I crashed!  I worked on this blog until 1:30 am last night.  One of my friends emailed me a response which said that they loved reading my postings and congratulated me for being able to type so quickly.  Well, I emailed back and congratulated her for being able to read so much without falling asleep!  So, on we go, I guess.  You are not all asleep, are you?  Hope not!!

WELL, things are getting better with the body schedule.  My normal 3:00 am you-know-what is now 6:00 am, so I am getting better. The problem at the moment is I go back to sleep only to hear the alarm  in one and one half hours.   Ah, you right;  I fudge and sleep until 8:30.  The last few nights have been heaven with all that drizzle, soft air, and fall in the air. My legs are a bit sore, but they are eager to get going again today.  I wonder for a few moments about home and my gardens and plants.  Oh, I am sure they are fine.  I will talk to my plans all too soon.

My English breakfast?  Yep, except I am adding some mushrooms which I bought off a street green grocer.  He said they were “organic.”  I asked him what that meant, and he replied that this expression means they were grown in the ground.  So, I am going to enjoy the mushrooms because they are mushrooms, not because they are organic.  That is the catch expression these days, and he knew the mushrooms would sell better.  It worked on me.  But, I am enjoying my breakfast mushrooms, bacon, eggs, and grain toast.  I am trying to cut down on the marmalade, but not successful so far.  Today, thought, somewhere during my marches, I will find a jar of Raaaaaazzbury jam.  Raaaazzbury, imagine a whole nation says RAAAAZZBURY–right out of 84 Charing Cross Rd and Anne Bancroft.

As you would expect, I am in London to start this blog and to visit with owners of the properties we let to American tourists and business people.  Today, our manager Cristina and I go to visit the owner of the property on Bramham Gardens in South Kensington.  They are a lovely elderly couple who now live in Majorca part of the year, so we book their flat.  We are going for lunch, so I am looking forward to that.  I will take some photos of this flat so you can see how nice our visitors are housed.  I will also report on my lunch.  I think we will be eating at and Italian restaurant in South Kensington.  Yummy!  Lunch!  What a way to have a business meeting.  I am a real sucker for spaghetti bolognese.

Oh, Dang!  I can’t get back to sleep. It just dawned on me that Portobello Antique Market is in three days, and I get to visit with some of the dealers whom I have known for 25 years.  We are all a bit gray–or a lot gray–but we have lots of history behind us.  I go to visit Hillary Kashdan, the pewter lady.  She is an amazing source of information because she has been in the business for so long. Then I visit Mrs. Twitty-Witty–I never can remember her Polish name which sounds like something very bad to eat.  She has one of the finest collections of antique fabrics and lace in the United Kingdom–plus, she is a real gossip and keeps me “aware” of all the changes taking place on the street,  Year after year, I have to deal with hankering to buy one of those Chinese embroidery French shawls with all that fabulous fringe.  When I asked my daughter Christina about where all this stuff I have accumulated will eventually end up, she said the children would chuck it in the pot and worry about it later.  Well, I can’t see her wandering down the streets of Park City with a embroidered French shawl with 12 inch fringe.  She spends her time running my grandson Harrison to his motor crossing, going golfing, and keeping her self in shape at the gym.  A French shawl?  I don’t think so.  But, I go to Portobello Road because I enjoy my old friends, and I keep up on the prices. Temptation, however, mounts to a fever, and then to a rash, and then to the shakes, and finally into convulsions as I attempt not to be tempted.  Convulsions or Indulgence–which will it be this time?  I will find out in two days.  I will report back.

I am missing my naps.  I can’t get to sleep unless I am dead on my feet.  This damn blog just keeps my mind ticking.  Shall I take a sleeping pill?  No, then I will never wake up, never remember what I forgot to do, and I will walk around in a daze I can’t afford to experience–I can’t numb my experiences I want to put on my blog.  Two aspirins?  No, that will never work as they upset my stomach and there go all those dinners and lunches.  No way!  Ah, a bottle of sherry?  That won’t work either–port to wine to vodka to scotch–ah, sure, I will end up the gutter snoring away, so that won’t work either.  Oh well, I guess the best way to get to sleep is to be dead, dead exhausted.  I suppose that is my fate!  If anyone has any better solutions, let me know.  I have got to get some sleep. Oops, I just got an email from one of my gentle readers and another compliment about how fast I must be able to type.  I responded by complimenting her for being such a fast reader,  not suffering  from Attention Deficit — Plunk!  Bang!  I meant it as a compliment–hope it was taken that way!  I need my audience to keep on reading or I am out of a blogging job!  Imagine, I taught English at one point in my life;  the thoughts of all those hours spent reading essays still haunt me.  I am now on to the BLOG, not the student essays which went on forever, just like this blog.

