London
February 8th, 2007Bobby and Jeffrey go to London - 2006
The recumbent figures with stone-like expression posture themselves amidst a flurry of churchgoers oblivious of the sounds surrounding them. No, I’m not talking about the 11.15 Service, but Jeffrey’s first impression upon entering the Collegiate Church of Saint Peter at Westminister’s museum of dead people, sometimes called Westminster Abbey.
Jeffrey and I took advantage of the store closing Christmas week (December 21 through 28, 2006) but we had much earlier planned this trip to London. Not “planned” actually; just go: we’ll plan when we get there! His first trip; my sixth. Before proceeding with this epistle let me clarify which Jeffrey: this is not the Jeffrey who was part of my first trips, but another Jeffrey. I’ll try to distinguish these two Jeffrey travelers. Canon Jim Yeary suggests “Deff Jeff” or “Old Jeff” and “New Jeff” but we’ll just say Jeffrey herein.
We began by hopping onto Delta’s 767 but preceded, with much thanks to our *Miss Jill, with a celebratory bon voyage beverage in the Crown Room. Or two. The 7.35 PM flight across the pond was over eight hours, landing at Gatwick midmorning and by the time we got through Customs, baggage, the Gatwick Express, we went “home” to the Victoria Inn it was about noontime. We had the usual tiny room en suite with a shower about as big as a lasagna pan.
Next we stopped for lunch and a pint at the nearby St. George Tavern then on to the Underground (called the tube) to get our seven day passes. What I wanted to do is introduce Jeffrey to London (the Deff Jeff way) by taking him through the tube to Westminster Station, then up to street level. “Look up!” There it is: Big Ben! Actually, it is the Clock Tower and the big bell that tolls the hours is named Big Ben. Everybody calls the Clock Tower Big Ben anyway. Seeing that, to me, is seeing London!
Although it was a cold wintry day we were bundled up enough to walk. We then walked ‘round the Westminster area seeing the sights in almost 3 PM darkness, such as Cromwell, Churchill, Charles I, Lincoln, and since we’re at Westminster Abbey I thought it a good time to show Jeffrey the Abbey. Now, Jeffrey is not a big church fan and I had already decided that I would not give him the ABC Tour (ABC: “another bloody cathedral”!) but it’s a place you gotta see!
We walked around outside after completing our tour and it was getting colder, so we found in some nearby alley a place called Westminster Arms and went inside for a loo stop and a hot coffee stop. Upon entering a rather warmer place, my glasses fogged up! After finishing our coffee we walked up Whitehall, past the Cenotaph, passing a police officer carrying what looked like a small machine gun. Jeffrey noted this but I pointed out that across the street was Downing Street.
On Whitehall we saw no busses and had to continue walking in another direction and found ourselves walking past St. James Palace with its guard walking his paces, then up to Trafalgar Square then inside the National Gallery. (Yes, they have a loo in there, too; described by Jeffrey as the nicest and cleanest loo he’s ever seen!) Then we got a Piccadilly bus which got us in our direction to “home” and we plopped on our beds to rest up. It was shortly after 8 PM.
In only one half day we’ve seen Victoria Station, the Clock Tower (Big Ben), Parliament, statues of Cromwell (“staring at Charles I”, whom he beheaded, across the way), and Churchill around Westminster Square, Westminster Abbey, Whitehall and the Cenotaph, St. James Palace, Trafalgar Square with Lord Nelson looking out to sea, the National Gallery, St. Martin-in-the-Fields, and a big beautiful warm red bus. Did I say that it gets dark early? Like, by 4 PM? Boy, were we tired.
Saturday morning I got up and went to our four-foot-square bathroom and got dressed and went down for coffee. This was a daily routine of getting up to shower and dress in the dark, and go down for juice then bring back two coffees: one with cream to help awaken Sleeping Beauty and black for me. This time allowed my hair to dry so that the cold dampness of the day would not give me a cold.
I decided we would go to Canterbury, our only “out of town” thing that I wanted Jeffrey to see on this trip. We got a sweet roll and coffee and had that on a bench in Victoria Station. It would be a good day to have a restful train ride and see the countryside for about an hour. The walk from the train station to the center of the city is actually atop the old city wall, past eroded battlements and the guard “stations” with narrow slits through which the guards would shoot arrows at the invaders below. These days, however, they love the invaders, who come by the thousands with their charge cards!
Before going to the cathedral we walked through the market lanes, much like a smaller version of Portobello Road, then my tummy felt the need for food, so we chose a nice place called Strada, and I wanted Jeffrey to choose the lunch and wine, which he did. [You see, I’m being taught there is more to life than meat loaf and taters. He likes Indian and Asian foods, spicy for him, mild for me. It was that way all week.] We could not enter the cathedral because they were having a special Christmas service. No entry? What? This is Canterbury. Chaucer. Becket. Knights. Murder. Hey, we got tourists out here whaddya think this is, church or somethin’!! But, again, I’ve seen it and Jeffrey doesn’t really want the ABC Tour anyway! Then we saw a Boots and I made the requested purchase for someone back home, and we went back to the train and back to London. We were a little hungry upon returning and could not find any interesting places to eat and finally chose an “Americanized” Garfunkel’s inside the station. Nothing special, but tummies satisfied, I guess.
