Woo hoo! Spring break in London!
May 11th, 2009, 07:40 AM
#61
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Well enough, Patrick, well enough. For those of you not familiar with Richard Curtis, other credits include "Four Weddings and Funeral", "Love Actually", and "Notting Hill". And if you've seen any (or all, as I have, but not at the cinema) of them you may find yourself spending the entire film trying to remember which actor played which role in which previous movie. Emma Thompson's got a great small role in the present film, for instance, but there are lots of other appearances that will make you laugh out loud at their weirdness. Remember Hugh Grant's very bizarre flatmate in "Notting Hill"? In TBTR we're to believe that he's a dead sexy DJ with a huge cult following. Or not.
Here's the trailer at youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnQc3lO4JDs
Anyway, a pleasant evening at the cinema, and very appropriate for my two teenaged children. The cinema itself was huge and clean and featured very nicely stepped stadium seating. I chose the film in part because of the purported subject matter: pirate radio stations. My first visit to Europe was when I was 17 (in the 1970s), as an exchange student living in France (in Normandy, so one could pick up stations in the North Sea) and the movie does give a sense of just how limited the access to media of all sorts really was then. Not only was there no email or internet (a fact which my children can really only just barely grasp), but even music was a lot harder to come by: your choices were radio (and even in the 1970s radio in France was pretty pitiful) or records. Remember records? You had to go to an actual shop and buy them, and then you had to play them on an actual turntable.
Possibly more fun than the movie, and certainly more memorable was this ad for Cadbury that was shown beforehand:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVblWq3tDwY
Oh, and props to flanneruk for his very nice summary of the history of Radio Caroline (and similar).
Here's the trailer at youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnQc3lO4JDs
Anyway, a pleasant evening at the cinema, and very appropriate for my two teenaged children. The cinema itself was huge and clean and featured very nicely stepped stadium seating. I chose the film in part because of the purported subject matter: pirate radio stations. My first visit to Europe was when I was 17 (in the 1970s), as an exchange student living in France (in Normandy, so one could pick up stations in the North Sea) and the movie does give a sense of just how limited the access to media of all sorts really was then. Not only was there no email or internet (a fact which my children can really only just barely grasp), but even music was a lot harder to come by: your choices were radio (and even in the 1970s radio in France was pretty pitiful) or records. Remember records? You had to go to an actual shop and buy them, and then you had to play them on an actual turntable.
Possibly more fun than the movie, and certainly more memorable was this ad for Cadbury that was shown beforehand:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVblWq3tDwY
Oh, and props to flanneruk for his very nice summary of the history of Radio Caroline (and similar).
May 11th, 2009, 09:39 AM
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CarolA, I'm pretty sure that I'm not married to your boyfriend, or rather that you're not dating my husband. Though that might describe his reluctance to travel... You and I both travel enough that perhaps it is the same guy and he just splits his time between us.
Hmm....
Hmm....
May 13th, 2009, 09:26 AM
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What happened next is that we went to bed, and slept wonderfully.
I did forget to mention something that had occurred earlier in the week: the toilet in the downstairs bathroom stopped working, as per my children's report. Upon investigation I found that the flush mechanism had likely come detached from the one of the downstream lever thingamajiggies, as it pressed (it was a button on top of the tank) but met with none of the usual resistance. Simple enough to fix, of course---just take off the lid and re-attach whatever's not attached, right? Well, yes, but in this instance the toilet lid was not detachable. The original design appeared to call for detachability, as it was clearly made as a separate tank and lid, but when it was installed somebody decided to bond them together with grout or mortar or something (the seam was visible at the base of the lid) and no amount of tugging and pulling was going to separate them. I emailed A Place Like Home and told them it was fine with me if a plumber visited while we were out. Since my upstairs bathroom had a toilet this turn of events was inconvenient, but hardly the end of the world.