Let me give you a report of my visit to the owners of the most beautiful flat in South Kensington.  I arrived at Bramham Gardens to have lunch with these lovely people who have called this flat home for years.  It is a lovely flat.  It is on the “garden level” which means the apartment is  1/2 below ground and 1/2 above ground.  Our word “basement” is too rude when describing these garden level properties.  There is a lift, small and helpful, which opens just at the front door.  I knocked on the front door of the flat, and there were my hosts.  The flat is so charming with many period pieces of furniture and fine paintings.  We have had clients visit this property for years, and many of them comment that the sofa cushions vanish when they sit on them.  I write this here because antique sofas are often over-stuffed with down feathers so the cushions lose their form making comfortable seating,  Don’t think they are old and worn out;  rather, they have just been redone and are so typical of lovely English furniture.  One of the most wonderful aspects of this property is the stairway from the back patio to the beautiful Bramham Gardens, the common property –like a park.  I know of two such private parks:  Bramham Gardens and Egerton Gardens.  What a treat.  I asked the owners of this flat if they would like to go for lunch.  Typical of Londoners, they all have their favorite local pub–their club–and their favorite place to eat.  Well, to Strada’s we went, and I enjoyed the most wonderful Italian Bolognese.  Absolutely delicious.  What a charming visit.  I encourage all our clients to consider this flat.  It is reasonable, comfortable, and well located near the South Kensington Tube Station.  Wonderful.

I had a scheduled meeting with our London manager Cristina, so I hailed one of London’s Black Cabs–imagine, nearly 70 thousand of these marvelous conveniences.  I watched for a cab with his light on–the one on the roof of the cab–which means that the cab is free.  All you do is raise your hand, and the driver pulls to the curb.  Then the fun begins.  I explained to the driver that I was going to St. Martin’s Lane, across the street from Brown’s Restaurant, and I was running late.  Down the side streets, zipping up some square, and finally to my destination!  Black Cab drivers KNOW this city, every inch of it.  If you are fortunate, the cab driver will chat with you all the way.  He will ask you about American politics and of course we end up discussing the Queen.  I avoid the politics, but we carry on a lively conversation about the contributions to the Nation on the part of the Queen.  I would say eight out of ten London cab drivers think this Queen is a valuable factor to English national life.  If you are fortunate to get an rather older driver, he will happily talk about all the traffic for the burial of Winston Churchill and more recently the funeral of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother.  If you are really lucky, an experienced driver will remember that incredible Queen of Queens, Queen Mary. Remember, we walked down the Mall on our way to Buckingham Palace, right past Marlborough House where this fascinating Queen Concert lived.  The cab driver is a rich source of information about London.  If you are ever lost or want a good list of suggestions, consult your cab driver.

And then the evening.  St. Martin in the Fields is the 18th century church on Trafalgar Square.  It is here where Adams, Jefferson and other American Patriots attended church.  But tonight, I am not there for Church.  I am there because I am attending a performance of several Mozart divertimentos and concertos.  I couldn’t believe I was getting to sit in THIS church and listen to THIS music being played by London Concertante.  All for a flat 6 pounds or about $9.00 US.   From where I am staying, it is only a three-minute walk!  Can you believe that?  The lights dimmed, and the candles in the church were lighted as Mozart’s Divertimento in D began to fill the room.  The sound was wonderful, and i knew I was certainly in Heaven.  When you are in London, be sure you go to St. Martin-in-the-Fields to get a program of their on-going concerts.  Wow, you won’t be sorry.  I can still hear those sounds as I carry on with my evening.  It is other-worldy, certainly.

In the morning, I had decided that I would take my camera and head for an evening walk along the Victoria Embankment for some London night shots.  I walked down the east side of Trafalgar Square, saluting ol’ Nelson on his column, and turned down Craven Street.  Half way down the street, I stopped in front of Benjamin Franklin’s house where he lived with his friend while he served as American Minister to England and also  between his longer stays in Paris.  There is a tribute on the house, and it is now refurbished and open to the public.  For many, like me, this is a destination of a pilgrimage to the home of the great American patriot who, perhaps, above all others understood the art of dialog and compromise.  He wondered himself from time to time if he was in fact an American or a European only to conclude that Home was Home and back to the struggling colonies he would go.  You just drop your head at this spot, in Franklin’s memory, and carry on to the River Thames.

