9/8 to 9/9
I couldn’t sleep the night before the trip. It wasn’t so much excitement as it was… insomnia. So, by the time Eric picked me up at 7 am, and by the time I got to the airport at 7:30…
I was wiped out. Also, I’d gotten a kink in my lower back. I was hoping it would go away as I had these two bags to lug with me all the way to England (I didn’t check anything in). I noticed a chair massage station at the airport, I had 3 hours to kill… it was a no brainer. So, I got in the chair, and this woman (Genie) was a brilliant massage therapist. She worked and worked the area until I was a completely new person (after half an hour). Thank you Genie!!!
I had a light breakfast (breakfast taco) and sat around waiting for the plane.
The type of plane I boarded was one of those smaller commuter jets. You think they’re just too small to be owned by a major airline (well, airline partner, really). But there I was in seat 8G BY the window. My theory is – sit by the window if it’s a domestic flight. By the aisle if it’s not. Now, I may change that theory at any given moment. Because – while it’s nice to have the leg room and the exitability of an aisle seat on the international flights – you also give up the nice wall to rest your head next to. That will be one of those million dollar debates, I suppose. But, we made it into Charlotte on time, and I was there for a four-hour wait.
Now, Charlotte airport is not big enough to wait four hours in. Even with a book and money to burn. I ended up in a little bar with comfy chairs writing in my travel journal. After my tenth glass of water, I figured I had bugged the waitress enough, so I trudged over to my waiting area with two hours still to go. That’s when I met my first trip best friend, Mia.
Mia is a beautiful lady with dark hair, British accent, and dark tan. She’s also irreverent and humorous and I liked her instantly. Mia was on the way to her mother’s 80th birthday and her sister’s? neice’s? wedding. Mia worked as a baggage handler for Jet Blue I think it was. She was able to get discount tickets overseas (lucky girl) but time off was another thing altogether, so she only had five days to do all she needed to do. Well, we sat there and talked like we’d known each other forever. Swapped information before we boarded, and have since sent emails back and forth.
We boarded the plane and I had carefully chosen my seat (aisle, of course) and not in the middle section of the plane. Even so, it was not a comfortable flight. The crew didn’t seem all that concerned with our comfort. I know it’s a long flight, and it must be an awful job to have to serve 200+ people for 6 hours or so… but they kept waking us up. I was nearly asleep when one of the stewards came by for Duty Free. I raised my hand because I wanted to get a bottle of Jack Daniels for my friends Sandra and Neil. “We don’t have any more,” he told me. Then turned my reading light on, nearly blinding me. I’m not sure why he did that as I wasn’t going to order any duty free if they didn’t have the Jack Daniels. Now, I couldn’t get back to sleep.
My seat partner, Joe, was originally from the West Indies and was working on emigrating from the UK to the US. His wife was currently living in Charlotte. Joe was a great guy and talked about growing up in Montserrat
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/17/Monestir_de_Montserrat_vista_Roca_de_St._Jaume.jpg. Joe slept most of the trip and I didn’t. I did dutifully take my no jet lag pills, though, and drank enough water to drown an elephant. No caffeine. I’m not sure what did it, but I had pretty much zero jet lag when I got to England. We arrived early in London – by about 45 minutes (about 7 am their time).
I was in the front of the plane (and I can be a pushy broad when I want to be), and I wanted to beat the 200+ passengers at immigration and customs. I needn’t have worried. We must have been the first plane to land, and there were NO lines and no people! The immigration hall which normally contains hundreds and hundreds of folks coming in from other countries was EMPTY! I zipped through! And with no baggage to claim and nothing to declare, I was through!
My good friend Mia got through customs about the same time I did, so we made our way to the trains. She helped me decipher the code that is the ticketing machine… but finally, I got tickets to get me to Croyden. My last view of dear Mia was seeing her on the opposite platform waiting for her train to Brighton.
Well, I was on my own again, it seemed on the train to Croyden. Closing my eyes, smelling the damp earth – uh… damp? The sun… oh my god, I’d landed in the wrong city! Sure enough, sunshine and warmth were to follow me my whole journey this visit. I got to Melrose House B&B around 8 am. Poor Frances (the owner) wasn’t quite ready for me, but very courteously asked if I’d like to have some breakfast with the others in the house. I sat for some tea and met the most delightful new friends, Roy and Yvonne. Both had a lovely Irish brogue that I could have listened to for days. They were just wonderful people – from Canada – and in the UK to visit their son who was going to dance school.
Melrose House B&B
Finally, I took my leave as Frances had my room ready. It was my favorite room! Number 2. The one with the huge bathroom across the hall. I immediately dropped my bags and made my way to the shower. You don’t know how ungodly you felt until you have one of those soul-cleansing showers. And, though I was not really jet lagging, I was tired. Too tired to catch the train into London today. So, I thought I’d experience what Penge (the little town I was in) had to offer.
