Epilogue

It has been nearly a week since we left London. The laundry has been done, bags unpacked and things mostly put away, we’ve re-acclimated to the time changes and begun to work our way through memories, impressions, conversations, experiences and events. Thought I would finish of this blog series with some reflections. And encourage you to go to my Facebook page to see more photos.

Somehow, as it is damp and rainy and cold today, it only seems fitting that I remember the glorious weather and beautiful countryside of Surrey during our too brief stay with Trevor and Karina. The (I know, these are clichés, but …) picturesque cottages and open fields and peaceful surroundings intermixed with side trips embracing history, tradition, and wonder. The meandering trip through the countryside to Brighton and our amiable poking through The Lanes; the incredible parking ramps that Trevor navigated without so much as a scratch on his vehicle; the Forest and the vistas from hilltops that gave way to a vast valley on the one side and the sea on the other. The buildings that so evoked movies and books and images we had seen only in other media and were now real. The celebration of Karina’s birthday at Haxted Mill on a glorious warm sunny day in company with Betty and Dave. The delightful train ride with a fine luncheon in Pullman cars that were very nearly works of art operated by dedicated and passionate volunteers. The Plough, the local pub, mobbed evenings and serving great Thai food! And then there was the outing to Hever Castle, Anne Boleyn’s home, with the superb lunch in what had been the stables and was now a restaurant, golf course and hotel, and over to the breathtaking grounds, the glimpse of life as it may have been, the company of dear friends, and, again, spectacular weather! The energizing ride in “Juicy Lucy”, Trevor’s mint Jaguar convertible along picture book lanes that challenged the handling of the Jag at high speeds, but the Jag won! Playing football with Dram and frisbee with Cava in the backyard; the tolerance that was bestowed on us by Remy, the cat; the walks in the fields and along the lanes. And then the time to part and head for the big city, London, and the conflicting sadness at leaving friends and the idyllic life in the country and the excitement of the unknown that lay ahead.

And London … so much left unseen, undone, undescribed! Our hotel with our wonderful hosts and the almost unbelievable brass that Jeff and I showed in jumping in with both feet to experience what we could, see what we could, walk as far as feet would manage, to soak up just BEING THERE, with the full knowledge that there are more trips to London in our future, for sure. Again, that sense of almost surreal time as we wandered among buildings we had seen in media and now were gawking at in person. The humorous and informative narrative we got on bus and boat tours. An evening at The Globe!!! OMG … shades of my young days and the love I bear for performing. The awesome (there is no other word) and imposing St. Paul’s Cathedral and our serendipitous opportunity to reverently worship there. The crush and roar of the Underground and the relaxing beauty of our trip to Hereford to meet Scott and break bread. The unbelievable spectacle of Buckingham Palace and the press of crowds to see the changing of the guards and my unbelievable weeping in appreciation of the pomp, the splendor, the tradition, the discipline and the core sorts of values that I believe define England, at least for us. Small things like our cheery greeting late at night by Paul, the doorman at the Lime Tree Hotel, whose gruff, shy and warm greetings on our return were so appreciated, the street performers and the patience of those in long lines. The clamor of so many languages, the unending choice of cuisines, the hearty culture of pubs, the polite and mannered people from all walks of life we met, were served by, had casual conversations with, who cheerfully pointed us in the right direction and, at the end of our stay, let us depart gracefully while assuming that we would someday again return.

Though I was somewhat amazed at the comfort of the means by which we got to Great Britain, it pales and passes quickly out of importance when reflecting on our experiences and our friends. The photographs trigger memories of more detail and depth and capture but images of places, people and things seen to aid in recalling fully the trip.

So this journey ends … and I thank you for taking it along with me via the blog. New experience – one would hope that I get better at it in future! Back into the minutia of daily life and work, chores and restoration, ‘to-may-toes’ not ‘to-mah-toes’ but enriched. Enjoy the photo collage.

A final time, I’m off, with love --

The "Travails" of Travel

We knew the day would finally come, but I think that Jeff and I were somewhat unprepared to head back to the States. I put off final packing until the morning, and though we got up at 7 AM, we both seemed sluggish and were dragging our feet. Me mostly because, with our purchases, I had to find a way to get everything in and reserve the small carry-on for gifts! If I thought it was hard before! OMG!! Had to enlist Jeff to muscle the zippers on the bags closed. And, woe betides the TSA agent who unzips a bag – it will be like one of those fright cans where you twist off the lid and a spring snake pops out. Only, in this case it will be unwashed knickers and socks! SURPRISE!!!!

We did get cleaned up, and did get things packed and headed down for breakfast. It was a quick meal – Jeff ran down the street to a florist and I headed for the computer to print our boarding passes for JetBlue. Matt had made arrangements for us to have a car take us to Heathrow, and I wanted to be there in plenty of time to do a little Duty Free shopping. The car arrived at 9:30 (it was scheduled for 9:45) and patiently waited whilst we settled our bill, said our good-byes, loaded up all of our kit, and we were off.

Just a little bit here about the Lime Tree Hotel. I do not think that the 97% recommendation rate from TripAdvisor is in any way an exaggeration. There were tourists from abroad, true, but there were also many folks from the outlying regions of England and many were regular guests at the hotel. The host, Matt, and his red-headed wife Charlotte, provided excellent, warm and cordial service. Our rooms were attended to daily and were spotless – aside from our piles of clothing and suitcases! The hotel itself was a lovely restoration and had tons of character -- things I love, for sure. Our breakfasts were filling and delicious, if not inspired – it was breakfast, after all. Hot English breakfast included sausage, bacon (English style), eggs (poached or scrambled) a side (alternating tomatoes, beans or mushrooms), toast, jams, orange juice, coffee or tea. The “ continental” breakfast was several different kinds of cereals (fruit & fiber, muesli, wheatabix, cornflakes), porridge, fruit cup (made daily and included grapes, melon, mango, nectarine and other in season fruits), yogurt, and toast, jams, orange juice, coffee or tea. Or, you could mix and match from the two menus, which I did frequently by having cereal and a poached egg. Or cereal and porridge (small serving) and fruit. Coffee and tea were excellent, served in china pots.