I did forget to mention something that had occurred earlier in the week: the toilet in the downstairs bathroom stopped working, as per my children's report. Upon investigation I found that the flush mechanism had likely come detached from the one of the downstream lever thingamajiggies, as it pressed (it was a button on top of the tank) but met with none of the usual resistance. Simple enough to fix, of course---just take off the lid and re-attach whatever's not attached, right? Well, yes, but in this instance the toilet lid was not detachable. The original design appeared to call for detachability, as it was clearly made as a separate tank and lid, but when it was installed somebody decided to bond them together with grout or mortar or something (the seam was visible at the base of the lid) and no amount of tugging and pulling was going to separate them. I emailed A Place Like Home and told them it was fine with me if a plumber visited while we were out. Since my upstairs bathroom had a toilet this turn of events was inconvenient, but hardly the end of the world.
May 13th, 2009, 01:08 PM
#68
I guess you already know that an Englishman says sorry when it is your fault or his. In this case it looks like a bit of the passive aggresion you see in capital cities when tourists don't do what you think they are supposed to do.
Fascinating perception
Fascinating perception
May 13th, 2009, 01:33 PM
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So glad this was topped as I have missed it till now! Fabulous reporting...and yes, you might be married to my dh who was a grump the other day and said "I am not ever going back to Europe unless it is Italy" LOL...alrighty then.
May 13th, 2009, 02:13 PM
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Good gracious, it's Good Friday...
And the beginning of the holiday weekend in earnest. What this means from a practical point of view is (a) tourist density begins to reach critical mass and (b) Tube now on weekend schedule, in which several important lines (including Circle and District) would be either entirely or partially out of service until Monday.
Since my son and I both had 7 day Travelcards, this was the last day we'd be able to use them, so I'd decided that we'd do the Natural History Museum and possibly some of the others nearby on Saturday, as we could walk there. If you're thinking ahead at this point you may be thinking to yourselves "Huh? Is she kidding?" But will talk about that when the time comes.
Friday AM finds us once again moving slowly. I've made reservations for dinner at St. John Bread and Wine (http://www.stjohnrestaurant.co.uk/) that evening, so don't have anything too ambitious planned for the day. As we're (finally) walking out the front I realize that we'll need our umbrellas, and when I return to get them am spied by the porter (an obliging young man named Raj or something like that) who asks after the toilet. I reply that it's still not functioning (despite another email and a phone call) and he asks if he can come look at it.
So we all pile back in the apartment and he goes downstairs and fiddles around and comes and announces that the flush mechanism has clearly come loose from something inside the tank, but that the lid's strangely attached to the lid. Delighted to hear that I'm not insane and that people in the UK don't usually seal their toilet tanks closed, I agree with him. He then decides that he's going to try and get the lid off, which seems a very poor idea to me, but he's he expert, right? So he heads to the kitchen, arms himself with a table knife, and proceeds to chip away at the grout. After 10 minutes or so he admits defeat, and says that it's a job for a plumber (yes, yes, that's exactly what it is, I agree, and you'll have to admit that I'm exercising considerable restraint by not prefacing that with a guffaw). And of course since it's Good Friday and the Easter weekend and so forth...yes, yes, I see.
And finally we're off, into our first truly rainy day this trip. Rain had been predicted just about every day, but there was very little of it in the end.
The South Kensington tube station is chaotic. Mobs of mostly non-anglophone passengers shuffling through the gates and being directed to one side (remember, several lines aren't running) by anglophone tfl stall. The line to buy our kid for a quid ticket is crawling, with one (tourist) family apparently doing something very, very complicated with tickets for every last person in the family, and needing many, many questions answered. Finally I get to the window, say "Kid for a quid, please" while pushing my coin through the window, and the clerk's so relieved he nearly cries. This transaction is likely the shortest one he'll have all day.
Our destination for the day (well, the afternoon) is Portobello Rd market. Since I didn't want to wait too late to eat lunch (big dinner ahead of us) we stop at a branch of Le Pain Quotidien: http://lepainquotidien.co.uk/stores/nottinghill/ The Notting Hill Gate location is conveniently near the south end of the market, and has an upstairs dining room which I liked a lot.
