(For those of you who are bored by this travelogue, fear not: This is the final installment!)
Friday was my birthday! We had set aside our last full day in London to go to the British Museum and then souvenir shopping. I had been boring the kids talking all week about how the thing I was most eager to see out of everything in London was the Manuscript Room at the British Museum. I get all giddy seeing the actual handwritten manuscripts by everyone from Shakespeare to Chaucer to Austen to John Lennon, and all those magnificent illuminated bibles from more than a thousand years ago.
So back on the train we went, and back on the Tube. We were really becoming pros by this point! We wandered around a bit at the British Museum; I showed the kids the Rosetta Stone, we gawked at the mummies and other antiquities, toured the watches and clocks, and a few other things. I couldn't seem to find the Manuscript Room (and couldn't remember where it was from my last trip there, in 1990), so I asked a guard. He told me that all the manuscripts had been moved to the British Library in 1997! What?! Without consulting me?! We left and headed there, taking advantage of the opportunity to board a double-decker bus—I'd warned the kids that once you get on, it doesn't feel all that special, but it is of course one of those things you "have to" do in London.
We grabbed lunch at yet another wonderful chain that I wish we had here, called Pret à Manger (apparently they're all over New York). They offer a really nice variety of freshly made all-natural sandwiches and salads, so you can quickly grab a delicious lunch. Then we arrived at the British Library, and it was ... CLOSED FOR GOOD FRIDAY! I burst into tears. I really did. My birthday afternoon was supposed to be spent dreamily poring over old handwritten manuscripts, and instead I was stuck outside a chained gate. It had never once dawned on me that a major tourist attraction would be closed on Good Friday—I mean, the British Museum was open! (And I guess we should be lucky for that.) We had left my favorite thing for the last day, and I was turned away. It was an enormous disappointment.
But we pressed on, and took the Tube to Covent Garden, which is like Boston's Quincy Market times about a gazillion. The weather was spectacular, and obviously lots of people had the day off (grrrr ... stupid holiday), so it was a mecca for people-watching. There were tons of shops, from the most high-end designer boutiques to kiosks selling junky plastic knick-knacks, and all kinds of food to be had. We shopped around a bit, then got some cookies and just relaxed and watched the world go by.
Then we headed back home, because Jo had planned our last dinner to be at her "local," the Links Pub. She said she had never really understood the importance of having a local until she had one. She can show up any time of day or evening and be assured of seeing someone she knows. She can bring Ozzie and a newspaper, and just sit with a soda while people come and go. Kids are more than welcome, and it's a very friendly, safe, and fun community gathering spot.
Sure enough, a family with three young girls ran up to Jo as soon as we entered and said, "Where's Ozzie?" (We had decided not to try to fit 6 people and an English sheepdog in the car.) The owner greeted us all warmly, and then he went upstairs to get his daughter, so she could meet Steph (they're the same age). The waitresses all knew Jo, and people coming and going did too. It was a really warm feeling, and I can see why she likes going there. The food was great, too—it's a full-service restaurant as well as a place to hoist a pint or two. And that's where the sparkler photo was taken—Jo had brought them so we could celebrate my birthday. I might have to have her smuggle me some next time she comes here—what fun!
Saturday morning we had to get up at 6am in order to get to Heathrow in time for our 10:30 flight. This time the kids were in one section of the plane, with Steph in seat E (next to some other couple) and across the aisle from her were Julie and Pete in F and G (Pete scored the window seat this time). Then, in the first row of the next section were me and Andy. There was a woman seated between us who offered to switch seats with one of us, but we preferred to stay where we were because Andy was in seat C, which meant that he could stretch his left leg into the aisle whenever he needed to, and I was in seat E, which meant that I could lean sideways and peer into the next compartment to see the kids just a few rows up. I'm sure the woman between us thought we were nuts.
The flight was blessedly uneventful, and we were happy to get home and see the cats, who looked especially tiny after a week with Ozzie.
So I don't have any more sightseeing photos to share, but I realize that I never showed you Jo, so here she is digging in her bag for her keys so she can schlep us somewhere yet again. She was the greatest host and guide ever, and our vacation could never have happened without her hospitality and generosity! Thanks, Jo!
so happy to hear every bit of your fun in jolly old london. especially pleased to hear about jo and where she lives. thank you for sharing!
Posted by: jude | May 02, 2011 at 11:49 PM