Vacation: Day 4: London: It's dark underground

We decided to take it easy on our last day in London. First on the bill was a trial run of our departure for Southampton the following day. On the tube ride to the Waterloo station – where we'd catch our train – a family with the cutest little girl sat next to us. She kept insisting, “Daddy, I don't want to get off in the dark.” Which sounded like “dawk” with her cute little accent. (Hey, give me a break: I'm runnin' out of adjectives.) And then, as they were getting off: “Daddy, it's still dark.” Priceless!

Once we'd confirmed that our paper tickets were sufficient for the following day, it was off to Hyde Park Corner for a few things that we'd missed up to that point: mainly the war memorials for the fallen from Canada, New Zealand and Australia. I was really impressed by the Canadian war memorial – which I'd somehow managed to miss on the house-hunting trip – and the way the leaves from the maple trees surrounding it would mingle with those that had been carved into it.

Harrods was next on the list, after lunch at this fantastic corner pub in the area called The Tea Clipper. I tried a few new pints -- Hog's Back and Doom Bar -- to wash down the special that day: cottage pie. Tea had an amazing Med. platter... the spread really was quite something. And while Harrods was nothing to write home about, the tube ride back to the hotel was: without really thinking about it, we grabbed a Central line train and ended up smack in the middle of revellers returning from the second day of the Notting Hill Festival.

Note: Unbeknowst to me, I hit Picasa's upper limit of 500 pictures per album with my London set. As a kludge, I've made a separate album of our last day in London.

Vacation: Day 3: London: Even the police are confused

Initially, we'd planned to watch the changing of the guard with Tea's extended family, followed by the Notting Hill Festival in the afternoon. Once we got down to Buckingham Palace, however, we learned that it had been cancelled for the day, and decided to tour the estate rooms of the palace instead. Everything from the ticket – which looked more like an invitation to a fancy do – to the free audio tour was perfectly executed; we all thoroughly enjoyed it. The art collection alone was impressive; I recall a Rembrandt in particular – The Shipbuilder and His Wife – as simply breathtaking. There were a number of scenes of St. Mark's Square in Venice as well, and many portraits, of course.

Two other comments about the palace: the room off the music room – the Blue Room, I believe – had a secret passage behind a mirror to allow the Queen to receive guests without traipsing through all the various rooms; it was something right out of an Agatha Christie novel. And, finally, I got to see the gilded pucks that Rocket Richard and the Montreal Canadiens gave the Queen as a gift. Speaking of gifts, at the Gift Shop we learned that we could use our ticket stubs to sign up for free access to the estate rooms for a year, which is great 'cause I know we'll be back, probably with visitors in tow.

We had a quick snack in Green Park that was notable for the delicious beverage I had with it (see right); and then it was off to the Notting Hill Festival. We'd been told that Sunday was the better of the two days to attend, as things tended to get out of hand of the Monday, and it seemed like others took that advice; it took us a couple of tries to squeeze on a Central line train to the namesake station. (I have video of the crowds leaving the station – to say nothing of my festival footage – that I'll have to upload when I'm back on land.)

What can I say about the festival itself? It isn't to be believed, when it comes down to it. Truly, it's a marvel. I gather it's the second biggest street festival in the world, with crowds in excess of two million each year; I don't think this year was any exception either. One thing to note about my pictures: at no point did we double back; every shot of a crowd you see is made up of different folks. Mind boggling, really. As you can imagine, it wasn't easy getting out either. In fact, we were correcting information the bobbies gave us at one point. “Nobody knows what's goin' on!” one replied. But we survived, and had the time of our lives. And get this: the topper? Sunday carvery just around the corner from our hotel. Absolutely delicious.

Vacation: Day 2: London

Our landlord had highly recommended the Portobello Market for our Saturday morning in London, so we headed to our closest tube station – Stratford – at a reasonable hour. The street signs indicating the sections for antiques, new goods, old goods, and food spoke to the market's long tradition. Upon looking down the choked road that faded to an indistinguishable mass, Stephen exclaimed, “This is a city!”

As with the term 'history', I had to adjust my definition of 'antiques' in very short order. The old, polished tankards and flasks caught my attention immediately, but it was at a book seller's stand that I was most sorely tempted: he had a beautiful edition of Through The Looking-Glass published in 1940. I was able to resist because: 1) I knew our luggage back in the hotel was stuffed as it was, 2) the money problems I've described previously mean that we actually need to hang on to the cash we have for the moment, 3) there were no prices on any of the prominently-displayed books, and, finally, 4) I'm sure Tea and I will be back at some point.

Tea and Stephen found a stand selling hot dogs (amongst other things – it was actually a money changer, oddly enough), and after all the lamenting Stephen had heard about the lack of them over here, he had one in his hand in a shot. Happily, all four of us agreed that it was pretty good, meaning that Tea might not have to rely so heavily on her military friends, and their access to Canadian and American 'exchanges'.

About halfway down Portobello Road we came upon The Duke of Wellington, and decided that some food and a pint would go down well. I got myself a Young's Bitter, Tea had a Pimm's and lemonade – which looked amazing – Nancy had an Americano and Stephen had a lemonade; luckily, the bar was twenty minutes from offering a large menu too. We hadn't been sitting long before the bartender who'd poured our drinks came by with menus and then took our food orders. (She was thoroughly amused by my new Cows T-shirt that Nancy and Stephen brought over for me, and by Stephen's vehemence regarding a dislike of “smushy peas.”) That's the first time we've had our food order taken at the table in a pub over here; maybe they're more used to dealing with tourists in London. Either way, she was fantastic; a lot of fun (at one point, teasing Nancy about the veggies she'd left on her plate and reminding us all of one of my favourite vacation photos of Nancy leaning way back as a waiter attempts to choo-choo some asparagus toward her, determined-parent-style).