For a night walk and camera walk, cross over Hungerford Bridge, a walking bridge, and a whole world opens up.  The city lights bounce off the rippling river as it races to the sea;  it is like a lavish diamond necklace, full of line and color.  But, in front of you is LONDON EYE which is lighted against the City’s sky, BUT a slight turn to your left and St. Paul’s Cathedral is lighted in the most magical way.  Wow!  you have to stand there and freeze a moment as you stare at this amazing monument.  AND THEN THE CAMERA BEGINS TO WORK.  I walked down the south bank of the Thames, past the London Eye to Westminster Bridge so I would get the best views of the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, and a small glimpse of Westminster Abbey.  I have known these views for years, but I have a very vivid memory of my 12 hours standing in the line on this embankment to view the Queen Mother’s casket, lying in State in Westminster Hall.  It is a wonderful memory: walking slowly, sometimes very slowly, in that line with Londoners who are here to pay respects to this amazing Queen who stood with her beloved Londoners during the bombings of World War II. Everyone had memories to share;  some remember her when she came to the East End to see the results of the night bombing raids.  She will live forever in Londoners’ memories for her now-famous words spoken as a response to the Government’s decision that the Royal Princesses were to go to Canada for safety.  The Queen’s response?  ”The Royal Princesses will not go without me, I will never go without the King, and the King will never go.”  So, those in line repeated that story several times as we all  moved slowly in line to express gratitude for the life of this remarkable woman who lived to be 102 years old.   So, I again crossed over Westminster Bridge, took my night photos of Big Ben and started my way back home, but this time returning by way of Whitehall to Trafalgar Square and on to Covent Garden.  What a fabulous day and what tired feet!  Thank goodness I brought my old, comfortable shoes!

I hope I have not bored you to tears.  Tomorrow, I am visiting two flats, and I will share my photos with you.

Thanks and good night.

Thomas Moore

http://londonconnection.com

The sun comes up early in London.  I have to remind myself that no part of the British Isles is within the latitude of the United States so summer days are long and winter days are short.  Well, 5:30 am comes early with the soft English sun inviting a visitor to another day of London fun.  I have several interests for today:  the grocer, the book seller, the jeweler, and the London theater ticket seller.  To be honest, I don’t need a lot of groceries–as you can tell;   my family doesn’t know what to do with all my books now so I have to limit my book buying to those books I can’t live without which can be shoved under my bed; and Stephanie says she can’t wear any more jewelry–I don’t know, a nice piece or two?  The London theater tickets–now that is an easy one.   And today, first off, I am off to Buckingham Palace to see the summer exhibition in the State Rooms.  This year is special because the Queen is exhibiting many of her private jewels and the many dresses she has worn wearing those jewels.   Most of the outfits with Queen Mary’s jewels were for Commonwealth visits.   For historians, this is pure candy.  So, I will be off to buy my entrance ticket to the Palace first off because the rest can wait.  I have already been to Tescos Grocery store, just around the corner from the flat I am staying in here in Covent Garden.  I have bought that fabulous English breakfast bacon, eggs, milk, bread with no preservatives in it and all grain–like a shot put, though, that English whole milk, Golden’s shredless marmalade (my brother ate a bottle of it in two nights on our trip together to London in January–sneaking it while up doing the you-know-what !), English yogurt which is fantastic, and of course English Butter–just like Julia Child would have cooked with, apples, bananas, and of course ALPEN, the original Swiss Recipe cereal–wonderful to regulate the you-know what.  I am soon off to the palace, and I will be back and report.  First, I have to buy my Oyster Card which is available at all tube stations and is good for transportation on busses and on the tube.  I buy the ticket for zones one and two, but I rarely use the zone two option–I am a center-of -the-city kind of guy.   Travelers, don’t be persuaded to buy it in the States.  Easy buy here at the tube stations for much less.

Ah, I have to report on breakfast.  The free-range eggs have such wonderful flavor, the milk is rich and tastes like milk, the bread makes excellent toast, and the cherry yogurt was wonderful. I noted on all the wrappings that preservatives were not used in any product.  Nice.  The Alpen celeral –well, I did my morning duty there.  I probably would have preferred my sugar puffs from home, but I do know better and pay no attention.  Anyway, it was all good, and I have the pep to face an exciting day.  Let me say, I am thrilled I brought good walking shoes, tennis shoes–trainers over here–and that is well said, because London is a walking town.  All that good food is going to good use!

