through Kensington as I tried to spot the Albert Memorial,  It is a wonderful park and there are many commemorative spots to Princess Diana.  The Gardens are also known for their connection to Peter Pan, as this is the neighborhood where the author lived and wrote. 

 

Finally, I spotted the Albert Memorial and Royal Albert Hall directly across the street.  Now, I had been saved from on-coming traffic on two previous occasions as Linda yelled at me to step back onto the curb.  It is hard to reverse your eye and look for oncoming traffic in a country where they drive on the other side of the road.  But, I safely managed to cross Kensington Road without Linda’s coaching.  I chose an interesting set of side streets to make my diagonal way through to Brompton Rd.  The mews are great fun, but unfortunately one can find oneself at a seeming dead end.  I was in an area that had been the back alleyways and stable gates for former mansions.  It is wonderful to see these charming former stables and cottages with their flower boxes and colorful doors.  But, the alley appeared to end.  I pulled out my street guide and began to study it.  Just my good fortune, a lovely young (40ish) man stopped to ask if he could help.  I gave him my most charming smile and told him I was headed to Harrods but it appeared that I had run into a dead end.  He told me not to worry, there was a small gate in the wall and he was heading that way and we could walk together.  As we exchanged histories, I learned that he is the music director of a local church and spent childhood visits in Ocala, Florida.  BTW, Ocala sounded like O-call-a.  How charming!  By the end of our walk he had invited me to a free choir concert on Saturday night at his church.

 

Ah.  Harrods.  First order was a yummy sushi lunch served at a marble lunch counter in the Food Court.  Then on to some shopping for gifts for family and friends.  That was all fine and dandy, but I had now been walking for close to two hours and still had to get back home.  I managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other till I returned to our flat.  I needed a nap before dressing for the theater.

 

Our plan was to have an early pub dinner and then take the tube to the theater and a taxi home.  The first part went well.  There was an ancient pub on our road.  We ordered our dinner, enjoyed a pint and headed to the tube.  We made one small miscalculation on our route and ended up transferring to the wrong line.  No worry.  We just made our way above ground and hailed a taxi to the theater for the evening performance of Billy Elliot.  It was fabulous!  Our seats were great.  We were seated in the stalls, which equates to orchestra seating in the US.  I bought a program and read about the process involved in finding children for the demanding roles in this production.  There are five boys who alternate the role of Billy and more boys who play Michael.  In one scene, Billy is visiting his friend Michael who enjoys dressing in his sister’s clothes.  As the two boys dance, it is performed as a song and dance routine from an old Vaudeville show.  The boys are tap dancing away and the stage fills with dancing dress.  Billy says, “Michael, the dresses are dancing.”  Michael replies, “You should see what my underpants are doing”.  I laughed till tears rolled down my cheeks.  But, my favorite moment was after Billy had performed an amazing solo that was part tap, part ballet and a lot of gymnastics.  The dance ends with Billy running up a wall and doing a black flip.  Billy froze in the final position and the audience went mad.  As the cheering continued, Billy broke character and turned to the audience and looked out over the house with the biggest grin on his face you have ever seen.  He was still in the frozen position but it was a charming moment to see a 12-year-old boy finding such joy in his performance. 

 

We jumped into a taxi and called it a night.

THE QUEEN IS IN

Wednesday, July 8

Windsor Castle

We took the underground to the train station and a train to Windsor Castle.  Pretty easy?  Think of the Toronto Subway system and multiply it about seven times.  Selecting the proper line, figuring how many zones you wish to travel and operating the vending machine requires a masters degree in city engineering.  You must feed your ticket into the turnstile when entering the system and when exiting.  The want to know where you are at all times.  Then, you climb back above ground to the train station.  Now you must sort out the routes and times for this.  It’s a good thing this is all in English because I’m not sure a non-English speaking person could get around.

 

We just missed the straight through train and had to ride the train that stops in ten or twelve small stops on the route.  Not a bad ride if the stops were picturesque, but they are not.  However, as you come into the station in Windsor, the castle is right there.  So is Lego Land.  Off the train and across a street and you are almost at the castle gate.  Windsor Castle is HUGE!  We went to the ticket sellers, put our bags through the airport x-ray scanners and were in the castle.  If you look straight up upon entering, you will see the round tower and the flag was flying that announced that the Queen was in.  Strange.  We were at Buckingham Palace yesterday and she was there.  Now we were at Windsor Castle and she is here.  Perhaps she had been on the same train with us?  Is she following us?

 

The tour of the castle is self-guided and you are provided with a wand like contraption and something that looks like a touch-tone phone.  You punch in the number of the room you are in and hold the wand to your ear for a commentary on the history and contents of the room.  This is fabulous because the tour has access to the State apartments.  You are in the reception rooms and the halls and guards chambers and glorious rooms that are fully used today.  You see the official portraits of former monarchs, huge displays of weapons, Henry VIII’s suit of amour (yes, he was a BIG man), and all sorts of furnishings. 

