September 27 to 29 (Toronto to Manchester to London)

Our trip to Europe started out very badly, with a horrific Air Transat charter flight to Manchester. Thankfully, the overheated cabin, claustrophobic seating, one hour stop in Montreal, etc. is a distant nightmare and the only blot on an otherwise incredible vacation. The £20 premium that Rob paid for each of our pre-assigned sets was thrown away as a result of a flight change – instead of flying direct from Toronto, we had to leave 1.5 hours earlier and stop in Montreal to pick up people there. Rob was able to sleep on the plane. I was not. The air on the plane was so devoid of moisture, I was coughing for a day afterwards. My lungs were completely dried out, as well as my eyes, which felt like they were cracking in my skull. *shudder* Never again! You obviously get what you pay for ($92 return, plus tax).

We arrived at Manchester Airport an hour earlier than planned so we were thrilled to discover the train into London ran every hour on the hour. So we opted to catch the noon train. However, our prepaid tickets (£27 each vs. £100 each at the station) represented reserved seats on the 1PM train. We decided to play “dumb” tourist and hopped on to the earlier train to Crew. Once there, it was a 20 minute wait for the connection to London. Aboard the train to London, we discovered two empty seats reserved from Liverpool to London with no occupants, so we plopped ourselves down and donned our dumb tourist expressions. The ticket collector barely looked at our tickets so we relaxed and enjoyed the ride.

Arriving at Easton Station an hour earlier than planned, we called Rob’s Aunt Priscilla to announce our imminent arrival. Finding the taxi queue proved a bit challenging despite the unilingual signs, in English no less! Although the line seemed a mile long and the taxis miniscule, I was assured by Rob and the man in front of us that you could fit a small car in the taxi. They were right! The cab was like a Mini on steroids, if you can imagine such a thing. There was room for us, our suitcases and much more. I wish I had taken a photo inside, with its LCD screen, TV remote, electronic door lock sensors (“if the red light is on, the door is secure”). Rob and the driver had a serious discussion about our destination and the best way to get there during Friday’s rush hour traffic. The driver was ensconced on the other side of a thick Plexiglas panel and spoke to us over a microphone – very futuristic.

We arrived at the Gloucester Mews in Paddington in due course, £10 lighter. Priscilla expressed dismay at the size of our suitcases but Rob managed to wrestle them upstairs. After saying “hello”, I promptly fell into bed for 2 hours of much needed sleep, while Rob trundled over to the Bank to pick up the Euros he had ordered for our trip to France. I woke up, somewhat refreshed and made myself ready for cocktails. We were being joined by Priscilla’s companion, Rupert. He came bearing an ice cold bottle of Proseco and a large can of Pringles! Priscilla called for reservations at Concordia Notte, one of their favourite local Italian restaurants. As P put it to them on the phone, “You’ll know us when we arrive except we’re 4 instead of the usual 2”.

Dinner was our treat but due to a sore tooth, P did not enjoy her meal. The restaurant was quaint and caught in a bit of time warp with photos of famous people up on the walls from decades past, including the owners in various states of girth. We had a nightcap before finally heading to bed. The pasta and the wine were passable but the company made up for any culinary deficiencies.

In the morning, Rob and I set out to go shopping. The weather was overcast and drizzling. We left around 10:30AM to walk to the nearest tube station, Lancaster Gate. Priscilla suggested we buy a day pass for £5.10 each. There was a huge line for tickets because the automatic ticket dispenser was out of order. It eventually came back online and we paid in cash – very efficient when it works! It was 78 steps down to the platform or you could board a huge elevator like the kind they use in hospitals. The tube was just that – very narrow and very hot – definitely not as comfortable as the subway in Toronto. One car in London holds less than half the number of people you would see on a subway car in Toronto.

We got out on Bond Street and walked to Oxford Street, the discount shopping Mecca of London. I bought a colourful scarf in a store called Next for £12.50. We turned down Regent Street because Rob wanted to take me to Liberty’s. What a remarkable store! It is very beautiful architecturally-speaking and contains very high end merchandise with a huge stationery department. After a quick trip to the “loo” (sinks inside the stalls!), we decided to stop for a spot of lunch at the champagne and oyster bar located on the lower level. We ordered two coffees, two bowls of soup and a plate of smoked salmon to share. Our server informed us that the salmon was flown in fresh every second day from Scotland. I don’t believe I’ve ever tasted anything so exquisite before. Lunch cost £32 with 12% gratuity included.

We exited out the back of Liberty’s onto Carnaby Street, which was full of Saturday shoppers. Bright and colourful, I could very well imagine the vibrant scene of the 1960’s when this street became the centre of fashion trends in London. We found a tacky tourist shop to buy a thimble for my friend Scott.* We continued South and east to Piccadilly Circus which was a madhouse (obviously, aptly named) with hundreds of tourists. We carried down along Regent Street to Pall Mall and Trafalgar Square. There were more tourists here as well. We took a lot of photos and then walked up Charing Cross Road to the Leicester Square tube station. We hopped on the tube to Knightsbridge, where Harrods is located. Unfortunately, our arrival was marred by anti-fur demonstrators with placards of skinned animals and one pathetic, threadbare 6’ “fox” handing out leaflets. Rob noticed that the female protester was wearing leather shoes – there you, you see. :)

Harrods was PACKED with people of every nationality and language. In general, I found London to be extremely multi-cultural and I could imagine myself living there. We spent well over an hour at Harrods, enjoying the massive food court, the luxury bathrooms and expensive merchandise. We spent an exorbitant amount of time in the jewellery department, looking at watches, jewels of every hue and some designer pieces I recognized from my days at Viva (Heidi Daus and Alexis Bittar). The £10 million Egyptian Escalator is worth a ride, although we successfully managed to avoid the statue of Dodi and Diana that was erected somewhere in the store.

Finally, it was time to make our way toward Mayfair, to The Audley, a pub where we were meeting my friends at 5PM. Jackie and I had no problem finding each other in the busy bar, in spite of the fact that we had never met before in person. Scott and Noel were on the same bus so they all arrived together. What a fantastic reunion! We didn’t leave the pub until after 10PM after 5 or 6 rounds of drinks and dinner (Rob, the voice of reason, made us all eat something). It was a long and tiring day but one I will never, ever forget.

* When Scott and I worked together at Viva, he got a strange long distance phone call one day from a man named Jim in England, who insisted that someone had given him a thimble from our store. We never sold thimbles – we were a designer jewellery and accessory store – but someone must have bought this guy a thimble in Mexico and gifted it to him in one of our bags. The story is hilarious because the guy just went on and on and on about his thimble from Mexico and desperately wanting one from “Jalisco” (pronouncing the word with a hard “J” sound instead of the soft Spanish “H” sound) in his thick English accent. When he found out Scott’s family name, he insisted Scott was English (he’s actually American, from Seattle) and beseeched him to go out and find him a thimble with “Jalisco” on it. It took forever to get the guy off the phone but only after Scott promised to look for a thimble. Funny thing is, Scott actually caught himself looking for thimbles and when Jim called back two weeks later, Scott gave him the bad news (no thimbles in Vallarta), along with the number of the British High Commission in Mexico City. Hopefully, Jim got the help he needed there … tee hee.