My first visit to the UK was Christmas, 1991 - and before we left, Gareth told me to make a list of things I wanted to see and do.
At the top of that list was Stonehenge.
We saw and did a lot of things on that trip, but seeing Stonehenge was not one of them. Nor did we make our way out there in 1992, 1994, 1996, 1998, 1999, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2005, or 2006.
I guess twelve time's the charm.
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Once we gathered our family and things into the rental car and checked out of the London hotel, we were able to relax a little. We set the GPS unit (nicknamed "Philippa") to guide us through the streets of London and onto the west-bound M4, the highway that we always use to get to Cardiff. It was 1:00 PM. We realized we were hungry. "Why don't we stop for lunch in Windsor?" I suggested. |
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Windsor is a small town located on the Thames, just about 20 minutes out of London. It's home to Eton College, Ascot Racecourse, Britain's LegoLand and one of the favorite residences of the Queen. You can see the top of Windsor Castle when you're speeding past the town on the M4.
We'd only ever stopped there once before: at the end of our 2005 trip, on our way TO London.
It was the day after Prince Charles' wedding to Camilla and the tiny town was still festooned with decorations -- and yellow crowd control ribbons.
The visit was remarkable for the tacky souvenir royal wedding shotglasses we purchased while we were there, which display the wrong date for the wedding. (Pope John Paul had passed away that week and so the big day had to be postponed... but there was no time to change the date on all the commemorative tchotchkes that had already been manufactured for sale.)
I remembered being charmed by how pretty the town is, and how lovely a view it is from the river. And my mum-in-law -- who is a big fan of the Queen -- had never been there before, and seemed to get a vicarious little thrill from being so near to Her Majesty's favorite castle.
Meals were a little problematic throughout this trip. My mother-in-law seems to have a physical reaction to anything at all spicy, a malady shared a bit by my daughter. I was always trying (in vain!) to find dishes that were both tasty and low-carb/low-calorie. My husband has been trying to eat foods that are low in cholesterol (but basically just shies away from red meat). We ended up eating a lot of Italian... but after three days in London, I was getting a little bit tired of that.
Fortunately, we quickly settled on the Mills House Cafe, a charming little restaurant that served very nice hamburgers (Megan), salads (me) and sandwiches (everyone else), along with proper English tea (as if there's any other kind to be had in England).
Once fed, we were free to explore the little town. We crossed the street to the castle and were surprised to discover that it is open to the public. We weren't up to taking the time for a tour (and like most historic attractions in Britain, the entrance fees weren't cheap), so this is something we'll save for a future visit.
We wandered past the castle and towards the river, where we discovered a home that had once belonged to architect Christopher Wren (who rebuilt dozens of churches after the great London fire of 1666, including St. Paul's Cathedral).
Windsor looks like it would be a great place for a weekend getaway, and we could have easily spent more time there-- but we needed to get home to Cardiff. We hopped back in the car and were delighted a couple of hours later, when we spied the little Bristol Channel islands of Flatholm and Steepholm -- evidence that we had finally arrived back in Wales, where we would stay out the week.
See the rest of my photos of Windsor, England at Flickr here.
Unlike Los Angeles, London has a great public transportation system. It's also a city that's heavily congested and expensive to park -- so it didn't make a lot of sense to rent a car for the first three days of our visit.
But we needed a rental for the rest of our vacation.
We made what we thought was a really good plan: Bright and early on the morning we were set to check out of our budget London hotel, my husband got on the Underground and made his way to Heathrow Airport, where he would pick up the Hertz shuttle and obtain the shiny Ford Focus Titanium we had reserved. Then, he'd drive back to the hotel, where we would be checked out by the 10:00 AM deadline and ready to load up our luggage.
It sounded like it would work and the morning began smoothly. I got up shortly after my husband left for the airport, around 7:30 AM. I showered and began gathering our things and packing them back in our bags. And then, my husband called. He was not happy.
"I forgot to bring my passport," he said.
Every other time we've rented a car in the UK, the agency has required we show our passports. This is not a problem when you've just stepped off the plane at Heathrow. But three days after our arrival, it was an easy item to forget.
It was 8:30 AM. If I hurried, I'd be able to bring him the passport and we could still check out of the hotel without incurring any additional fees.
I should probably mention that my husband did not get off on the right foot with the hotel manager when we checked in. She did have something of a prickly personality and let's just say that she was not well versed in the tenets of customer service.