Today was the first DEATH MARCH;  It was the pilgrimage to Royal London, starting in Trafalgar Square and ending with the summer visit to the State Rooms of Buckingham Palace.  Such a walk as this is a poetic as well as an historical experience where our imaginations allow us to live in this charmed setting, if even for awhile.  All sorts of thoughts cross our minds as we march on with the greatest of pleasure.  First, Trafalgar Square to stand in front of the National Gallery and look down Whitehall to see Big Ben in the distance.  Cameras are clicking, and the sounds of the many camera shutters almost have a rhythm that lets another visitor know people are having a visual treat:  one of the most beautiful squares in the world.  The central column on the square celebrates the national life of Admiral Lord Nelson who led the English to victory over Napoleon at the Battle of Trafalgar  Its beauty is in its simplicty, but what it represents echoes in the minds of every English school child.  I crossed the square slowly watching the National Gallery go further and further in the distance.  Suddenly, I find myself walking through Admiralty Arch which was originally designed by Aston Webb as the entrance to the Mall and the processional route honoring Queen Victoria.  Once you go through those gates, the world changes from the lively world of Trafalgar Square to the center of Royal Britain.  For some reason, a visitor tucks in his shirt and lowers his voice as one walks past Carlton House Terrace to our first stop:  the Column dedicated to the Grand ol’ Duke of York.  Remember the childhood rhyme:  THE GOOD OLD DUKE OF YORK, HE HAD TEN THOUSAND MEN.  HE MARCHED THEM UP TO THE TOP OF THE HILL, AND HE MARCHED THEM DOWN AGAIN.  AND WHEN THEY WERE UP, THEY WERE UP; AND WHEN THEY WERE DOWN, THEY WERE DOWN.  AND WHEN THEY WERE HALF WAY UP, THEY WERE NEITHER UP NOR DOWN.  I am sure all of us sang that ditty as children. And then to the newest memorial in London:  the memorial to Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother who died in 2002 at the grand old age of 102.  Her bronze memorial exudes with love and admiration while all the while her husband, the late King George VI, is positioned above her admiring lovingly her charm and  common touch with Her people.  It is a moving spot on the Mall.  Then past Marlborough House where Queen Mary spent so many years and where the very understated memorial and portrait are set in the residence’s old walls.   As you pass Marlborough House, look beyond, and you will see St. James’s Palace, the official residence of the British Sovereign.  Imagine Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth I  wandering the halls of this medieval palace–ancient, ancient, ancient!  Now we are passing Clarence house where Prince Charles lives and fulfills his role as the Prince of Wales.  It is a beautiful house and open to the public in July, August, and September while the Prince is in Scotland at his residence Birkhall, near to the Queen’s home at Balmoral–Deeside.  And then, straight ahead, Buckingham Palace stands, grand and important!  If you are in London during the months of July, August, and September, the Union Jack will fly over the palace.  During the other months of the year, the Queen’s standard will fly when she is actually in the palace. But, during the later summer months, the staterooms at the Palace are open to the public.  It is a dazzling experience to walk through these rooms, rooms where George III–the last King of America–lived, where Queen Victoria danced the nights away with her beloved Albert Prince Consort, where the current Queen reigns but does not rule with such dignity and sense of history.  Somehow, you can’t take it all in:  fabulous paintings, incredible furniture, Sevres porcelain, and all those royal portraits of England’s earlier monarchs staring down at you.  Every summer when I visit here, I feel so inadequate because all this history eludes me, and I feel so inadequate.  I strongly advise visitors to read a bit of history before you visit or you will miss so much;  it will go right over your head.  It will dazzle you visually, but you sense that you are unequal to the task.  Walk through the garden and see the fabulous trees and grounds.  You can hardly believe you are in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world.  The other-worldliness of Buckingham Palace, that mystique, that sense of England’s past all come together here. And you are invited to come visit.  You will leave with the very definite awareness that this Queen, Elizabeth II, is an amazing woman with a grand sense of her roll as England’s head of state, representing monarchs dating back a thousand years.  How does one cram all this in a traveler’s visit?  I will answer that:  COME MANY TIMES.

