London – day 5: Playing posh

I have a confession to make. When I first watched The Lion King, I cried when Mufasa died.

Charlotte also has a confession to make. She fell asleep for a moment in The Lion King the other night.

We had been pushing pretty hard, because we only had limited time in each place, so there was no point wasting it with your eyes closed. Unfortunately, there is only so long that you can hold off sleep for. Hence, our plans for the day changed slightly.

We arrived in Leister Square, after getting momentarily disorientated as we exited the tube station. Getting around London is so easy, yet you lose your bearings each time you catch the tube because you can’t see the landmarks go by. Therefore, each time you exit a tube station, it takes a moment to figure out where you are going.

In Leister Square, there is a little ticket booth (called TKTS) that sells cheap tickets to some of the shows on that night. This was our destination. The plan was to choose something completely random and see our third show in as many nights. On arrival, we decided (wisely) that it was better to get an early night and enjoy ourselves than to spend our money on an uncomfortable and noisy seat to sleep in.

Leaving Leister Square, we wandered down the road to Trafalgar Square. Next to Trafalgar Square is the church of St Martins In The Field, which has a little cafe in the crypt. The cafe is nice enough, but the feeling of sitting in the crypt is very cool indeed.

In Trafalgar Square itself, near Nelson’s column, is this awesome ship in a bottle – only the bottle is about 2m long and on top of a pillar. We marveled at the grandeur and, not wanting to stand out, held our camera at arm’s length and snapped away.

From Trafalgar, it is only a saunter through the Admiralty Arch and through the gardens along The Mall to reach Buckingham Palace. The gardens are lovely (not a masculine description, I know, but there you go). The place is teeming with squirrels and they are much tamer here than in Hyde Park – perhaps because there are no dogs. In any case, if you are looking for squirrels (especially fat ones), this is the place for it. The little bag of almonds that Charlotte had been clutching with white knuckles ever since she saw the park was put to good use. At one point in her harassment of the wildlife, she managed to get a squirrel to sit on her lap.

We had not pre-booked a tour of Buckingham Palace (though they were on offer while the Queen was out – at Sainsbury’s one presumes) and the line was thick, so we contented ourselves with a wander around the outside and a peek in the gift shop. The gaudy and satirical souvenirs were markedly absent. No cut-out queen’s head postcards, no Will and Kate ashtrays. However, I did manage to find a Buckingham Palace carabiner-slash-mini-compass-slash-keyring. What a find! I had been looking for another carabiner to attach my day pack to my backpack. I had also been keeping an eye out for a compass to help with directions when we got off the tube. Something was making my spider sense tingle, though. Comparing four of them, no two pointed the same direction. Some were alarmingly ‘individual’. I got one anyway.

We left Buckingham Palace with an appointment for afternoon tea at the famous Brown’s Hotel. Sue (Charlotte’s mum, a.k.a “mumsy”), had given us a leaving card with strict instructions not to open it until we got on the plane. Contained within was £100 with instructions to find somewhere nice for afternoon tea. I had previously called this ‘high tea’ . However, I’m told that the British refer to this as ‘afternoon tea’. ‘High tea’ is something that the commoners would eat after returning home from work, but before dinner.

Brown’s was recommended as it had won awards for the best afternoon tea three times in the last few years. It certainly lived up to it. Firstly, the service was like something out of Jane Austin (with slightly fewer ruffles and corsets). The tea itself was delicious (and dare I say it, complex). For some reason, the tea back home tastes quite bitter in comparison. Best of all, they just kept refilling our little stand of cakes and sandwiches. It was like an all you can eat tea party!!! By the time I made it through the swathes of coronation egg, smoked salmon and ham sandwiches (not all in one sandwich!) and bested a few refills of scones with clotted cream, I could barely make a dent in the pastries and cakes. Perhaps you don’t understand what a blow to my confidence this was. I don’t think I have ever been beaten by cakes before.

Then they wheeled around a cart of ‘celebration cakes’ including a majestic victoria sponge. The nerve. They were clearly rubbing it in.

Over an hour later, we rolled out the door.

Next stop on our (now very slow) journey was to find Charlotte a sweater for Switzerland, as we would be staying in the alps. On our search, we wandered into a shop called All Saints. Very swish, rustic-styled designer clothes. More impressive was the shop fit out, made up of walls of Singer sewing machines, old looms and some very industrial looking shelving. While we didn’t find the sweater we were looking for there, it was pretty awesome to have a look.

Finally, we had a date with cousin Gen and her mate Sarah for dinner. Gen recommended a place that was ‘not super cheap, but does really nice English meal’. Sounded great. So we arrive at Simpsons-on-the-Strand, which turns out to be part of the Savoy Hotel. VERY posh. And the rabbit pie was to die for. We both managed to polish it off, despite only having finished afternoon tea two hours ago.