Last day

 Okay.  It’s the last day, it’s late, we’re leaving the flat at 620 in the morning, ya di da, ya di da…

I’m supposed to open with this thumbnail:

We had us some fun. 

It started with breakfast next door at the same place we had late lunch yesterday.  There was a controversy both over the waiter skipping me for drinks and then the lack of streaky bacon.  ):  the deep dish pancakes were awesome.  

Then it was footie day: GB, GBRM and OJ (the Leeds newly-minted Leeds fan) went to Chelsea for their stadium tour; I ended up across town at Arsenal and took their took.  Meanwhile, RR and EH went to the Victoria & Albert Museum (it’s cultural history, like fabrics, furniture, clothing)…

We all met back at Carnaby Street where the four women got matching permanent bracelets. After much discussion. :). See above pic.  

then we went together.  Here’s your last food porn collage of the trip, thanks again to GB. The place was Sergio’s, which is just across the street from the flat.  There were many hijinx by the staff, including telling RR her decaf cappuccino wasn’t decaf (ha ha, funny) and telling us the table next to us paid the bill. (Ha effin’ ha)

But the food was great. 

I don’t remember what all of them were — OJ had seafood pasta, MOJ lasagna, which is recognizable, and RR bolognese (likewise).  

After dinner, OJ and I went to Mr. Fogg’s, which was .2 of a mile from the flat.  It is a “botanical speakeasy.”  Here’s a photo to give you the vibe.  There’s a video of the bartender doing speakeasy bartender stuff…

The funniest story was how we got there, sent some pics, and then 3 of them talked about joining us, no, can’t, no tired, okay, I’m coming. 

In the end EH came and loved it — it was a very Darwin, botanical 19th c vibe.  A good highlight to finish.

Great trip.  Moving on.  See you next time. 

A horse, my kingdom for a horse…or a donut, or a rose by another name

 No one gave me a scarf, which means it wasn’t as a good a day as yesterday.  But still a good day. 

The handyman (the host’s word) came early this morning and changed out the faucet.  Without bothering much of anyone.  Kudos. 

Then off on the donut crawl.  Or is it “doughnut” (at least one shop spelled it this way). 

The first was an interminable walk from the flat, and, bc of my blogging. 

The first place seems to have had a deal of sourdough donuts.  OJ and I decided we weren’t fans (we both had the banana caramel peanut butter) bc it was too doughy.  Chewy. 

The second place wasn’t so far away, but to say it was obscure would be an understatement.  We went somewhere near Seven Dials (famed in murder mystery fame) and down an alley into a blind alley, to its very end.  

They only had three types of filled donuts: chocolate, vanilla and raspberry.  OJ and I got the raspberrry (if you haven’t picked up on this, there’s something of a challenge going on here).  It was very, very good.  The filling was not jelly as much as jam, very tart with lots of seeds.  Yum. 

The third place had donuts with weird names.  There was the Hans Rolo and the Snack Enron (I had neither).  I had a cinnamon roll; OJ had the Hans Rolo.  GB got the doh! Nut (why it was pink…???) 

They let me win the challenge (I was the only one able to finish my 3rd donut) and away we went. 

We ended up in Covent Garden.  There was some minor shopping, and there’s a video of a guy on a ladder holding 3 swords.  He talked more than anything…and got people to vote on how many clothes he took off.  He took off his kilt, even though I’m pretty sure the noes had it.  He then told us that was what 45 looked like. :). He juggled for a minute and collected money. 

OH, yeah, almost forgot, I got GB and GBRM their wedding present.  There was a string quartet playing in the piazza and the leader said they did weddings but it was cheaper to just buy the CD and use a CD player.  :). And they needed the money now.  So I bought the Cd for them.  (Not sure they know about CDs, but isn’t it the thought that counts?)

We then did one of the “10 hidden things to do in London.”  It couldn’t stayed hidden.  We went up to the terrace in the Royal Opera House.  It’s “only” the third story AND it’s not exactly located with great views, other than the obvious one down into Covent Garden. 

We then trekked off to Regent’s Park.  There was, as there has been on this trip, much too-ing and fro-ing about how to get from here to there and this time I wasn’t happy where Google maps had us get a bus to and where to get off — it seemed farther from the park and what we wanted to see than it might have been.  I then maybe led us a bit out of the way.  :)

BTW my Fitbit as we sat down there about 130 said I had 17000 steps.  Everyone else was at 8 or 9000.  My Fitbit isn’t being accurate. 

The point of Regent’s Park was to see Queen Mary’s Garden, which is about as large a collection of roses as you might ever see.  The collage gives you a feel for the many colors.  

 

Back to the flat via taxi (I had more than 17000 steps :)) and we had eggs Benedict (half order) across the street for late lunch.  I would add a picture, but there is a 3 picture rule. 

We then went to the play.  We saw Richard 3 at the Globe.  Seeing a play was on OJ’s must-do list. I’m not sure R3 is really the ! you want to use to sell Willie Shakes, but you gotta take what they give you. 

It was the official opening night.  It was also a bit brisk.  

But we had great seats: middle gallery, almost dead center.  

The play was a hodge-podge production that one can definitely call “interesting.”  For Michael and Barb, we start with the “postmodern” costuming — there was a lot of whatever involved.  At one point Richard wore a green jacket made of fake fur.  I’m not doing it justice. 

The play was cast with what was described in Time Out as an all not male cast.  🤷 That Richard came out in a couple scenes with plastic abs was “interesting.”  

The play builds to a crescendo with death after death and then kind of peters out, especially in this version, where there really wasn’t a Bosworth battle scene, despite proving they could do a battle scene by opening with one, and cutting the play’s most famous lines about not having a horse!  The actor who played Richard was particularly good, which was important, and they milked the music and the funnier lines, but it was uneven as a whole. 

Then the repeated problem of getting home from there.  Three of us ended up in a cab that did a U-turn to get us on the south side of St Paul’s, which is a fair walk already from the Globe.  The others gave up on catching a cab and got the Tube back from St Paul’s.  

Life. 

Not a bad day.  Lots of ground (literally) covered.  And there must be funny bits I haven’t mentioned.  But that’s what comes with having one chronicler. ):

Manana is our last day. 

Pout. 