With very tired feet and a need of refreshment, I march back the way I came, but on the other side of the street, down the Mall, enjoying the stunning views of St. James’s Park.  How can it be better.  I have taken my short rest, and I have enjoyed a curry lamb dinner.  I am calling it a day, and it is the end of my Death March number one.  After today’s experience, a visitor will be a changed person, now certainly determined to return and determined to be better prepared.

Tomorrow’s walk will be a search for photographic night shots of the city–all along the Thames.  Please come along.

Gentle readers, let me have your comments and questions.  Someone reading this site will have answers to your questions. Let us hear from you.  As Voltaire said:  POUR ENCOURAGER LES AUTRES…….

A late good night to you all.

Arriving in London, either Heathrow or Gatwick airports, is like wandering through a Sixteenth Century Maze–you know, Hampton Court Maze?  You just put yourself on automatic pilot and head out.  REMEMBER, DON’T LEAVE THE PLANE UNTIL YOU HAVE MADE SURE YOU HAVE LEFT NOTHING BEHIND !!  Arriving at the airport, you are immediately met by an immigration officer of Her Majesty’s Security Forces.  For years, I wondered about what that HM was posted all over the official notices and on caps and uniforms.  Of course, HER MAJESTY welcomes you to London.  A visitor walks through the queue, hands over the immigration document, and the officer stamps the passport.  Slick as a whistle.  Then the luggage experience.  Usually, I find my luggage bouncing off the machine like pop corn on the kitchen stove, but since I came first class on this trip, the cases were waiting for me in First Class Collections.  I was wearing a baggy pair of trousers, a sloppy sweater–all for comfort, and I am sure they thought I was someone’s bee keeper  collecting the luggage for the boss.   Ah, don’t judge a book by its cover, right?  I grabbed my bags and met my driver who was in the Arrival Hall with a sign T MOORE.  All fun so far.  Well, I was met by an old time friend and once one of our drivers, Maureen Walker, who gave me a hug and off we went on the wrong side of the road to central London.  I am staying in a fantastic flat in Covent Garden which is located on St. Martin’s Lane, right in the midst of it all:  restaurants, theater, shops, transportation, cinema, ice cream, curry, pubs, and swarms of black cabs.  By now, I am very excited and eager to start my three weeks in London.  We got to the flat, was let in by a wonderful arrival hostess who explained the flat  in detail, and then handed me the keys.  And I WAS OFF on my adventure.  First I had to deal with that famous old expression:  JET LAG.  I looked up the expression on the internet, and by time I finished reading the explanations, I decided that it was too broad to define.  I concluded that JET LAG was an expression for the body at war with itself.  It is like two freight trains racing toward each other without caution: sleepy at the wrong time, hungry at the wrong time, and you know what at the wrong time.  At 66, I get up normally at 3:00 am for you know what, but with JET LAG, my you-know-what was now my what-know-you.  So, as my friend June Gibson says:  ”What do you do, after all?  What do you do?”  Well, these are my suggestions.  First of all, you are not going to die;  maybe you feel like it, but it’s all normal.  I suggest you eat lightly with lots of liquids before you leave so the two freight trains don’t have such a heavy load racing through your intestines.  Soft foods.  Don’t leave home exhausted and thinking you will catch up on the plane–you won’t. Any sleep on the plane DOES NOT COUNT.  When you are safely into your accommodation, take a nice hot shower, and put your head down FOR ONE HOUR ONLY, just to take the edge off.  Then go for a long walk until your legs scream:  WHAT ARE YOU UP TO!  Then after being physically tired, have some soup and drink–no more, and go to sleep.  You will be dead exhausted but will be purring like a kitten with all that awaits you in this “center of the universe”–this London.   You will get up in the night for that you-know-what, and it may not be at 3:00 in the morning, but you will get into a schedule as the body purrs, skipping along the streets of old Londinium;  it’s been happening since Roman times. Join the crowd and start wandering.  Well, London is not known for being inexpensive.  Let me handle that subject another time, but you can get lolly at the local ATM, usually with a $200.00 limit per day. The shops love Visa and Mastercard–not very fond of American Express.  I suggest you take 500 pounds in currency with you from your bank before you go.  USE YOUR CREDIT CARD WHEREVER POSSIBLE.    Remember, put your important papers and documents either in a waist belt or in a lock-down front picket.  If some pick-pocket gets it out of your front pocket, he deserves it. For me, the best thing to do on the first day is to stand on the steps of the National Gallery, overlooking Trafalgar Square, looking down Whitehall at Big Ben.  Remember the opening lines of OF HUMAN BONDAGE where W. Somerset Maugham describes that view through his character Philip Carey–perhaps Maugham himself.  Now, hit the sack!  You are tired, but OH MY!  with a smile on your face.   End of Day one in London.