In the back, there is a small enclosed garden and it was pleasant to sit out there in the morning sun. I have included some photos here of the exterior, the breakfast, the breakfast room and the garden. As lovely as it was, without the warmth and charm of the hosts, this would have been just a nice hotel. Their advice and conversation table-side each morning at breakfast was a lovely touch, and they acted as their own concierge service, making arrangements for guests whenever they could. Their evening staff was also very helpful and kind, making each evening’s return seems like coming home.

Heathrow wasn’t a terribly long drive and we managed to miss most of the commuter traffic by leaving on a Saturday morning. Joseph, our driver, handed us his card to let us know that on our return, he would be delighted to fetch us. Funny how so many of the people we met were very sure we would be returning …

One of the singular advantages of flying first with Virgin Air is what they term “Fast Track” – expedited service at every turn. When we landed in England, we were “invited” onto the “Fast Track” by the bright pink card we carried. It identified us to the staff and they routed us appropriately, moving us into special very short lines for immigration and customs. When we went to check in to leave, we were also put on Fast Track and, with our bags checked, we were through special security, and off the shop and the club in absolutely no time at all.

Security … that was a new experience. We had been forewarned of the strictness of security at Heathrow, and so had tried to insure that we complied about liquids and all that. Did well, until I stepped through the scanner and set it off. A young lady in uniform promptly stepped forward to explain that she would now examine me. No beeping hand-scanner here – I had the most complete groping I have had since being a teenager!! All business, mind you, but I mean it was thorough!

Into the Virgin Atlantic Club, and this is the original flagship club for Sir Richard Branson (who was just Richard Branson at the time he built it). I can readily see why this was completely innovative at the time – and I don’t mean the décor. I do mean the space itself, the thought given to the needs of travelers of all kinds, and the levels of extreme service provided.
You are always cordially greeted by the clerks at the desk, and you and your flight are checked in. See, they actually keep track of you and make sure you are up and ready when your flight is announced! Inside, your butt no sooner touches a chair than a server is there inquiring if you would like anything. There is a delightful menu with a variety of snacks, meals and sweets. An extensive wine menu and a full bar. There are also self-serve counters with fruit, cereal, beverages, snack bars, etc.

Now the lounge itself … well, breathtaking! It is the size of the entire ticketing area of the Buffalo International Airport. I have included a floor plan here, but it really doesn’t give you a sense of size and space. There are many lounging areas, depending on your mood. Jeff and I parked in the Japanese pool area that has a ceiling to floor Japanese water wall running gently into the infinity pool. It also has a large LCD television with a continuous loop of an aquarium, soft music and lighting, couches, clear bubble hanging chairs, and modern lounging chairs with tables. Throughout the club, areas are semi-defined through the use of tilted glass walls, offering sound damping and definition of an area without occluding the view. Just to run you through the various areas, they include: Poolside, the Deli, the Den (complete with another LCD screen with a fire burning), the Sky Lounge (set half a floor above the room and is bright and light), the Cocktail bar area, the Brasserie, the Multi-screen area (for TV viewing – the main screen is the size of the side of a semi-truck!), the Office and Library, the playground (an area for children to play and run and climb which can be totally shut to keep noise of boisterous children down, the GARDEN (yes, really, plants and everything!!!), the Spa, a Bumble & Bumble Salon (hairdressers, manicurists, barbers available without appointment), and last, but not least, the restrooms and showers. There are lockers to check your bags so you can meander at will inside or outside the Club (and they remember you – I don’t know how – but when I left and returned, I was greeted warmly and ushered back into the Club.) Newcomers to the Club are given escorted tours to they are aware of all of the amenities available to them, and there is a desk for making flight changes, arranging for transportation or hotels. Incredible!

Too soon, our flight was called and we headed to the gate. LONG walk, to be sure, and they warn patrons that it is a 10-15 minutes walk. It was all of that! On board, again greeted with a glass of champagne, pampering and excellent service. We had a lovely meal. I watched two movies (there are some 45 to choose from, including excellent foreign films, mostly new box office films), then pulled out pillow and duvet, touched the seat adjustment panel and it slid to a semi-reclining position so I could watch movies and doze. Some folks had beds made up and slept most of the flight. Again, we were provided with a packet with socks, ear plugs, toothbrush and toothpaste and a shoe bag. Sigh … I am completely spoiled now for travel, for sure!!

Made good time into JFK and we even landed on time, though it was a lengthy taxi to the terminal. Back to reality as we claimed our luggage and headed through Immigration and Customs. No problems there. Rode the Air Train over to the JetBlue terminal and checked in. It really wasn’t terribly busy at that time of the day, and a little cheery conversation meant we didn’t have to pay the extra fee for our big bag being 3 pounds over. Both Jeff and I had bloopers at the security screening – he had stowed a bottle of water in my carry on bag and we had tucked a corkscrew in the larger carry one bag we had. This time, I had tried to pack that bag with the carry on regulations in mind, but the corkscrew was a lapse. Through security, it was just wait. And change gates … and wait. And change gates.

We grabbed a quick, light bite before we took off for Buffalo. By then, we were both dragging and eager for the travel to be over. People watching was fun in JFK – a young girl practicing her Irish step dancing in the wide open spaces of the terminal; the wheel chair gang, most of whom were West Indian by their accents and Jamaican unless my ear has gone, chatting away good naturedly while I typed away on my computer blogging; folks heading back to their homes in the northeast after trips to the Caribbean (telltale corn rows with beads, tans and flip-flops!).

Quick flight to Buffalo, arriving about 10 minutes early. Bags arrived, too, and then we were on our way to the long term parking, somewhere near Batavia … I’m not kidding. You have to exit the airport and drive up Genesee Street and then turn into the parking lots. Congenial driver who was also helpful. We got loaded up, paid our parking and headed for home. And I can tell you, that last 12 miles between Silver Creek/Forestville and Fredonia IS, without doubt, the LONGEST stretch of the NYS Thruway!!!