(Day 8) Leeds, scarf, crawl, junk & Hardy

 Friends don’t let friends blog after a pub crawl. It’ll get published in the morning b4 the donut crawl. 

I hope I didn’t set the bar of expectations too high last night.  But, a pic for a thumbnail sketch, since the video (if it loads) won’t work and the last pic isn’t SFW. :). Or is it art?

So, to begin at the end.  EH, RR and I went to Carnaby Street Saturday night for dinner.  It was very busy and “wild.”  I said it’d be fun to come do a bar crawl.  So, after dinner Sunday night (there’ll be no food porn today), we walked to the same gelato place (I had all dark chocolate tonight), then walked across the street to the Shakespeare’s Head and had the first drinks. 

We started with 3 of us drinking: OJ, RR and I.  We were drinking half pints. 

Then around the corner to the Blue Posts, which I was told later smelled.  EH said it was the recycling center across the street. 

Here four of us had a half, with EH joining us for a berry flavored cider that we neither one could drink.  ):

Then to the Red Lion, where I think it was only 2 of us (it was my turn; OJ was quick to point out that I got the short one).  

At this point, the crawl broke down to just OJ and I.  I will jump to the last pub and come back.

The final pub was O’Neill’s, which is a chain of Irish pubs in England, and which we had passed earlier and there had been football rowdiness coming from there. 

As we arrived, we couldn’t get in the door because a bunch of guys were trying to drag a guy out of the pub.  He was wearing a blue jersey, everyone else was in white, and the one guy told him to “stop being a clown.” He didn’t. 

The guy stopped and I said something to him and he says “You’re American! Where from?” When OJ says he’s from Texas, his friend breaks into “Almost heaven, West Virginia…”. OJ tried to tell him that Texas wasn’t near there. My friend Marshall went on to tell us all about his life (I haven’t mentioned that he was wearing a white jersey with scarf), which including living in Whistler, Canada, Vietnam and New Zealand.  

After some talking, we (*I*) got Marshall to tell us that he was a Leeds supporter.   Leeds lost the world’s richest football game yesterday to Southampton, 1-0, to stay in Champion division. Marshall was taking it well.  As were his mates (there were 20 or 30 of them at O’Neill’s).  

After a quick talk of politics, Marshall told us Leeds supporters chanted repeatedly “We’re from Leeds/We are vile/Sunak is a ****phile.”  He said this with relish.  

After some chat, Marshall suddenly stopped, pulled off his scarf and said to me, “I’m gracing you with this scarf” and wrapped it over my shoulders! :) So I came home with a new scarf with a player’s name and number on it I’ve never heard of. 😂  OJ wanted me to give it back.  I didn’t think it was the thing to do and the group agreed when told later. 

But then it got crazier.  If the video will load, you’ll get a taste of it.  He did this THREE times while we were there. We never could quite catch the words, though the one chant included “Chelsea” and “shite” multiple times.  

OJ was rather hurt that *I* got the scarf and he didn’t and I just laid the facts out for him: I would have to give him charm lessons.  This was like the funniest thing he’d heard all week. 😂😂

We were “thrown out” of O’Neill’s for closing time and made the 8 minute walk home.  

My knee didn’t hurt so much then. (More later)

Oh, yes! I was feeling kinda bad about the scarf and realized the thing to do was some sort of swap; so I found Marshall and gave him the money clip I got from Royal Birkdale as their guest gift last Monday.  He was quite touched and thankful; he was a good golfer, too. 

So, that was the end of the pub crawl.

And now to flashback to the beginning of the day. 

We started with coffee and pastries from the Skandy place that is, as they say, literally two doors from our flat door.  Good place.  Convenient. 

Then we marched the 16 minutes to the British Museum.  I realized we were half a block from the back door and wondered out loud if we should try that and EH said that was where Google maps was taking it. (If I have not made it clear to you, RR and I have not bought data service on this trip, while EH has gotten it everyday, which means she has to do the map thing sometimes).  

There was a line.  Repeatedly the “guards” announced that this was the door for those without tickets (us) and if you had tickets, you could walk the two blocks around the building to the front door and get in quicker (I think this is a lie).  There is a security screening on both doors, which slows things down. 

Back when I did research there, there was no security and you could stroll through the door with a wave at the guard.  

As we stood in line, EH threw down the gauntlet: “since you spent so much time here, why don’t you tell them what there is to see?”  Okay.  I did.  There was a woman who had followed us the fifteen minutes in line and was standing like she was in our party and she said that I did a good job.  I thanked her for her nice words.  She was from Minnesota (I did NOT sing “Country Roads” to her).  

This would have been the highlight of my day and the blog if Marshall hadn’t come along, much later. 😀

The British Museum is full of wonders, which GB loudly proclaimed “they stole from all over.” “Procured” might be another word. 

We spent almost two hours there and headed for the next museum. 

At some point in the BM, my left knee started hurting.  There have been a lot of stairs (you remember the ones in the flat in L’pool, the flat here the bathrooms and our bedroom are on the 3rd floor 😡).  So you know, I brought a knee brace with me, so you know this is a thing.  ( I claimed I suffered in silence; they say I whined a lot.  Who do you believe? 🤷)

On the way to the Soanes museum, we stopped at a rando Italian place, lured by the sign of pasta and fish and chips specials.  There was nothing special about it. 

After limping through the Soanes museum, which is quite the thing, we headed back.  Here’s a collage from the two museums.  It has been noted that a lot of the shared photos are of “junk and asscracks”…I will point out that none of them are mine. :)

If I wasn’t running long I would rhapsodize about the Soanes museum.  He was an early 19th c architect who had a lot of big contracts and who was a pack rat with a house full of antiquities and art.  The house is as he left it in 1837, by act of Parliament (back before Sunak took over :))

We had to deal with the bike race through London (we were warned), which meant the road was blocked off between us and the Soanes.  I missed getting video as the riders whizzed by. 

RR wanted to take a us.  Back and I agreed thinking it was fewer steps.  Then the first bus stop nearest us was closed due to the bike race, then…well, we walked almost halfway back to the flat before actually getting a moving bus.  The public transport has not been handy. 

Dinner was at the nearby food hall.  RR and I had chicken fingers.  Not photo worthy. 

Then gelato.

Then pub crawl. 

Then they left OJ and I.

