Back to the blog

We've been back more than a month, the Christmas tree finally got put up and taken back down and now we're into Real Life, post-London.
We are glad to be back, but I will say that we miss our London life. I'm jumping in my SUV without a thought these days and I'm back in the iced tea and coffee habit. How soon they forget!
People ask me all the time about the trip and they always want to know what stood out. What was the best thing we saw or did? The answer to that is a funny one. We saw some of the greatest sights in England and we certainly hit every London hot spot. But what stands out in my memory are little things - moments, really - that won't mean much to people looking for guide book-style thoughts.
I miss walking in our neighborhood. The route we most often took to the grocery store was a favorite walk, a maze of streets with wrought iron gates, wide sidewalks and some funny names. (I always giggled when I crossed Lizard Street with its elegant sign.) I loved walking by the Britannia Pub and down the street past the Ironmonger Row Baths, a rather plain-looking but apparently high-class gym. There was often a Maserati parked in front, with lots of other luxury cars - Jaguars, Lexuses and the like. I loved walking by the window of the gym's laundry, getting a whiff of that clean laundry scent. And I enjoyed walking by that old-fashioned barber shop, Best Gents, where Keith got his one and only London haircut, at an amazing 10 pounds for a great cut.
Now I go grocery shopping in a blur, whizzing down the road, scarcely taking a look at anything but the car ahead of me and the two stoplights along the way. In England, I slowed down and really looked around me. And I liked it.
I miss hearing people talk. On the bus, on the tube, in shops - I loved all the variations on an English accent I'd hear. I loved picking up interesting phrases - one that stands out is "sick as a parrot." (And we thought it was "sick as a dog"!) It was fun to buy a newspaper and get a "Cheers" back from the street vendor. And I miss the hustle-and-bustle of London life. Yesterday I worked at home all day - I saw Keith before he left for school, Mocha hung around me all day and I saw Keith when he came home. My neighborhood looks like a ghost town since the cold snap hit - you do see cars on the street but they pull into the garage before you see the actual humans driving them.
I miss the ritual of tea and the fact that a warm cup is available everywhere, with the caramely sweetness of Demarara sugar swirled into it.
I miss the majestic Thames and the Embankment walk alongside it. I loved to walk down Embankment in late afternoon, watching the sun set over the water and seeing the Houses of Parliament across the way. I miss walking through the quiet parks and Leicester Square teeming with every kind of humanity you can possibly see.
I treasure everything about those months in London. I told Keith the other day that I think the coolest thing about me is that I lived in London in 2008. Remember that - I am cool.

Back in the USA

We're back.
A lot of this week I've thought about exactly what I was doing a week ago and I'm doing so with a little bit of sadness and lot of fond remembrance. We had one terrific journey.
Let me tell you a little about coming back. What an ordeal! The coach picked us up at the flat at 7:40 a.m. We had done most of our packing early in the week but what came over nicely in four checked bags and four carry-ons had morphed into five checked bags and five carry-ons. Could it have been the 12 Christmas ornaments I bought - all breakable, of course? The souvenirs and gifts for friends and family? A few books we picked up along the way?
You should have seen us. Keith would step on the scale for a starting weight, then lift up a suitcase. I would crawl down under the suitcase to read the scale upside down. We shifted items from suitcase to suitcase. No matter how much shifting and sifting we did, we were facing some fees.
At the airport, the lines were snaking around all over the place - apparently the baggage conveyor belt had broken and that was causing huge delays. When we finally got to check in, our patience was rewarded with an angel at the counter. All but one of our bags exceeded the weight limit and we had an extra to boot - but she only charged us $50. We were thrilled!
The flight home was a piece of cake for me. I slept from the time I sat down to about an hour before we landed. I always sleep on planes - lucky for me.
Our wonderful friend Rhonda picked us up in her huge van, which was good because we had all that luggage ... and we had a dog to pick up on the way home!
When we walked in the door at Randi's, Mocha was joyous. He seemed a little overwhelmed so he really focused on Keith. Randi gave us such a wonderful gift - she had a hardback book made full of the photos she took of Mocha while we were gone. It's titled "The Adventures of Mocha." What a keepsake!
The first thing that hit me when I got home was how warm and cozy our house looked, as opposed to the stark white and blonde wood floors in the flat. We slept so well - our bed was incredible. And doing laundry was a pleasure!
Our first big culture shock came on a trip to Harris Teeter on Sunday night - all the choices! 100 salad dressings instead of three. 30 types of mustard instead of one. Hardly any prepared food.
So, we're back to normal life - putting up a Christmas tree, cooking and cleaning, working and driving again.
I have several more blogs to post, so keep checking!