Tired but happy to have arrived home, even knowing that Jeff would have to tackle a major plumbing problem in the morning, we had a celebratory glass of wine, pulled on jammies and headed for bed.

Off, with love --

The Last Hurrah!

Although we are home, I wanted to finish up the blogs. Some days it was just impossible to get the time it took to post! So, yesterday’s blog was completed sitting in JFK waiting for our JetBlue flight back to Buffalo, but had mostly been written on the Virgin Atlantic flight back home. I hate a story with no ending, so here goes.

We knew that Friday would probably be a little more frenetic as we, like everyone else who knows time is running out and there are still so many things to see and do, wanted to try to get to everything! We planned on seeing St. Paul’s, ride The Eye and hit Westminster Abbey. If we hadn’t worn off the soles of our shoes, we thought of Hampton Palace. Right!

Jeff wanted to take a few more photos around Buckingham Palace, so we got a Travelcard (gives us unlimited use of public transportation for the day) and off we went down the block (literally) to Buckingham Palace. There were more crowds than before, it being a weekend, but the changing of the guard had already passed, so they were thinning out. Jeff went a little camera crazy (it is unfortunate I cannot post all of the really great photos he took. The ones I post here are really just teasers! Check out my Facebook page in a few days! Jeff seemed to sneak photos of me when I was steeping in the atmosphere. Look a little frazzled by this time, I must say!) We “suffered” from terrific weather the entire time we were in Great Britain! I know … I shouldn’t complain, and I’m not! Everyone seemed to be enjoying the unseasonably warm weather, us included, so many more people were out on the streets, soaking up the sun in cafes and parks and at monuments.

Headed to the Tube for Westminster Pier and walked across the Westminster Bridge, ogling at Big Ben and the Parliament Buildings. Had my photo taken with a piper in black watch, though not full dress. (On the return, another piper had taken up the task, in full regalia, and I got that photo, too. And sang harmony with a Rasta-man in the entry to the tube – “…give thanks and praise to the Lord, it will be all right!” Some Bob Marley onya!) After a loooong queue, we got our Eye tickets, but, knowing it would be another wait, had a quick bite – me at a noodle stand and Jeff at, believe it or not, McDonald’s! Properly nourished to endure another queue, we got in line for our ride.

It is said that London is a city of lines, and we found that, in most cases, to be true. We did wait in line for many events and sights. Unfortunately, we were not waiting in line with Englishmen, but impatient Americans, Italians, Germans, Russians and almost every other nationality one can name. I heard languages I had no idea where they originated from – and I think, after hearing Welsh on the trains, even some Welsh and Celtic! It is also said that patient waiting in line is a demonstration of character and Jeff and I tried to develop ours stoically in line. It is also true that line cutters are not tolerated. Oh, it is a polite “Pardon, madam!” but nonetheless, cutting in the acerbic way that only the English can instill in words that are polite on surface and scathing underneath!!

The Eye – well, in a very short word – WOW!! It is an amazing construction and so well managed. They have it down to a science and can handle long lines and crowds with ease. I got one of the audio tour mini-pods to hear the description of what I was seeing and the history of the Eye and its construction. We didn’t wait on line very long at all, once we queued up. As you approach the loading zone, you are shuttled into two lines, made up of roughly a dozen people. As the cars swing to level with the platform, the guides open the doors and usher you in. Mind you, unlike Ferris wheels, the Eye does not stop revolving. The doors are closed, and safety announcements begin. And off you go!

It takes about 25 minutes to do the whole revolution and, though there is a sense of moving, there isn’t a sense of speed, per se. Being one who isn’t fond of heights, I wondered how I would do in this plastic capsule. Not bad, not bad, at all. The Eye is some 440 feet tall and was constructed in 1999, it is the world's tallest cantilevered observation wheel (as the entire structure is supported by an A-frame on one side only). For those of you keen on facts and figures, the brochures say the following: “The wheel carries 32 sealed and air-conditioned egg-shaped passenger capsules, attached to its external circumference, each capsule representing one of the London Boroughs. Each 10 ton capsule holds 25 people, who are free to walk around inside the capsule, though seating is provided. It rotates at 26 cm (10 in) per second (about 0.9 km/h (0.6 mph) so that one revolution takes about 30 minutes.” People hold cocktail parties, weddings and the like on the Eye, and it is a unique experience. Jeff got some great aerial views of London, but was somewhat distressed that the sun was shining so brightly to the east – made for poor photos.

At the end of the ride, again the wheel does not stop to let passengers disembark. You quickly walk off while it is moving. I understand that for the elderly and disabled, the wheel will stop to allow for entry and exit, but I didn’t see it happening while we were in the area. Really, there is sufficient time. Jeff and I noted that, once vacant, three workers hopped on – two sweepers and one with a cloth and cleaner and they did, in about 15 seconds, clean the pod! Sweeper on each side while the worker with the cleaner and cloth mopped off the rail that runs around the entire pod. And then it is ready for boarding in a trice. I’m talkin’ there is major coordination going on here!

Off the Eye, we headed back across Westminster Bridge to the tube and headed for St. Paul’s. (Dome is upper center of this photo from the Eye) Flagging a bit (it is hard work being a tourist!! J), we stopped in a café contiguous to St. Paul’s and realized that we would not have time to tour the cathedral as it was near 4 and that was the last entry time. Everyone had to be out by 4:30. So, though somewhat discouraged but determined the full tour would happen on our next trip, we walked over to the cathedral for some photos and plopped on the steps with about 300 others! Suddenly, people were going back into the cathedral, so, curious, Jeff and I followed. And ended up having perhaps an even more moving and impressive experience than just a tour would have offered.

