Groovy Tuesday

So, here it was Tuesday and our day to leave. So very sad.

We had to get up early, because flights from the UK to the US tend to leave early-ish. That being around 3:00 in the afternoon.

At this time, VA still had their Guest List service, which was so great Delta had them take it away after the merger, because they (Delta, not VA) suck.

Anyway, the limo picks us up around 11:00. Just enough time for the momster to fuss at me about packing. No surprise there.

Mom put most of her stuff in the new bag she purchased, because she was planning on carrying that one on. Who could blame her? It's a nice bag and no one wants it dirty.

We bid goodbye to the Holiday Inn and Kieth, or favorite concierge, and crawled into the limo.

The ride was uneventful, except for the best part, the pylons!



They block off the secret driveway to the super-special first class entrance. Of course you still have to go through security with the riff-raff, but one must make some concessions.

We got through security... that was a nightmare. Let's just say Heathrow is VICIOUS about liquids and gels in plastic bags. VICIOUS about it. DO NOT try to go through Heathrow security with so much as a lip balm not neatly stacked into the plastic zip lock baggie.


Momster had TONS of hotel shampoos and whatnot stuffed into her personal item. Therefore, everything had to be searched. Me too.

This took nearly an hour.

Ordinarily I'd be okay with this, but we had only 3 hours to enjoy the lounge and this was really cutting into it.  That, I did not like one bit.

All together now...

THANKS MOM!!


We FINALLY got through and hustled our asses into the lounge.

Right away I ordered 2 Virgin Redheads and 2 Rum and DC's.

DON'T JUDGE ME!!!
  

Finally, we were able to relax and place an order. I got the full English Breakfast, mom got a crispy bacon sandwich. This came out really, really good. So good, in fact, that moms ordered a second one.

      

Mom ordered a nice massage for me, which I enjoyed. We had more drinks, and then onto the plane.

We were at once presented with the requisite sparkling wine, which I had no problem drinking because that was what was in the Redhead drink.

Later, we were presented with the lunch/dinner service. I'm not sure I remember what it was exactly, but there was pasta involved.

I dozed off and on for the bagillion years it took to fly back to LAX.

We got through immigration and all that jazz with no problem.

After the car ride back to my place, I was greeted with by this:                                              And all was right with the world.

This is the end of this adventure.

Monday Monday Monday

It was Monday, and our last day in the UK.
Mom's parts were hurting, so she had no desire to greet the day with an excursion. Which parts? I don't remember, but take your pick.

I decided that I'd cross the street and go down a ways and take in the British Museum!

Hell, it was free, so why not?

I arrived around mid-morning not many people were wandering about. I had a pleasant couple of hours looking at the artifacts from various stages of history, and of course, British Colonialism.

That's a dirty word now, right?

Whatever the case, I saw some stuff.
      


It was nice.

I was there for a while and was pleased to see that a tea station was set up in the lobby.



I was tempted for all of 30 seconds. Until I saw the flies crawling on the scones.  Those aren't all raisins, people.

With that idea quickly squashed, I went back upstairs to look at more stuff. By now, it was in the afternoon, and, it being a school day... an onslaught of:

And

AND

I mean they were EVERYWHERE!

Crawling in between the poles, slithering in between the exhibits, worming their way in between me and the glass enclosed treasures lasting a billion years.

Since I wasn't in the mood for being blamed for destruction of national treasures and thus creating an international incident. I quickly beat a retreat from the museum.

Seriously, who brings a gaggle of monsters to a museum? Shouldn't those brats be doing something educa... oh wait, that's probably the best place for them. Never mind. As long as I don't have to be there.

So, off I went.

I waved goodbye to the museum and the food truck in the entrance way. 

Because you can't have culture without modern conveniences rearing it's ugly head.

I wandered in the tourist shops for a bit, not finding anything useful or interesting. Then I started worrying about the momster. You can't leave them alone too long, or feed them after midnight. Nothing good comes from that.

As expected, she was tired of feasting on random gummy candies and was in need of actual sustenance. Not wanting to do more than absolutely necessary, she sent me to the Pret to forage for food.

I came back with this:

I think it was some sort of pasta/cauliflower thing and a soup. Edie baby didn't complain too badly, so I counted that as a win.

I'm sure I also had a sweet treat in there to temper her ire.

That was the end of Monday.

Gloomy Sunday

We awoke to a gloomy Sunday morning. I was fine with this, as I quite enjoy a good gloomy day. 

Here is a view of said day from our hotel window.


I thought it was nice anyway. 

Momster awoke feeling better (thank you sweet baby Jesus), and decided that she would start her day with about 80 Digestive Biscuits and a Diet Coke. Ah, breakfast of champions. 

If memory serves, there was probably also some gummy something or others thrown in there for good measure.

I went after the leftover pizza. Cold pizza, yum!

I was about 3/4 a way through the slice when...
"Don't eat that! Throw it away!"

Me: "Why? It's fine."

"I don't want you to eat that. Throw it away!"