Last Day

Today is our last full day in London, and it was a perfect one, complete with a few snow flurries, long walks in some favorite spots, dinner at the best restaurant in London (in our humble opinion!), a couple of museum stops and some impromptu squirrel feeding.

Both of us had to work this morning so work complete, we set out with purpose around noon. We had a lot to cram into a few hours. First stop: the British Museum, where we checked out two new exhibits, one on clocks and time and the other on money.

Keith loves watches, so he really enjoyed going back in time (pardon the pun) to see how clock-making began. We saw so many different clocks - very ornate ones made by the most painstaking of British clockmakers. At first, only royalty and the very wealthy had clocks in their homes. Many of them were so large they would only fit in a palace!

Across the way, we walked through the history of money, looking at coins that were 2,500 years old all the way up to debit cards and other plastic from the modern era. One Greek coin was bigger than a medallion - try putting that huge piece in a vending machine!

From there, we walked down to Westminster and into St. James's Park, which I wrote about yesterday. It's truly one of the most beautiful spaces in all of London. There's a lake there, and a bridge that gives you a couple of the best views in London. Wildlife abounds in this park - all kinds of waterfowl, birds and squirrels. Both the big ducks and squirrels will come right up and eat from your hand. One of the squirrels ran up my leg to get a tiny piece of peanut. They're not greedy in the least - they're quite happy to take one piece, jump down and chew it. I had so much fun with those sweet tame squirrels.

From St. James's, we walked across the road and down by Clarence House, the smaller palace that's home to Charles and Camilla, then up Queen's Walk through Green Park. It's a smaller park, but very pretty.

Our next stop was the National Gallery, which is a must-see for anyone who comes to London. First, it's free. Second, it has some of greatest art treasures you'll ever see. I love to look at paintings from the 1400 and 1500s - it amazes me that I am seeing something so beautiful that was an artistic vision 500 or 600 years ago. You could spend all day - and then some - at the Gallery. We stayed until closing time. It's hard to leave on your own.

The National Gallery sits on Trafalgar Square, which is one of Keith's favorite places in the world. Mine too - especially during the Christmas season. A huge Christmas tree is placed there - a gift from Norway as a thank you for Britain's help during World War II. At nightfall, choirs gather in front of the tree and sing holiday songs. It's hard for me to keep a dry eye as I watch that incredible sight.

Our night was capped at DaMario's, a restaurant we have come to love here in London. It's in Covent Garden on Endell Street. It is a tiny restaurant where all the pasta is housemade and the service is kind and caring. Our friends, the Drysdales, steered us there, and we love it as much as they do. In fact, last week they told us they'd just returned from Rome and they found no restaurant there as good as DaMario. Tonight, Keith got casarecci with meatballs and I got my usual - ravioli with spinach in brown butter and sage sauce. It was the perfect "last meal" in London.

So our night ended early - we were home by a little after 9 p.m. We got a chance to ride the Tube and bus "one last time" and see twinkling lights on our high street for the last time this festive season.

I'll sign off now - we have suitcases to weigh and lots to do before 7:30 a.m. Wish us happy and safe travels. About 24 hours from now, God willing, our feet are back on North Carolina soil.

