Tubes

Haven't had an opportunity to post for a couple of days. When we were at
the hotel in Edinburgh we found a free hot spot in the lobby, so if I
prepared the blog in advance, I could post it quickly. The hotel in
Bayswater was pretty downmarket in comparison to what we had in
Scotland, and cost way more and the internet access available there
seemed like a scam.

I had forgotten that when we were at the Glenkinchie distillery there was a lovely woman in the shop who was very enthusiastic about Canada and was going to be travelling there in ten days time. 'I just love Canada,' she said wistfully, 'I feel like I'm going back in time.' Erk. Well, she was going to Prince Edward Island, but worryingly she had been to Toronto last time.

The flight from Edinburgh to Heathrow was again delayed due to 'air
traffic restrictions', seemed like they didn't like the weather and
certainly take-off and landing were pretty turbulent. On the flight we
could have bought a single ticket for the 'Heathrow Express' for 14.25,
a saving of 25 pence on the regular price. I have no idea whether this
was a bus or a train, but the Picadilly line of the tube ends at
Heathrow, so we just bought a one day travel card for 6.50 each. We had
hoped to go to the London Dungeon, but they closed at 18.00, so we
scoped out the Canadian High Commission instead.

We had confused the hotel receptionist by asking if she had an A-Z. To my mind, asking this question of anyone who works anywhere in London is like asking someone
if they have a dictionary, but oh well, eventually with assistance from
the manager one appeared from underneath the desk and we worked out that the
the High Commission was in a street off New Bond street and parallel to
Oxford Street. We didn't even have to work out the street numbering, it
was just the one with the Canadian flag. A quick aside, the English flag
isn't displayed very much in England except in times of high football
activity, er, kinda like now. The Canadian flag flies everywhere in
Canada.

It had started to rain hard. I am not a good companion in the rain,
because I am fairly oblivious to it, Kevin not so much, he was feeling
decidely squelchy. We had been tramping around for some time trying to
find a particular pub I took him to the first time he was over. For the
life of me I couldn't find it, so when I then said I would find an
Italian restaurant I'd been to before and where the food was good, I can
see why he might have felt a little anxious that I was never going to
agree to us getting out of the rain, but luck was on our side and there
was still, as before, some poor bloke standing on the corner of the
street where it was located, with a sign pointing the way.

Coming back on the tube there were three lads wearing T-shirts with a Circle line map printed on them, but slightly re-arranged so that it looked like a beer bottle. They were doing a circle line pub crawl, well-bevvied and amenable. There was something about students pleasantly drunk and on a tube pub crawl that felt very comforting and home-like.

This morning, I had an experience I never, ever want to repeat. There
was a tiny lift that took us up and down to and from our room. When we
went down for breakfast, two more people got in on the floor below us,
then a small fat man insisted on getting in on the second or first
floor. The lift was a two person lift. When we got to the ground floor
the doors wouldn't open. OK, so two person lift, five people in it. Not
going anywhere, doors wouldn't open. Ho-ly shit. This is what the word
clammy was invented for. I could feel myself go completely cold and I
started sweating, immediate panic. And I must have been in that position
for all of 30 seconds before one of the other women said, 'Oh, I think
it's still moving.' It was. It stopped in the basement, presumably its
default when overloaded. It took me two hours top stop shaking
completely.

The newspapers, tabloids and the Daily Mail are all obsessed with the McCartney break-up. It seems to be on the front of everything all the time at the moment, speculation about how much Heather Mills will get. There seems to have been a landmark ruling about divorce recently but I just can't be arsed to find out what it's about, although reading the headline on someone else's newspaper it seemed to have something to do with compensating women for loss in their careers when they spend time looking after children, which seems fine and dandy to me, but like I said, I should probably read something in more detail.

We spent the morning shopping in Oxford Street, poor Kevin was made to
walk around Marks and Sparks in its entirety. Then we made our way back
to the Canadian High Commission. We were the second ones in line, but
the first people were really nice and we passed the time talking to
them. I think of this as very British. Accompanying relatives weren't
allowed in, but Kevin was given permission because he is Canadian. Guess
that would have been stupid otherwise, a Canadian not allowed into the
Canadian High Commission. So now, the Canadian High Commission have my
passport and I can't go anywhere. Believe it or not, after this
morning's little escapade, I don't feel trapped. (That may change when
Kevin goes back to Canada without me).