Another summer is upon us and we want to make the most of the years we have left to travel – and occasionally, to hobble – our way around the world.
Yet this year will be differently structured than the past when we’d make it up as we go, and book ahead when we felt like moving on. But now there’s lots of ‘revenge travel’ underway, and those easy bookings of the past may not be available. It’s a revenge that seems to be shared by those fortunate to survive the COVID virus.
Or as Robert Herrick said so well back in 1648:
Gather ye Rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to day,
To morrow will be dying.
So this time Carolyn actually booked everything well in advance of our four months of wandering in the UK and Europe. And that was a lot of work on her part.
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A side note:
So just how do we wander around the UK and Europe for four months anyway? Are we like, rich or something? No, we’re not. For two people with a modest retirement and our Social Security, we’re actually below the US median, according to the charts I’ve found. But that modest income also ranks us very high compared to world averages. We have an older reliable vehicle, no house payment, and live in Mexico where our pesos go much further. And while in the UK and Europe we travel by train and don’t hang out in 4- and 5-star hotels or restaurants. Sure, we splurge now and then, but it’s not the norm.
It wouldn’t work for everybody, but it works fine for us. In fact, it usually gets us out of the tourist zone and closer to the local people, and to the local stores and the good places where the locals eat.
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Another aspect of the trip is that under the Schengen Agreement (signed in Schengen, Luxembourg, 1985/1990), non–EU citizens are only allowed a 90 day stay in the Schengen Area without a visa. So we’d be spending part of the first month traveling in the UK before hopping a short flight to the continent, from Edinburgh to Amsterdam. (Perry carefully planned the itinerary to make sure we wouldn’t violate any of the rules, and that was a lot of work on his part.)
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We left the beautiful sculptural summer clouds of New Mexico behind, to change planes in Atlanta, and then to get as comfortable as we could manage on a big transAtlantic overnight bird heading for London.
After landing at Heathrow Terminal 5 we quickly gathered a fistful of Pounds Sterling from an ATM to be ready for whatever lies ahead. Although it’s more common these days in the UK and Europe to charge everything, I like to have a bit of ‘foldin’ money’ in my jeans. I was a bit surprised to see the Queen is still on all the bills I got (few Charleys yet!), although she passed away in 2022. But I guess it takes time to make a full transition to the current occupant of the Throne, King Charles III. And the ‘Queenies’ are still good as gold, or whatever alloy is currently supporting the world’s currencies. (Shown on the reverse are Churchill, Jane Austen, and the artist, J M W Turner.)
Then we followed a trail of signs to the Heathrow Express non-stop train to Paddington Station in central London. (The new Elizabeth Line is a less expensive option from Heathrow but it makes a number of stops before Paddington.) Then we rolled our bags to the Underground station and sped onward to find our booking in London’s hilly neighborhood of West Hampstead, Camden.
It had been a long un-restful night and day of travel, and our cosy apartment was a welcome crash pad with a good backyard view. A much needed nap was first on order.
We were just a few blocks from a metro station for easy access to central London. And in a modest neighborhood of flowers, townhomes and good little eateries. While we hadn’t paid a premium for some kind of garden apartment, it was certainly nice enough for a five-night stay.
Whilst in search of a good neighborhood pub, we found the very welcoming Alice House. We nestled in easily amongst the locals with two tall drafts and a hearty meat pie on the table to share. Just above our heads a Premier League game was on the telly, and all was good.
But the summer sun is late to set in the higher latitudes of the UK, and it was still very bright outside. So after our very fine pub grub we went in search of some local music venue, and found another local pub called The West Hampstead Arts Club. We ordered our drinks upstairs and were directed to the basement where we got the only corner table and listened as the opening guy worked with the sound tech. Soon the space was filled with the evening’s standing crowd. Our only view was a reflection in framed poster art pieces along the side wall, but the music was good. And hey, we were hanging out at a cool little dive in NW London, and life is good.
In the morning light the coffee beckoned and there was a sweet little shop nearby with strong java and a view onto West Hampstead street life just outside the window. I read a bit of news about the looming election, which was projected to be a well-deserved disaster for the flailing Tory party (and it was), and a welcome change from the shenanigans wrought by Boris Johnson and his crowd. (After the Tories lost, they vacated number 10 Downing Street on the following day, according to tradition, and the Labour Party moved in. There’s none of this US nonsense of trailing off for several months of lame-duckism.)