As I have multiple colleagues who may read this, I have to go to the next pub.  With was called the Shaston Arms and it had all kinds of Thomas Hardy memorabilia.  OJ wandered if I knew who he was. (Laugh #1) I asked if he could name 3 Hardy novels, he admitted he’d never heard of him.  He was taken by a quote written on the wall and I said “now you know one.”  He said what do you mean?  It said “Jude the Obscure” under the quote, which OJ has now told twice that he thought was just “some guy.” He asked how many Hardy novels I had read and I mistakenly said “all of them” (when we got back, EH looked it up and he’d written far more than the 5 I could name and have read).  I told OJ that he gave up being a novelist and became A poet, including some WW1 poetry.  This didn’t seem to impress him. :). Thus ended the literary part of our blog. 

Today I’m missing the beginning of the donut crawl for you. 

But first this: the guest bathroom upstairs yesterday morning went wonky.  The cold water tap was leaking. I told our host who sent someone while we were out.  When we got back and tried it, it wouldn’t shut off!!! This led to OJ, with GBRM’s help, being able to turn it off with a butter knife. :). They’ve already been here and swapped out the old one..  This place has good service. :)

And the thumbnail: I said I liked the orange shirt and GB said if I got the shirt I had to get the gator head too. :) 😂

(Day 7) Train “disasters,” Curry and curry and off with your head!

 Where to begin today?  The first picture has to be of the food porn, as it was that kind of day.  My friend Nicole, who is always envious of my coming to London, will die if she sees the pictures, followed by a text about what she has on offer in Lock Haven.  I guess other than both starting with Lo and ending in n, they have little in common.  :)

The train trek down from Liverpool was NOT uneventful.  First, there were several Man United fans on board; the two I observed briefly were on their third Budweiser.  It was not yet noon.  I think it’s called pre-gaming.

At some point they came on the intercom and said there was a problem on the line.  It turns out it was a switch that turned off the electricity.  Their solution (which they announced) was “we’re going to turn everything off and turn it back on again and hope it reboots and works.”  They’d obviously been talking to their IT person who was at home, annoyed they were calling. :)

It worked. 

The most interesting other thing about the trip was the guy who sat next to EH.  His name was William (so goes the text exchange among us).  I guess William was a bit hen=pecked — EH kept referring to his wife as “William’s bird.” 😂

At one point William’s bird gave him a newspaper with the crossword.  It was reported that she’d filled in part and left the hard part for him.  Based on our text exchange, this might have happened twice.  William was a sprawler — he leaned against EH while also having his legs in the aisle.  English gentleman that. :)

We arrived in London running late.  On the way we had decided that the plan was to drop our bags at the flat (fingers crossed teh code worked) and then get to the Tube and get to the Tower for the last group of the day, stopping at Wagamama’s near the gate for lunch. 

Wagamama’s is a family London tradition (right Michael?) going back years and years.  A friend and colleague recommended it; I ate there; and have been taking people there for years.  It’s a Japanese noodle place, which means they are kind of “automated” and the food, though good, comes quickly.  As we went in I said we had 45 minutes to eat.  We got seated quickly, got our meals, and made it in so early we had 7 minutes before the Yeoman Warder arrived to start our tour. 

But back to the Tube.  Google maps, in its infinite wisdom, took us to Great Portland St. Station, which isn’t the closest to the flat, ostensibly because we didn’t have to change lines — we could take the Circle line all the way to Tower Hill. 

Uh huh.  

(Remember that the big train from L’pool had gone, as EH said, “tits up” on the way). We were suddenly told, halfway to Tower Hill, that our train was terminating and if we got off, there’d be another along in no time.  A lot of people got off immediately but we went to the next stop, me thinking it would be the same. 

It wasn’t. 😡 It turns out at Moorgate they changed our train to a Hammersmith & City and it was going back west, and we needed to get to the eastbound platform. 

We did, losing precious lunch time.  OJ was talking eating someone’s arm (it was about 230 and breakfast had been a pastry in the train station — not his beloved full English).

We get on the next Circle line train and at Aldgate they announce they aren’t going any farther!!! They are shutting down the circle line.  

We look at OJ’s google maps and decide we might as well walk.  Clock ticking.

It’s really not far from Aldgate to Tower Hill (I’ve done it a number of times), so we were there with that 45 minutes to spare, which at one time I had calculated as closer to an hour and a half. 

Here’s today’s food collage.  I will try to tell you what everything is. 

From top left, that’s pad thai (I think), chicken katsu curry, gunpowder potatoes (Dishoom), lamb empananadas; bottom row: Krispy Kreme’s (blame GB, she made the collage), spicy mackerel, I don’t have any idea, and ruby chicken. 

We made it in time. 

This is Mark, who was our guide through the Tower.  It was my third consecutive year of hearing the Warder’s spiel, so I knew some of the jokes.  Though some, like the West Virginia incest joke, and the “you Yanks could have all this if you’d just paid your taxes” joke never get old.  

He did a great job of recounting several beheadings, and we won’t sleep at all tonight. 😱

After the Tower tour, and everyone saw the Crown Jewels that are housed there to this day (no pictures allowed) we worked our way back towards the flat.  

We did a quick stop at St. Paul’s, so here’s the requisite photo.  Sorry, James.

After a pint at our “local” (it’s catty-corner from the flat, which we think is 👍), EH,, RR and I went to Carnaby St (famed in Beatles lore and during the 60s cultural revolution) and ate at Dishoom.  We waited 30 minutes in line at 9 PM, but it was worth it.  It is the best Indian food I’ve ever eaten in a restaurant (I have to be careful here).  The ruby chicken is the best butter chicken you might ever eat. 

There was a gelato place on the way, so we all got the gelato we didn’t get outside of the Tower, where we got “whipped” (joke included)..

FYI: as we walked by Oxford Circus Tube Station (the closest to our flat), they announced they were evacuating the station!  We didn’t hear why.  But it was train disaster #4 of the day. 

PS Today’s post script is about the convo we had with our Uber driver to the train station this morning.  He asked about understanding the L’pool accent (called “Scouse”) and we admitted we struggled.  He said you should hear them among themselves. 😁 He asked if America had anything like that and EH told him about Creole and recommended he watch Disney’s The Princess and the Frog and look for the firefly named Ray.  Who knew? 

And on that very EH note, I bid you adieu.  

