London, Day 2

Of Flesh and Blood
Sunday started out very nicely. On Saturday we had all taken a brief nap that left us with enough energy to make it through the evening, but we hit the sack hard.

Our room at the Pelham has a wonderful bathroom, practically as large as the bedroom! The water stayed warm throughout my shower (second of three) and, I assume, through the third. At least we never heard A complain.














As Mrs. Farrago was checking her e-mail she shouted “Hey! Naked people!” I looked out the window and across the street and, through a frosted window on the third floor, indeed saw a naked person showering. Yes I took pictures. And yes, we covered A’s eyes. With a pillowcase. And a pillow.

After breakfast we met up with everyone else who’s staying at our hotel from the group, and we boarded the number 74 double-decker bus to the Marble Arch, where we boarded the number 15 bus to the Tower of London.

It was a very interesting place, full of history and lore. We took lots of photos. But probably the most entertainment came from the ravens which have a home (a raven coup?) on the grounds of the Tower. And we took way too many pictures of them than they’re really worth! Afterward we walked out to the river’s edge and shot some pictures of ourselves and each other with the Tower Bridge in the background.


This is what happens when a Tower of London toilet backs up....



















Insert your favorite Edgar Allan Poe quote here. I'm too tired to do it.

























The White Tower

























Apparently this knight enjoyed jousting just a little too much!






















We had a recommendation from Terry, a man who sat next to me on the flight over, to visit Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese pub on Fleet Street. I happened to notice it when we passed it in the bus on our way to the Tower, and Mrs. Farrago suggested we head back there for dinner. After quite an ordeal getting a number 15 bus - which, after 2 attempts at being crushed by a crowd of people trying to get on them – we were delighted by the arrival of one of the old double-decker buses, complete with an attendant who counted heads, announced stops, and saved the hapless from falling out on right turns! He helped us to disembark at the right stop, which was only about 20 steps from our destination.

We found the sign for Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, went in, and found that it was … closed.

We regrouped outside and headed in the direction of the last bus we had been on, and a few minutes down the road we found another pub, the Old George…or something like that.

A ordered the BLT, Mrs. Farrago the fish ‘n chips, and I the bangers & mash. A was slightly taken aback by the appearance of his sandwich: it was on ciabatta bread, and the bacon here is quite different in taste and appearance than in the States. He’s been great, though. I know of too many kids who, just because a food doesn’t look like what they’re used to, they won’t eat it. And he really pounded away the ale!

Mrs. Farrago’s fish ‘n chips was pretty tasty, and it was a hearty portion. My bangers and mash was okay, but it looked an awful lot like sausages and mashed potatoes.

We walked down to the next bus stop only to encounter no fewer than five number15 buses that were so packed with people that the bus driver, if he stopped at all, didn’t open the front door to allow on any new riders. Damn tourists!

I perused the London bus schedule and saw that a number 23 bus would take us to the same place a number 15 would. The first number 23 that came by was also so packed that the driver wouldn’t take us, but the next one was fine. It turns out that Sunday afternoons in London are traffic hell. We crawled most of the way back to Marble Arch where we walked about a block to another stop, where we caught the number 74 for the return to the Pelham.

We were all a little shocked and dismayed that we had spent pretty much the entire day on the Tower of London, but it was an interesting day. We spent the first 45 minutes or so in our room clicking through the TV channels only to learn that English television has just about as much schlock on it than American TV. Afterward we went around the corner to an Internet Café where we let A send some messages out and communicate with his parents via Yahoo Instant Messenger.