London, Finally: Part 1

 In January 2020, I purchased the airfare and hotel for a June trip to London...and then, two months later, everything went to, well, you know.

Summer 2020 found my trip cancelled (with vouchers from Expedia), and me fostering three adorable "English Ladies," Lizzie (for the Queen), Aggie (for Agatha Christie), and Jane (Austen).

Tiny Girls

Post-bath "I want to murder you" vibes from Aggie.

"Keep them quiet after their spay surgery." Part 1

BLEP (Lizzie)

Janie-bo-banie

"Keep them quiet after their spay surgery." Part 2

Sleepy Lizzie

Now that I have the kitten pics out of my system, fast-forward two years. I was finally able to use the Expedia vouchers, and I planned, a few months ago, to return to England three days after school ended. 

I left on May 30th, flying overnight from San Francisco to London, on my usual, Virgin Atlantic's Flight 19. I paid $40-odd to upgrade to "Economy Delite," which promised more leg room. It did, indeed, give me a few extra inches (nice), but even better, I had a whole row to myself.

BOOM.

Happy Meg

Leg room!!

Alllllll miiiine

The flight itself was uneventful. I actually slept a bit, even though the seats were kind of bucket-style and therefore a bit uncomfortable for stretching out. It was the typical flight-to-London experience that I'm a bit of an expert on by now.

When I landed in London in 2016, after eleven years gone, I cried. And laughed. And cried. It was such an emotional trip--happy, but nonetheless emotional. This time was a little calmer, partly because everything that has happened in the world in the last two years, and also partly because until about four days before I left, I wasn't sure I'd actually be able to travel (thank goodness, the COVID left on time). 

Still, I was grinning rather foolishly as we touched down. 

The rest of the day was not very exciting. By the time I got through Passport (much faster than last time, and automated--I did not speak to any humans in the process), luggage claim, and customs, I had a short hike to the Heathrow Express. 

My "trick" for staying in London is to stay near Paddington Station. It's a nice area, with plenty of restaurants, near Hyde Park/Kensington Gardens. The Heathrow Express takes you from Heathrow to Paddington in 20 minutes, and once at Paddington, my hotel this time was a five-minute walk from the station entrance. 

I stayed at the Shakespeare Hotel...and, well, it was okay. It was clean, and my room was comfortable. However, after 10 hours on an airplane, a hike through Heathrow, and a short train ride, I was slightly dismayed when I asked, "And where's the lift?" and was told, rather brusquely, "No lift." 

Yikes.

I'm in decent enough shape, but I was a week out from a massive COVID-related sinus infection, jet-lagged, and about five minutes away from starting my period. My room was on the second floor (which in English-English means the third floor), and my suitcase was heavy. As I dragged it up 45 steps (I counted a few days later) to my room, I had to dodge big old balls of dirty sheets from rooms that were being cleaned. 

Enough negativity. I never go to London to sit around my hotel. If it's clean, it's fine. 

I made it to my room, deposited my things, and then headed back out to get dinner at a pub I'd passed, just down the block and across a narrow lane. I had steak and ale pie with mash and peas, and I ate every bite. 

While I was there, the rain came for a few minutes, absolutely pouring down in that English way. By the time I left, however, it was done, and I walked the half a block back to my hotel, stopping in the park in the middle of the square to take a few pictures.

The Shakespeare Hotel. My room was
the fart left of that third floor main section,
so I did have a lovely view. 

The rest of Day One was spent showering and settling in, and then passing out in sheer exhaustion for a truly great night of sleep.