I ordered zucchini (courgette, that is) and leek soup as well an egg salad tartine. Son just got the egg salad tartine, and Daugher had quiche and salad. When they brought our food it was immediately evident that I wouldn't be needing my egg salad tartine (which hadn't yet appeared) and the server managed to cancel the order, so that was nice. All of the food was nice, and for dessert Daughter and I both had pavlova and Son had bombe (prompting all sorts Clouseau-isms, of course), and then it was time to go outside and hope it had stopped raining.
It hadn't, and the market wasn't especially busy. We doodled around for a couple of hours and purchased some bread and fruit and veg and then headed home.
And the beginning of the holiday weekend in earnest. What this means from a practical point of view is (a) tourist density begins to reach critical mass and (b) Tube now on weekend schedule, in which several important lines (including Circle and District) would be either entirely or partially out of service until Monday.
Since my son and I both had 7 day Travelcards, this was the last day we'd be able to use them, so I'd decided that we'd do the Natural History Museum and possibly some of the others nearby on Saturday, as we could walk there. If you're thinking ahead at this point you may be thinking to yourselves "Huh? Is she kidding?" But will talk about that when the time comes.
Friday AM finds us once again moving slowly. I've made reservations for dinner at St. John Bread and Wine (http://www.stjohnrestaurant.co.uk/) that evening, so don't have anything too ambitious planned for the day. As we're (finally) walking out the front I realize that we'll need our umbrellas, and when I return to get them am spied by the porter (an obliging young man named Raj or something like that) who asks after the toilet. I reply that it's still not functioning (despite another email and a phone call) and he asks if he can come look at it.
So we all pile back in the apartment and he goes downstairs and fiddles around and comes and announces that the flush mechanism has clearly come loose from something inside the tank, but that the lid's strangely attached to the lid. Delighted to hear that I'm not insane and that people in the UK don't usually seal their toilet tanks closed, I agree with him. He then decides that he's going to try and get the lid off, which seems a very poor idea to me, but he's he expert, right? So he heads to the kitchen, arms himself with a table knife, and proceeds to chip away at the grout. After 10 minutes or so he admits defeat, and says that it's a job for a plumber (yes, yes, that's exactly what it is, I agree, and you'll have to admit that I'm exercising considerable restraint by not prefacing that with a guffaw). And of course since it's Good Friday and the Easter weekend and so forth...yes, yes, I see.
And finally we're off, into our first truly rainy day this trip. Rain had been predicted just about every day, but there was very little of it in the end.
The South Kensington tube station is chaotic. Mobs of mostly non-anglophone passengers shuffling through the gates and being directed to one side (remember, several lines aren't running) by anglophone tfl stall. The line to buy our kid for a quid ticket is crawling, with one (tourist) family apparently doing something very, very complicated with tickets for every last person in the family, and needing many, many questions answered. Finally I get to the window, say "Kid for a quid, please" while pushing my coin through the window, and the clerk's so relieved he nearly cries. This transaction is likely the shortest one he'll have all day.
Our destination for the day (well, the afternoon) is Portobello Rd market. Since I didn't want to wait too late to eat lunch (big dinner ahead of us) we stop at a branch of Le Pain Quotidien: http://lepainquotidien.co.uk/stores/nottinghill/ The Notting Hill Gate location is conveniently near the south end of the market, and has an upstairs dining room which I liked a lot.
I ordered zucchini (courgette, that is) and leek soup as well an egg salad tartine. Son just got the egg salad tartine, and Daugher had quiche and salad. When they brought our food it was immediately evident that I wouldn't be needing my egg salad tartine (which hadn't yet appeared) and the server managed to cancel the order, so that was nice. All of the food was nice, and for dessert Daughter and I both had pavlova and Son had bombe (prompting all sorts Clouseau-isms, of course), and then it was time to go outside and hope it had stopped raining.