Sunday was another day for walking. We walked the area of Trafalgar Square again, and up the Strand, where Jeffrey purchased an expensive scarf as one of his Christmas gifts for a friend, but regrettably subsequently forgot it on a bus! Bought another one, though cheaper, later! Jeffrey learned the bus system immediately. In all my past travels I quite frankly never tried to learn them as my destinations were almost always the same: usual touristy stuff. It was he who showed me ‘round town! (Being the passenger is always easier than being the driver.) We walked the boroughs from Piccadilly Circus, then a bus back down Ludgate Hill, Fleet Street, then the Strand, passing the beautiful Gothic buildings of the Inns of Court. I wanted Jeffrey to see the Savoy where the Prince of Wales had his parties because Queen Vicky wouldn’t let him do official duties. We went behind the Savoy to see the Embankment, then crossed the Millennium Bridge alongside the rail tracks from Charing Cross Station, then decided, about 3 PM, our tummies needed something though not much because we were invited to dinner at 6, because we didn’t want to show up as ravenous guests. We found a little place called City Center and had a snack of bread, salad and chips. We then found our way to Knightsbridge and on to Harrod’s where I wanted Jeffrey to see especially the Food Court, he being the epicurean (had to look that up so I could use a fancy word!) while I don’t know the difference between fromage and cheese. While there I had to go to … let’s just say that those pints required the near presence of a loo, which took three department attendants to direct me thereto. You can easily get lost in Harrod’s.
After that we walked ‘round through the crowds and down Brompton Road. Jeffrey knew how to get to our dinner merely from reading the map. (Imagine that: look at a map to find out where you’re going. What a novel idea!) We were on Brompton Road early enough to (you guessed it) have another pint at the Bunch of Grapes. (I was there a year ago; sadly, they didn’t admit to remember me.) From there it was a short walk past Ovington Square and down to meet our hosts sharply at 6. [It was very kind of you, Dale, to tell your son to invite us for dinner!] A highlight of the week!
Greeting us at the door was Mark Thompson (a bit taller than his doorway, I do believe) and we were introduced to Beth who almost right away thought she recognized Jeffrey and later they concluded that she was a guest at a restaurant where Jeffrey used to work, Surin, here in Atlanta. “Small world” Jeffrey said! Beth’s parents, Jim and Mary Ann (from Santa Fe) were there as well as six-month-old Alastair, and his nanny, Wilma. I sneaked into his room for a quick peek. Hey, kid, wake up! I didn’t fly all across the pond just to watch you sleep! But Alastair choose to ignore me and continue with his nap. I have not really seen Mark since he was as tall as where his belt is now! (I taught Church School second grade and was a Church School Superintendent along with his mother.) Mark,
(seen here with Jeffrey), a partner in his firm, moved to London to open another law firm office and we discussed London living, remarking on the exchange rate and the 40% income tax! The pound at my purchase time was $2.092. Property for existing housing is about two thousand (pounds or dollars?) per square foot. Jeffrey concluded that his house (not including the lot) in Cabbagetown in London money would be about five million dollars!
What a wonderful treat this was! We took as a gift a bottle of wine purchased earlier in the day. Beth is a licensed chef. Judging from dinner, this was obvious: Cheese Straws, Beef Wellington, Horseradish Sauce, Mashed Potatoes with Gravy, Carrots with Mint & Parsley, Cold Bean Salad, Fruit Tart, Cranberry & Apple Pie, coffee, crackers and cheese, and …. wine! Again! And a much needed cuppa. Following dinner and making our good-byes, we found our way home stopping off at Ebury’s (time: 21:38) for a pint and, of course, their loo. Thence, home! How Jeffrey finds his way round a strange city reading a map in the dark I’ll never know! Upon returning “home” we had a glass of wine from our stashed bottle, then rest up for bed. Jeffrey’s mother told him before leaving for London [warned him?] that English food was not usually very good, which we mostly confirmed, EXCEPT that ain’t so at the Thompson’s Chelsea household! Jeffrey, the epicurean food person, said it was the best meal he ever had. I heartily agree!
Throughout our week Jeffrey was constantly observing the variety of architecture and checking out the realtor’s windows showing available residences and prices. One of the more reasonable at about five million dollars but the lease was available for only 134 years. I’d be retired by then, anyway!
