Luvin' London
Turned out it wasn’t a big deal - but only because we cheated. Leaving Leicester Square in London 45 minutes before our train was due to depart for Cardiff was reasonable and I’m a reasonable guy. The train left Paddington Station at 8:15 so we lingered with our wine ‘til 7:30 then jumped on the tube. The wrong tube. It took us one station away so backtracking was in order. Back one: “Which platform?”, “Number 2, sir”. Seems there’s two trains leaving from there, guess which one we got on. One more switch put us on the right train to Paddington but the clock was ticking. “I’ll take Luka and run for the bags, you find the platform and find us at platform 12”.
The doors opened and Luka and I ran and godblesshim he kept up. The baggage attendant was on the phone: “My train’s leaving!” as I waved the luggage tag. “That’s 19 pounds fifty, sir” and went to get the bags with a hop. I dropped twenty when he returned and didn’t look for change. Deb met us twenty feet from the door: “We missed it”, “What?!?” “It’s 8:16” “NOOOOOOOO!!!”
So we’re in Paddington, London miles and hours from home. Deb’s got to work in the morning, Luka’s got school and our tickets aren’t worth shit. It takes about ten minutes for all of this to sink in. I slowly regain my senses and walk to a ticket booth:” When’s the next train to Cardiff?” “9:15, sir”. “I missed my train. How much is a ticket?” “Did you buy it in advance?” “Yeah” “It’s not transferable, sorry, one adult is 56 pounds” “How much for two adults and one child?” “Do you have a rail card?” Well we know the answer to that one... “If you buy a card for 24 pounds, the total price will be 108 pounds”. Seven months after leaving Vancouver I’m still counting my money in dollars; this is a $275 hit for something I’ve already paid for.
Now I’m pissed.
“Well nobody checked my ticket when I came from Cardiff”, says Deb. But the trains in London have gates controlled by the tickets and you can’t get onto the platform without one. “Well maybe these’ll work”, says she but if they don’t we’re doubly screwed. The platform for departure isn’t announced ‘til a few minutes before the train leaves, maybe to foil the would-be sneakers. If the tickets we held didn’t let us onto the platform
there wouldn’t be enough time to buy fresh tix.
“What do you want to do?” “Let’s wait and try”
At 9:05 the screen announces platform 2 and we move with the crowd. Sumbitch it works! Now there’s just the guy on the train with the holepuncher and the washroom’s too small for three of us. I hide on my own. OK, not my proudest moment but when I return he’s gone and Deb’s still there. With a finger to her lips I’m advised not to say anything, he’s still in the vicinity. I’ll find out later why we’re getting a free trip home.
So we’ve been in London this weekend as it’s Commonwealth Day and the exchange teachers have been invited to celebrate with the Queen at Westminster Abby. Luka and I get to tag along with the other 999 hangers-on and as She parades past I get a glimpse of a pink bonnet between the heads. The ceremony, in keeping with the 33 year old tradition, is centered on the environment and is as magnificent as the setting. All the countries of the Commonwealth as well as all major religions are represented. All have something to say. Some, like the Maori’s and the African children, have something to sing.
The guy with the flute got me misty
(he was SO effing good!) and the sight of the Canadian flag made me proud.
I’d caught up with Deb n’ Luka at my cousin’s in Greenwich on Sunday as I’d had to work Saturday. She’d left on Friday. When we weren’t hanging with the Queen we took in the other sights like the British museum and Spitalfield market. This is our third time here and I’m a long way from bored. London is an amazing city with a treasure trove of artifacts the empire looted from around the world and brought home to show the citizens what they were doing with their tax dollars. The residue of those heady days are the ornate buildings (like the Abby) and as London’s a major source of commerce it has attracted millions of people.
It’s vibrant, sassy and expensive.
But not so expensive for us, not this time. The train tix we didn’t replace were bought on the cheap a month prior. We stayed gratis at Cousin Roisin’s (thanx guys!) who also provided food and companionship when we weren’t out and about. Museums are free. A one day pass on the tube (we used it a lot) was five pounds, Luka was free. A restaurant we recharged at was 35 pounds (‘bout $75) for dry chicken with fries and a steak salad. The only other major expense was getting our bags watched at the train station. They don’t have lockers anymore
(darn terrorists) so leaving a bag means having it x-rayed and held at a service that charges seven pounds per bag; we had three.
Ah well, I’m on this train for nuthin’ and will be home in a few minutes. Good, I’m beat and the wine we lingered on is wearing off.
I want to go to bed.
Loving London's look.