As we left the hotel, I let her know that there was a possibility that our check-out might be a little bit later than 10:00.
"Just do it by 11:00," she said.
I was unprepared for how crowded it was at Paddington Station. It was Monday morning, and of course, it was busier than it had been over the weekend. This wasn't a problem for the regular commuters: They all have rechargeable Oyster cards, and so were moving right on through the turnstiles.
But as Paddington is a major train station, the entrance was overloaded with "irregular" commuters: tourists, like us (you could tell by the ginormous backpacks they were carrying). And most of them were queued up for the one manned ticket booth in the place, in a line that curled around to the station entrance.
Each Underground station has several automated kiosks where you can purchase individual tickets, but most require a "pin-and-chip" a smart credit card. This is a security system that the UK instituted a few years ago, consisting of a smartchip that is embedded in the card and a PIN number that must be input every time someone uses it. We don't use this system in the US -- and so our cards don't work.
There was one kiosk that took cash. Megan stood in the line with the tourists and I waited for the cash kiosk (and prayed that I had enough for two one-way tickets to Zone 6, which was the terminus for the airport). My line moved faster.
Back in Los Angeles, I had downloaded a London Tube app for my Blackberry. This proved to be pretty useful in planning our subway routes.
Unfortunately, I didn't have any phone coverage once I was actually underground - so it didn't do me a lot of good that morning. Megan and I checked the map, determined where we would have to change trains and found our platform
The trip from central London out to Heathrow takes roughly an hour. And once you get out of the central city, you're above ground, so I was able to communicate with my husband.
"Did you tell my mum you were leaving?" he asked.
Uhhhhhhhh.
My mother-in-law was staying in a room down the hall from us, and I'd dashed out the door without telling her what was going on. Frankly, I'm not sure I would have been able to communicate that information to her. She's extremely hard of hearing, and on top of that, she has a really hard time with my American accent. I'm never sure I'm getting through to her, of if I am, what she actually thinks I'm telling her.
"I'll call her," my husband said.
That was actually better. It seems as if she hears better over the phone than face to face. At any rate, chatting with her would give my husband something to do while we caught up with him.
We arrived at the Heathrow station that serves Terminals 1, 2 & 3 just after 10:00 AM (good thing I told the hotel manager we might not make checkout on time). We picked one (#1) and ran down the labyrinthine hallways and up the stairs until we saw a sign directing us to the shuttle buses outside.
We arrived at the Hertz counter at 10:30. We would have a hard time getting back to our hotel in the city by 11:00, but it wasn't impossible.
Except for one thing: My husband hadn't entered the queue until we'd called and told him we were at Heathrow with his passport. It never occurred to him to give it a try while he was sitting around waiting for us to get there.
And here's the kicker: The very helpful clerk at Hertz processed our rental WITHOUT EVER ASKING TO SEE A PASSPORT.
In 18 years of traveling to Britain, this was a first to us. (Moral of the story: It never hurts to try.)
At any rate, we did not actually get into our car until 11. We were now at risk for being charged for an extra night.
"You talk to her," my husband advised. "You haven't given her a reason to hate you."
I explained our situation to the hotel manager, told her we were on the road back to London and were doing our best to get there as fast as we could.
"I'll have the cleaning crew save your rooms for last," she said. "We'll see how it goes."
With that bit of limited assurance, I dialed up the number to pay the London congestion charge. This is an £8 daily fee motorists pay for the privilege of driving in the city centre (the idea, of course, is that by charging this fee, visitors to the city would think twice about using a car to get there, resulting in reduced traffic).
Yes, we were only driving in and then out of the city, but with the kind of morning we were having, I did not want to risk being assessed a hefty fine for non-compliance. Eight pounds is a drop in the bucket compared to what a ticket would cost us.
Fortunately, this is something that can be paid over the phone with a chip-and-pin-less credit card. After a two minute phone call, we were legal.
The next 40 minutes was a mad dash through the streets of London, a city we know only marginally well. We had brought our GPS unit over for use in the rental, and had downloaded updated UK maps. All we could do at that point was pray that we didn't get led onto any weird, dead-end streets.
We made it back to the hotel. My husband parked the car, Megan and I dashed out. I banged on my mother-in-law's door while Megan began stuffing our things back into our suitcases and then we dragged them out, one by one.