(Day 6) Peahens, Bad Service & International Bee Day)

 It was our last day in L’pool (as I’ve learned to abbreviate it).

But first, some blog editorial stuff.  First, the number of pictures in yesterday’s blog has been commented upon.  Some liked more pictures; some seem troubled that I’ve violated the sacrosanct “no more than 3” rule.  I will try to follow my own rules from now on.  Though I wonder if the montage from dinner isn’t too much. 

Next, there were comments from yesterday’s about how I told one of the stories and how I did not fully exposit one person’s hard work and value.  I responded “get your own blog.”  :). There is a very longstanding practice, back to the Ancients, that the teller gets to choose their facts.  It is a practice I will continue in these e-pages. :)

Let’s start with dinner (so the food porn is the thumbnail picture), which was at Maray.  Its cuisine is North African.  OJ and I workshopped jokes about this all week.  The “I hear they serve camel steaks” line actually got OJ a laugh from the caddies today. ): *I* had been trying that joke out all week!!! 

Maray does the whole small plate/tapas thing, which is fun in a group (theoretically).  Let me just say that the concept met with some early resistance.  And it’s never a good experience when you have the menus, and the wait person has said “you should order 2 or 3 plates per person to share” and when asked what they want, most of the table says “I don’t know.”  

But the food was good (if you’re into that sort of thing — they had at least 3 ways to use chickpeas and I really don’t understand why people harvest chickpeas for human consumption in the first place) and good ambience.  Everyone who knew where we were going all week said what a good place it was and they lived up to that word-of-mouth.  Here is a group photo (so I can stick to my 3 photo rule) of (from top left, clockwise) Falafel, cauliflower, hummus, halloumi, and cod.  Regrettably, there was no camel on the menu. 

There were stories today.  Funny things seem to happen to me.  I wonder what the common denominator is?

Okay, I’ll start with a story I’ll tell on myself: today we played at West Lancashire Golf Club (irrelevant but I’m working it in) and after the round I leave OJ quaffing a Guinness as he has after every round and go to the bathroom.  In the stall, the lights go out (fill in those blanks folks :)) and I’m fumbling to get out in the dark.  

And I can’t get the door unlocked!!!  I try the lock up —- no!  I try it down — no! I try it in the middle — no! 😡 Up, down, middle — nothing!!! AND THE LIGHTS STILL HAVEN’T COME ON!!!! 😡 😡 

I was on their WiFi but it has disappeared and I don’t have the data turned on on my phone — it’s $10 a day — and I stand doing a cost-benefit analysis of turning it on and texting OJ or deciding how long before he realizes something is wrong and comes and checks on me (the answer, after telling him this, is NOT reassuring — “Oh, I’d have gotten another Guinness and continued working the room [I found him talking to the current club Lady Captain and friend in the room next to where I left him 😆], it would have been a long time.”  😡 

After realizing none of that was going to work, still in the dark, I decided to turn on the flashlight feature on my iPhone (thank you, Steve Jobs) and looked at the crack to see the bolt lock.  By wiggling the handle I finally got it to pull back — down was the right answer — and I was free!

I washed my hands. IT WAS STill DARk!!!

The lights came on AFTER I left the bathroom.  🤨

We loved the club, which is right on the Mersey, almost at the Irish Sea.  My caddy was named James, who was great,  and he told some of the history.  There were two big bomb craters from WW2.  They were from friendly fire! There was an airbase just “over those two woods you can see out east” and a couple of times bombers were dumping their ammo and all before a tough landing and missed dropping them into the water nearby. ):  There was also a PoW camp on the edge of the property.  And an antiaircraft turret in sight.  The club also was messed about with —- they lost the ladies course in the center of the property — and some holes were rearranged.  

Every course we’ve been on has had pheasants.  Weird.  But the males are beautiful (if you don’t know) with their colorful heads and tiger-stripe like bodies.  

But we hadn’t seen a hen.  Our caddy Monday lamented that they seem to have disappeared at Royal Birkdale.  

Today there was one near us and James commented on it.  He said they were quite tame.  It came trotting up to me — I was told they liked to be fed and would take seed out of your hand!  I got a decent picture of her before she gave up on my as a seed-source. 

One of OJ’s favorites is a sausage roll.  I don’t know if this was a discovery when we went to Scotland in 2016, or when, but on trips to this part of the world to play golf, he likes to grab one at the halfway house if they have them.  There was one yesterday at RLSAGC.  But today he got one and rhapsodized about it.  An “Ode to a Sausage Roll,” if you will:

    Oh, roll of sausage, a delight,

    With water pastry oh so light, 

    With piggy hot,

    And spices not,

    I love you with each and every bite. 

And now, the final, if not best, story of the day. 

We took the car back to Enterprise.  For context, re-read part of Day 2 :). The Irish woman (we never got her name) was there.  Fortunately, she didn’t wait on me.  But there was a line waiting for help in the office.  When the first associate came out and asked “who’s next,” a guy stepped forward and they took him.  I looked over my shoulder at the seating and a woman (I needn’t try to describe her) said “I’m next.” With some attitude. Well, Irish was the next one out and the woman jumped up and she started helping her. 

In a few minutes, another associate came out and asked my name and asked for the car keys.  He said he was going out to look over the car.  I followed, so OJ and I had to piece the rest of this together on the Uber drive back to the flat. 

I will put it in order for your sake and so the humor really works. (I hope)

OJ said he desperately needed to go to the bathroom.  He was going inside. 

Turns out he interrupted Irish and the woman to ask where the bathroom was.  Irish said “I’ll show you” leaving the woman behind.  She took him back down a hall and showed him the door. 

When I finished with my associate, *I* asked for the bathroom (I know, the jokes write themselves 😂) and he led me through a side door and told me where the bathroom was.  I found OJ there and I took his place as he came out. 

When I came out of the bathroom, walking down the corridor I looked through a glass window into the break room.  Irish was standing there! 

I joined OJ out front, waiting on our Uber, and I told him where I saw her and we laughed and then he said “when I went back through, that woman was still standing there waiting for her return” 😂😂😂 

So, she’d taken another break in the middle of waiting on someone!! OJ kept saying “that just doesn’t happen!”  

It won’t be a great review. :)

And that, my friends, is it for Liverpool. 