Let’s see if I can describe… Penge is typical of any suburbs very close to a large city. There were some rough spots, but it wasn’t nearly as chaotic as staying in town. It has the air of the city about it, but still keeps the tree-lined streets, the well-kept gardens, the gothic churches with bells chiming. You can stand on the street in front of my B&B and breathe, in other words. Melrose House is a lovely place with several floors. In the few times I’ve stayed with Frances, I always end up in Room #2 (which is just fine with me). Room #2 overlooks Frances’ gorgeous back garden.
View of Back Garden from Room #2
Inside, she has a large breakfast area (around which I met Roy and Yvonne) and a lovely sun room. Her home always leaves me feeling like I’m *at* home! But, leaving Frances’ B&B and walking toward the High Street became my first adventure. It’s quite a walk to the High Street. Perhaps a mile each way. But the weather was absolutely lovely. Upon turning right on the High Street, I was almost immediately met with a nice little café. So, I took myself in and ordered a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. Then, sat out under an umbrella and watched the passersby.
Quite a mixture. I would say that Penge seems a bit like… hmmm… well, if you’re from the Houston area, Penge would have been like Pasadena. I finished up my sandwich and walked around a bit to find post cards. Ah! A post office loomed on my horizon, so I toodled off to see if they had any post cards.
Note: Many of the post offices in English towns are still located within convenience stores. Makes it kind of nice, really. I bought my cards and my stamps all in one fell swoop.
Then, I walked back along the street to Sainsburys (a chain grocery store) to see if I could pick up some Jack Daniels for Neil. Which I did. Two bottles’ worth! Of course, the English bottles were about half the size of the American ones. Took myself back to the B&B and rested while writing home of my adventures thus far (which had barely begun!). At any rate, I finished about half the post cards and decided to take a nap. Ah… glorious, glorious. To be able to leave the window open, feel the cool breeze, and have NO bugs bother me! It was heaven. Upon awaking, I noted the time and decided to hike back into the town. I dropped off half the post cards that I’d written into a post box (one of those big red ones with the ER on it for Elizabeth Rex). Then, went back to the Post Office to get a phone card.
Having done that, I cast my eyes about for a place to get something smallish for dinner. Sandy had talked to me of these things called Cornish pasties, and I saw one in a local bakery. So! Without further adieu, it became MY Cornish pasty and came home with me. The walk back was nice, and I went up to my room to eat and finish up the post cards. My Cornish pasty, by the way, was nothing to write home about. Basically, it was pureed meat, carrots, onions, and spices inside a pastry shell. Cornish miners used to take them into the mines for their lunches because they were so portable.
Cornish Pasty
I finished writing my post cards, and relaxed in front of the TV still smiling as the lovely cool breeze wafted across the bedroom. That was pretty much all there was to the first day. I had originally planned to go into London, but if I had, I would probably have ruined the lovely non-jet-lag I experienced on my trip.
9/10
I got up rather early, showered, and made my way to breakfast. There, I saw my good friends Roy and Yvonne and just spent a leisurely hour or so chatting with them (rather than rushing into town). They were wonderful people! I enjoyed talking with them very much. Anyway, I had to run and they did as well, so we parted ways.
I got from Penge to Victoria Station which was right across the street from the show I wanted to go see. So, I made my way there and got tickets to Billy Elliot from the box office. I had decided to go to the Winston Churchill museum and war rooms. Something about Churchill had recently grabbed my imagination, so off I went!
The museum, like so many tourist landmarks was within spitting distance of the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and other notable edifices. It was also there that I met my newest hero… Boudica. For her story, read:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boudica. Her statue lies across the street from the Houses of Parliament and quite close to the London Eye (
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_eye). Here’s her statue:
Boudicca
But, I hadn’t come to see any of these tourist attractions – I was off to find Winston Churchill! So, using my considerable cartographic skills, I ended up at Churchill’s statue. The War Rooms eluded me, however. So I continued across the street and over to some official looking building that ended up being their High Court. I should’ve guessed by the men with the ear pieces. So, this ditzy tourist walks in and says, “Where are the War Rooms?” Luckily one ear-piece borg guy knew – and I was on my way.
The Churchill Museum and War Rooms were quasi-interesting. I’m afraid that most museums tend to bore me. Does that seem weird for someone so into history? To me history isn’t an old typewriter with a plaque on it. It’s the mystery and adventure of the time, event, or person. It’s the little-known battles of the mind and heart. Let me touch something real – like the ruins of Middleham Castle or the floors of York Minster. Let me go to the Shambles and *see* what history is about. Don’t box it up and label it. I might as well read a book.