Inside, we marveled at the décor and architecture as one should. And then found out that we could stay for the Evensong service if we so desired. Did we!!?? Again, saw excellent crowd management at hand as they managed to clear the cathedral of tourists, leaving worshippers instead. Curates herded us through the gates at the nave to the quire, the area that extends to the east of the dome and holds the stalls for the clergy and the choir and the organ. There, with service card and psaltery in hand, we joined with the vicar’s men’s choir for an Evensong service. Incredible sound as one would expect in the cathedral, and a truly moving worship experience. Jeff and I both felt, as we spoke to the vicar shaking hands with the worshippers as we left the dome area, that we had come to just see and appreciate and had been fortunate that we could come to pray. I had also lit a candle and prayed to the icon of Mary for my daughter’s protection and healing.

For those who want a little more information, St Paul's Cathedral is the Anglican cathedral on Ludgate Hill, in the City of London, and the seat of the Bishop of London. The present building dates from the 17th century and is generally reckoned to be London's fifth St Paul's Cathedral, although the number is higher if every major medieval reconstruction is counted as a new cathedral. The cathedral sits on the highest point of the City of London, which originated as a Roman trading post situated on the River Thames. The cathedral is one of London's most visited sights.

The cathedral is built in a late Renaissance style and was inspired by St Peter's Basilica in Rome. The dome rises 365 feet to the cross at its summit. Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the nave has three small chapels – All Souls and St Dunstan's in the north aisle and the Chapel of the Order of St Michael and St George in the south aisle. The main space of the cathedral is centered under the Dome and holds three circular galleries – the internal Whispering Gallery, the external Stone Gallery, and the external Golden Gallery. The Whispering Gallery runs around the interior of the Dome and is 99 feet above the cathedral floor. All of the galleries can be reached by many, many stairs!! (Please note that, like many of the historical buildings in London, photos are not allowed. You know Jeff’s shutter finger was just itching!!)

Happily, and feeling well content, we headed back to the hotel. And had perhaps one of the most, well, regular experiences of just being in London ever. We hadn’t thought about the time of day that we were heading into the tube, but it was roughly 5:45 – rush hour!! OMG!! Can you say sardines!!! We stood in awe as we watched people shoe-horn into the tube cars, often just scooting their butts in before the doors closed. And, mind you, there wasn’t any additional time for getting on and off with a crowd. The trains moved on schedule (that’s 'shed-u-al') regardless. One had to step lively – and have excellent balance. Sitting was unheard of except for a few lucky ones, so we all hung like grapes from the handholds and prayed that no one fell in the jolting and rumbling of the train. As we had to make a couple of changes to get to Victoria, this was a lengthy and enlightening (and perhaps sobering – rose colored glasses can prevent one from seeing the reality of daily living in London!) experience. We were exhausted (but hungry!!) by the time we got to Victoria.

Knowing that there had been a restaurant saying they had take out, we headed down Eccleston St. and found that it was only pizza to go. So, we sat down and had an excellent meal in a small Italian bistro and thoroughly enjoyed our last dinner in London.

By this time, I was suffering from symptoms of a cold, and both Jeff and I were concerned that if I was snuffling, we would not be allowed to travel. We had stopped at a chemists in Victoria Station and gotten the equivalent of Nyquil, my wonder drug, and back at the hotel, I managed to think about packing before I took a shot of the meds and turned in, asleep soundly by 9 PM. Jeff sat up reading (he tells me – I was insensate!) for a bit longer before fatigue hit him and he called it a day.

So ends the last day real day in London. Our final day, the travails of travel and an epilogue to follow. Stay tuned!!

Off, with love --

A Different Day

Today, we started out very slowly. It was to be a different day for us. No touring, but lunch with Trevor, Karina and Collette (Trevor’s daughter). They were coming into the City to see a show. And, perhaps more importantly, Jeff and I were taking a train across the west of England, through Wales and back into England to have some time with Scott, Amanda’s husband. He was in the country on business and as we had the more flexible schedule, we made travel plans.

In a way, it was really nice to have a slow start to the day. Got to make a little order out of the chaos we called our room and have a sleep in. We were still a little weary from our day before. A nice breakfast, and while I showered and got ready, Jeff went to Victoria Station to buy tickets for the train I had researched. And we had a pleasant surprise. Though the young man selling the tickets didn’t ask Jeff (apparently he has poor age judgment and has been reamed a couple of times for making a mistake!), an older gentleman came up and asked Jeff if he were over 55. When Jeff said that both of us were, we got out tickets for a flat £25 each instead of the £45 we had been expecting. Seems The Great Western was running a special for over 55 and we gladly took advantage of it!

According to our innkeeper, Matt, we would likely get back to Paddington Station too late for the underground, so he recommended we take a cab back to the Lime Tree. We told him to tell Allan we would be late, and off we went. We were getting quite smug about our travel skills, but still took Trevor up on his offer to pick us up in the cab they would be taking from Victoria to the restaurant. We hadn’t spent much time in Soho, so welcomed the ride – and chalked up another cultural experience in a London black taxi!

The restaurant was a new French one, and I think if they get some of their service bugs worked out, it may do well. Prices were almost reasonable … for London, that is! Trevor wouldn’t let us pay our way (he reminds me of Uncle Bebe that way!) and we were grateful for the meal, but especially the company.

We were all so enjoying the conversation and company, that we went over time for all of us and the Griffiths had to hustle to get to the theatre on time (fortunately it was just around the corner). I figured we should be able to get to Paddington Station in 45 minutes. Forgot we had to first FIND an underground station (actually, very well marked – this is a very popular part of London what with all of the theatres and dining establishments). We made it to the Tube, got on the right train and ended up in Paddington Station – and were immediately the country mice in the big city. If I thought that Victoria was busy … Paddington disabused me of that! OMG! It was 2:30 in the afternoon on a weekday, and the crowds and noise and activity sort of stunned us into deer in the headlights! By the time we got our acts together and asked for assistance, we had just missed our train. So began the journey!

With good-natured patience, the ticket agent recommended we get on the next train --- that was leaving in about 2 minutes! Off we went, hiked the full length of the train to the designated car and plopped at a table seat. Little did we know we were in a quiet car … and it is just that. Voices are hushed and people either read or worked. I actually wrote on the blog until my battery got low.