It was 12:15.
We did not get charged.
"Did you get everything?" my husband asked, knowing full well that I have a bad habit of leaving something in the room.
"Yes," I told him. I had made extra sure to clear all our things out of the bathroom.
We reset the GPS and headed out of London towards Wales.
About an hour later, I remembered that I'd left my ugly old jacket and an umbrella hanging in the closet.
I didn't look back.
See the rest of my London photos on Flickr, here.
Several years ago, we decided to check out the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew. I'd seen photos of the famous Victorian glass houses and wanted to see them first hand.
The surprise was how much the entire family enjoyed the excursion - especially my husband, who knows a good spot for a photo op when he sees one.
He is also a very considerate son.
He knew that his garden-loving mum had never been to the 300-acre site that's been a center for the study of plants since the 17th century (even though she's lived just 130 miles away for her entire life). And so when we planned their Wimbledon visit, we decided to stay on in London so we could take her there.
But we had not planned for the London weather.
I'm an LA native and have lived in the San Fernando Valley for nearly 50 years, so I can handle a little heat. But my mother-in-law (who turns 81 next month) has spent her life in Britain, and until recently has had little experience with temperatures that get close to the 90°F mark.
And I don't think anyone enjoys humidity.
The day we visited Kew, it was sweltering. The place is huge, and while there are plenty of trees (it is a botanical garden, after all), you had to walk along a lot of hot, shade-free asphalt paths to get to them.
We were cranky and eating the lovely picnic lunch we'd brought did not put us in a better mood.
Then I noticed that it was possible to tour the site on a nice, covered tram. The Kew Explorer is a 40-minute hop-on, hop-off service complete with tour guide. It costs £4 for adults and £1 for children -- and on the day we visited, I thought it was well worth it.
Family Activities
I knew that my mum-in-law would enjoy the gardens at Kew -- but was surprised at all the facility has to offer for children (even an adolescent like my 14-year-old).
We hopped off our tram to admire a large lily pond and noticed a banner for PLANTastic Play: a playground in the form of a giant plant, designed to introduce youngsters to the concept of biodiversity (yes, as beautiful as Kew is, it's primarily an educational facility... and they aim to teach people of all ages).
This installation appears to be part of Kew's "Summer Festival," which also includes a guided biodiversity tour and a fabulous exhibition of live butterflies in the Princess of Wales conservatory (which enthralled our entire party).
I was surprised to learn exactly how many kids' activities are on offer at Kew all year round: there's an indoor playground, a treetop walkway, and an aquarium. The different glass houses are architectural gems; many of them are designed with stairways that allow visitors to climb right up into the trees. And if you visit during London's usual chilly weather, it's nice and warm inside.
The Royal Botanic Garden has an extensive website, with so much information it could take you hours to get through it all. Suffice it to say, if you're planning to visit Kew with children, you'll want to read their Parents' Survival Guide here.
Disclosure: I was not compensated for this post.
See the rest of my London photos on Flickr, here.
We will probably always remember this London trip less for what we did than what we felt... because we arrived in the city for a bona fide heat wave.
Temperatures during the three day visit hovered in the high 80's - but it felt a lot hotter due to humidity... and the fact that few of the shops and restaurants we frequented had air conditioning. This included our budget hotel, which was pretty stuffy at night when we were trying to sleep.
In hindsight, we probably should have adjusted our plans. But my husband had it in his head that he wanted to take his mum to the Royal Botanical Gardens in Kew, and I had it in mine that we would spend the morning strolling through Kensington and Hyde Parks.
We did both, and neither activity was entirely satisfying.
At least, our sojourn through Hyde Park began in the morning, before it had become unbearably hot.
Eight years ago (the last time we enjoyed a summer visit to London), I'd spied the Lido Cafe, a beautiful looking spot along the Serpentine. I was determined to dine there, and it was just as charming as I'd imagined: a sophisticated spot to sip a cocktail or a cappuccino.
Unfortunately, it's not the best place for breakfast. It's not that the food was bad. On the contrary: it was very good. But it took 45 minutes from the time we placed the order to its delivery to our table. We were all too hungry and cranky to really enjoy it once it finally arrived.
And the view was beautiful.
Disclosure: I was not compensated for this post.
See the rest of my London photos on Flickr, here.
50-something Southern California native who used to be interesting.
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