It hadn't, and the market wasn't especially busy. We doodled around for a couple of hours and purchased some bread and fruit and veg and then headed home.
May 16th, 2009, 11:29 AM
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Here comes Peter Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail...
I'd booked an early dinner at St. John for two reasons, the first being that if we got back to the apartment early we'd likely be able to see another movie (we'd had to choose between "The Boat that Rocked" and "Duplicity" the previous evening). The second is that St. John's menu changes just about every day, and when they run out of something that's it, there's no more to be had. So going late means you run the risk of your pick being already gone.
St. John's (and its sister restaurant, Bread & Wine, where we were dining) is a fairly famous place, known for its chef Fergus Henderson and his style of cooking, described in his cookbook "Nose to Tail Eating: A Kind of British Cooking". And by nose to tail he doesn't mean just the bits in between, but the actual nose and tail.
So you might think that this is not an ideal meal for a family, particularly one that doesn't want to spend an absolute fortune on a single meal, and/or one that includes children or teenagers. Famous chef + weird food + teenagers = disaster, right? Well, not necessarily. The prices at B&W are actually pretty reasonable: starters/small plates are on the order of 6 GBP, and mains/larger plates top out at 13 GBP. So not incredibly cheap, but not ridiculous. And so long as the children (or other potentially picky diners) aren't limited to hamburgers and pizza they'll be able to find something to enjoy.
B&W is very casual, and for once the surrounding crowd didn't give me the feeling that I'd stumbled onto a movie set. All more or less local so far as I could tell, apart from the two young Japanese women who were clearly visiting.
Our dinners were: crab on toast followed by chocolate mousse for Daughter, rabbit kidneys followed by cheese (a washed soft rind one called Stinking Bishiop) and potatoes for Son, and ham with greens followed by something I can't recall except for it perhaps being fish for me. Son and I had dessert, but neither of us can recall what they were.
So, on the whole, food quite nice but not so amazing that I was able to recall every single detail. Son's rabbit kidneys were lovely (PatrickLondon has just experienced a slight frisson of dread) and the cheese was great. Daughter's chocolate mousse was disappointing: correct texture, but not sweet enough (using the baseline of my French exchange grandmother's mousse au chocolat, against which all others in the world are compared).
We got home too late for a movie, and in any case were ready for bed, so that's where we went.
I'd booked an early dinner at St. John for two reasons, the first being that if we got back to the apartment early we'd likely be able to see another movie (we'd had to choose between "The Boat that Rocked" and "Duplicity" the previous evening). The second is that St. John's menu changes just about every day, and when they run out of something that's it, there's no more to be had. So going late means you run the risk of your pick being already gone.
St. John's (and its sister restaurant, Bread & Wine, where we were dining) is a fairly famous place, known for its chef Fergus Henderson and his style of cooking, described in his cookbook "Nose to Tail Eating: A Kind of British Cooking". And by nose to tail he doesn't mean just the bits in between, but the actual nose and tail.
So you might think that this is not an ideal meal for a family, particularly one that doesn't want to spend an absolute fortune on a single meal, and/or one that includes children or teenagers. Famous chef + weird food + teenagers = disaster, right? Well, not necessarily. The prices at B&W are actually pretty reasonable: starters/small plates are on the order of 6 GBP, and mains/larger plates top out at 13 GBP. So not incredibly cheap, but not ridiculous. And so long as the children (or other potentially picky diners) aren't limited to hamburgers and pizza they'll be able to find something to enjoy.
B&W is very casual, and for once the surrounding crowd didn't give me the feeling that I'd stumbled onto a movie set. All more or less local so far as I could tell, apart from the two young Japanese women who were clearly visiting.