We rode through villages and countryside to Newport, Wales, where we changed for a short run up to Hereford where Scott was. Jeff had managed to get him on our mobile (THAT’S another story, the cell phone!) to let him know we would be about half an hour later than planned. Not that we were going to have much time, but it cut it by 25%. The train was very clean and comfortable and quiet on The Great Western – when we got onto the Welsh rail system, there was a noticeable difference, primarily in the noise as they still use diesel powered locomotives.

The Welsh countryside, just coming onto dusk, was nothing short of spectacular. Hilly, like southern Chautauqua County, but green. An emerald green and all the variations of that rich, almost three-dimensional color. I mean I thought we were green in Fredonia, but this was like nothing I had ever seen before. It is very hard to describe – almost luminescent. Fields are all bordered with hedgerows and there seemed to be an equal number of cows, sheep and horses.

We pulled into Hereford on time. You can say that about the trains in Great Britain -- they run on time. And the underground … well, I have a story to tell of that later. Scott was waiting right outside the station and we walked to a nearby pub for a quick bite. I know most people would have thought us daft at burning 7 hours of travel time to spend and hour and a half with Scott, but we didn’t see it that way. He had had his birthday while out of the country, and though his mates saw to it that they hoisted a few, it still wasn’t the same as being home. And we simply don’t get to see that much of Scott, so we were daft and enjoyed our modicum of time with him.

He drove us back to the station in the rental car his company had gotten – a Mercedes, don’t you know. Scott said they had tried to offer them an Audi TT, but they couldn’t get themselves and their luggage in it. Besides, Scott opined that Amanda would have his head – a TT is the car that Amanda has always aspired to, a silver one. And she would wear it so well!

Train pulled in, we piled on and we were off. Our conductor looked like that Irish tenor, the big one with the bum leg. Was very jolly and had us all laughing. Got to Newport and even figured out the right tracks … until there was a train late because of an accident and then we very nearly missed ours as it came in on the other track and we had to OJ Simpson up the stairs, across the pedestrian bridge and back down. I mean, these trains wait for no one! The engineer announced that there would be stretches of slower travel and there were many groans from the young people eager to get to London to start their weekend. As this was the last train of the day, it was pretty full. But, never underestimate the determination of an engineer who sounded like he had had a long day and wanted nothing more than too be home, toasting his toes at the fire. He put the hammer down! We arrived at Paddington Station 10 minutes early, even with the slow stretches and the fact that a train may not leave a station early. Well, shoot, we were golden, then. Plenty of time to, make our underground connections from Paddington to Victoria. We walked slowly back to our hotel, enjoying the lovely Belgravia neighborhood. Allan was there at the door to answer our ring and welcome us back.

Tired, happy – I’m off, with love

Maritime, Money, Murder, Mayhem!

Wednesday, slightly sore and stiff from all the walking, we breakfasted and got ready for the day. We still had half a day on our HO HO bus ticket that was also honored on the City Cruises on the Thames. We decided to take a cruise up the Thames to Greenwich and then back to the Tower of London. We had found on-line where we could buy a Travelcard for the day and get a voucher for 2 for 1 for entry to the Tower, and given that it was £17 each, the £5 card seemed a good deal. I had asked Matt about it, and he hadn’t known. I gave him the website and he promptly adopted the program (the following morning we overheard him telling other guests about it).

It seemed so warm when we started out, but it got quite cool by the time we were at Greenwich. I actually had my head covered with a scarf, and poor Jeff’s teeth were chattering! A fleece is warm when it is cold with no wind, but this was breezy. We had picked up the boat at Westminster Pier and over-looking the dock was, yeah, the photo gave it away! Big Ben! Jeff and I had taken photos from the bus the previous day, but had to be careful with these shots as there is much scaffolding and work going on the exterior of the Houses of Parliament on the river side.

A member of the crew gave us a running commentary, and considering he was a sailor and not a professional guide, he did really well! I am sure, after all these years, he has his patter right down, but it was nonetheless entertaining – and full of history of buildings along the river as well as history relating to them. Learned something on that ride too. Know where the word “wharf” comes from? The London docks and means “ware house at river front.”

We passed many famous and infamous places, including the Ransom Pub where felons convicted would be taken for their last drink of rum before being taken down a series of steps to the river at low tide where they were manacled to a post. The tide had to rise and fall twice before the body was recovered, and while all of this went on, the judge sat on a balcony in a pub across the river and watched! We passed the home of Michael Crawford of Phantom of the Opera fame, and the estate on the river of movie producer/director David Lane (Dr. Zhivago et al.) that has the only garden along that stretch of the Thames. He had purchased the property next to hs converted warehouse mansion (with 10 bedrooms and baths, an indoor swimming pool and all the luxuries on 4 floors) after a fire. Estimates of the worth of the tropical garden he installed is in the £12,000,000 range! We saw the oldest surviving pub on the waterfront, built in the 15th century and still operated as a business. We also saw the area of London where Charles Dickens had set Oliver Twist -- now very upscale apartments and such. And Cleopatra's Needle and ... well, we saw LOTS of things!

Greenwich was lovely, but we didn’t spend much time there. That will happen on another trip. I seriously don’t know how anyone, even the most energetic and fleet of foot could even begin to see a 10th of what London has to offer. We will not, for sure, and it isn’t from lack of desire or energy. There is so much to see and do, and then there is just the culture of the City to let soak into your pores. Anyway, I digress …

Needless to say, we got great shots of the Tower Bridge and other famous buildings and sights, including the one I am standing in front of in the photo – The London Eye. We have planned that excursion for Friday early in the day so the light is good for Jeff’s photos.

The boat stopped at the Tower of London and we headed in. Stopped to share an order of fish and chips (honestly, their portion sizes are getting positively American and you don’t have to say “supersize me!” Oh, yes, and P.S. I feel like I am supersized at this point. We have eaten so well and good food to boot that I am sure I have piled on a buncha weight … well, extra pounds = good vacation?