(Day 5) Nae wind, nae golf; flat Lake District

 Ok.  Today was full of stuff, much of which I don’t know about because I was miles from the scene. 

But…

Let’s start with the end of the day.  Nearly end.  The non-golfers left at 8:15 this morning for a coach trip to the Lake District.  At 810, GB asks me if I’ll drive them down.  I said but there are 5 of you.   “I’ll sit on GBRM’s lap” and I say “But you’re only roommates” and she says, “No, we back to being engaged today.”  So, I drove them down.  Almost.  

As it will become clear, navigating Liverpool city centre is tricky in a car.  Trying to watch the Google maps while in jockeying bumper-to-bumper traffic isn’t all that easy and once more I missed a quick hard right, and made the next one and the app tried to reroute and GBRM said “it’s just over there let us out here”, so I did.

Then spent twenty minutes gettting back to the flat.  I didn’t have data (we haven’t discussed this, more later) so was winging it on the GPS with the blue dot and the flat’s pin.  Ah, well.

OJ and I drove to city centre for breakfast and so I could get my golf club shipping paperwork printed.  After breakfast he went to the car and I went to Ryman’s stationers and I said he could pick me up.  

I didn’t find Ryman’s right away.  I had to turn on data to figure out I had just passed it and not noticed.  ): Then I came out and tried to figure out where to meet OJ.  I was in the middle a shopping square and there wasn’t a street in sight.  I walked to a street and sent John a pin on Google maps and said come here.

We have shared locations on this trip, so I could look and see where the “J” was on the map.  He’s circling around, nowhere near me.  He gets to a point where I can get near him if he makes a left and I text “make the next left” and I head for the spot.  I get there and look and the J is all the way back to our flat!!!  

Final thing, he tells me to go back to the first pin and he’s there — and he doesn’t know that it was where the first pin was!! 

We’re half hour behind “schedule” for Lytham and St Anne’s which is an hour and twenty minutes away.

OH, yes, breakfast.  Food porn 1. 

That’s Nutella, if you wonder. 

This is my shot from the Lake District.  this is Castlerigg Stone Circle.

One of their highlights was a flat tire on the coach.  

We played golf.  The wind was a solid 20 mph all day.  We had two good caddies (in an irony after Tuesday, mine was named Steve 😂

We loved Royal Lytham & St. Anne’s.  Here’s the requisite OJ having fun shot. 

RLSAGC is famed for its bunkers.  It has 180+ — supposedly 17 on the 18th hole.  Steve asked why not one more and have 18 on 18?  But I was in fewer than either of the first two days — for the first time this trip, OJ won that competition (6-4).  He also won the day’s bet based on a big meltdown by me on the first four holes on the back 9.  He has video of me in the one deep green side bunker.  The video lasts as long as his phone’s memory and leaves me still in it. 😡

Also to be said about the village of Lytham & St. Anne’s — it looks like a very charming place.  Coming into town the houses are not only all of this red brick (Steve told me the maker was in West Lancashire and the brick was notably hard), but they had red brick walls all around.  The club is surrounded by one with a very narrow entrance and exit gap.  

As we got finished, I get a text saying they couldn’t get into the flat.  Had they changed the lockbox code? No.  I text the rental agent (remember we’re buddies after Sunday) and she said no.  There was a multitude of texts as they wondered what to do.  remember, we’re 80 minutes away. In the end, GBF (for  the day) opened it, I was told, with his trusty travel hammer, thus saving the day. I am told. 

We stopped for a quick fish and chips at a place that had a 4.8 rating.  I hadn’t been in a real chipper since the 70s.  Mine was good.  OJ tried to order something other than the basic and was disappointed.  He wanted the hake special.  “We’re out of hake.”  “What’s plaice?”  The wait staff and I said “fish.”  😂 He wanted more.  “I don’t know what to tell you, it is a white fish.”  When he asked the two other wait staff they both said “I don’t like fish.” 😂😂.  OJ ordered it and didn’t like it. 

And, after almost hitting cars I didn’t see, we were back in Liverpool and I was blogging…

Manana.  NO PS.  

Penny Street & Breakups (Day 4)

[Editor’s notes: there have been complaints, there’s no other word for it 😡 , that the use of acronyms is hard to decipher.  So, here’s the cheat code:

You know who OJ is. Yes, the worst caddy ever was also named John; MOJ = Mrs OJ; GB = OJ's daughter, who was legendarily named after a golf ball; GBRM = GB's roommate bc that's what they call each other, eventho he gave her a 💍 last month, so could be GBF; RRxx = is Karen. I started using RR 4 years ago when she was Recently Rettired. Which is no longer accurate, so RR but Not Lately; EH = Encyclopedia Hicks, named after the children's book detective. ]

Today was our day to stay in Liverpool and do stuff together.  It poured all day. 😢

The day started as another anxiety-producing cluster (which was my fault) as I moved the leaving time twice (once after EH went to bed, once early this morning). 

We were supposed to be at the tour office half an hour early (the morning adjustment) to collect our tickets and at half an hour early, 4 went on.  I don’t know how their ride went.

But, EH, RR (to simplify and confuse) and I ended up in an UBer AFTER half an hour before the tour started.  It was supposed to be a 7 minute ride, but there was traffic.  (The street that fronts us is four-lane and often absolutely stopped full of bumper-to-bumper traffic, especially during rush hour; in the car, we have learned to swing around it and park in the back.) The Uber driver didn’t really respond when we get in and I couldn’t get him to speak the whole trip, which took more like 15 minutes despite his varied attempts to avoid traffic, starting with the famed 3-point turnaround to NOT go out on our street. (see above). Twice he had to scrape the paint off a car they were so close.  

We made it in plenty of time, because, OC, we didn’t really need to be there half hour ahead of time. 

When we got there GBRM said he had gotten the tickets and GB immediately tells me that she and he are again roommates.  “No longer fiancée..” Me, being me, asked about the ring, which she showed me and then turned the diamond to the inside. “So now you’re married” I said that did not get a polite response.  I was never told the whole story and they seemed fine later, but it was an interesting start. :)

The tour was the Magical Mystery Tour.  It is, as you can imagine, a bus (Br: coach) tour of Liverpool (2 hours) covering the sites associated with the Beatles.  This included everyone’s childhood home (or homes in John’s case), some schools, etc.  