Our dinners were: crab on toast followed by chocolate mousse for Daughter, rabbit kidneys followed by cheese (a washed soft rind one called Stinking Bishiop) and potatoes for Son, and ham with greens followed by something I can't recall except for it perhaps being fish for me. Son and I had dessert, but neither of us can recall what they were.
So, on the whole, food quite nice but not so amazing that I was able to recall every single detail. Son's rabbit kidneys were lovely (PatrickLondon has just experienced a slight frisson of dread) and the cheese was great. Daughter's chocolate mousse was disappointing: correct texture, but not sweet enough (using the baseline of my French exchange grandmother's mousse au chocolat, against which all others in the world are compared).
We got home too late for a movie, and in any case were ready for bed, so that's where we went.
May 16th, 2009, 12:22 PM
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Still enjoying your report.
MomDDtravel, I can identify with you. When our 25th anniversary was coming up, I asked my DH, who isn't an enthusiastic traveler, if there was someplace special he would like to go. He said the only place he cared about going back to was Paris. I said okay and promptly made the reservations!
MomDDtravel, I can identify with you. When our 25th anniversary was coming up, I asked my DH, who isn't an enthusiastic traveler, if there was someplace special he would like to go. He said the only place he cared about going back to was Paris. I said okay and promptly made the reservations!
May 16th, 2009, 01:17 PM
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Enjoying it here as well!
Carolyn - I understand. I am planning a trip for 2012 - well not "planning' it yet, but planning on going in July after I graduate from my BSN-RN program... and it is to Italy. If that is where the man wants to go - so be it!
Carolyn - I understand. I am planning a trip for 2012 - well not "planning' it yet, but planning on going in July after I graduate from my BSN-RN program... and it is to Italy. If that is where the man wants to go - so be it!
Jun 5th, 2009, 08:55 AM
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Ah, but they were such darling wee (pun intentional) kidneys, Patrick. Each one just a couple of centimeters end to end, and perfectly kidney-shaped (so no fooling yourself that you're eating something else).
Despite my children having grown up with the Easter bunny and Bambi they haven't slightest compunction when it comes to dining on same.
There's a new restaurant here in Atlanta called (no kidding) Abattoir. Possibly the worst name for a restaurant ever, but we went last weekend and it was terrific. I had wabbit.
Despite my children having grown up with the Easter bunny and Bambi they haven't slightest compunction when it comes to dining on same.
There's a new restaurant here in Atlanta called (no kidding) Abattoir. Possibly the worst name for a restaurant ever, but we went last weekend and it was terrific. I had wabbit.
Jun 5th, 2009, 09:11 AM
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Can I be a teenager for once? Fluffy bunny? Its kidneys? EEEEUWgross.
Wabbit's kidneys are ESSENTIAL to make good wabbit stew.
When I learned how to shoot it was about the first thing I learned. I was about 10. Yes I shot and gutted wabbits when I was 10. Draw your own conclusions.....
CW - off to "commune" with the body parts in his fridge....
Wabbit's kidneys are ESSENTIAL to make good wabbit stew.
When I learned how to shoot it was about the first thing I learned. I was about 10. Yes I shot and gutted wabbits when I was 10. Draw your own conclusions.....
CW - off to "commune" with the body parts in his fridge....
Jun 5th, 2009, 10:09 AM
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Hmm. Well, somewhat reassured I'll continue with my report.
Before I get to our last full day in London I'm going to make this statement: crisp is an adjective, not a noun. Or if it is a noun that it should be the sort that doesn't require an "s" added to the end to make it plural. Very few words in English require one to pronounce "...sps" and the fact that one of them is "lisp" is no accident. Cusps are rarely mentioned in the plural, and hasps can be avoided entirely. Wasps can be problematic, as they not only occur in multiples but there's the tricky wasps' nest as well.
But crisps? How did this ever become the term of choice for a popular food item? And to add insult to injury it's a food item that is hardly ever consumed in the singular. "Would you like a crisp?" "Oh, don't mind if I do." No, not likely.