Going Underground with Churchill

When I was in school, World War II definitely got short shrift. In American History classes, we'd start off strong with Jamestown, the Pilgrims and the Revolutionary War and spend a lot of time on the Civil War. The Industrial Revolution was good for a week or two. By the end of the school year, we talked a little about World War I and very little about World War II. It was pretty much: "We were the good guys, the Germans, Japanese and Italians were the bad guys. Ask your parents about the rest."
You see, I was part of the generation where all the dads were in the war and all the moms remembered rationing.
So when it comes to World War II, I'm fascinated. And I have learned a lot about both wars while here in London, visiting museums. London - and the Brits - withstood an awful lot.
Today I visited the underground nerve center for the British forces in World War II - the Cabinet War Rooms. It's a fascinating self-guided tour, showing the room where Prime Minister Winston Churchill met with his war cabinet as well as radio rooms, sleeping rooms, map rooms and even a fully functional kitchen. The men directing Britain's part in the war stayed underground for six years - during the Blitz, while London was bombed night and day by the Germans, the Cabinet were underground, with six feet of concrete between them and the building above.
Churchill had a bedroom - a simple single bed with his cigars nearby and maps covering the walls - but he rarely slept in it at night. He was known to nap there for an hour most afternoons. Another perk of being prime minister: He had access to the only underground flushing toilet. The others ... well, made other arrangements.
It was interesting to hear video clips - of Churchill's famous speeeches and of a phone call between Churchill and brand-new U.S. President Harry Truman.
On an even lower floor, typists, secretaries and non-officer personnel were provided cots in which to sleep. Rats were a problem in those lower rooms and there was no privacy and little contact with the outside. A sign hung on the wall, telling the workers in the war rooms what the weather was like outside.
On V-J Day, when the war finally ended, workers walked out and left the rooms as they were - and that's how you see the rooms today. Original paint, original furniture.
When I walked out of the war rooms and up the stairs to ground level, it was barely still light outside. It's getting darker much earlier - it was about 3:45 p.m. when I came out, and it's cold today.
Still, I couldn't resist crossing the street to take a stroll through St. James's Park. It's so beautiful - this oasis of nature a stone's throw from the Houses of Parliament. As I walked down the path, big hungry ducks and cygnets came close to me, hoping for a treat. I wish I'd had something to throw at them.
I ended up coming out of the park, walking through Admiralty Arch and straight to Costa Coffee, where I drank a big cup of tea to ward off the chill. One more day.

The End of the Blog?

Forty-eight hours from this very moment, we'll be gliding (I hope) into the air above Gatwick Airport, on our way back to the USA.
Does that mean the blog will go away?
We still have a lot of London adventures to share. Sometimes in the day to day, we couldn't find time to get them all down. So, once we get home and sort all the photos out, expect to see some more posts here on And Blog's Your Uncle.
We hope that our blog can be a guide to people who plan to visit London, and to that end, we're planning to compile a list of our favorite things to do and places to eat and shop.
So keep checking. It's hard to keep us quiet. I guess you can take the bloggers out of London, but you can't take London out of the blog.

I Coulda Been A Stalker

I'm a Beatles fan, so it goes without saying that I'm a fan of Paul McCartney - or Sir Paul, as he is known here in the UK. I loved him as a Beatle and if he never did anything after writing "All My Lovin'," that would be enough. But for more than 45 years, he's been making great music. And let's face it, he is absolutely the cutest 66-year-old guy around.
Paul has a farm in Scotland but when he's in London - which is a lot of the time - he lives in the same house he's lived in since the mid-'60s. It's on Cavendish Avenue, in the St. John's Wood area, a couple of streets over from Abbey Road.
When you get off the Tube at St. John's Wood, there's a little Beatles memorabilia shop, so you know you're in the right area for Beatle spotting. Ringo lives in LA now, John and George are gone, so the one you're going to see is Paul.
St John's Wood is a well-heeled area and there's an American school there, so there are a number of ex-pat families living there, including our friends, the Drysdales. Over dinner Saturday night, they told us that Paul sighting are quite common in the neighborhood. He's lived there for most of his adult life - and if you'll pardon the pun - people around there just let him be.
It's well-known in St. John's Wood that Paul goes to Panzer's Deli just about every morning at 7:45 a.m. The man loves his bagels.
Would I like to actually see Paul McCartney? Yes, definitely. Would I walk up, say hello, ask for his autograph, take his picture? Absolutely not.
I've always had a "thing" about celebrities. I can admire their work, but in the end, I think they're just people. Playing the music is good enough for me.
Plus, to actually stake out Paul at Panzer's, I'd have to take one bus and make three Tube changes - during rush hour - to get up there by 7:45 a.m.
I love "Jet," "Michelle," "Hey Jude," "Yesterday," and "Let It Be," but I guess not enough to stalk the man while he's picking up his morning bagel.

