Fodor's Travel Talk Forums - Trip Report Treacle Down Effect

While riding the Underground we saw passengers reading the Evening Standard, a London tabloid, whose back page screamed, “What’s the best milk after Kate’s?” It was an ad for “follow on milk” and one can only assume that copywriter used hyperbole rather than personal experience. At least it was complimentary and confirmed that there must be a Royal groinacologist, as Archie Bunker would say, and probably a Royal Proctologist. But we all know royal proctologists.

After arriving in London, we made our way to the Tate Modern. It is quirky and proud of it. There was a few rooms dedicated to works that reflect dreams but there is nothing in the entire gallery I was tempted to steal, even though there were brand names such as Picasso, Matisse, and a few of the Dadaists. Often I want to steal the lesser knowns but not today. Installations were found everywhere. I find most installations befuddling as to why an artist would make those choices and why a museum or gallery accepts those choices. The gallery was filled school children, including many that spoke French. There was a Damien Hirst exhibit that required a13 GBP admission fee. I know he is or was a favorite Wall Street sharks before the Recession.

Mrs. Adu reserved a ticket for the London Eye at 8:30 PM. I am acrophobic, which means I would not go up in a ferris wheel where the pods are glass and you can see the Thames between your legs. We arrived early intentionally and for whatever reasons there was no wait. She loved the view of the City from on high. But as soon as she alighted from the ride, the lights that adorned the river bank became alive. Big Ben looked spectacular with its oversized black and white watch face against the dirty brown façade of Parliament and shone above the tint of green lights which provide highlights.

She had another view of “The Shard” the tallest building in Western Europe, according to those who decide such things. It is a glass structure with a jagged summit, hence the name. Coincidently we saw a documentary when we returned to the room on BEEB 7 ½. The upper floors will be apartments that will cost in the tens of millions for which the architects and engineers specially designed the floors so that the asses of wealth would not fell the slightest sway from the wind.

Today started the day at the British Museum. I love the smell of the spoils of war in the morning.. The entrance of the building is designed to impress and intimidate like a great cathedral. A few grand antiquities stand before you under a sunlit dome. The Rosetta Stone attracted everyone with a cellphone camera. It is a remarkable relic in what it stands for and what it is; a rather small rock that some how knew it would be a mirror to the past that would eminent courage for future thought.

We did see the Elgin Marbles, elegant and eroded with the heads of many of the figured missing but found scattered through Europe in other museums. And before we left we saw Lindow Man. He was found in a bog with a dent in his head made from an axe, pollen in his stomach, while the body freeze dried so it could be displayed. Until that moment he was about 2,000 years old. A little Folger’s in your cup. We spent three hours there and saw just a small portion of the collection.

We then visited the British Library. The building itself is light and airy with a large and welcoming plaza. It was odd that the woman at the information desk was unfamiliar with Lewis Carroll and Laurence Sterne. The Treasuries Room holds a number of extraordinary and evocative books, documents, and musical scores. Besides the Maga Carta, there is a original volume of O Rare Ben Jonsson, many Qu’rans, a Jainist manuscript, and the handwritten lyrics of Yesterday. Besides a Gutenberg Bible, there was also a printed document of indulgences with a space for your name.

Sadly the first two days of Treacle Down Effect have been an abysmal failure. It is combination of us choosing the wrong restaurants and the food at the restaurants we chose being awful. We stopped at one place for fish and chips. They were they fresh out. I was not sure whether they were out of the fish or the chips but Mrs. Adu had fish soup which fortunately needed a spoon rather than a pole and was filled with cheese. I ordered a leek tartlet. A small woman with a great deal of make-up and little clothing would have been better. The very thin, dry circle has all the charm of a rice cake and to make it appear modern, the little tart was placed atop a zig-zag of tart sauce and covered with some packaged grass. I know it was packaged because I saw her carry the packages across the fining area.

But the worst meal was at the Aberdeen Steak House. I am sure Londoners are shaking their collective heads in disbelief and if were present would be waving their arms wildly to go elsewhere. But whenever we passed, it was crowded and not cheap. The waiter no matter what anyone said would reply, “Wonderful, enjoy your meal.”
“Your mother is a crack ho and your father is a pedophile in a loony bin.”
“Wonderful, enjoy your meal.”

We ordered steaks that were once part of a cow that was fattened in the Orkneys. They were little thing pieces of beef that had some taste. The onion rings and the spinach sides that were extra were not bad. The check included a cover charge. There was no entertainment, except the fact the waiters were amused people were actually eating this high priced stuff. When I asked for an explanation, I was told it was to keep prices competitive with their imaginary competition. This implausible answer must have come directly corporate BS department, which must be fully manned. When asked if the menu contained such a warning, he showed it did appear twice in maybe six point type at the bottom of the pages. They took off the cover charge and so did we with the warning, DO NOT EAT AT THE ABERDEEN STEAL HOUSE.

Our hotel is the Stylohotel on Sussex Gardens. It is the usual claustrophobic London hotel room for a lot of money. How small? The TV could only hold two stations. How small? There is was only enough room for cold water. There was, of course, hot water and the staff was young, cordial, and helpful. One of the staff was a chunky fellow wearing a wife beater revealing plenty of ink. There is steel everywhere-the doors, the walls, the breakfast chairs with spikes at the top, the nightstand. The only thing that was not steel were the heavy sheets that covered the carpeting in the halls and left overnight to protect the rugs against the some work that was being done. The hotel was full with many Germans and other pale Europeans who fortunately were fully clothed.

The Express to Heathrow was 19 GBP per person. A value if you are by yourself, but expensive for more. In the past we just took the underground, which is considerably cheaper.

Take the buses whenever possible. You can get a view of city as the bus drivers navigate the traffic, as they seemingly crush bike riders, knock over pedestrians, and take off the doors of trucks.

We left from JFK and could see from the roadway, the Space Shuttle still sitting atop a 747, partially hidden in a hangar.

Tomorrow we leave to visit friends in York. This weekend is a Bank Holiday, this in the US is otherwise known as a bailout. We come bearing two gifts. One is oblong dish decorated with various NYC bridges, the other is maple syrup. The posters on Fodor’s helped us chose this, as they noted it was available in the UK, but it is expensive, making us appear ad generous.

To paraphrase a well known note, I would have written a shorter a pithier entry, if I had the time. I will not know when I will write next. We will be at the tender mercy of our kind friends for the next four days. I also apologize for any grammatical mistake.