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Welcome to the “Georgia Wasp…”

This blog is modeled on the Carolina Israelite. That was an old-time newspaper – more like a personal newsletter – written and published by Harry Golden. Back in the 1950s, people called Harry a “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.” (For his work on the Israelite.)

That’s now my goal as well. To be a “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.”

For more on the blog-name connection, see the notes below.

In the meantime:

July 15, 2025 – Here’s what I hope will be the final post on my trip to England last May. (From the 7th to the 21st.) The Notes below have links going back to first one, about arriving in London on the morning of May 8, but meanwhile: In three weeks I fly back to London, and from there on to the Canterbury Trail. So I need to finish these On May posts before flying over again.

The last episode saw my companion and I get as far as a Britrail trip to Hampton Court Palace, of “Fat Henry” fame, on Thursday, May 15. Later that afternoon I did a near-four-mile round-trip hike down to the Gipsy Moth Pub, across the Thames in Greenwich, by way of the Greenwich foot tunnel. I didn’t have time for a beer then, but vowed that in a day or so, “I shall return!”

So here’s a quick cheat-sheet of what happened next.

On Friday, May 16, we did a day trip to Bath. On Saturday, May 17 – our 8-day Britrail Pass had expired – we used Oyster cards to get over to London’s National Gallery, and National Portrait Gallery. That night we met “friend Scott” for dinner. Sunday, May 18, we went to a service at St Paul’s Cathedral. Monday, May 19, we visited the British Museum. Later that afternoon I hiked down to the foot tunnel, then crossed over – under – then had a beer at the Gipsy Moth pub. (A definite highlight.) And still had time to meet up with “friend Ola” for dinner. (And another beer.) Tuesday, May 20, I visited the Natural History Museum while my companion visited the nearby Victoria and Albert Museum. (Verdict? Both worthy of day-long visits.)

And on Wednesday, May 21, we flew back home to Atlanta. Now for more detail:

Back to May 16: Bath, in Somerset, is 97 miles and over an hour train ride from London, almost to Bristol and the Bristol Channel. It’s known for and named after its Roman-built baths, built about 60 A.D. (The Latin name was Aquae Sulis, for “waters of Sulis,” a local Celtic deity.) I read that over 6 million people visit the place every year, and after our May 16 visit I believe it. One thing I noticed: The water was green! We heard that was caused by algae, which wasn’t a problem in the old days because the place had a roof over it. But with no roof, the algae got a boost from all that sunlight. Plus – I later learned writing this – the water is now polluted.

In more modern times swimmers used to bathe in the waters every year as part of the Bath Festival. Then in 1978 a young girl did that and “died of a meningitis-related illness.” Later tests showed a “dangerous amoeba that can give a form of meningitis.” On a more pleasant note, one thing I remember well – even to this day – was a hologram in one exhibit showing an en déshabillé Roman lady being prepped by local slaves to slip into the then-unpolluted waters.

Some things stick in your memory. Like that hologram – and our lunch at the Square Grill Brasserie and Piano Bar Restaurant, at 11-12 Abbey Churchyard. (Which according to Google Maps is one minute and 144 feet from “the iconic Bath Abbey and Roman Baths.”)

Turning to Saturday, May 17, we took a Tube-and-bus trip in the morning – courtesy of our Oyster cards – over to London’s National Portrait Gallery. We snacked at the Audrey Green cafe; “‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ inspired and bathed in natural light, occupying the ground floor of the [National] gallery’s East Weston Wing, a cool, contemporary and airy space.” (What I remember was a huge movie poster – one of many – with a very young Leonardo DiCaprio, standing next to a huge white horse in some kind of a circus surrounding.) After that we went to the one-minute-away National Gallery. (Both just off Trafalgar Square.) The portrait gallery included an official portrait of the new king, Charles III. The consensus, “not too flattering.” But I added, “I’m sure SOMEONE liked it!” (There was also a matched painting of Camilla next to it.)

My verdict? Both museums were worthy of repeat all-day visits.

Before heading back to the digs in Canary Wharf, we stopped off for a pint (for me) at Halfway To Heaven, on Duncannon Street. My verdict, “great little pub.” It was only later, after getting back home that I found out it was a well-known gay bar. (“Not That There’s Anything Wrong with That!”) Which probably says something telling about me. Like maybe I’m not too judgmental? Or maybe I was more focused on the very do-able beer prices. And a side note, for those who don’t drink beer that much: Many pubs we visited had ice-cold lemonade on tap, right there among all those beers on tap! Non-carbonated, and delightful. (That’s what I heard anyway.)