As our tour guide Charlie said, his job wasn’t to sell the Beatles, but to show people how grand a city Liverpool is (for you non-Anglophile’s it is the 5th largest city in the UK, 500,000 people).  

Charlie was made for the job.  He even sang a bit.  We learned a lot.  Including the fact that Charlie’s favor song is “Here Comes the Sun” (his favorite Beatle is George) and that it is the most downloaded Beatles song (which research indicates may be true).  We saw Penny Lane, which is more an area than just the road, and Strawberry Fields, which was a Salvation Army-run orphanage.  John got in trouble there one day and told his aunt that getting caught trespassing wasn’t worth getting hung for, which is where that strange lyric comes from.  And that there’s an Ellen Rigby in the churchyard there, but Paul always claimed the name came from elsewhere,  though he walked through that cemetery daily. 

FYI, GBRM (formerly GBF) is not into music.  Claims to know little about the Beatles.  Asked to name 3 Beatles songs before today, he could only name two (FYI: we aren’t sure he doesn’t pull our leg a lot) — Blackbird and Yellow Submarine (the first supposedly bc Beyoncé has recently done a cover).

After the tour, asked to name three, he stuck with those two and added “Penny Street.”  SMH

The last stop on the tour was the Cavern Club.  You can look up its obviously sketchy history in terms of claimed of authenticity and the current iteration.  It is very cavernous, as in you have to go down like three flights of stairs.  A single guy was on stage, playing Beatles songs.  He was “middle aged” and pretty good. 

Then lunch, which was at Nando’s.  Michael and Barb will appreciate us trying to recreate our London experience.  IF you don’t know (there are stores in the States), their specialty is peri-peri chicken, which is Portuguese via Brazil.  I think “casual dining” describes it.  It wasn’t the biggest hit, in part bc they didn’t do the dishes justice AND it turns out OJ is anti-chicken.  Given everyone seems to be anti-something, that we eat at all is amazing. 

And then the breakup.  I think OJ wanted to go to the maritime museum and I said I wanted to go see the football stadiums.  GBRM wasn’t paying close attention to my full description. ;). So he, GB and I went that way and the other 4 walked to the maritime museum, which was 10 minutes away.  

We got in the Uber and the driver took us…well, I didn’t understand how he was getting to our flat the way he was driving.   In the end, he pulled up outside Anfield (where Liverpool FC plays).  GB and I were like “what?!?!?!” GBRM missed the “go back to the flat and get the car” part of the plan.  

Anfield was not having tours, so we couldn’t see the pitch, which was true at Goodson Park, too.  Which we Ubered to next, as it is less than a mile away “as the crow flies.”  The Uber driver went another way (non crow like).  WE hit the shop, where GB was told she was a long-standing Chelsea fan and could NOT buy a “cute” Everton tee, then back to the flat for R&R.

Before R&R, a text came from OJ to come get them, so I took the car and did so, avoiding one accident on the way down and having RR say repeatedly “stay in your lane” — which I found unhelpful — which I take it to mean I was too far left for the passenger’s side passengers. :)

We stayed in for dinner. This is a story.  OJ refused to get delivery (it is pouring rain, flood warning, right?), but we can see a place outside our side window across the alley.  We ended up ordering from here by walking over and placing the order.  To talk to the proprietor, I had to change my Google translate to Polish. :). NS.  :). “Chris” has been here 18 years and seemed proud he’d not gotten beyond what he called “very little English” (imagine the heavy Polish accent).  

Anyway, OJ got the pork dish and others had gyros, which Chris gave us without pita bread.  It’s a Polish thing. 

So, that was our Liverpool day, which was supposed to be “light” and “restful.”  It WAS the first day on the trip where the itinerary’s “nap” was actually fulfilled. :)

Till the very wild tomorrow, dobranoc. 

Ps as a visual follow up for yesterday’s Hoylake story — from this morning’s coffee shop. 

(Day 3) John day

 I begin with food porn, as it was good food porn, AND I know a lot of my audience reads this for only that.  So, here’s today’s thumbnail.

(GB has told me she can make a single-shot collage of all of our meals — the bottom right is sticky toffee pudding — from top left, cod, branding, rhubarb ice cream and the 1,000 pound sirloin)

But today has to start, for my friend Michael, with breakfast.  :)

Short version: we stopped in the village of Hoylake, where the golf course was, at a place with good Google ratings for breakfast.  OJ actually scarred the front left tire (we aren’t commenting) parking on the side street next to it.  Well, I walk up (OJ is often laggging, “burning one”) and there’s a sign that says “Sorry, closed for the day.”  A middle aged (cough) fellow is wondering around.  As I’m standing there, he folds the sign and says come on in.  And then did hello in French and German.  “I can do Greek, too…”. And, as OJ walks up, he rattles off, “my name Nick.  Just Nick.  Or lovely Nick, but NOT fat Nick.”  OC OJ calls him Fat Nick the rest of the day. 

Well, Nick is not only the wait staff but the cook and he takes orders and the radio is on and he starts singing — first the song on the radio (oldies) but then into his own riff, from like one line from a song to another.  Incessantly.  It was funny. 

I asked if he had decaf and he said ‘only on Saturdays.”  I didn’t know what to say.  Then he says “not really…of course we have it.”  I heard that line two more times to other customers while we were there. :)

The second customer in was clearly a regular, a middle aged fellow who looked like the local barrister . “And there’s the happiest man in Hoylake,” Nick said.  The man responded “hardly.”  

It made for a fun opening to the day.  And the food was pretty good. :)

And now for John. 

We were supposed to have caddies.  But they were busy and the pro shop told me that John would be our caddy. I asked if he was double bagging and the pro shop guy said yes. 

John shows up and is almost my age, an average (i.e. not terribly fit) guy.  When told he’s double-bagging he has no idea.  The starter gets him a trolley to help him push one bag.  John then tells us to aim for the out of bounds stake on the right for our first tee shot and OJ promptly nails one way right, out of bounds, with screams of fore, fore right, fore right!!!  

On the third tee, OJ mumbles to me “worthless as tits on a boar…”. I thought he was talking about golf, then I realized he was disparaging my caddy. 

