Mad Dogs And Englishmen Out In The Midday Sun
We had read the forecast for today and knew we were in for a scorcher, especially by English standards! Receiving a free Thames ferry ride with our Big Red Bus ticket yesterday, we’d decided to go this morning. First things first though…breakfast! We dined at the Black Dog Pub, a cute little establishment in our leafy suburb, in easy walking distance from our flat. Molly had a Uni assignment due today so she decided to try and knock that out while we had brekky and we’d bring her something scrumptious back, from the takeaway menu. With a wall full of awards for culinary excellence, this little pub was a treat and our waitress had lived in Byron a Bay for 5 months so I think she liked us. The coffee was surprisingly good, unlike the cappuccino I’d had yesterday, with the waitress warning me before I’d even ventured my first sip, “it’s going to taste terrible. Sorry about that!” At least she was honest (& right!)
The ferry ride up the Thames was great and our guide, who had proudly been a river man all his life, as had his father and grandfather before him, made it lots of fun. He told us to wave at everyone on the bridges as we passed under them & recalled a funny story where someone threw a full McDonald’s (or Mickey D’s as they call it here) strawberry thick shake down onto the unsuspecting passengers below . Funniest thing he’d ever seen he reckons!
Disembarking the ferry we were all very warm indeed! We headed down to the Tower Of London for a brilliant tour from our friendly Beefeater, Clive. Clive was hilarious and thrilled us with tales of treachery, treason and bloody beheadings. I still find it hard to fathom that people would actually come out of the woodwork to bring their families up to Tower Hill to watch someone getting their head cut off! They’d cheer and whistle when the head was impaled on a pike and paraded for all to see. I can see how it would certainly act as a deterrent against treason but as for great family fun, I’m not so sure. It was mind-blowing to think that the very cobblestones we were treading had been walked on by Henry VIII, Ann Boleyn, William the Conqueror, Queen Elizabeth I and every other British royal for the past 800 years or so. EIGHT HUNDRED YEARS! Amazing! That many years of history is so exciting, especially since it involves our own ancestors. Such fascinating stuff! Clive told us that Ann Boleyn, who was brought before a court on trumped up charges of adultery, treason & plotting to kill the king due to her inability to produce a son for that demanding husband of hers, actually requested her own beheading. Henry must’ve been one hell of a husband!
Our brave beefeater also informed us that he and the 37 other beefeaters (and their families), make the Tower Of London their home. To qualify for this elite position, one must have served in the British armed forces for at least 22 years and achieved the rank of Sergeant Major. Quite an overqualified tour guide don’t you think? The “E II R” on his chest he told us stood for Extremely Romantic, twice a year, and he warned us of the trip hazard on the way to the chapel that people had literally been tripping over for hundreds of years! The Crown Jewels were there in all their glory, including the largest cut diamond in the world. Whatever you do, don’t compare it to your own, Clive warned us.
We walked across the iconic Tower Bridge and on to Borough Markets. The terror attacks have left a scar and people are still felling the affects of that awful event there a few weeks ago. Though there were apparently less stall holders than usual, there was still an impressive array of beautiful handmade goodies, delectable cheeses and fresh fruit and veges on offer. Molly loved it and sampled lots of wares. I was humming “cockles and muscles alive, alive-oh” as I strolled around seeing barrows full of seafood, all the while thinking of Eliza Doolittle and Molly Malone.
We found a great spot for paella next to the markets and I indulged in a Pimms & lemonade just to feel like a local. There were topless businessmen on their lunch breaks, ties and shirts cast aside, sunning themselves all over the lawn and every man and his dog was out and about in the midday sun. It’s a great area across the Tower Bridge, with water fountains spurting high in the sky on manicured lawns and landscaped walkways lined with pubs and cafes; patrons spilling out in big groups around the doorways, quenching their thirst with a quiet ale. I think this would be classified as loitering at home but you see it everywhere here.
After lunch, Toby’s leg needed a rest and my legs were aching – it must’ve been all that dancing at Midnight Oil – so we split up, Ross, Sam & Molly going on to the Tate Modern Art Gallery & Maisy, Tobes and I coming home. We hailed a cab (resting from the Tube today) & were dropped off in our street. Well, at least that’s what the sign said. It didn’t look too familiar and we three, being the most directionally challenged of the family (it is truly a disability) must’ve walked up and down that bloomin’ street 6 times, (it’s a VERY long street) with the sun blazing down on us, before we eventually found it. So, eagerly strolling up to the door, I casually asked Toby “where’s the key?” and Toby said, “Mum, I thought you had it” But guess what? Neither of us had it. We’d forgotten to get the key from Ross. Bugger! I gave him a call and asked him if he knew where the key was and he excitedly informed me it was right there in his hand. Oh yeah. That’s a bit of a problem. They’d already almost reached the Gallery so Ross selflessly jumped in a cab to run the key across town to his desperately-seeking-a-lie-down loved ones. What a man (not forgetting of course, it was he who had forgotten to give us the key in the first place). Still, what a man!
We sought some shade in the park across the road – Bromfield Children’s Playground- to wait for Ross. When you are in a foreign city, you are never too sure which areas are the good ones and which ones are the dangerous/dodgy ones, unless you’ve been given the rundown by the locals. After sitting there for a while watching the comings and goings of the neighbourhood, we think we may have established that our neighbourhood might be a little dodgy. There seemed to be a lot of guys forming a large group up behind us in the park. Maisy asked me why there were so many grown men coming into the playground. Hmmm. Good question. None of these guys would be someone you’d like to meet in a dark alleyway that’s for sure. The next thing we knew, there was a full Police truck, with a stack of police inside, like some sort of SWAT team! They were hovering around and checking out what was happening. It made for good viewing while we waited for the key!
Tonight we had a scrumptious dinner at Jamie’s Italian. The pasta was so fresh and yummy and the kid’s menu was so refreshing with really fresh, healthy choices for kids instead of the usual fried fest. Even the toilets were cool, painted bright yellow, stamped with ‘the Oliver Model, No. 814 by Thomas Crapper’. You pulled the lever down the front like an old poker machine to flush! Sam did point out the words ‘taking your journey with you’ printed on the inside of the toilet bowl were a little strange and creepy. We took bets on what nationality our waitress was, with guesses ranging from Italian, Slovenian, Czech and French but Sam was right on the money with his guess of Polish. Good job Sambo! Fun for all the family.