Me: "Why?"

"It was out all night!"

Me: "You keep it a steady 42 degrees in this room, it's fine."

"I said THROW IT AWAY!"

sigh...  at least I got a few bites in.

What was on the agenda for Sunday?

"I want to go to Primark!"

How to describe Primark to those who have never seen it?

Think of adding together the clothes/shoes/bags sections of KMart/Walmart and Target, then putting them in a giant 4 story building. Yep, that about does it.

From what I understand, Primark is an institution in and of itself. It has a turnaround rate of 4 - 7 days of the latest fashions. Which means, a real store releases a new style, that particular item is then bought, pirated and mass produced for the Primark store brand within 4-7 days. Quite remarkable when you think about it. Don't, however, think about the child/slave labor involved, it might ruin the moment.

We piled into the nearest black cab and got a ride to Oxford Street. The store was packed! It was the Christmas season after all, so there really was no surprise there.

So, there we are looking at stuff, going all around the store then back to the elevator to go to a different floor to look at more stuff.

We didn't buy much. I think maybe a shirt and a work out top were all they got out of us.

We cabbed it back to the hotel after that delicious outing.

We were relaxing a sharing a call from home. It was at this time that the SO informed me he had an 'ugly sweater party' he had to attend for work. I'd seen a bunch of ugly sweaters at the Primark. I was ordered to go back and get one.

Momster was not in any mood to venture back out, and since it was only slightly drizzling, I decided to stretch my legs and walk. 

Off I go. Granted, I got a little lost. No, I didn't think about actually using the GPS that was on the phone in my hand. But hey, I got there eventually.

I fought my way through the throngs of people to the Christmas Sweater selection and after six or seven photos and international calls back and forth decided on an ugly sweater. No, I can't find a picture of it, but it was something like this:

Except with a Santa with a big belly and it laughs. :)

I was able to find my way back without too many issues. It might be because I took a cab that time.

It was time for dinner, and thankfully, we were able to get a reservation at the Friend At Hand pub. Also known as the Dog Head to the momster.

Nice interior.

This is what we had:


I thoroughly enjoyed mine, whatever it was, and of course Haggi bitched about hers. "As per" as she likes to say. All. The. Time.

It was still raining a bit when we walked back to the hotel, but not too badly. Just enough to clear the streets of vagrants and cool and clean the air.

We got back, bathed and crawled into bed.

This is the end of Sunday.

Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday...

So, here we are on Saturday. Momster is suffering with a cold, and I was supposed to have a class, but because the world is full of lazy losers, I was the only participant, so it was cancelled.

What to do?

Sleep in, of course. yay. good times. weeee.

So that's what we did.

We did have to leave the room for a while for the cleaning service, so I had the privilege of dragging the momster around the corner to the Pret. Why I'm the only one who calls it the Pret, is beyond me, but Pret A Mange seems like too much to speak when you don't have to.

It was a bit chilly that day, but away we went all bundled up in our clothes. Me in my jacket, moms in hers. I'm sure we cut quite the picture walking the 150 feet around the building.

Have I said how wonderful the Pret is? Let me re-iterate. It's fresh, cheap and tasty. It's like a small cafe, but it's a chain so the food is cheaper than a family run place. Think of a massively upscaled McDonalds with much better food and the menu changes each day. I'd love for them to open a few in LA.

Anyway, I digress....

For lack of anything better to say on this day, here is our lunch.



Now, if you're playing along, see if you can guess whose is whose.
Give up? Okay, 

I had the hot sandwich at the bottom, and the ginger ale. Momster had the BLT and DC with the chips.

Gimme a break hea! It was a slow day!

After that meager repast, we went back to the hotel to stew in our own juices for a while. 

Later, after about a 6 hour nap (Ediebaby), and a marathon reading/ Pilates session (me), it was time to go out again. yay. joy. jubilation.

It was raining a bit by this time, so we bundled up again. Want to guess where we ended up? Go ahead, try. Do it! No?

Pizza Hut. 

Yes, you heard that right. Pizza Hut. Of all the wonderful restaurants in the area, momster wanted Pizza Hut. I don't know... sometimes it's better not to ask questions.

So there we are... an old lady in a leopard pattern scarf around her head, and me, wearing matching jackets hobbling along Russel Square. A typical London scene, heading to a typical American crappy pizza place.

As if that wasn't weird enough, momster ordered (get this) lasagna AND pizza. WTF???? I got the salad bar. Want to see?

Thought so:



Yup. Because when you stay in a hotel, you can have cold pizza for breakfast. Actually I did, and momster made me throw it away the next day, but that's a different story. Here was my dinner and momster's beer.



I guess after the massive carb injection, Haggi was feeling better, because then she ordered dessert. Feed a cold, right?



After which, we re-traced our drizzle-soaked steps back to the hotel.

Yes, it was a boring day. I'm sorry.

Note to self:  When travelling with the geriatric crew, make sure to allow for at least one massively boring day.

Thus endeth Saturday.