After being suitably caffeine reenforced, we explored the neighborhood – and dodged cars driving on the wrong side of the street. The many quaint sights of the UK are always a delight.
Soon we were aboard the Underground and heading to the Goodge Street station, (with the memory of “Sunny Goodge Street” by Judy Collins ringing in our ears) for a visit to the venerable British Museum. And there we joined the long line of visitors (almost 6 million per year) awaiting entry to the first public national museum in the world, established in 1753, and dedicated to cover all fields of knowledge. It’s a special treat to enter through those stately columns.
There are far more of the world’s treasures here (the Elgin Marbles, the Rosetta Stone) than any person can see in a day, or several. But we got another general taste of things and will return again some day. Another issue for us is the advent of ‘museum legs’ after only a few hours, due to our aging joints. So it’s become harder to endure long shuffling days.
(And while we usually enjoy a bit of lunch in the outstanding cafes we find in many museums, this one is more of a gourmet fast food operation with seating on benches.)
I had to appreciate the relaxed attitude of the couple blithely seated on the old marble entry steps, just by the sign reading, “Do not sit on the steps.”
But we have theatre tickets for the evening and it’s time to go. We also need to grab some dinner before catching the play, and it’s just our luck to stumble (with canes in hand) into a place that bills itself as, “The Oldest licensed Premises in London.” Carolyn decides to have her rich dark Guinness imprinted, and we happily settle in for another round of fine pub grub. Meanwhile, a young lady shares her ample locks of hair with a balding chap at a nearby table. Hey, we’re very near the Theatre District and this sort of thing just happens.
Crossing bustling Leicester Square, in the West End Theatre District, we’re ready with tickets to see Agatha Christie’s 1952 play, The Mousetrap, – which even had Richard Attenborough in the original cast. It’s been playing continuously here in London, with more than 10 million attendees, for longer than most people are alive, and it’s time we saw it. The surprise ending is accompanied by a request for the audience not to reveal it.
And then, finally, it’s time to catch the late train, along with other sleepy late-nighters, bound for our quiet West Hampstead abode. It’s been a very good day.
Another morning finds us trying to recall which way to look for cars before crossing the street, and we’re glad for the helpful signs painted on the pavement. Today we’ll catch the Underground again on our way to the pedestrian-only Millennium Bridge over the Thames to the old power station that’s now the big Tate Modern museum.
There’s an expressionist exhibit in town that we’ve read about. This one features works from “Der Blaue Reiter,” the short-lived (1912-14) but influential ‘Blue Rider’ group of artists and composers who rejected Eurocentrism in favor of more world-based forms of art and music. The work of Gabriele Münter and Marianne von Werefkin, with their especially strong use of color, take center stage here.
And there’s Yoko Ono, who invites us to participate in her artistic visions and see what happens. The first art piece I’m confronted with is lying on the floor so that people can easily walk across it. Its title: “A Work to be Stepped.”
We live far from major museums and like to culture up when we hit the big city – until we get another case of ‘museum legs.’ And then we depart, canes firmly grasped, to find a local pub for a couple of tall rounds of anesthetic assistance.
We’re lucky that London has no dearth of fine places to grab a good nose-wet and an ample platter of sustenance. And many plates come with a cup of peas that is apparently required to call it a truly British dish. I’m glad I like peas.
And tonight we’ll catch Hamilton. There have been years of hype surrounding this play and we’re looking forward to the experience. Later, while we head back to West Hampstead on the night train, I will reflect that it was worth the wait.
In the past we’ve enjoyed such other West End productions as the comedic, Flying Karamazov Brothers (“They don’t fly, they’re not Russian, and they’re not brothers.”), and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead by Tom Stoppard. I even read the play, but I’m still scratching my head over that one. And I did fine with Waiting for Godot, another example of ’theater of the absurd.’ I suspect that Shakespeare only concocted those minor characters with such unlikely names as a bizarre laugh-line for the ending of Hamlet.
And so this almost-week has been a very good time to reacquaint ourselves with London where we did a lot of memorable things that this Dispatch-Diary may help us to remember in years to come.
But tomorrow there’s another adventure ahead, as we’ll catch a train north to the old Viking town of York. Please join us there for the next part of our 2024 UK-Euro wander. — PRW