On boarding in Canberra, I was delighted to be offered both a sparkling wine and an orange juice, which I accepted.
I had just taken a sip of juice and decided to record the event for posterity (note carefully placed Saturday Paper) when both drinks were whipped away by a steward as take-off was imminent. I thought it unseemly to down the sparkling in one gulp but he did allow me to take a quick slug of the OJ before confiscation. So the sparkling was essentially for show purposes only and that was the only time on either flight it was offered. But enough whinging!
This morning we both felt a tad healthier than yesterday (if still critically ill :-)) so we walked at snails' pace to various shopfronts on housekeeping duties: Euston station for Railway cards (huge discounts on rail travel for geriatrics for a 30 pound outlay) and then another slow trek to a phone shop for UK simcards.
En route we took a detour to Leigh Street, Bloomsbury and the facade of the bookshop run by Dylan Moran (Bernard Black) in Black Books, aided and assisted by Bill Bailey (Manny). It IS actually a bookshop. Geoff said the shop next door must have been their friend, Fran Katzenjammer's and I said no, Black Books was only pretend. But he was unphased, also insisting that the pub on the corner must have been where they went for a pint or seven. I think Geoffy's current bout of Ebola has affected his cognitive abilities and we need to crank up the anti-viral medication.
Continuing our safari (heading for the Charles Dickens museum) we saw this plaque to J.M. Barrie who wrote Peter Pan. It reminded me that I always thought Nanny in Peter Pan was the children's grandmother, not their nursemaid.
Next stop, the Charles Dickens museum, a most entertaining place and where he lived for either 50 years or just two, depending on whether you believe the signage out the front or the probably more reliable staff inside. Of course, it was not a museum while he was resident there (she said, perhaps unnecessarily). Readers of our previous blogs would know that Chuck always gets a run in our musings, mostly because every pub in London (and also further afield) claims he was a regular there. Given that, and the size of his wine cellar in this place, I think the evidence is clear the man was a pisspot.
After an informative hour in the museum, we limped slowly back to our digs for a lie-down to recuperate and brace ourselves for our last outing for the day. Mr Geoffypants will momentarily report on that, as well as impart important information about crankshafts and brake fluid.
Thank you oh generous blog maestro. I can but do my best. This whole district is known as Bloomsbury, in honour of the literary figures who lived here. You know - Virginia Woolf et al. So, many of the blue plaques on buildings in the neighborhood are for creative types who once lived there. Today we also saw Jerome K Jerome and would have seen Yeats in a charming lane just over the road from our digs, except we didn't. But I've seen in a tourist book that he did live there so it must be true.
But I have to think Dickens is the star. It's hard to find a pub that doesn't lay claim to being one of his regulars. The museum confirmed his like for the demon drink but did suggest that his real love was sharing with friends, not curling up in the corner on his own and drowning his sorrows.
From there (after our brief lie-down) we returned to the British Library, just a little ways along Euston Road (100 pounds on the Monopoly Board). We'd been there before but it's always worth it. The Treasures Room features a veritable, well, treasure trove of book, map, musical score and document antiquities. My highlight today was from the Sacred Texts section, a c1400 Missal that weighs in at 19 kilos. I'm sure it's a great read, but probably not when propped up in bed. There's also a 4th century hand written Old Testament, but I'm just bragging now, so I'll stop.
My other highlight was a monumental episode of road rage at a busy intersection of Euston Road. The aggressor was doing his best to exhaust his vocabulary in the time before the lights changed, which would have been quite a task, since that was looking like taking about 10 minutes. We could still hear him a couple of blocks away (seriously), and I silently thanked him for his selfless contribution to our day's entertainment.
And that's it from Mr Pants. I think he's on the mend. Praise be! It's now 7.30pm and way past our bedtime. Goodnight.
Actually I think Nanny in Peter Pan was an Old English Sheepdog. Getting my nannies mixed up - I'm thinking of the AA Milne references to Nanny. I'm an idiot.
ReplyDeleteI always thought "Dickens" as in "he was a little Dickens" meant he was sneaky or maybe precocious, but now I see it means he started drinking at a young age.
ReplyDeleteHow extraordinary that Singapore Airlines business class was so disappointing!
ReplyDeleteThe meals in cattle class are better than the ones you describe. I can’t comment on the pre flight drinks because the riff riff have to wait till long after the plane is in the air, before the drinks trolley appears.
Did they give you a bag of nuts that take a science degree to figure out how to open? Always a cause of amusement to us!
I'm also surprised and disappointed, particularly for Business class, given that Singapore Airlines generally has an excellent reputation.
DeleteHave you come across the climate change protests which are going on?
ReplyDeleteVery impressive, the only blue plaque we ever found was for Hattie Jacques!
ReplyDelete