The Tower of London is a misnomer. It is actually a huge complex of many buildings and towers and an entire community made up of the Yeoman Warders -- or “Beefeaters” as they have somehow come to be called. We had been told that a tour with a Yeoman was worth the time, so quickly joined one about ready to start. It turns out that all Yeoman Warders are retired military – sergeants in particular. They must be decorated and have a minimum of 20 years in the services with 18 of the noted as good conduct with the ribbon they wear. The traditional red uniform we are accustomed to seeing them in is only used for ceremonies, State events, etc. and while touring with us, they were in a skirted blue uniform with a blue hat of the same style as that of their formal wear. They live with their families in the Tower and the community of 140 has their own physician “for when we’re ill” and a vicar “for when we are beyond the skill of the surgeon.” There is a pub on the grounds and a church – really, self-contained. I envied them the historical grounds and the ancient buildings they inhabited.

Our guide had a huge, booming voice and was great with adults and children – obviously had been a DI at some juncture. His halo definitely hung crooked and he has some twinkle in his eye. When describing the process of “drawn and quartered” he told the children in the group to think about that before going to bed that night! Never inappropriate, but fun, and I think the children knew when he was having fun with them. Talked of “throwing a few shapes” that eventually sunk in he was talking about dancing – sort of like our “bust a move.”

We hit the general areas of the Tower – a sort of orientation if you will – and were regaled with the odd, the gruesome, and a compressed history of the Tower. The White Tower dates to 1070 and the time of William the Conqueror. The Queen’s House was built by Henry VIII for Queen Anne Boleyn, but, alas, she lost her head before it was even finished. Many famous names lost their lives here in the scaffold site on the Tower green, currently a monument with a glass royal pillow commemorating the three queens who lost their lives here: Anne Boleyn (second wife of Henry VIII), Katherine Howard, (wife #5 to Henry VIII), and Mary Tudor, daughter of Henry VIII and sister to Elizabeth I. Of course, this is where the Crown jewels are held and THAT was a sight of MAJOR bling!! Can’t say that I would have wanted to wear any of those crowns – they look damnimably uncomfortable and HEAVY!! The Medieval Tower showed many of the prison rooms, like that of Sir Walter Raleigh who apparently couldn’t keep himself out of trouble or debt, and a chamber where (I think, I get somewhat hazy about the order of the monarchs) Charles I was held. (a sidebar – our HO HO bus guide ran through the 39 monarchs of England at the speed of light. Fast, prodigious memory!)

We walked the battlements and Jeff got some great photos of the ravens of the Tower. The legend is tht if the ravens ever leave the Tower that it will fall. At least 6 ravens are required, and they keep at least 9 at all times – spares, you know! They are cheeky and pose for photos on fences and in the greens. We quickly ran out of time. They say 4 hours to see the Tower, and I am guessing that is a conservative estimate for sure. By then, however, both Jeff and I were pretty pooped and we still had to make our way back to the Lime Tree. Hopped the Tube and were home in a trice.

Changed after a freshen up, and headed into the neighborhood to find a pub recommended – by everyone in Belgravia, it would seem. The joint was jumping, and in typical English fashion, we joined the queue with drinks in hand (as long as you stayed outside the pub and on the sidewalk). For the first time since we had arrived in England, it started to sprinkle, so we put up our umbrella (as did our fellow queue occupants) and, sipping wine under the dripping umbrella, opined how lucky we were to be here. Of course, many of the English probably thought we were to silly to come out of the rain!

Well fed, very tired, we toddled off to bed – not before Jeff discovered the Chocolate Society shop … and needless to say, we’ll be visiting that before we leave! So that is why I am behind on the blogs! Will get Thursday’s posted tonight (we think we will be meeting Scott this afternoon in London, but are sensible enough to know that we couldn’t ever keep up with he and his friends on a pub crawl!

So, for now, again, I’m off, with love --

Beatin' feet, beat feet, London beat ...

OK, so I slacked off and missed a night …. I had a good excuse … but you will have to hear about the whole day yesterday before I tell you why I didn’t keep my daily blog promise!


After a perfectly good night’s sleep (and almost over-sleeping breakfast) we headed downstairs to the breakfast room where we met our host, Matt Davies, a polished and delightful young man, and a fount of information! As we ate (for Jeff a full English breakfast and for me a continental breakfast of porridge, fruit and bran, toast, juice and excellent rich coffee. For those who think English coffee is weak and thin, we have not yet found it to be so! They also serve excellent pots of tea – the coffee comes in a pot so refills are readily at hand. ), I found out a few things I didn’t know -- such as you can tell a Scotsman from an Englishman by what he puts on his porridge. An Englishman uses brown sugar; a Scot salts. Doncha know the first thing I did was salt my porridge – even before learning this new observation. Guess that de facto proved his point!


He gave us excellent advice as newcomers to London who wanted to see it all, but needed some judicious guidance so we didn’t burn ourselves out in the first day. He listened patiently to all of the places we said we wanted to see, and offered excellent counsel. First, take one of the tour buses (we did the Big Bus Company and rode the red line which has live tour commentary). Second, though every tourist in London would be at the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, little known was a changing of the guards at St. James Palace, home of Prince Charles and THAT woman (surprising how strongly many Brits feel about Camilla … and not very positively, even those who keep politics out of it!). Ten minutes walk, assured Matt – he of the long legs! – we learned to add at least 10 minutes when he said 20 and so forth.


So we headed out past Buckingham Palace (I know – we were at the gates where all of the flowers for Diana were laid … incredible) to St. James Palace amidst London bobbies and Palace guards and GOD, it was amazing!!! Watched the changing of the guards, complete with ceremony, pomp and music – yes, there was a regimental band playing who, after the changing of the guard, marched out along the avenue along to Buckingham Palace. The bobbies, on huge horses (most were 18 hands if they were an inch and groomed within an inch if their lives!), kept the crowd off the street – even the “lesser” crowds of September – HAH! We scrambled along with Jeff frantically snapping away with the camera. At one point, I passed him and thought that he heard me go by. NOT!! And here I went, blubbering away. Not even my country, and I was so verklempt about how beautiful it was, how strong, after all these years, the tradition was, the dedication and discipline of the corps, and here we were actually seeing and experiencing that which we had only ever seen on television or on screen or imagined in books and our mind’s eye! Don’t know what the people on the street thought of me bawling – perhaps nothing as most were tourists, but I AM sure the police were giving me a long look! Interesting crowd management, too. Police on horseback would simply imperiously point at people who stepped into the road or someplace they shouldn’t have and motion back and no one argued at all! Everyone under stood that stern stare and body language – to say nothing of the warhorses they were riding!


