The presence of close family, ubiquitous spoken English, modern buildings and the rootedness of eight full days…Britain seemed familiar. It was nice to see Ida so much; I hadn’t shared a room with her in fifteen years. Without the constant interruption of her cell phone, the whole dynamic changes—she didn’t scurry away, spur of the moment, to talk to her friends for 30 minutes.
We spent as much time at restaurants with Mom, Ida and Jeff as sightseeing, and I mean that in a very good way. It was great to talk to them. And Mom and Jeff were super-generous, covering our hotel, and many meals and sights—no easy feat when everything is double-price. Here’s an idea of how expensive London is: used a credit card to pay for one, one-way, intra-downtown Tube ticket; got billed by Chase for $10.68. Granted, that’s the extreme example, but we still can’t wait to return to Chicago, where we’ll never need to double or three-half prices.
Our hotel was near the other Hyde Park. Saw a show on our telly called “Can fat teens hunt?” The answer is yes.
Big Ben was smaller than I imagined; for Annalise it was bigger. Thanks to TV and photos, so much of sightseeing is just 3Dseeing (especially for places that you can’t go into). Westminster and St. Paul’s were very expensive, the museums were free. Jesus would be speechless. The pubs were disappointing. No chimney sweeps, or even monopoly men with monocles. Pure Baltic Avenue, really. Most closed at 11:30, and many beers were watered down. And British beers, when not transformed into sink water, aren’t all that great anyway, at least not compared to where we’ve come from.
Oh, I’m just nackered from taking the mickey while bonking a bloke’s fish fingers.
In less than 24 hours we’ll be in a new apartment, with our own loo. Until then, mind the gap.
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