Thankfully, Ted and I had five hours of sleep on the plane, because London was hectic when we arrived. It was the last day of the Wimbledon championships and also the final match of the World Cup cricket championship between England and New Zealand, neither of which has ever won before. Traffic was horrible, and the sidewalks were packed. London won the cricket championship, so there was a lot of yelling and cheering in the streets all evening.
One day we ate dinner in an historic restaurant about two blocks from our hotel. It was called “Byron,” and the manager told us the entire building is “protected” and cannot be changed. The huge (18″ x 18″) ceiling beams, the stamped metal ceiling, the marble wall panels, the huge mirrors, and the mosaic floor are all more than 240 years old. It’s amazing how late Europeans eat. The restaurants are still packed at 10:30 p.m. and going strong with no sign of closing any time soon.
Note: On the menus, salads are described as “assorted leaves.”
The changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace occurs at 10:45 every morning. What a disappointment! We arrived about 15 minutes early and found a place to stand right in front. And there we stood, watching police on horses and bicycles riding back and forth to make sure no spectators breached the barriers. Around 11:00, a marching band of guards arrived from our left and got through one song (not Sousa, and not “Stars and Stripes Forever”) before entering the palace gates and disappearing from sight. About 15 minutes later, another band came from our right and did the same thing. Another 15 minutes later, a troop of eight guards arrived, stepping smartly, so we thought they must be the “new” guys. They also disappeared inside the fence. Finally, another 15 minutes later, both bands came marching out and went to our left and to our right. That was it! The show was apparently all about watching the police riding in circles.
One evening, as we walked along the Thames on the Queen’s Walkway, we were passed by some bicycles. We knew they were behind us because they rang their bells and because their headlights projected “BIKE” in green letters on the path ahead of us. Cool!
We were surprised at how many shopkeepers spoke English as a second language in London–and at only an intermediate level. In non-English countries, we’ve often had a clerk call an English-speaking person to help us, but England is the home of English, so we expected at least store managers to speak fluent English. It’s definitely a one-world society these days.