Here is a list of John’s failures: 

• He never read a putt right; or he made egregious mistakes.  OJ made video of me putting for a birdie and John has me aiming the wrong way!!! At the end I say “it broke the other way”…OJ told the clubhouse guy that John could have read putts better with his eyes closed;
• Several times he didn’t know what hole we were on!  He had a yardage book from the Open that was played there last July, but the tournament hole routing is different.  John was confused what page he should be looking at ):
• If you don’t know, OJ’s surname is John.  When i said “John…” John the caddy would say “what?” And I’d have to tell him that wasn’t for him. ):  context clues, bro! I don’t know you well enough to ask what your family might be doing right now; :)
• Most annoying of all to me, John liked to pull my putter out and walk around with it as he read both our putts.  As OJ has put it three times so far, “leaving Steve standing there on the green with nothing to hold but his d**k”…WTF, dude! It’s MY putter…I guess it was because he plumb bobbed to read putts (inside golf stuff)…

So, I paid him the minimum and let him leave us, without a hint of ever having to see him again.  But OJ got to ranting about how the day was great but would’ve been better with a caddy who knew what he was doing.   The clubhouse guy heard and wanted his name — I supplied it.  OJ said “I don’t want to get him in trouble” but then dropped the “read better with his eyes closed line.” :)

It was a glorious day.  The picture tells you.  And the course was very enjoyable — we both liked it better than Birkdale yesterday. 

While we were doing this, EH went to Dublin.  She had to wake me at 430 because “my alarm didn’t go off”…She had a good day. Here’s her photo du jour.  From the Trinity College library.

The others kicked around Liverpool, including seeing the new cathedral — the largest in Europe. 

 It took over 70 years to build in the 20th century.

When we were all back at the flat, we decided to try the restaurant John recommended.  Maybe the 100 quid I paid him was worth it because dinner was nothing short of fantastic.  :) There was even some silliness as the tired and beveraged hung out. 

The Uber ride home was hilarious, as first GBRM and I fought over which way to go to meet it (he was right 😢.   Then, after some scuffling, I said they weren’t letting me chat up the Uber driver.  RRNL said “that’s for the best” (traitor!) and I said that we were so busy arguing I hadn’t gotten his name, which was my usual banter starting point.  It was Abdi.  Shortly thereafter he said something and asked my name and I said “aren’t you supposed to know that?” And he says “aren’t you supposed to know mine?” Touché.  He asked where we were all from and when MOJ said Texas he went “yee haw!” LoL.  He said “you know how I can tell you aren’t from the UK?” How? “You are friendly.” 😂😂😂

Which rather closed the circle with the happiest man in Hoylake…:)

(Day 2; revised) Car wheels, golf, & wedding dresses

 [revised version: warning, lengthy epilogue; I’ve italicized for OJ so he doens’t have to read a bunch more :)]

[I’m sooo tired, I hope this is short 😂]

OJ, RRNL and I started the day with breakfast in the only place open at 9 o’clock — the oldest Kurdish restaurant in Liverpool (which turns out to be like being the highest jumping hippo —2021), where we had (OC) the full English breakfast, but OJ went exotic and ordered the Arabic coffee.  It’s not one of today’s 3 pictures, but could be.  Ok, it is…

After breakfast OJ and I made our way via Uber (he told them at dinner he couldn’t get a word in edgewise as the Uber driver, Marcelo, and I had a nice chat :)) to the Enterprise car rental place. 

OJ told people later that he just couldn’t believe what happened to him happened there.  

We get and get rather ignored.  Finally a young woman, who was Irish (it’s good we don’t know her name) , took our info and everything, then said those terrible words, “let me go see if we have a car for you.” WTF?!!??!?  So we are waiting, looking out the window, and here she is, walking across the road, and then around the roundabout.  He says “where’s she going?” And I, optimistically, said going to another parking lot to get our car.  He missed her coming back with a soda and a snack.  When I told him, he was like WTF?!?!?!

She never came out again. !!!! 😡 😡 😡

So we waited.  No one waited on us for 45 minutes! They ignored us.  Meanwhile, two people came in, both from jogging (not kidding, both sweating} said something in a language I didn’t understand, to which the staff said, “Okay, I’ll get your car” and left. 

I texted that i was about to go full Karen on them, when Milly came out (she was the first one to say “someone will be with you in a moment” — liar). She took care of us, eventually, re-doing some paperwork…and we left with a car.  

OJ drove to the golf course.  I kept saying “you’re too close over here” and he kept denying it.  Then there was a small road with amazing 60 mph speed limit and he hits this S-turn and I saw a flash of red and “bang!!!” 

He hit the curve on my side HARD!  He couldn’t believe that we didn’t go flat almost immediately.  It is okay.  But it was huge. 

As he tells it, it was a vintage red sports car coming around the S turn too much on our side and he slid a bit left to miss it and…BANG!!!!

We lived. 

While we were doing that, the rest of them (minus EH, who was at the cat cafe with her friend from Manchester) went on the river cruise.  This is the most river cruise picture they gave me.  We heard no great stories.  

Somehow, they ended up in a wedding dress shop.  🤷

And bought a wedding dress.  (GB and GBRM are getting married next May, supposing they survive this trip). 

This made for VERY interesting dinner conversation, I will tell you. 

Food porn alert!

We went to a place, found by GB, NEXT to the Wetherspoons from last night (no food porn) at the railroad station (which is only a 10 minute walk away — downhill all the way there, unfortunately uphill all the way back).  GBRM ordered the “Scouse,” which we had to look up to know what it was: it is the local name for their stew, which is a lot like Irish stew.  This version had beef.  Picture…

I also should mention that they went to the British Music Museum, which led amazingly to a sharing of the famed David Bowie/Bing Crosby Little Drummer Boy duet.  Don’t ask how, I don’t know. 

As for the golf course, wow.  I have never played at a place where they gave you a code to get you through the door to the locker room and dining room.  And “you can’t wear your cap in there”…to me.  You know, because I want to show my head. 

So, maybe the most boogie course we’ve played in the British Isles (OC including Ireland).  

The course was good, the highlight was my caddy, who is an Everton fan (I felt sorry for him) and quite the cheerleader.  He tried to talk me into wining the match.  I think the official verdict is we’re even after day 1. 