Having said that, the War Rooms were mildly interesting. You got to see where Churchill and his advisors planned their defensive and offensive moves during WWII. You got to see the bunkers where people lived and slept (hard to imagine), and to which place people retired during bombing attacks. It was amazing really. Then there were the exhibits (especially the huge touch screen in the middle of the floor that didn’t appear to work).
And, does *anyone* like those darn recording devices you have to carry around and listen to? I don’t. Bah. So, off I went in search of other adventures.
Across the street from the War Rooms is the most gorgeous city park (St. James). A little squirrel came right up to you and begged for food. Flowers were in bloom everywhere… pictures were just not enough. If I had more time, I’d take a picnic to St. James and enjoy a day of leisure.
St. James Park
Down the walk from St. James, I saw the London Horseguards (which I could’ve toured but didn’t). I decided to tube it over to Trafalgar Square and see if Lord Nelson was still around.
As it turns out, he was! But, when my camera ran out of battery power, I was forced to dive into a souvenir shop for replacements. Who should I find there but Roy and Yvonne! My dear friends. It’s a good thing too, because I got their email address. I left too early the next morning to have gotten it then. We laughed and talked… I took my pictures then headed for Picadilly Circus.
Got pictures there (all this was for you, dear reader). By this time, I was hungry and need to get going so I tubed it to Victoria Station again and headed to Garfunkels for lunch. Garfunkels is kinda like the English version of Dennys, I’ve determined. Not great, but not bad either. Then, I went to see my show across the street. That’s when I met my third best friend, Jeanie.
Jeanie sat next to me at the musical (how serendipitous). She was a lively lady from Johannesburg, South Africa. She was so much fun! She kept plying me with these red licorice type sweets and told me of her life in Jburg, and the son she had come to visit. Billy Elliott was a blast, and we both enjoyed the show. Afterward, I had no plans – so we decided to go to Victoria Station to look for a Buddhist shop she’d been told about.
That’s when we met George.
In the middle of the street is a pedestrian island. Around it is all the traffic for Victoria Palace and Victoria Station (lots of traffic). In the middle of the island, shuffling at the great rate of about 1 cm a minute and looking very confused was this little old man. I asked him if he needed help across the street and he offered that he did and that his name was George. George was going to the grocery store. As slowly as he walked, he’d never get across the street, so with Jeanie taking one arm and I the other, we said, “RUN!” hehehe… and fairly lifted George across the street. With a thanks and a fond adieu, we left him to shuffle to Sainsburys.
We then crossed the busy street again, spent 15 minutes looking for the non-existent Buddhist shop, and came back to the traffic island. From there, we could see that George had only progressed about 20 feet! We had no idea what to do or who to turn to. There were no cops about. So, we had to hope that George found his way home somehow.
Jeanie and I went into the little pub and had a few drinks while catching up on each others’ lives. What a cool person! I felt sad that I had to say goodbye, but I had to get home before dark. So, farewell it was and an amazing adventure for my second day in the UK.
9/11
A date that will live in infamy. But it was a glorious day in 2009 when I picked up the 6:40 train to Victoria Station. I was on my way to see Sarn for a day of shopping in Stoke-on-Trent!
Lugging baggage, I wondered if I'd make it to Euston Station (my departure point) on time, but somehow I found the connecting underground and was there in good order. The train ride to Stoke-on-Trent was gorgeous. I love the trains in Europe... it's the only way to travel (when there's no strike). I watched as towns and countryside whisked past, and ended up in SoT early! So, I hung around for a bit til Sarn showed up and we were OFF! (Mentally as well.) hehe.
Sarn is a lovely person with a heart as big as Texas. She drove me first to the Wedgewood museum. It was a very well done museum, but - again - boredom set in. You can only view so many plates! I did learn that there was a familial connection between the Wedgewoods and Charles Darwin. That was interesting.
We got a bite to eat at the Wedgewood cafe (I had a lovely fish and chips there), then we decided to go off and do the fun stuff (which was shopping at the china outlets). Whoohoo! We stopped first at the Portmeirion outlet, but didn't find anything. Then it was on to Wedgewood/Royal Doulton. There, I purchased my two lovely ladies! Here's are pictures:
We wondered how we'd spend the rest of our day, so we asked the lady at the Wedgewood shop who said we should see Trentham Estate. Never heard of it, but we went anyway and were pleasantly surprised!
Trentham Estate (
http://www.trenthamleisure.co.uk)encompasses a lovely garden (which we didn't get to see) and a shopping village. The shopping village was a lovely boardwalk containing all sorts of little shops. The day was perfect, so Sarn and I popped into almost every shop.
With that, our day was at an end. Sarn dropped me off at the train station and I was on my way to Leicester to meet up with Kim and Greg. They picked me up in Leicester, drove me home, cooked me a meal that couldn’t be beat, and gave me the only bed in the house to sleep on (bless ya, dearies!). It had been a wonderful day.
