Merrie Olde England 2- Arrived!

Richard says he’ll catch up later. Meanwhile, I get to do this blog entry all by myself.

SHE SAYS:

We arrived in London at 7 AM on Wednesday, 2 AM Ottawa time. The original plan was for us to check in to our hotel and sleep for a few hours before we explored London, but it was a warm, sunny morning, and London was calling, so we decided to start exploring right away and worry about sleep later.

If you’ve ever seen ”Oliver”, you’ll remember Oliver Twist’s first morning at his uncle’s home. After the terrible orphanage and the appalling slum house where he lived with Fagan and the other pick-pockets, this house seems to be the symbol of a wonderful new life for Oliver. As soon as he gets up, he steps out on to a balcony overlooking a beautiful London square. White houses, all with black trim, line both sides, and running down the centre is a beautiful park with trees and flowers and the occasional park bench. Down below in the street, tradespeople are calling out their wares: ripe strawberries, baskets of flowers, and trays of freshly baked bread. Housekeepers come to the doorways to buy, the gentlemen of the house are heading off to the office, everyone is perfectly choreographed, and Oliver, of course, bursts into song. Wouldn’t everyone? Maybe not, but it seems that I would.

Our hotel is on a square that could easily have been used for the set of that film, and every time we head off on another adventure, whatever the time of day or night, I find myself humming Oliver’s song “Who will buy this wonderful morning….” Hokey and annoying, even to me, so imagine how tough it is on poor Richard, who didn’t even enjoy the movie the first time around and knows from bitter experience that my singing voice doesn't improve with use.

We are just around the corner from Paddington Station, about a five minute walk from Hyde Park. That first morning we walked through the park to Marble Arch and Speakers’ Corner, joining the joggers and horseback riders and tourists, and marvelling at the contrast between the bumper-to-bumper traffic on one side and the serene park on the other. We walked for a couple of hours before dragging ourselves back to the hotel to sleep until late afternoon.

Dinner was fish and chips-perfect for our first night in England! The shop was crowded with people standing in line for their “take-away” dinners. The gigantic fish pieces were crisp, the chips were perfect, the mushy peas were appropriately mushy, the beer was good, and Richard looked around and said, “It can’t get any more British than this!”

And if you ignored the fact that Elvis music was blaring over the sound system and the cooks behind the counter were speaking in Arabic, he was right.