By Ellen J. Wallach
It is 6pm on a very hot August evening and I’m riding on the Underground.
Crowded? No, packed solid! August in London means tourists, heat,
humidity and no air conditioning. For
the most part in public places, A/C has not crossed the pond. But, I have a
seat. For five weeks this summer, I
almost always got a seat. I’m of an age
that mothers tell their children to stand or sit on their laps and give me their
seat. They give the child “the eye,” a
small nod up and a quick look at me. The
kid understands. All children understand
their mother’s “eye.” I was walking
around London six or more hours each day. I didn’t need the seat, but I did
want it. I’m not proud. I took it every time.
Five weeks in a free three bedroom flat (apartment) in central London.
It was our retirement dream come true. My husband and I had for years talked of
spending two months a year in a different city when we retired. We love traveling, but staying in one place
and really getting to know it was so appealing. When Tom retired, so had the economy. An apartment in London, Paris, Rome, or
Barcelona was not in our financial future.
Too expensive! As luck would have it, the only person I know who lives
in Europe called and made this proposition:
his fully furnished Art Deco flat in a fabulous area of London
(Marylebone) in exchange for staying with Dolce. Would we like to cat sit for five weeks?
Would we!
I’ve been to London many times. The first trip was on my honeymoon in 1965. I’ve seen things change with each visit. This trip would be slow London, giving me time
to look around, watch and listen, pick up conversations with strangers and
snoop down interesting mews (once a row of horse stables, now flats.) (One Sunday morning we found Madonna directing
a new movie about Prince Edward and Wallis Simpson.) After 45 years of observation, some things
have changed, some have stayed the same, some should have changed, but didn’t
and some things I just don’t understand.
I changed. And this time I went
with a different husband.
Forty five years ago the food was lousy, the tea fantastic and the
coffee instant Nescafe. Now London is a
gourmet paradise. The restaurant and pub
food is fabulous, the many street markets are selling fresh produce from the
farmers, homemade cheeses, savory and fruit pies, and ready to eat prepared
foods. Forty five years ago women over
30 all dressed like the queen (frumpy but without a crown) and the men were
wearing suits from the same bolt of cloth- dark gray or black wool with a white
stripe. Today, so many women are smartly
and age appropriately dressed. At least
one third of the men are still wearing the same suit.
My first musical theater experience in the stalls (orchestra seats) in
London featured pre-ordering drinks to be picked up in the bar at intermission
and a heavy Fire Curtain that fell after the first act. When the audience returned for the second act,
everyone sang God Save the Queen and
the curtain went up. The drinks and the
curtain are still operational, but no singing.
Some of my keenest observations happen in the loo (bathroom.) Toilets are each in private rooms. No looking under the door as in the US. Back,
sides and door are floor (or nearly) to way above your head. What privacy. Toilets used to flush by pulling a chain from
the ceiling as the water tank was usually on the wall well above your head. Today, the tanks are near the seats, like
ours.
Public restrooms in the US often sell a variety of supplies (tampons,
contraceptives.) In London I found Chewable Toothbrushes. These were capsules in vending machines
containing what looked like a white toothbrush without a handle. You chewed this and spit it out. It claims to be a toothbrush and a breath
freshener in one. No toothpaste or water required, just chew.
In England you can purchase all kinds of insurance in the supermarket!
The one that caught my eye was Wedding
Insurance. It is advertised as “taking
care of things you can’t prepare for, such as the photographer cancelling or a
close relative falling ill.” You can pay for coverage for “presents, flowers,
cake, transport and wedding attire.” It
nowhere discusses what happens if one of the betrothed gets cold feet.
London is known for its wonderful public transportation. The streets are packed with all sorts of
transport, but I noticed two additional creative options. On July 30th
London, following the lead of other large cities, began a Cycle Hire program. There are bicycle docking stations all over
the city. You pick up the bike at one station,
cycle to your destination, and leave it. To use this scheme (service) you pay a charge to activate a key that unlocks all of
the bikes for a day, a week, or longer. Once
you are a member, the first 30 minutes of any trip are free. For additional time, there is a fee depending
upon how long you use the bike. You can
make unlimited journeys of under 30 minutes with no usage charge.
From bicycles to Bentleys, Ferraris, Aston Martins and Porches, join
the Classic Car Club. This private club
has a selection of “coupes to convertibles, sports to saloons, classic and
brand new.” By joining you receive an
allocation of points that can be exchanged for hours behind the wheel of the
car(s) of your dreams. No maintenance,
storage or security hassles. The Club
takes care of everything. It also hosts special events at 3am so members can
take the cars for a spin.
Nice to see
them using the streets during the “off hours.”
And, then there is the language. Tom and I were waiting for a rural bus in the
Kent county side when a large, red double decker bus passed by. Emblazed on the
entire side was: “Hold onto your balls
boys, the wags are back in town. Footballers’ Wives .” What do you make of
this? I couldn’t figure it out, either. I’ve
since learned that Footballers’ Wives, a British TV drama, had been off the air
for a few years. Wags is an acronym for
“wives and girlfriends of high profile football players.” Football in Britain means soccer in the US.
So, the show is returning! There you
have it.
We are back on the tube and I’m sitting next to a young woman totally wrapped
in black, only her face is showing. She
turns and asks, “Are you from the United States?” I say, “Yes.” She is from Saudi Arabia and is
thinking about doing her graduate work in the U.S. She wants to know about “R-Kansas.”
I finally figure out that she is asking
about Arkansas. We have an extended discussion
of US cities. We had a long way to
go. I finally get the nerve to ask a
question that had been on my mind, “Are you hot under your robes?” And, she replied, “Oh, no, it is much hotter
at home in the desert.”
Life is all about perspective.
The challenge is to keep an open mind, seeing the familiar as new.
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