An Old Tiger and a Cold War

( Keith here. In the interest of ethical blogging, I'll reveal that this entry is one that we should have done some time ago, but just haven't gotten around to it. Our time here is running short, and we felt like we finally had to get this one in.)
There are lots of wonderful museums in London, and it's impossible to get to all of them. But one that we wanted to make sure we visited this time, because we hadn't returned since our first trip here late in 2000, was the Victoria & Albert Museum.
Located in the South Kensington area, it's named, of course, for Queen Victoria and her beloved Prince Albert, who dedicated it when it was founded in 1851 as the Museum of Manufactures. It's been the Victoria & Albert Museum since 1899, when the Queen made one of her last public appearances at the dedication and naming of the current building.
The "V&A" as it's called, isn't as big as the massive British Museum, but it has a collection that rivals its better-known competitor, with 80 miles of corridors. It is one of the best places in the world to see the history of applied arts -- ceramics, glass, textiles (including some fascinating clothing exhibits), ironwork, sculpture, prints and photographs.
The scope of the museum makes it hard to cover everything that's there, but we'll show you one of our favorite pieces -- a statue from India that dates from around the 1790s called "Tippoo's Tiger." Jayne remembered it well enough from our first visit to make a beeline right to it when we started looking at the main collection.
The wooden statue, which belonged to the Indian ruler Tipu Sultan, depicts a tiger devouring a helpless Western soldier, probably British. Inside the tiger is a metal organ which makes noises that simulate the roar of the animal and the shrieks of his victim. Fun stuff.
In addition to being a neat piece of artwork, the statue is a commentary on Great Britain's status then as an imperial power, which was not always well-received by the countries the Brits invited themselves to. (One of my students this semester interviewed some folks in front of the British Museum who observed that museums in their native country, Australia, didn't have anything like the antiquities you find in museums here. "That's because we don't go to other countries plundering their things," they added, not in a complimentary way.)
But the main attraction for our visit this time was not the ancient stuff. One of the special collections at the V&A this fall has been entitled "Cold War Modern Design, 1945-1970." As we have noted previously, we've both become interested in this period of history and how the design of things reflected the conflicts that were going on in the world at the time. See our previous entries on the Atomium and the 1958 World's Fair from our trip to Brussels and the boxy Communist-era buildings we saw in Budapest.
The exhibit covered these things and much more -- lots of exhibits of plastic furniture and clothing and some interesting building plans, some that became reality and some that didn't. One of the more quirky was some drawings by the great French architect Le Corbusier of a plan for an Olympic Stadium in Baghdad, in anticipation of a bid by Iraq for the 1960 Games which didn't quite happen. Reminded me a little of Beijing's "Birds Nest" Olympic stadium.
So it was appropriate that to top off our day, as we left the Cold War retrospective, we set out for that triumph of Western capitalism and design, the supermarket. Tesco, Great Britain's largest grocery store chain, has what to us is the closest thing we've seen to an American-style supermarket out on Cromwell Road, reachable from the V&A by a bus ride and a few blocks' walk. Two floors, rest rooms, a Costa Coffee cafe and a car park. Lots of different brands, good quantities of items. No waiting in endless lines for drab merchandise. We grabbed a few things, paid up and headed for home, glad that that old Cold War turned out the way it did.
A RANDOM NOTE: We had one of those "small world" encounters tonight. We've blogged previously about the huge new Westfield mall that opened at the end of October. We had a shopping errand to do out there tonight and decided to have dinner at a restaurant called The Real Greek. It turned into quite a feast -- we haven't had much grilled meat here this fall and we had some tender skewers of chicken, pork and lamb with some tasty accompaniments.
Our waiter was a pleasant young man who made note of the fact at the end of our meal that we didn't seem to be English. Oddly enough, he could tell by our accents! And he began to list some places in the U.S. that he had lived while he worked with the Royal Caribbean cruise line and was a waiter on a ship called the Radiance of the Seas.
That was the ship on which Jayne and I took a wonderful Alaska cruise in the summer of 2003. Our waiter's job, as it turns out, was in the Chops steak house on that ship, a place where Jayne and I spent a very relaxing evening the night our ship left Juneau. And further, it turns out he was on that very same cruise -- which we all remembered for the fact that, early on our last day at sea, the Radiance rescued four fishermen whose boat had capsized in the choppy Pacific Ocean waters.
Just one more in a series of memorable moments that have made up this unforgettable experience. And if you're ever in London, definitely stop in at The Real Greek. It's the real thing.