I don't personally eat crisps very often, even when I'm here at home where I can ask for potato chips out loud without the slightest bit of linguistic anxiety. But my daughter had been asked by a friend to bring home some unusually flavored versions (she'd had some flavored like shrimp, apparently), so the entire time we were in London we made a point of checking out the junk food displays in the various shop windows. Here's what we brought home (all single serving bags):
shrimp
something I can't recall
onion bhaji
duck and hoisin
cajun squirrel
These last three were part of a promotion by Walkers to pick a new flavor (said promotion called "Do Us a Flavour"). They tasted more or less like what they were supposed to taste like. In the case of cajun squirrel I'm going to take their word for it---it certainly wasn't what I'd like my chips, oops, crisps to taste like, but then there's no accounting, is there? I didn't actually taste the winning flavor, though, so it's entirely possible that it was worse: Builder's Breakfast, described on the Walker's web site as "egg bacon, sausage and beans."
More frissons.
Before I get to our last full day in London I'm going to make this statement: crisp is an adjective, not a noun. Or if it is a noun that it should be the sort that doesn't require an "s" added to the end to make it plural. Very few words in English require one to pronounce "...sps" and the fact that one of them is "lisp" is no accident. Cusps are rarely mentioned in the plural, and hasps can be avoided entirely. Wasps can be problematic, as they not only occur in multiples but there's the tricky wasps' nest as well.
But crisps? How did this ever become the term of choice for a popular food item? And to add insult to injury it's a food item that is hardly ever consumed in the singular. "Would you like a crisp?" "Oh, don't mind if I do." No, not likely.
I don't personally eat crisps very often, even when I'm here at home where I can ask for potato chips out loud without the slightest bit of linguistic anxiety. But my daughter had been asked by a friend to bring home some unusually flavored versions (she'd had some flavored like shrimp, apparently), so the entire time we were in London we made a point of checking out the junk food displays in the various shop windows. Here's what we brought home (all single serving bags):
shrimp
something I can't recall
onion bhaji
duck and hoisin
cajun squirrel
These last three were part of a promotion by Walkers to pick a new flavor (said promotion called "Do Us a Flavour"). They tasted more or less like what they were supposed to taste like. In the case of cajun squirrel I'm going to take their word for it---it certainly wasn't what I'd like my chips, oops, crisps to taste like, but then there's no accounting, is there? I didn't actually taste the winning flavor, though, so it's entirely possible that it was worse: Builder's Breakfast, described on the Walker's web site as "egg bacon, sausage and beans."
More frissons.
Jun 6th, 2009, 07:14 AM
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Saturday's child works hard for a living.
Except on Easter weekend, when he takes his entire family to London. Since I'd initially purchased 7 day travelcards for my son and myself, and today was now day 8 of our holiday, I'd planned to stick close to our South Kensington apartment so as to be able to get around on foot. This plan turned out to have pros and cons.
The principle pro was that we didn't have to deal with the ongoing transit hell that we'd encountered on Friday, with way too many riders (most of them apparently unfamiliar with the concept of mass transit) and several of the central London lines either partially or entirely out of service.
The principle con was that all of those people who did somehow manage to negotiate the tube or otherwise travel had decided that this was apparently the perfect day to visit the Natural History Museum. We arrived to find something approaching a riot scene on Cromwell Rd (where the main entrance is located): queues stretching out the doors, down the steps, through the courtyard, and out onto the street and down the block in both directions. The sidewalk was so packed that through pedestrians were compelled to walk on the street (rendered more difficult by the rows of tour buses parked there). And even more ominously, the lines didn't seem to be moving and those waiting (particularly the well-to-do parents of young children in expensive prams) had that glazed look and tense tone of voice that tells you they've been there for some time.
So despite both children's very much wanting to visit this museum (my daughter having been home sick for the first visit)I was pretty close to aborting the entire venture. I had noticed, though, that the lines all appeared to lead to the Cromwell Rd entrance, and not to the Exhibition Rd one that we'd used earlier in the week. Assuming that this meant that the second entrance wasn't in use that day I nonetheless suggested that we check, and to my surprise it was not only open but had only a short line. Five minutes later we were in.
