UK Day 3- Darwin and Drag Queens

By Saturday morning, we were feeling more human.  There's something about the light that comes with a new day that leaves one feeling hopeful, and I knew it would be a fresh start and I was excited to venture around the city.  On this trip, we each came up with a couple of "bucket list" items; things we really needed to see or do above all else.  One of mine was to travel out to the village of Down to see where Charles Darwin spent the latter two-thirds of his life.

We had to walk a few blocks from our flat to where the car was parked.  Luckily, no one had damaged it during the night (another long story that I don't feel like writing or remembering).  I loved walking through the village along the rows of houses.  The air was damp and cold and I was so in love with the country.  The GPS was unreliable and ended up taking us through the most torturous part of central London; a journey that should only have taken half an hour at most.  Instead, we drove right in the middle of central London traffic for the better part of ninety minutes while finding our way southeast to Down.  Cody's knuckles were white, and even though I'm not Catholic, I certainly crossed myself plenty of times.  But I will say that passing through Mayfair and by Hyde Park and crossing over the Thames was unbelievable. 

Getting outside of London was bliss.  There was a palpable feeling when the houses suddenly got further apart from each other and the fields, akin to any Thomas Hardy novel, came into view.  Butterflies flew wildly in my stomach as I knew Down was approaching, and I got choked up.  Why?

That's a story for another day.  Anyone who knows me well, knows I have a profound admiration for Charles Darwin; both as a scientist, but more so, as a person.  If you ever want to know why, I'll put on the kettle and we can discuss my reasons over tea, and I'm sure that you'll walk away having a bit of reverence yourself.  

 Down was tiny and the roads tinier.  The notion of two lanes was just that.  A notion.  It was really just one lane, and passing oncoming cars became a game of Chicken.  At one point, there was nowhere for us to go and traffic was backing up behind us with horns honking and little Englishmen barking orders at Cody who couldn't go anywhere.  We eventually decided to ditch the car in a little parking lot (likely private property) and hike the remaining mile up to the house.  I'm not sorry we did it, because in walking, we truly saw the village.  It really was everything I thought it would be and then some.

We decided to get off the road because traffic coming our way couldn't veer if they had to miss us, so we found a foot path that lead to an unknown place, but we decided to chance it.  We walked through mucky cow pastures and came upon some backpackers who told us we had to get back on the main road to find the house, so we did.

It was exactly like all the memoirs and autobiographical and biographical accounts described it, and my heart leapt.  Many people in my religion talk about significant church history sites on the east coast and how when they visited, they felt a certain kind of spirit there.  Well, I felt that at Downe House and I could have spent four more days just walking the grounds.  Photography wasn't allowed inside the house, but I cheated and took a few pictures anyway, and I don't regret it at all.  

Sitting in Emma and Charles' bed chamber was surreal.  I don't really have words for it, so I'll leave it at that.

The girls and I took off to explore because I wanted to find the infamous sand path wherein he did his best thinking.  I imagined it to be a path of only about twenty feet in length, but it actually wrapped around more than an acre of land.  The girls and I walked the path and talked and I told them my favorite stories about Darwin (some they'd heard before, no doubt).  I told them again why I loved him so much.  Lauren did a biography report about him in third grade and she was almost as excited to be there as I was.  Almost.

We had tea out on the patio and did more talking.  I had tea at Darwin's house on Darwin's patio.  I can't believe it!!

I didn't want to leave.  I'd dreamed about walking through his house for so long and being there was a catharsis I couldn't give up.  But when it was finally time to leave, we walked the mile back to the village and made the decision not to pass go, and bypass London via the M25 to turn the rental car in before our marriage ended.  However, we needed directions, so I walked into a pub that was easily as old as time.  Two old gentleman were sitting there bantering, drinking their pints, and they slowly turned their heads toward me as if to ask what the hell I wanted.

They started giving me directions laden with such a thick accent that I could barely understand what they said.  It was something out of a movie.  Ever seen "Leap Year" with Amy Adams?  It was like that when she walks in and asks for the number for a taxi and the old guys are arguing about the proper directions to give her.  I loved it, but I'm certain they chuckled about me after I left.  

Another exceptionally long evening of getting lost, seeing a million sheep in the fields off the motorway, and trying not to lose our minds, but absolutely loving it.  We turned in our rental, hopped a bus, and vowed to NEVER drive in London again.  Next stop was back to Heathrow to catch The Tube, which we stayed on for another hour as we made our way back to central London.  

I absolutely loved the hustle and bustle of the London underground and if we'd known better, we would have skipped the rental car entirely and taken public transit everywhere we went.  But live and learn, right?  

It was Saturday night and we could have stayed on the Piccadilly line and simply people watched all evening.  We were laughing and having a great time and because we are loud Americans and have "all these kids", people watched us.  Everyone wanted to know where we were from, where we were heading, etc.  And then it was time to get off at our stop and Cody and the kids got off first and then all of the sudden, the doors shut and I was still on it.  

*I have to add that it wasn't even our stop, but an old guy on the train said we needed to get off THERE.  So they got off and I was still on the train and after the doors closed and the crowd looked at me like "Oh, shit!  Your family just left you!"  The old guy looks around, looks up at the sign and says, "Oh, bugger, this isn't even my train.  I'm on the wrong one.  Sorry, I told you wrong information!"

I watched their wide eyes as the train left with me still on it and looking back, I'm haunted at the thought that it could have been one of the kids left on the train, instead of me.  I can't let my mind go there.  I'll omit the details, but I'll say that it made for an exceptionally difficult and eventful Saturday night in central London.  I can honestly say there is NOTHING like it, and difficult to describe. It's like Jane Austen, Sherlock Holmes, Cirque du Soleil, Las Vegas, and a lot of hell mixed in.  It took hours for us to meet back up again and during that time, I sat in a puddle of piss that wasn't mine on two different occasions.  Eventually, we rendezvoused at none other than the above ground at Piccadilly Circus.  

It was nearing 11:00 at night and drag queens were in abundance.  We found dinner at a pizza place where our waitress was from Spain but obsessed with all things American (why?). We had no idea that all of the UK and Ireland was losing an hour that night.  Whereas America had done that two weeks before, we got to do it all over again in London.  But did that stop us from staying out with our children in Leicester Square?  Absolutely not.  We took in China Town, saw some awesome gay bars, and stepped in some urine that honest to God had glitter floating in it.  

Hopping back on The Tube, we made our way back to Wilstead Green and walked several blocks back to the flat, finally getting to bed about 2:00 in the morning.  I'd say we did our Saturday night in central London right! Or exceptionally wrong?

Camerons Stiff is a realty company there in London, but given that Cody's brother's name is Cameron, these signs took on a different meaning for us and we always giggled. 

I need to write a story about this house.  We passed it every day and I just loved it.