Finally, there was this great moment when one of the ladies behind the bar asked an older gentleman where his dog was. Down he went in a crouch, and he hadn't made more than a few quick calls before a Jack Russell terrier (or some similar small breed) came running into the pub and jumped up on his shoulder in one fluid motion. Two seconds after the photo to the right was taken, he stuck his tongue out in comic fashion; I wish I'd been able to catch that one.

We'd agreed to meet two sets of Tea and Nancy's aunts and uncles at the London Eye in the late afternoon, and the gaggle of us convened without too much difficulty. Mick was more than a little skeptical about the whole enterprise -- being afraid of heights -- and Robbie took great pleasure in spouting off various morbid theories behind the missing capsule we all noticed as the line approached the Eye. Once up, we had a spectacular view of Thames, including the oddity of a dining table replete with guests, suspended well above the ground by a crane. Hope no one dropped a fork!

With two feet solidly planted again, it was off to find a pub. At one point, the conversation turned to what woeful tales Mick and Daph would bring to Tea's folks back home of how she was faring, and Tea, ever the good sport, was on the sidewalk in a flash, saying, “Take a picture for evidence of how you found me, passed out drunk!”

We eventually made it to a bit of a posh place close to the Eye for a few pints and a snack, and then it was off to The Wellington at Waterloo: a fantastic mix of sports bar and grandiose pub. I tried Marston's for the first time, and really enjoyed both the Pedigree and the Long Hop. After that, it was back to the two couples' hotel lobby for a nightcap, and, finally, a tube ride home (which I, apparently, fell sound asleep on).

Vacation: Day 1: London

The train ride to London went well. Tea heard a whining noise from the seats in front of us, and asked, “What's that?” with some alarm. I pointed to the cute Chocolate Labrador Retriever who was sticking his nose into the aisle. Again, I really like that; probably because all the dogs have been so well behaved so far.

There was an amazing collection of tents near the railway station at Reading, including a big top. Turns out it's the Reading Festival -- pronounced 'red'; books aren't the draw here :-) -- the world's oldest popular music festival that's still running, according to Wikipedia.

Paddington station was very impressive; I'm sure I had the dropped jaw that I seem to wear each time I emerge in this city. One oddity: when we went to get on the Hammersmith & City line, the train barely stopped before it was off again. Tea said, “It's like there was no one peeking out to make sure everyone was clear,” as we realized that a husband had been separated from his wife; that's how fast the doors closed. To make matters worse, the next train -- which we were on as well -- was delayed! At that point we immediately made a contingency plan that, should the same thing happen to one of us, the person(s) who got on the train should get off at the next stop and wait for the rest to catch up.

We got to the hotel with little difficulty, and then Stephen was down for a nap. Much heckling ensued, but he was much happier an hour later. While he was sleeping the rest of us started planning: back on the tube to Piccadilly line and the Original Tour on an open-top bus; we wanted to get a quick look at everything to help us prioritize the next three days in London. But before that it was off at Covent Gardens for a bite to eat: delicious pasties, as it turned out. We'll be back to that part of the city at some point, I'm sure.



Our Original Tour guide, John, was fantastic, sprinkling lots of trivia throughout, laced with a very dry wit. The weather was holding out until we hit London Bridge, when it turned in an instant. I'm not kidding; I was paralyzed for a good 20 seconds, thinking, “It can't be raining this hard; there's blue sky almost directly overhead.” Tea was long down on the ground level of the bus when I finally dragged my drenched butt below. Unfortunately (for them), Nancy and Stephen were behind me in the stampede down the stairs, and were similarly soaked. Luckily the Little Frankie's that we decided to eat in, after jumping off at Trafalgar Square, had a powerful hand-dryer in the washroom; we were almost dry by the time we look the tube -- along the swanky Jubilee line with a stop called Canada Water! -- back to the hotel.

I'll be adding to a new album throughout the London leg of the trip; check it out for the pictures we took on the tour.

Map of our London walk

As promised, a map of our walk through London follows, with pictures of us attached to markers along the way. If you'd like to see more pictures of the sights we saw, check out our Days 8 and 9 album.


View Our London walk in a larger map

Day 8: London

As some of you know, Saturday night was a late one for us, making the 1030 coach to Heathrow seem that much earlier. But we made it to the bus station -- walking this time, now that we had the town down -- with plenty of time to spare, and we were in prime tourist form as we arrived at the airport: the hotel hopper wasn't around, so we immediately hailed a taxi to the hotel; we were grabbing the hopper back to Heathrow (and the Underground), having checked in and dropped our bags in the room, as another couple who'd come in from town with us was just getting off it. No moseying for me that day!

Then it was down to the Underground, where we bought day passes -- Heathrow is in Zone 6, so there's no saving money by getting a pass for the core a.k.a. Zone 1 -- grabbed some tube maps and minded the gap as we headed to the city. A little over a half hour later, I had the first of many surreal experiences as we emerged from the Knightsbridge tube station to the sound of a steelpan; combined with the warm weather, I could've sworn we'd just arrived at our first port of call on a Caribbean cruise. It was fantastic!

I'm currently working on a Google map of our walk; I'll embed photos in it, etc. It'll be great. But, as I promised a post within 24 hours of getting home, I'll include a slideshow of our Day 8 and Day 9 photos in the meantime. Enjoy!