Sitting on a cozy little British Airways flight awaiting take off, I can’t help feeling a little sad about leaving London. We had a truly marvellous time; cycling through the palace gardens, mucking about with squirrels in Hyde Park, and having the hotel cleaning staff knock off some unmentionables; ok, it was mostly marvellous.
I can finally tick off two more relos from the list of the never-mets. My uncle Maury (Mum’s brother) and his daughter, Amy. We had lunch with Maury’s wife, Pip, in a cute British pub. My requests for Black Russians continue to baffle the local bar staff; after being informed they didn’t stock Kahlua, I downgraded to bourbon and Coke, only to find the best they could do was whiskey and Pepsi.
The London tube is really something. Rather than paying per ride or per month as you do in Sydney, you charge up an “Oyster” card (probably named for the circular scanner that reads them at the gates). The card is a proximity device so you don’t need to remove it from your wallet; just wave your wallet in front of the scanner as you enter and exit the train stations, and the fare is automatically calculated and deducted. Utterly brilliant and foolproof in contrast with what now seems an archaic system still being used in NSW.
It’s not perfect though; in a rush to get to a store to have the security tag removed from a shirt after I frustratingly found it hadn’t been removed at the checkout, my oyster card failed to register after alighting at Oxford Circus (not actually a circus). Fearing the imminent closure of the shop in just 4 minutes, I foolishly tailgated Mike as he used another gate, only to be immediately apprehended by a gentleman wearing a rather ridiculous hat. I sheepishly explained to the overzealous bobby that such practice was common place in my home town, and that I didn’t have time to bandy about reversing the digital damage. In hindsight I think he was more concerned about me being overcharged than evading the fare. Mike and Amy, however, thought it was hilarious.
We spent the evening with Amy, drinking and telling stories and I must commend her fervour; the seventeen year old weathered monotonous Peel and Stick hijinks with exceptional humour. Well done, Amy, we commend you.
British schoolboys are everywhere and are good for a giggle. I think it’s the uniforms; not dissimilar in appearance to Sydney private schools like Knox, but with an extra-wintery aesthetic reminiscent of cheesy 90s tv shows involving crude pranks and games with marbles. You can almost expect one to approach you holding an empty bowl, asking for porridge like Oliver Twist.
As I wrap up this little post, the plane is now well above the clouds, probably somewhere over the English channel. It’s a little hard to tell, as the clouds literally cover every square inch of the visible space; like a fluffy doona with the lining removed, something I’ve never seen before and truly magnificent to behold.
I’m excited about going to Paris. I’ve been warned to firmly establish my nationality within the first few seconds of any encounter. Not so much that I’m Australian, but that I’m not American. Apparently our yankee brethren aren’t so popular amongst the frogs. Pickpockets are also apparently a concern, so I’ve reorganised my numerous pockets and baggage compartments to minimise any chance of theft. I feel like I’ve already been robbed three times on this trip so far, so I believe I’ve hit my quote prematurely and must ensure it doesn’t recur.
Which reminds me – stay away from Boingo. They operate WiFi in Heathrow and some 200,000 other locations around Europe. It is a phenomenally shitty service I wouldn’t recommend to my worst enemy. I don’t expect I’ll be seeing my 40 pounds again anytime soon.
British Airways rock. The plane is only at around 10% capacity, which I’ve never seen before. They’re basically a regular airline, with one noticeable boon; their food is delicious. I’m sipping a Johnnie Walker Red with Coke and noshing from a bag of the tastiest assortment of savouries imaginable.
This has to have been the shortest flight I’ve ever taken. The train was going to take three times as long and cost twice as much. Ha! Ok landing time. Until next time!
