Because of all the setbacks we encountered (most of which I have not documented here), we lost about forty-eight hours of time that could have been spent seeing London and its surrounding area. That was our original plan, but it didn't work out like that at all. Monday morning we left our flat on Staverton Road for the last time and walked the ten minutes with our bags through the village of Willstead Green. I had a bit of a lump in my throat as we did so, but mainly because of disappointment for how badly much of the trip had gone thus far. I'd spent weeks researching, looking at maps, and trying to get to know the village and the surrounding villages the best I could. I'd become familiar with landmarks and street names and intersections thanks to tools akin to Google Earth. And here it was, our last walk through that place and I was crestfallen thinking about the negative association I now had with that entire area.
We ran into another snag upon getting to Paddington Station to claim our train tickets to Wales; a train that was supposed to leave at 6:45 that evening. Long story short? We discovered all of our rail passes were en route to our home in America, rather than waiting for us at the London station, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. I'm omitting the financial strain this put on us, but I'll say that by that evening, we almost had to sleep on the train station floor with our children. We were in fact homeless with only one bank card between the two of us; a card that only worked 10% of the time thanks to a faulty computer system back in New York.
There we were, at out wits' end, the six of us storming down Praed Street in central London, carrying everything we currently had to our name on our backs and in our hands. I was shouting profanity at my husband and not crying, but my voice was doing that thing where it creaked and I sounded like an absolute maniac. I'm certain onlookers were not only looking at our giant crew (by European standards) and wondering who the hell we were, but also wondering what the hell was wrong with that deranged American broad who'd forgotten how to speak in coherent sentences.
After kicking any and everything in my path, I finally calmed down and we decided to enjoy the next seven hours and let the chips fall as they may. We'd worry about how we were going to get to our destination in Wales and where we'd sleep that night, and how we'd pay for it...later. We now had seven hours to cram everything into London that was supposed to take about three days to complete, and we likened it to one of those "speed dating" encounters where you talk to the person for two minutes before a buzzer sounds and you move on to the next person. The good news is that we couldn't have asked for more agreeable weather, and I'm certain none of us stepped in (or sat in) urine during the whole ordeal that day.
We all decided that it would do no good to go about the day with grumpy attitudes, and since there was nothing we could do about the problems we'd already encountered by 9:00 that morning, we may as well turn our frowns upside down and dig in to this incredible city. We found a local place that would keep our bags until 6:00 that evening (for a small fortune) so that was our curfew. We HAD to be back to get them by 6:00 and not a minute later. We hit the ground running and this was the London we'd envisioned, at least all the typical touristy things you think of when you imagine London. I would have rather spent the day in more remote parts, but near the top of Devin's bucket list was Buckingham Palace, so we made our way on foot through many miles of city to get there.
I loved seeing Trafalgar Square because of the rich history surrounding it. In my mind I saw Bloody Sunday from 1887, even though the only evidence of the riot was a statue. We rounded a corner after Trafalgar and found The Mall and started the walk up to the palace.
Buckingham Palace was an eye-opening experience for me. I've always had a serious love/hate relationship with the English crown, but after seeing the flamboyance and frivolousness firsthand, I have a terrible taste in my mouth. And to make matters worse, the way people really and truly worship the monarchy as if they are literally ordained of God, makes my stomach turn. I know, I know. Why go to England if you hate the English so damn much? Well, I don't. I simply hate the crown. All I saw around every corner were tax dollars, and I could write an entire book about the ridiculousness of the whole thing. For the sake of this story, I'll stop here, but not before I state again just how much I dislike the English monarchy for their centuries-old oppressive thumb and I thank my lucky stars each night that the battle of Yorktown in 1781 won us the right to never again be connected to England (and this coming from someone whose DNA is largely composed of English bits).
Next on our speed date was the walk from the palace to Westminster Abby, but the line to get in was ludicrous. The only reason I wanted to go inside was to see the exact graves of people like Sir Issac Newton and Charles Darwin, but it wasn't worth waiting in line for three hours. Instead, we opted to walk around Parliament until we came to the River Thames and decided to take a boat ride that would ultimately drop us off right outside The Tower.
The Tower of London was definitely my favorite part of the day. In my life, I've read books about the tower and seen documentaries and studied it from afar, but I greatly underestimated just how large it is. It's not just an old prison. It's an entire city within a city, and the place was monstrous, We could have spent three days there and still not seen everything. Devin had become very interested in photography, and he convinced me to let him take my Nikon DSLR around and take pictures. I let him, but not before strapping the strap securely to his neck. Most of the pictures below are his, and I must say he did a good job!
The Crown Jewel exhibit was just silly and once again, frivolous. No photography was allowed, and patrons had to go through on slow moving conveyor belts. Of course everything was behind glass, and being in such close proximity to fellow observers, I couldn't help but hear what was said around me. To my chagrin, it was nothing but ooooing and awwwwing over the queen and all her predecessors and everyone who wore the endless pieces of jewelry. And all the while, I thought two things:
1.) No king or queen or prince or duchess or earl ever did a thing to earn those jewels. They owned them by right of birth alone. Tax payers pay for them. In fact, England has forever come about its means by doing abysmal things to people and nations.
2.) The sovereign wearers of those jewels still poop like the rest of us, and their poop smells just as bad. However, they have Royal Ass Wipers to take care of the mess.
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| I just had to document this little tea set. Anywhere you go, whether it's a 5-star restaurant or a dodgy pub, if you order a cup of tea, this is how it's served. In my opinion, there's not better way!
Skipping over a lot of boring details as to why our London stay was so laden with difficulty, I'll say that we had trouble getting back to the place that was holding our luggage. If we weren't there by 6:00 pm, w would not be able to get our bags until the next morning, and that was going to be catastrophic for various reasons. Finding a cab in rush-hour London traffic that could hold all of us was impossible, so we paid a hefty fortune and took two cabs, and we only had to mortgage our house once. We literally made it by 5:59, just as the guy was about to pull the gate down over the door. Then, we were almost homeless for the night, having to sleep on the dirty floor of Paddington Station (again, omitting details).
However, we were eventually able to catch the last train going to Newport, Wales, in the nick of time. That seemed to be the theme of our trip- in the nick of time. When we were finally loaded onto the train as the very last passengers, the looks on the other passengers were not welcoming ones. Here we were getting on late, had all these kids and bags, and were trying not to sit in different cars from each other. Luckily, there were enough kind passengers who took pity on us and helped us out. By the time we FINALLY got to Newport, it was late and we were starving, exhausted, and filthy. I don't remember a time that I slept so hard or long in one full stretch as I did that night.
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