It is sort of weird isn’t it that you can wave goodbye to the White Cliffs of Dover and a few minutes later have to be singing
Allons enfants de la patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arriv
Contre nous de la tyrannie
L’tendard sanglant est lev
Entendez vous dans les campagnes,
Mugir ces froces soldats
Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras
Egorger nos fils, nos compagnes!
At 20000 feet, one minute the green fields of the mother country, the next the slightly browner fields of the French countryside. It takes about 8 hours to swim (if you are superhuman) the channel and what seems like a few minutes to fly over.
Our flight from the US was tiring. A bit too short to be easy. By the time you get up in the air it is only about four hours before they are trying to organise everyone for landing. Arrived into London at 9 and both felt really queasy. Not real sure what was happening over the Atlantic but boy did that plane bump around. A strong tail wind had us arrive about 45 minutes early. From the glitz of New York, to the staid but very cultured Smithsonians, and now the somewhat comforting sign of red buses, London cabs and young English lads standing outside ye olde English taverns with the obligatory pint of ale.
We decided that the tube was the easiest as had booked into a hotel in Covent Garden/Bloomsbury. I did think of Henrietta as we walked up High Holborn. My third great grandmother Henrietta Harriet Haywood was born on the 7 February 1826 and christened in St Marylebone Christ Church in London. On the 12th of June 1843 she was convicted at the Old Bailey of stealing, 10 cigar-cases, value 3s.; 3 tobacco-pipes, 1s.; 3 pipe-bowls, 9d.; 2 snuff-boxes, 8d.; 34 cigars, 2s. 6d.; 1 umbrella, 1s.; 3 ounces of snuff, 9d.; 1 cup, 3d.; 1 saucer, 3d.; 21 cards, 3d.; 3 cigar-tubes, 1s.; 2 snuff-boxes, 9d.; 1 walking-stick, 9d.; and 1 pound of tobacco, 4s. 6d. Now, one can only assume the black market existed at the time for tobacco products, otherwise my grandmother a few generations back had a large nicotine habit. If so, she had better lungs than me! Although in London, one can always imagine why one would need to steal an umbrella. She was a servant of Solomon Phillips, a tobacconist who lived in a grand house in High Holborn and 170 years later her direct descendants are booking into a swish hotel a few doors up in one of the loveliest parts of London. We had arrived in London via the US from Bendigo and my grandmother ended up in Bendigo via the convict ship the Woodbridge and a stint in Van Dieman’s land.
We wandered a bit but then the awful waves of tiredness just wouldn’t let us stay standing any longer. A long sleep and then mugs of good English restorative tea and felt somewhat revived. I don’t know what they do with their tea but even good old builders tea seems to taste better in the English air or should I say damn freezing air. Oh my goodness, it was so damn cold. Lydia turned blue and I had to drink a good Chianti to warm up. Well the Brits might deal with the cold by way of keeping calm and carrying on but we followed the adage keep calm and hakuna matata. Simba was fantastic and the costumes and color of the performance spectacular against the gorgeous interior of the Lyceum. I have now switched from Dancing Queen to a bit of Elton and the Circle of Life. The Lyceum is currently home to the Lion King but is a stunning 1834 late baroque, rococo styled building in Wellington Street off the Strand. The ceiling is covered in wonderful flamboyant carvings and you feel like you should be dressed in ball gowns, gloves and diamonds rather that slightly travel weary trousers and walking shoes.
After a proper English breakfast and more builders’ tea, we peaked outside wrapped up like Michelin tyre men in coats, scarves, and numerous layers, but the English had turned on the weather for the colonials. Spectacular English sunshine.
Lizzie had lots of visitors when we called in and as the Queen’s Guard marched up the Mall I expected to see Paddington Bear following. I don’t know what it is but every time I see the Queen’s Guard with their bearskin hats I think of Paddington.
We visited Nelson and the lions. London was looking quite regal and restrained. Although maybe it just seemed so, as it was mid week, and the last time I was here there were Aussie flags draped all over the lions and our fellow countrymen were partying with Nelson. We caught the train to Oxford Street and a short whizz through Liberty. Caught up with Pip at the Kings Fund, a gorgeous building on Cavendish Square.
Back to the great hotel that we were staying at, with the most fantastic staff, and then, as always, the entertaining ride in the London cab. Today’s trivia was that there are about 65000 cabbies in London and it takes 3 to 5 years to get your licence. Our cabbie was a martial arts expert who liked doing the run from Heathrow so he could nick into the Marriott to use their gym between pick-ups. He lives near Cambridge and it often takes him longer to drive home than to drive to Belgium. He had been driving cabs for twelve years but still said he thought it was amazing he could drive into the tunnel and pop up in Belgium in 20 minutes. Well in the US you get educated in the subway, in the UK you just need to step into a London cab.
I am looking out the window at 35000 feet and can see huge peaks and snow fields that have probably only ever had Yeti wander over them. Sitting amongst the clouds I often expect to see Botticelli cherubs playing in the clouds, but as we fly over the Italian alps, I expect to see them with their golden bows and arrows chasing Yeti across the spectacularly snow capped peaks.
I do wonder whether this pilot trained with Goose and Maverick… One minute I can see the horizon, the next it feels like and looks like we are swinging between horizontal and vertical. I do hope my stomach settles down though as the voices around me remind me that our decisions about what to eat will be easy for the next few days … It is never too late, too early, too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry for gelato !!!
Sleeping under the stars 