Headed into the sea of people around Buckingham Palace. The police were having a devil of a time keeping a lane open for people to walk by. At one point (and I have to say this was the only time I heard a police officer show any frustration or pique), after about the 75th iteration of his orders to stay behind the barrier or towards the street and keep a lane clear, he was heard to say, ”We are a country of laws. Go to Spain if you want to break the law.” I know I laughed. People were standing on all of the levels of the monument that faces the gates and courtyard and hanging everywhere. I did manage to insinuate myself into the crowd and gradually move forward as impatient tourists (mostly the Italians and the Germans, it seemed) took a couple of photos and then left the ceremony. I did get in close enough to see one guardhouse change and by the time we were at the “battle of the bands”, I was one back from the fence, directly behind a huge footballer. He sort of turned around and saw how short I was and promptly opened a space for me to move to the front! Chivalry is definitely not dead!


The regimental band from St. James’ Palace (in blue) and those from Buckingham Palace (in red with the big black bear hats) proceeded to have a band concert, alternating playing and quite a variety of music. Eventually, though, they were formed up into ranks by officers and marched out the gate of Buckingham Palace, around the monument and through another gate and away.



The crowd slowly dispersed and I realized that it was going to be a bit before Jeff and I found each other. On the one hand, I was wearing a yellow short and there was little yellow in the crowd, so I climbed up and hung off the fence, scanning the crowd, hoping that Jeff would spot the dotty redhead in the yellow shirt on the fence. On the other hand, there were 1,000,000 bald or close cropped men in tan fleeces or jackets!!! The story does have a happy ending – I had wilted to sitting on the concrete ledge at the base of the fence when Jeff finally spotted me. He had thought that I had gone ahead where we were to pick our tour bus and when I wasn’t there, he came back to find me. A modest bit of ire expressed, but nothing like the snarling between husband and wife that we had witnessed earlier – divorce court, here they come, and the wife was announcing it long and loudly to the entire City!


We got our tour bus tickets (a HO HO bus – Hop On, Hop Off) from an American living and working in London. Took the red line as that has live commentary versus the blue that had an audio guide good for those who didn’t particularly speak or understand English well. And, of course, though it was chilly, we headed right up to the top of the bus! By that time, it actually felt good to sit down. Because it had been quite warm in the morning when we started out, I was in a travel skirt and short sleeved shirt, wearing flip-flops. While the sun shone, it was very pleasant, but if it ducked under a cloud, it got quite cool. I think the thing we found most notable about the weather is that it is nearly instantaneously changeable! So far, no need for the sweaters in the City.


Matt had suggested that we ride the bus to St. Paul’s cathedral, get off there, cross the Thames on the Millenium Bridge (a foot bridge only) and walk down to the Globe theatre to see about tickets because I had wanted to see the current production of As You Like It, a play I had done in college. From there, we could walk along the Thames to the Tower Bridge and then over to the Tower, pick up our bus there again and head back to the hotel. Right. Know the old saw about “best laid plans”? Well, we were happy “ victims” of that.


Saw a good bit of London from the bus and learned very interesting history (and a great deal of myth!) from the guide. He was alternatively funny and informative. Off at St. Paul’s and nearly 3 PM so Jeff and I thought we’d better take sustenance before we became a headline – Two Americans Collapse from Hunger at St. Paul’s. Had two of the best burgers and some fries, caffeine and sugar, and then we were ready. Walked across the Thames on the Millenium Bridge and found The Globe.


“Sorry, sold out. Um, no, sold out for that performance, too. Oh, that one, too. Love’s Labour Lost opens Friday and we have a few seats for that. Oh, wait, someone just turned in some tickets for tonight’s performance. Are you interested?” And our plans instantly changed! We also got tickets to the lecture shortly before the show and had about an hour or so to kill, so we headed along the riverwalk towards London Bridge, stopping on the way back at a Greek restaurant for a glass of wine and some nuts for Jeff, olives for me.


The lecture was by Professor Henry Woudhuygsen – that’s Woodhouse in less exotic spelling! – and he had all of the dry humor and charm one comes to expect from Englishmen. Self-effacing, kind and extremely knowledgible, it was entertaining and informing and gave some food for thought. And, I have come to the conclusion that academics are the same everywhere – giving of their knowledge and getting rewarded by the attention of students. And good students we all were with questions and comments!


The performance was magical for me. Many students standing in the pit before us – we were in the stalls, first level, first row – kept looking back as I laughed or guffawed at the hidden jokes in Shakespeare’s language. It brought back many performance memories for me and was such a unique venue, open to the elements (and thank goodness it wasn’t raining or cold! It is my understanding that the show goes on, rain or shine! Very well actd, though I sometimes felt sorry for actors blocked to run through the crowd in the pit to give other entrances than those on the stage. Jeff seemed to enjoy himself, too, and that was a bonus for me.

So, the show is out, it is nearly eleven – how do we get home? The easy answer is a taxi, but our trusty Fodor’s guide and a dose of confidence meant we headed back over the Thames on the Millenium Bridge, heading for Blackfriars Underground Station. A short walk until we found that the station was closed for repairs and renovation! That meant hiking to the next stop, Temple. How we actually would found it had there not been copious signs, I’m not sure. We did pass through some closes and tight streets and lanes, but were not accosted and soon found the station.