Christmas Day. People told me that just about everything was closed on Christmas Day. Boy! Were they right. Everything. No bus. No tube. No shops. No snack bars or restaurants. Nothing. London on Christmas Day is deader’n downtown Atlanta on a weeknight! There are only two modes of conveyance on Christmas Day: your left foot, your right foot. Since we’re walking, I wanted to show Jeffrey “my” flat in Knightsbridge, after which we walked the lanes, passing Holy Trinity Brompton, the Brompton Oratory, noted the bomb scars on the V&A Museum, and eventually up to Kensington because I also wanted him to see the tackiest shrine in London: that being the Albert Memorial, Queen Victoria’s extravagant memorial to her Consort. This is the same Albert that Jeffrey, as a naughty kid (imagine!) said he and pals would call up a local grocer and ask “do you have Prince Albert in the can” and when responding yes they’d say “better let him out” ….. There being no food available we hoped for somewhere to be open but to no avail. We walked past all the closed shops beyond Kensington wanting, in order (1) loo, (2) food. The parish church of St Mary Abbots was open but without evidence of a loo! Upon exiting we looked ‘round and saw a neon sign alight at a pub, and seeing people inside we went in. They were serving beverages but no food as they were closing very soon. (Jeffrey asked if while in the church I prayed for a place open. I let that be affirmative.) So, we had a pint for breakfast! Leaving for another walk, we did find a small convenience store open. Thank you, Lord. Jeffrey and I purchased a packaged edible each, a bottle of water, and proceeded across the street to one of the park benches in front of the entrance to Kensington Palace to have our lunch. I suppose I can say that I had Christmas Dinner at Kensington Palace. Kensington is divided into apartments wherein resides many of the leftover royals, which is why King Edward VIII called it the Aunt Heap! We walked through the vast Kensington Gardens, then Hyde Park, passing the Princess Diana memorial, a rather ugly attempt at a water slide that was nothing more than a cement circular thing that didn’t work. Then on to watch the ducks come to us begging for food, and thence on to further walking, eventually taking the hoods down from our jackets because it’s difficult to see the surrounding areas, putting them up when the ears demanded it. We walked back through Hyde Park Corner, then to the Piccadilly area, then up to Green Park then God Knows Where, turning in a southern direction, eventually walking past a big wall topped with rows of razor wire which I recognized as being the wall surrounding Queen Elizabeth’s back yard! No loo in sight. I confess, however, there is now one portion of a dark side street which became a loo.
Getting back to the Victoria Station area, where we earlier decided was the less interesting of districts, Chelsea and So Ho being two of the more interesting, we tried to remember where we saw signs earlier in the week saying they would be open Christmas and Boxing Day. There were two or three rather uninteresting as we sat in one a few minutes until we decided this is not the place for us and eventually settled on one we didn’t care for but only because we saw an empty table. After dinner, back “home” to the Victoria Inn.
Tuesday is Boxing Day. We walked across the Lambeth Bridge to the south side of the River Thames (pretend you’re a Londoner and pronounce it “tems”), stopped for coffee at a dockside canteen across from Lambeth Palace, home of the Archbishop of Canterbury, our pal Rowan, who hasn’t yet thought of explaining Acts 15 and social history to ignorant Anglican conservatives who know that since they can’t be the Big Fish in the pond they’re trying to drain the pond. But I digress. Then we walked up, observing all the sights on both sides of the river, such as Saint Paul’s Cathedral. We saw the Tate Modern, Globe Theater, the modern City Hall which looks like a sliced egg about to fall over, and a funny looking high-rise that looks like the world’s largest vibrator; and, needing to dispense with some used coffee, we rounded a corner seemingly familiar to me and, a-ha, here’s Southwark Cathedral. First we visited their loo, then the cathedral proper, which was open for tours. Pronounce it “suth uk” and folks’ll think you know what you’re talking about; and to use it’s full name simply say “The Cathedral and Collegiate Church of St Saviour and St Mary Overy, Southwark” and you can snub your Anglican nose at ‘em! It has become my favorite London cathedral. They treat and greet you like a guest, not like a trespasser that you get the feel in other cathedrals. I pointed out the memorial to Shakespeare, whose gaze is still as it probably was back when he attended Mass there and had to listen to the Vicar attack the character of such an immoral brood as actors! While there I stole a “please return this booklet for future use” Eucharist for Sundays During Advent (though I did put some money in the thingy to pay for it!) because Bruce wanted me to bring back service lists. See, Bruce, you’ve made me a suth-uk thief! The same lady was there that I saw a year ago and as gracious and helpful and informative as ever!