Crowds inside every bit as impressive as those outside, at least in some areas. In others (particularly the large old-fashioned rooms with cool old windows where things are displayed in flat cases) there was hardly a soul to be seen. A very nice visit in the end.
One of the great things about having older kids is that we can split up and meet up at a pre-arranged time and location. That's what we did, and then headed for Waitrose to purchase food for our next day's trip home.
Much is made of the superiority of supermarkets/groceries in the UK and elsewhere in Europe relative to their US counterparts. I tend not to agree with this point of view, finding instead that it's more a question of the affluence and tastes of the population served, whether in the US or the UK or France. The Gloucester Rd Waitrose is nice enough, but not nicer than my usual Publix (a grocery chain in the southeastern US) and not nearly so nice as my usual market here in Atlanta (which is not a chain, so never mind). I did manage to scrape together sufficient food for the trip home: bread, ham, cheese, cucumbers, tomatoes (out of season, but too bad), radishes, tangerines, madeleines (for breakfast), biscuits, and chocolate. All the major food groups, basically.
And now for our final supper. Where would we dine?
Except on Easter weekend, when he takes his entire family to London. Since I'd initially purchased 7 day travelcards for my son and myself, and today was now day 8 of our holiday, I'd planned to stick close to our South Kensington apartment so as to be able to get around on foot. This plan turned out to have pros and cons.
The principle pro was that we didn't have to deal with the ongoing transit hell that we'd encountered on Friday, with way too many riders (most of them apparently unfamiliar with the concept of mass transit) and several of the central London lines either partially or entirely out of service.
The principle con was that all of those people who did somehow manage to negotiate the tube or otherwise travel had decided that this was apparently the perfect day to visit the Natural History Museum. We arrived to find something approaching a riot scene on Cromwell Rd (where the main entrance is located): queues stretching out the doors, down the steps, through the courtyard, and out onto the street and down the block in both directions. The sidewalk was so packed that through pedestrians were compelled to walk on the street (rendered more difficult by the rows of tour buses parked there). And even more ominously, the lines didn't seem to be moving and those waiting (particularly the well-to-do parents of young children in expensive prams) had that glazed look and tense tone of voice that tells you they've been there for some time.
So despite both children's very much wanting to visit this museum (my daughter having been home sick for the first visit)I was pretty close to aborting the entire venture. I had noticed, though, that the lines all appeared to lead to the Cromwell Rd entrance, and not to the Exhibition Rd one that we'd used earlier in the week. Assuming that this meant that the second entrance wasn't in use that day I nonetheless suggested that we check, and to my surprise it was not only open but had only a short line. Five minutes later we were in.
Crowds inside every bit as impressive as those outside, at least in some areas. In others (particularly the large old-fashioned rooms with cool old windows where things are displayed in flat cases) there was hardly a soul to be seen. A very nice visit in the end.
One of the great things about having older kids is that we can split up and meet up at a pre-arranged time and location. That's what we did, and then headed for Waitrose to purchase food for our next day's trip home.
Much is made of the superiority of supermarkets/groceries in the UK and elsewhere in Europe relative to their US counterparts. I tend not to agree with this point of view, finding instead that it's more a question of the affluence and tastes of the population served, whether in the US or the UK or France. The Gloucester Rd Waitrose is nice enough, but not nicer than my usual Publix (a grocery chain in the southeastern US) and not nearly so nice as my usual market here in Atlanta (which is not a chain, so never mind). I did manage to scrape together sufficient food for the trip home: bread, ham, cheese, cucumbers, tomatoes (out of season, but too bad), radishes, tangerines, madeleines (for breakfast), biscuits, and chocolate. All the major food groups, basically.
And now for our final supper. Where would we dine?