Being brain-dead at that point (remember, I am hiking miles in flip-flops – after buying all of those expensive walking shoes!), both Jeff and I stood looking at the ticket machine like it was an alien artifact! This isn’t the first subway/underground we have navigated – did fine in Barcelona and we didn’t speak Spanish! Our luck held as a station attendant patiently showed us what we might have discovered ourselves given time and none of the people in line behind us! So, we navigated our way through the underground to Victoria Station and from there the couple of blocks back to the hotel. We smugly rang the bell for Allan to let us in, and, happy and tired, crawled into bed. And that was Tuesday.



Will post Wednesday tomorrow AM ... right now, it is bedtime for a much bedraggled and train-weary Maggie.

Off, with love --

Country Mice in the Big City!

Didn't sleep well last night, probably thinking about trying to re-pack those already over-stuffed suitcases and dreading hauling them around. Up early for us and readied ourselves. Trevor, Jeff and I went to a local pub for a VERY filling English breakfast (to be differentiated from a Scottish breakfast -- no porridge!) Jeff was in his glory with double rashers of bacon -- until they brought his coffee with milk in it!! He manfully drank it down. After all, if one can eat haggis, what is a little milk in one's coffee?


Back to the house and Trevor got out "Juicy Lucy" a she is called -- a 20 year old Jaguar XJS convertible, V-12, and nearly a sculpture, she was so lovely. He had promised me a ramble over the roads in the growling Jag, and off we went. Sweet speed, handling and power, that car smoothed out twists and turns and was so comfortable, Could easily have just headed for the hills!

Have a new e-mail buddy -- Karina decided that she'd like to be connected, and we started her in on e-mails. I must say she caught on quickly, and I think that with a little solo practice, she will soon be zapping e-mails all over! And I will be so glad to be able to talk to her, hermana y hermana!


After Jeff got a spin, it was time to head to the train station. Sigh ... would that the US had kept up with our trains as the English have. Less than an hour later, juggling luggage, Jeff and I were in Victoria Station London. Comfortable and clean ... just kind of scary how close some of the houses were to the rails! Quiet and "green" as the trains are electric. I could so easily travel that way all the time. Now I am nostalgic about a tour on the Orient Express!


It has been beautiful and warm the entire time we have been in England, making us wish we had left the bulky sweaters at home. Tomorrow is supposed to be 70 degrees, but the temp will fall off sharply and the following several days have a high in the low 60s and evening temps in the 40s. But, thank the Lord, no rain! If we had scheduled time on The Eye and it had been rainy or foggy, Mr. Camera Peterson might have jumped off London Bridge!

Our hotel, seen first like a man lost in the desert and finding his mirage is really an oasis, is perfectly lovely. The staff here are exceptional. It is located on Ebury Street in Belgravia and the street has housed many and eccentric residents over the years. Mozart was living at number 180 Ebury Street when he composed his very first symphony. Ian Fleming (author of 007 books) lived at 22b Ebury Street. Other famous tenants have included Noel Coward, George Moore, Lord Tennyson and Harold Nicholson. The area now boasts a whole new generation of glamorous celebrities who call Belgravia home: Nigella Lawson, Elizabeth Hurley, Sean Connery, Baroness Margaret Thatcher, Andrew Lloyd Webber and Roger Moore -- so you can see, Jeff and I are in good company!



The Lime Tree Hotel itself was constructed in 1834 and originally housed the distinguished surgeon Charles Whiting. Since then the building has had many uses including furnished apartments and the Imperial Nurses Club. In 1960 it finally became the Lime Tree Hotel. Being of special architectural and historical interest, the building itself is protected by Grade II listing status. It comprises three main storeys, attic and basement, six windows wide and is constructed in brick with channelled stucco on the ground floor, with an unusual 'flying buttress' chimney to the rear. The entrance is a square heading flanked by fluted Doric columns in an arch. The windows are square headed with French casement and a 20th Century wrought iron balcony to the first floor. Our room on the second floor (UK -- that's third floor to all Yankees!) is large by UK standards and boasts a lovely rainhead shower. Subtle panels of Chrysanthemum wallpaper accent our comfortable room. We overlook Elizabeth Street and the lovely sort of secret garden in back of the house. I am sure there will be photos tomorrow!


After wrestling our bags up to our room, we unpacked and collapsed -- a "kip" was called for! Slept for about an hour and then Jeff and I started to sort through things like making our UK cell phone work. Sigh... it can't ever be easy, can it? The reception folks told Jeff that there was a Vodophone store in Victoria Station, so he headed back to see what the problem was. The clerk there was less than helpful and told us that if the phone were bad, we would have to return it with the original box -- yeah, like we had room in our luggage for that! We think that Trevor may have hit on it by telling us that it needed a full 24-hour charge the first time out of the box, so it is charging away as I write.


After a refreshing (if tepid shower), Jeff and I stepped next door to a Wine bar and had a lovely, if over-priced dinner. Enjoyed it all ... Jeff was too full to order the uber-chocolate dessert they had on the menu! Now, that's full. Jeff had a pheasant wit ramps and new potatoes and I had Scottish venison over red cabbage and small roasted potatoes with a whiskey sauce. Perfectly lovely!


After stuffing ourselves, we walked down Ebury to Eccleston and over to Victoria Station. Mogged along Buckingham Palace Avenue (yep, THAT one!) in the comfortable air, checking out the rowhouses and shops. Passed Grosvenor Hotel and Park and finally managed to work our way back to our hotel where we are having a nightcap and promising an early turn-in. Big day tomorrow, then we hope to connect up with Scott in Heresford (near the Welsh border) for dinner and drinks and on Thursday we meet up with Trevor and Karina for lunch before they see a show. We will work with the concierge tomorrow to get tickets for Shakespeare at the Globe, The Eye, Tower of London and a tour with a river cruise. Depending on timing, since Bucking ham Palace is so close, we may scarper over at 11:30 AM for the changing of the guards and perhaps a short tour of HRM digs. Only open for tours in August and September when the Queen is vacationing at Balmoral.


So, I'll sign off. Looking forward to regaling you with tales of London tomorrow. Off, with love ...


P.S. Is anyone out there reading these? Just wondered!