Some buses and some stores opened for their sales on Boxing Day (sort of like our “After Thanksgiving” sales) and we walked another 20 miles that day! Jeffrey liked the So Ho area so we went that-a-way. We boarded a bus at some point “just for the helluvit” across from the Tower of London, not knowing where it was going but decide to go for a ride atop the double-decker bus. We went through many neighborhoods, some of which I wouldn’t want to walk around in, and eventually the bus entered a gated area and started driving warehouses and Jeffrey said “Oh, Bobby, I don’t think we’re supposed to be here” and he was right. The bus was pulling into the bus garage to park and lock at the end of his shift. An attendant from the garage ran out yelling at the driver while pointing up to us. The driver did not know he had passengers as he was going to park the bus for the night. We almost got locked up in the bus overnight maybe! This was a Hackney Wick bus route. Hackney Wick, we found out later, is an Irish gypsy area in northeast London. The attendant hurriedly ordered us off the bus and took us to another bus that pulled out and we went back to an area called Central Hackney and we got off to see what we could see. There were some restaurants Jeffrey wanted to try and wanted me to try again some non-typical common pub food. He saw a cafe called Bohemia and we went there.
We ordered wine, and contemplated the menu. I let Jeffrey decide for me. We shared different Mediterranean dishes, then another glass of wine. The owner came over to talk with us and we had a wonderful long conversation. About six hours, I would say: arriving about three and leaving when he closed about nine. He is in exile from Turkey. He is a Doctor of Law and Ethics, speaks Arabic, Persian (Farsi), English and Turkish. He is a journalist and photographer and took “wrong pictures” which ended up in a journalistic political problem and was advised to not return home to Turkey. We decided after the next glass of wine to just order a bottle and he suggested the Argento chardonnay (wine of Argentina). Then more conversation. The name, Bush, came up. Familiar name? And in a most politically unfavorable way. (Seems his actions made a mess everywhere.) Then another bottle. More conversation. Then a bottle of Hoshar, Lebanese red. More conversation. Then it was time to sober up and he gave us aubergin (egg plant) with red peppers. Finishing the wine and closing the place, we found another bus going in the direction of Victoria, where we got off at the Duke of York pub, stopped in for a pint of Guinness. (Deff Jeff, we out done you this time!)
We saw lots of different motor vehicles, Jeffrey naming all of them for me and telling me the cost in dollars. All the way from almost million dollar cars to ones that looked like a VW beetle that had been rear ended then shaped up! I have not learned, nor tried, to recognize cars, not being a lifelong driver. Occasionally I would try to cross a street incorrectly and Jeffrey would yell “watch out” because he didn’t want me to put a dent in the bonnet of a car coming the wrong way! (Bonnet there; hood here.)
On Wednesday we waded through the throngs of people emerging from a two day hibernation filling the streets and tubes and went to Kings Cross to find something we saw on the bus. We walked around the area, then not finding what we wanted, walked to the next station, Islington. Restaurants were open but none served until noontime. We found one called Giraffe and went in. Jeffrey ordered something with Thai noodles and I, because of the previous evening, needed something like breakfast so I ordered the breakfast brunch which was literally too much to eat: eggs, ham, sausage, tomatoes, potatoes, bread and butter.
We toured the area, then Jeffrey want to go back to the So Ho area to find and Indian or Thai restaurant and we went back to Piccadilly Circus then to So Ho and he did find the restaurant called Lion City. It was an area very, very crowded with people everywhere and, again, I was very surprised Jeffrey knew where we were going! It was a buffet Thai restaurant. Needless to say, I got Jeffrey to tell me what to eat. Although the chicken green curry dish was mildly spicy it was not my favorite. (A few minutes later it wasn’t so mild!) He was always careful to advise me, knowing my simple tastes, much like Larry would do for me at Partners (he’s now serving at Floataway Cafe). It was a great week of non-pub food.
Thursday is departure day. I had difficulty is judging the timing, as I didn’t want to arrive at the airport too early or get there too late. We did need to leave earlier “than usual” because the tracks of the Gatwick trains were under repair and we had to return to Gatwick by buses provided, though on the same round-trip ticket already purchased. We seemed to time it correctly because he had time for another pint of Guinness. This one so dark and thick and foamy that it took so long for the beer to come out I thought we’d miss the plane. Hmmmm. Have a pint or miss the plane? Big decision. The flight back across the pond was more comfy than the one going as it was daytime. Much of the day was cloudless and, recalling Jeffrey living in West Virginia where his dad was a professor at Marshall University (see the film “We Are Marshall”? It is about the football team lost in a plane crash.), when the screen showed we were flying over that area, Jeffrey could identify the landscape from 32,000 feet and clearly identify Huntington below because of the path of the bridges over the Ohio River.
This is my sixth trip to London. Jeffrey’s first. And on this trip I saw more of than I did on the last five. This is because we walked about a hundred miles. Jeffrey is now an official London guide!
By the way, I actually saw someone without a cell phone over there!
We got back in Atlanta about six on Thursday.
It was a great week being with Jeffrey.
Next. Paris?
PS: Please pray for my American Express bill!
–finis
