Follow the travel diary of Val and Rosney (The Man) as they travel to the UK via Vancouver one way and San Francisco on the return trip. The self-drive ‘innocents abroad’ expedition was planned in celebration of The Man’s 70th birthday to walk in the footsteps of their ancestors.
I won’t say I fell in love with London from day one, as we were very time-lapsed. We’d been awake for 27 hours before we got to bed. We’d been told it would be easier if we adapted to sleep/eat at the new time zone. It worked and the next day we were all adapted, and I fell in love.
One of the first ports of call was the CBD and Harrods. I did not like Harrods. I did not like the class-orientated, snobby-opulence, I felt like a scabby-kneed urchin completely out of place. The Man was happy to walk around mocking the overpriced goodies, but it wasn’t for me. He suggested we should have lunch there so we could say we ‘ate at Harrods’, but one look at the prices and I was out the door. We found an old-fashioned café up the road, it was crowded but we squished in a corner and I fell in love again. This time with a long crusty bread roll, served with huge slabs of ripened goat-camembert cheese, finely shaved ham, with whole cranberry sauce. One bite and I was in goaty-cheese heaven – stuff Harrods!
I did have a pee in Harrods luxury loos. And shame on me. I didn’t tip the toilet attendant. We don’t have tipping in NZ and I never quite got the hang of it. The hotel in Vancouver have discovered my missing clothing – geeze wot a dodo!
Favourite places and things to do: Tower of London. Ferrying up and down the Thames. Covent Gardens. Hyde Park. Just walking, and walking . . .
We st
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Our week in London is nearly up – we organised train tickets for the journey to Salisbury, where we will stay the night and pick up a rental car before journeying on. London has been perfect in most respects; the main difficulty has been finding somewhere to eat in the evenings. All visions of relaxed dining in a real English Pub went by the wayside when come late afternoon the population of London appeared from the cracks in the masonry and flooded the streets, eating houses in particular. We found a delightful Turkish restaurant where there was an area put aside to smoke the hookah, and the indoors was like an Aladdin’s Cave. I loved it. We dined there for two nights (Yum), the second night they treated us to an authentic Turkish coffee, but the carnivore had a yearning for steak and kidney pie, and roast beef, and felt we should explore more of the eating scene, so we moved on. Not successfully I might add.
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Our big suitcase died on the walk to Waterloo Station (broken back, and its wheels wouldn’t turn), it near killed The Man having to haul it up the considerable steps to the railway platform, no elevator in sight, and no one offered to help. The train left for Salisbury right on time, and the on-board entertainment was a group of women going to visit a ‘friend’ who was dying. I’m sure by the way they were loudly going on, and their disparaging attitude she wouldn’t be delighted to see them.
To be continued….
By Val Bird