I am off to London this morning, and I thought I would take you along on my trip.  I have been planning and anticipating this trip for several weeks and perhaps my experiences and suggestions might help some of you who are planning the same journey.  By now, you have your ticket, and you have chosen your housing in London.  So, let’s talk about day one.  First, be sure you can carry your suitcase;  usually, you can pack your bags and then throw out half of it.  I have never mastered the art of packing light cases, so I ended up with back surgery–all from those darn heavy suitcases..  But, in these modern days, be sure your bags have wheels–even the small cases.  Be sure you have called your bank and told them you are leaving on a trip to England, and they need to know you are in the UK.  If you don’t, there is a strong possibility that your debit or credit card won’t work.  If this happens, then you have to call your bank from London, if you remembered to bring along your banker’s number.  Don’t buy a converter.  You can buy a converter in London for 2 pounds, and you know it will work.  I avoid electrical equipment except my charger for a mobile, computer, and camera.  By the way, you can call your mobile telephone company and can arrange to have your mobile service while you are in England.  At least you know family can reach you if they need to.  Be to the airport 3 hours before departure.  I know that seems excessive, but I like to relax at the airport, read my guide books, and think about my upcoming experience.  Arriving late, rushing through the airport, taking off your shoes and pulling out your computer for Security  all add to the misery of flying, especially if you are rushing for your flight.  It is just not the way to start your adventure.  Be sure you carry with you your driver’s license, your passport, your credit cards, your camera, and your ticket and London housing documents.  Read your ticket and your housing contracts CAREFULLY before you leave or there may be surprises.  The London Connection contracted for a client to stay in one of our flats.  She arrived in London, but she arrived one year early!  She filled out the booking form, but she wasn’t very careful! Lucky for her and for us, this nice lady was finally housed in a comfortable flat, but what a scare.  In the end, she said she should have been more accurate.  We all laughed, but we also took a deep breath.  Read your documents and meet your appointments.  Once you are on the plane, put your hand luggage in the overhead, but keep your passport and pen with you;  you will be asked to fill out a landing card for Her Majesty’s Customs, and it is no pleasure climbing over everyone trying to get your pen.  Can you visualize the scene?  I loaned a pen on this trip because no one seemed to have one.  I eventually found my best pen three rows up with a lady who spoke no English and was rather irritated that she had to return the pen she was borrowing.  Oh well, I just put my hand out, smiled, and persisted in the return of my pen-treasure,  Don’t ask me about airplane food.  I buy two sandwiches with all kinds of goodies in them before I leave and enjoy them while traveling.  Airplane drinks are fine, but airplane pasta?  Are you kidding?  That’s no way to start a gourmet and gourmand trip to London where I expect to eat at Rules for at least one meal of my stay.   A lovely lady called and asked me what she should definitely put in her purse.  I knew she had her passport, ticket, driver’s license, so I told her that her tooth brush would be greatly appreciated by those she is traveling with.  Well, enjoy the flight.  Hopefully, you make your connections and all goes well.  I left Salt Lake City for Chicago and then flew United to Heathrow.  All went well, and I was even upgraded.  The check-in lady said they would like to change my ticket.  I said NO because I had my driver picking me up.  She responded:  OH NO, we want to upgrade you.  Then the painful questions:  ”Are you 65 or older?”  I suppose they were upgrading people they thought might  be too feeble to walk through the plane.  I don’t like first class seats.  They are like traveling in a bath tub.  You just hope the other person who is sleeping in your bay doesn’t spend the night painting her  toe nails  and then waving her feet in the air to dry!  But the food is a different matter.  I can’t believe the same plane can carry two kinds of food for all these nice travelers.  I didn’t mind exchanging my to sandwiches for the cheese and shrimp and grapes.  Death to the pasta.  To the garbage bin for the sandwiches.  I arrived at Heathrow Airport early in the morning, poked my head out of that sleeping tub, and there was the green landscape of England.  My excitement again began to bubble!  And, this is my 164th trip to these beautiful islands I love so much.  Day two tomorrow.     Any readers out there?

Thomas Moore

http://www.londonconnection.com