 

After leaving the interior, we entered St. George’s chapel.  What a treat.  This is a place anyone who has watched TV coverage of royal events during their life will immediately recognize.  Choir stalls, seating for the knights, side alters with incredible marble figures, towering stained glass.  There was a little desk off to the side where you could write the name of a person you wish to have remembered in prayer the next day.  I wrote Marthe Horgan. 

 

We left the Castle and walked a bit of the town of Oxford.  We stopped into a tavern and had a very nice meal.  Linda had the shepherd’s pie while I ordered a chicken and mushroom pie.  Of course we both enjoyed a pint with our meal.  All that was left of the day was to backtrack our way home.

HAIL AND THUNDER

Tuesday, July 7

 

Today is the day to explore the city and get an overview.  What is the best way to do this?  The hop-on, hop-off bus of course.  We put our walking shoes on and headed out to see the sights.  Again, it helps that Linda has a working knowledge of the city and can quickly find them on a city map.  So, we headed out the door with Harrods as our destination.  Our route took us along a private street that borders Kensington Gardens and is home to many embassies now located in fabulous Edwardian mansions.  Security is very high in this neighborhood and you can’t even take photos of the houses.  Both ends of the street have armed guards and these neat retractable stanchions in the road. Police must clear all cars before the stanchions are lowed allowing the car to pass.  We cleared through that road and continued past Kensington Palace, former home of Princess Diana, past The Royal Albert Hall and the spectacular Albert Memorial.  We found Harrods, the mother lode of shopping and stepped into the Summer Sale event.   We cruised the food department, which is indescribable.  Truth be known, the layout is something like Whole Foods back in the US.  Imagine that as way bigger and every sinful specialty you might have read about.  A caviar bar featuring dozens of varieties that you can either purchase for take away or sit down and enjoy at the bar.  A fois gras bar.  A sushi bar that I will be returning to later in the week.  Jams, cakes, cheeses, they have it all.  Then on to the ticket/travel department.  We purchased tickets for the Thursday night performance of Billy Elliot and our Big Bus tour tickets.  We read about another play that looked intriguing and plan to try to see as well, War Horse.

 

Now that we had our hop-on tickets, we stood in line outside the store and waited for the next bus.  Of course, this being London, the weather was really iffy.  As you board the bus, there is a carton of clear plastic ponchos and earpieces for each passenger.  We grabbed our gear and headed up the steps to the open-air upper deck.  Let me just say that those ponchos proved to be the one thing we couldn’t have done without.  Linda was wearing a full raincoat and hood so she used her poncho as a seat cover.  I had an umbrella, which wouldn’t due for upper deck breezes, so I had to hunker down into my poncho A LOT!  It rained.  The sun came out.  It sprinkled.  The sun came out.  We protected our cameras as best we could and listened to the running commentary over the ear pieces as we passed Westminster Abby, the Houses of Parliament, The London Eye (Ferris wheel that takes one hour to make one circuit), St. Paul’s Cathedral, Tower Bridge, The Tower of London.  We got off the bus at Buckingham Palace and took a few photos outside the gates.  The Queen was having a garden party and we watched as the ladies in hats and men in waistcoats were cleared through security.  There was nothing for us to do but visit the gift shop.

 

We got back on a bus to continue our route through the city.  Again, we climbed to the upper deck, knowing we were in for wet weather.  Never mind that it was really raining now, we were on top of the bus in London, England.  Now, a few words about driving in London.  It is the scariest thing I have ever witnessed in my life.  The streets are incredibly narrow and are clogged with taxis and busses.  Every sidewalk is completely mobbed with pedestrians.  Add to this scooters and bikes jockeying for a tiny slit to weave through.  Traffic moves only a hundred feet at a time.  So, there we are, almost at the end of the route before we need to change from a red bus to a blue bus so we end up back in Notting hill.  The weather was getting worse.  It began raining so hard that we were forced to leave our seats in the open air and head down the winding steps to the safety of the lower level.  Just as we found two seats, it sounded as if lightening hit inches from the bus.  It couldn’t get worse, right?  It got so dark, the street lights came on and the bus was pelted with huge splats of rain as the temperature suddenly dropped. Wait.   That was hail we were being hit with. I  looked over to see hail bouncing down the bus stairs leading to the upper deck.  Then the stairs turned into a waterfall.  The water ran through the bus, flooding the driver's feet. The temperature drop caused the bus to totally fog up.  So, now the driver couldn’t see a thing.  The driver called the guide to the front of the bus and handed him a Kleenex with which to clear the windows so the driver could try to maneuver the bus to safety.  At a cross street the driver had to open the bus door so he could see if it was clear to proceed across the intersection.  We were now to the bus stop and asked to get off the bus!  By now the weather had started to pass, we found the next bus and rode back to our home neighborhood.  By the time we arrived in Notting Hill, it had stopped raining all together and we walked to a lovely fish and chips restaurant.  There we chatted with a couple at the next table. They advised us to not miss the performance of War Horse.  I think we will try for tickets.