Over the Pond & with Very Sore Feet

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  London, England, United Kingdom
Monday, September 22, 2008

Well!  There's been something of a blog black-out due to not locating a cyper cafe anywhere near where we're staying, a disadvantage of staying in a flat instead of a hotel.  Jerry and I finally located a bank of computers in a grotty basement of a store called "Smart Phones," down an alley in Knightsbridge, and we have an hour of internet for two pounds.

We've been in London since Thursday, which was pretty much an all-day flight from New York that went smoothly AND we were well fed!  Yes!  On international flights you do not have to bring your own sandwich!  A revelation.  We were met at Heathrow by a burly man with a sign ("Randal') and a very pronounced accent, who led us to a shiny black SUV and then drove us to our flat at 39 Hans Places, Knightsbridge.  This flat, I have to say, is even better than the photos I saw online.  It faces a fenced, private park, so on the third floor we look out at treetops.  Very peaceful, considering we're a couple of blocks from Brompton Road and Harrods, where it is hectic at all hours.  The British drive like bats out of hell, no exceptions.  I'm amazed that there aren't bodies lying all over the road (Jerry says they pick them up after hours).

So!  Over the past few days, we've been to Buckingham Palace, the  Museum of Natural History, and the Tate Modern. We've walked over the Millenium Bridge, and down the the lofty halls of the Victoria and Albert Museum (no quilts).  We have walked and walked and WALKED, despite buying an Oyster Card for the Underground, which entitles us to a  cut-rate fare.  We've also taken numerous taxis--a real pleasure, but, of course, like everything else here, they are expensive.  There have been points, though, when I could not face another crush in the Underground, or several transfers, and I insisted on a cab.  Especially since I missed a step in our flat the first morning and  sprained my ankle.  The sprain isn't bad, but it pissed me off badly--I was going to our scheduled  Buckingham Palace tour that day, come hell or high water, and I did.

We've also seen Churchill's War Cabinet bunker near St. James's Park.  A labyrinth of dreary little rooms full of maps and desks and colored phones connecting Churchill with Roosevelt or God knows who.  Fascinating, especially the chamber pots under the beds: no plumbing.  There was a typists' room where women typed 24 hours a day, with 6 hours off every so many hours to slide into a tiny bunk for some sleep. I kept thinking of my mother, who typed her way through the war working for the American Army, which is how she met my dad. 

Also!  We've been to the Royal Albert Hall and heard an Elgar concert--the grand building more impressive than the music until the very end when the Royal Philharmonic played one of the "Pomp and Circumstance," marches, part of which is 'Land of Hope and Glory' (the familiar graduation tune).  The audience sang the words, which we didn't know, of course, clapped hard for a (foregone) encore, sang it again, then demanded another encore, during which everyone stood and sang their hearts out.  I cried.  This trip has been such a link to my mother and her land, and that was one of the most sentimental moments.

Yesterday Jerry and I took a train to Guildford, about 40 minutes from London, where my cousin Marion and her husband David picked us up and took us to their house about 10 miles away, in Cranleigh, Sussex, a most beautiful rural area with picture-book English villages.  She'd prepared a lunch of roast beef, roasted potatoes, gravy, and Yorkshire pudding, plus garden vegetables.  We sat outside on their patio--fantastic garden, a lawn like a putting green--and had lunch, which was followed by stewed fruit and custard!   It was the classic English meal.  Later, after a long walk around their village, we came back and had--yes--a sponge cake she'd made, plain with raspberry jam filling.  They had tea, which Jerry and I declined at 5 pm.  The cake was delicious (didn't decline that).  I presented the flower-basket quilt I'd just finished for Marion, which Angie did a beauitful job of machine quilting.  Marion seemed stunned and much appreciative of the labor.  She's done research on family genealogy and had some old photos and things that were quite informative, made me think of Mabry and her efforts.  I told Marion she should go to Utah and see what the Mormons have.   She did not seem taken with that idea. 

We didn't get back to our London flat until 9 last night, and  I have to say, we are beginning to flag.  Our feet are sore, and even I'm tired of museums, although I saw six giant Gerhard Richter paintings at the Tate Modern yesterday that made me want to lie down on the broad wooden bench and never leave.  They were so outstanding--sumptuous surface, wonderful color, that sqeegee effect he does, magnificient and very recent.  They have not been to the US yet.

Tomorrow I think we're going up the Thames on a boat to Greenwich, with London Walks, a trip that  Elisabeth Ptak recommended.  We need to sit for a bit, or at least see something besides the inside of museums.  I can't believe I'm saying that.

By the way, our flat has a miniscule washer/dryer (combo--one tiny machine and compartment does bnoth) that takes about 6 hours to wash and dry.  Jerry is beside himself with the inefficiency. I'm beginning to thin I'll resort to dish liquid and the bathroom sink to wash my socks.

We have a deck, too!  And a huge overhanging sycamore tree.  Neighbors have little terraces and decks all around us, pots of flowers, garden sculptures and chimney pots.

More later, if I can find this basement again...

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