On the first par 3, John pulled his shot into the trap and as he walked up told me to get my camera.  Here’s the video I got [GBRR, a youth, was able to translate it to a still for me.  Thx :)]

  the “OC on his knees” jokes write themselves. 😂 and he was quick to point out that he had to do this twice :) 

The course was somewhat of a disappointment — I want to see the sea on a links course (my #1 on this is Kiawhea (sp?) where you almost literally walk on the beach to play some holes.  The best notion of the Irish Sea was the oil rig you could see looming large out a little ways. 

The highlight (non-golf) was the pheasants. They are really beautiful upclose, with their red heads and the stripes on their body. Keith worrried that you only saw males anymore. ):

Okay…I’ve walked 24.5k steps today.  And have a 4:30 AM airport run to make. 

Sorry there weren’t more jokes, James. 

Post script (yes, again): I was too tired to tell this story last night.  We came back from dinner and EH asked for info to check into her flight Tuesday morning (FYI it is light here at 430 AM).  I forwarded her the info and took a shower.  When I came back to the living room, she said “I guess you’re off the hook for the airport at 430.” Why? Guess.  I guessed “I put it in my name”…No.  “I got the wrong date.”  Yes.  Last Tuesday!  We don’t know how.  I asked how much to go and she said like £115 and I said “oh, you’re going”… she said, it’s not nothing and I said “I gave the f***ing caddy more than that in cash today…pffft”…the room actually kinda laughed.  Win. :). (FYI I cannot retire for another year now 😢, like OJ and the wedding dress 😂😂) so she went to Dublin on the 620 flight this morning. 

London calling, again

 Day 1. Or something…

We are in London.  Okay, literally this is written on the train from London to Liverpool but details, details. 

We all got in yesterday, five of us late enough that it doesn’t count. 

So today…

But first — new rule: only 3 pics per blog.  And the first pic (as I’ve learned) is the one that is the thumbnail, so it’ll be the day’s “best pic.”  [for those Philistines out there, Golf pic will be third].

Today.  Prob should start with the hotel.  It was very, very convenient to Paddington Station, where we all came in on the express.  It wasn’t a bad price for London.  But it was not going on the recommended list.  The rooms were tiny — we had a “triple,” which had the numerically strange number of five beds (a set of bunk beds and 3 singles).  OJ (as he will be called this week so I don’t have to type out the whole thing all the time :)) wondered if the “singles” were smaller than singles.  Is that possible?  Okay, and the bathroom was so small.  How small was it? It was so small you had to step outside to change your mind.  Yeah, like that.  OC it wasn’t air conditioned (it was warm in London yesterday and today.  And sunny!)

And, to top it all off, there was no elevator ):  And we had two bags that were over 45 lbs. ): 😭  Geez. 

And that’s my first day blog…

No. 

We made a semi quick exit this morning, taking the Tube to Charing Cross (after several bulks to get ‘coffee’) — I thought to see the Horse Guard’s parade at 10.  There was no parade! The English woman next to me thought there was a parade.  But the policeman (‘Bobby”) told me that there was a parade at 11. 

So off to the tourist square. 

On the way, in what will clearly be the highlight of the week, we saw Larry the Cat (@number10cat) outside of 10 Downing Street.  We’re fans. 

Then to Parliament Square.  Usual Big Ben photos; usual Westminster Abbey photos; OJ, MOJ & GB went into the abbey shop, which was open and came out with a bag of souvenirs.  So you get the tone of the trip, GBRM (his name is actually that short :)) commented that the vendor who gave us waters “was sick.  But I cleaned my bottle and hands with sanitizer.”  This will be a thing, folks. :)

Then back to the Horse Guards parade grounds.  They came out at 11 and did and inspection — there were 7 horses and their riders in regalia — and went back inside.  

We decided to walk through St. James’s Park (or is there no possessive?), which lies off the back of the Horse Guards grounds and toward Buckingham Palace. 

I resisted ice cream till the second stand.  MOJ said “it’s 11 o’clock, that’s too early for ice cream!” Sacrilege!  OJ, GB and I had ice cream. It will not make the top 5 list for the week.

Then to the Palace, where a crowd was assembled.  We were in time to see the band march away from the changing of the guard there, which is kinda the thing anyway.  EH said they were in “marching band 601”, though she dissed them when saw they had sheet music. LoL

Then to High Tea.  We had tea in The Library (capital T, capital L), which is in the Marriot, which is in the old city hall building.  It is quite the building.  It is on the river right across from Big Ben (there are pics from there at the clock) and OC river view.  And the food is aesthetically pleasing — today the banana brownie was shaped like the Elizabeth tower.  Here’s the requisite food porn (there will be view porn momentarily).

The Library is almost right next to the London Eye.  Which none of us had ever been up (I thought I had, but maybe I’ve just seen so many pictures, because neither EH or NRR said they’d been up it).  Surprisingly, I was little bothered by the heights.  OTOH, both EH and I had coughing fits…we’re not sure whether it is the bad air, the plant life, or see water vendor above ):

Here’s the best shot from the trip, which was quite fun…though I was disappointed not to be able to see the famed Gherkin.  ):  

And that’s your 3 pictures and a recap.  

We almost missed the train to Liverpool but the less said about that, the better. :)

The next 5 days we are in an airbnb in Liverpool— there’ll be comments about it I’m sure over the next 5 days.  4 days OJ and I are playing golf, the 5th we are booked on the Magical Mystery Tour.  While we are golfing the others have all kinds of plans: river cruises, trips to Dublin, trips to the Lake District…you’ll hear about them.  I don’t guarantee quality food porn till we return to London, though we have reservations Wed night at a Meditterranean place that is supposed to be food porny. 

With day ends Day 1, crazy readers.  

Post script: Airbnb did not do us right by gettting us into the flat. Actually, it wasn’t airbnb but the Liverpool company that runs rentals and does a bunch with airbnb.  They didn’t send instructions to get into the lockbox!  I messaged them through the app.  No answer.   When we pulled into Liverpool RR station, I called the number I had for a second person.  He eventually texted me back and we had a prolonged text exchange.  He didn’t believe that I had paid…he didn’t seem to have his airbnb records handy. 🙁🙁🙁 then he said he’d “WhatsApp” me…I said can’t you just text.  And then someone else WhatsApp Ed me the instructions!!!  This took forever…I could go back and check the time markers, but we all stood on the RR platform waiting to finally get the code.  OJ was sure it was a scam; I said they wouldn’t be texting if they were scamming, he disagreed.