The doors opened and Luka and I ran and godblesshim he kept up. The baggage attendant was on the phone: “My train’s leaving!” as I waved the luggage tag. “That’s 19 pounds fifty, sir” and went to get the bags with a hop. I dropped twenty when he returned and didn’t look for change. Deb met us twenty feet from the door: “We missed it”, “What?!?” “It’s 8:16” “NOOOOOOOO!!!”
So we’re in Paddington, London miles and hours from home. Deb’s got to work in the morning, Luka’s got school and our tickets aren’t worth shit. It takes about ten minutes for all of this to sink in. I slowly regain my senses and walk to a ticket booth:” When’s the next train to Cardiff?” “9:15, sir”. “I missed my train. How much is a ticket?” “Did you buy it in advance?” “Yeah” “It’s not transferable, sorry, one adult is 56 pounds” “How much for two adults and one child?” “Do you have a rail card?” Well we know the answer to that one... “If you buy a card for 24 pounds, the total price will be 108 pounds”. Seven months after leaving Vancouver I’m still counting my money in dollars; this is a $275 hit for something I’ve already paid for.
Now I’m pissed.
“Well nobody checked my ticket when I came from Cardiff”, says Deb. But the trains in London have gates controlled by the tickets and you can’t get onto the platform without one. “Well maybe these’ll work”, says she but if they don’t we’re doubly screwed. The platform for departure isn’t announced ‘til a few minutes before the train leaves, maybe to foil the would-be sneakers. If the tickets we held didn’t let us onto the platform
there wouldn’t be enough time to buy fresh tix.
“What do you want to do?” “Let’s wait and try”
At 9:05 the screen announces platform 2 and we move with the crowd. Sumbitch it works! Now there’s just the guy on the train with the holepuncher and the washroom’s too small for three of us. I hide on my own. OK, not my proudest moment but when I return he’s gone and Deb’s still there. With a finger to her lips I’m advised not to say anything, he’s still in the vicinity. I’ll find out later why we’re getting a free trip home.
So we’ve been in London this weekend as it’s Commonwealth Day and the exchange teachers have been invited to celebrate with the Queen at Westminster Abby. Luka and I get to tag along with the other 999 hangers-on and as She parades past I get a glimpse of a pink bonnet between the heads. The ceremony, in keeping with the 33 year old tradition, is centered on the environment and is as magnificent as the setting. All the countries of the Commonwealth as well as all major religions are represented. All have something to say. Some, like the Maori’s and the African children, have something to sing.
The guy with the flute got me misty
(he was SO effing good!) and the sight of the Canadian flag made me proud.
I’d caught up with Deb n’ Luka at my cousin’s in Greenwich on Sunday as I’d had to work Saturday. She’d left on Friday. When we weren’t hanging with the Queen we took in the other sights like the British museum and Spitalfield market. This is our third time here and I’m a long way from bored. London is an amazing city with a treasure trove of artifacts the empire looted from around the world and brought home to show the citizens what they were doing with their tax dollars. The residue of those heady days are the ornate buildings (like the Abby) and as London’s a major source of commerce it has attracted millions of people.
It’s vibrant, sassy and expensive.
But not so expensive for us, not this time. The train tix we didn’t replace were bought on the cheap a month prior. We stayed gratis at Cousin Roisin’s (thanx guys!) who also provided food and companionship when we weren’t out and about. Museums are free. A one day pass on the tube (we used it a lot) was five pounds, Luka was free. A restaurant we recharged at was 35 pounds (‘bout $75) for dry chicken with fries and a steak salad. The only other major expense was getting our bags watched at the train station. They don’t have lockers anymore
(darn terrorists) so leaving a bag means having it x-rayed and held at a service that charges seven pounds per bag; we had three.
Ah well, I’m on this train for nuthin’ and will be home in a few minutes. Good, I’m beat and the wine we lingered on is wearing off.
I want to go to bed.
Loving London's look.
The Gherkin's ready for takeoff.
That's Freddy Mercury. I saw the musical "We Will Rock You" the last time we were in London and it was fantastic. No wonder it's still selling out after six years.
I think it's art.
The Rosetta stone
This is kinda creepy. This guy died over two thousand years ago. And he's still cold.posted by John | 12:57 pm
1 Comments:
Pictures are great John...and as usual your writing kept me in suspense..."will they make it home on time? and if so at what cost"? You do like to live on the edge and pack 25 into 24. Kinda sounds like me a bit.
Deb & Luka must have been exhausted yesterday...that was one heckuva weekend. Love, H.
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