Leaving “Heaven” and heading down to Charing Cross station – off Trafalgar Square and by way of St Martin-in-the-Fields church – we had to negotiate our way through a pretty big and long pro-Palestine demonstration-parade. (Down The Strand?) You could Google it, but add the 5/17/25 date. There were many around the UK around that time.*

I managed to be sneaky and get a picture of the passing protesters, without getting my ass kicked. From there we met up with “friend Scott” for dinner at Noodle Street … Authentic Chinese Cuisine in Docklands. Another place I’d recommend, highly.

Sunday morning we managed to make the 11:15 service at St Paul’s Cathedral. (Not too late.) “Very impressive,” featuring a Missa Brevis in C (KV 257), by Mozart. (Much of which we missed, though there were people who came in later than us.) Also, the New Testament reading – from Acts of the Apostles – was written and read out in Ukrainian. (Though the following page had it in English.) After the service I made like a bag lady and gathered up left-behind bulletins as souvenirs for the folks at church back home in Georgia. And as I made like a bag lady the organist played a voluntary. (What I learned later was Bach’s “Toccata in E.”) Very nice.

After all that we had another split lunch, a Reuben sandwich combo, at The Paternoster pub, a two-minute walk from the church. Some reviewers gave Paternoster a bad rap,* but we liked it. But there followed another “cock-up,” involving my afternoon plan to get a bus down to the Wandsworth section of town. (Where I’ll be staying the first few days when I fly back in August.) Those plans ran head-on into the occasionally-iffy London bus service.

That was frustrating. Our bus was rolling along merrily when it suddenly stopped and we were told to get off. We ended up waiting at the stop a good 45 minutes. Meanwhile, the line for the next bus was getting so long that it was likely we’d have to wait for the one coming after that. But the eventual Plan B turned out, “the heck with this, let’s head back home on the Tube.” But first we made a prophylactic calm-the-nerves stop at Hamilton Hall, near the Liverpool Street Tube station. My verdict: “Great place to recoup, with a 4-pound Bud Light draft.* Cheapest beer I’ve gotten in London so far. ‘I’ll be back!'” (Though that will have to wait until August.)

As noted, on Monday, May 19, we visited the British Museum, “dedicated to human history, art and culture… Its permanent collection of eight million works is the largest in the world.” One thing I didn’t know: “The natural history collections were an integral part of the British Museum until their removal to the new British Museum of Natural History in 1887, nowadays the Natural History Museum in South Kensington.” (The Museum I would visit the next day, May 20.)

My reaction? A huge place, and overwhelming. (Mostly overwhelming “because of all the danged tourists!”) Plus it’s supposedly free, but they hit you up for a donation. We figured on going through the front entrance, but that’s only for those who book tickets in advance. Those without pre-booked tickets have to go ALL the way around to the back entrance, and it’s quite a hike. And there’s another swanky fourth-floor restaurant, like the one at the National Portrait Gallery. (And just like the NPG you need to book ahead.) Otherwise the food court “way down below” on the ground floor serves well. (They had beer, and like most museums in London they make up for the “free” entry with higher-than-I’m-used-to food prices. “But hey, it’s London!”)

Another reaction? Another place worth a full day-long visit, but overwhelming. In fact, so overwhelming that I had to take a break to fulfill another decades-long dream.

Back in May 1979 I worked nights as a paste-up artist at what was then the St. Petersburg Times. I dated a coed from Eckerd College* – probably a great-grandmother by now – and that spring she did a semester abroad at the college’s London Study Centre, 35 Gower Street. I saved up all my vacation time and flew over for a visit. One thing I remember: The Goodge Street tube station. Mostly because right outside was a great locals-only place serving fish and chips in authentic rolled-up newspaper. (I even acquired a taste for fish and chips both sprinkled liberally with malt vinegar.) I also wanted to visit the Study “Center” itself, if possible.

I headed out the back entrance we’d come in earlier, then turned left on Montague Place and over to Gower Street. (Google Maps says a four-minute walk to #35.) Just as I got there a group of four came out the front door. I talked to them a bit about my long-ago visit and they were polite and charming. (Humoring the Old Guy no doubt.) But just as polite was the young man I met inside, after explaining the situation again. I took lots of pictures of “those musty old rooms” that brought back plenty of memories. Like the cozy den-like room with fireplace, and the study room across the hall. Yes, “lots of memories,” but then it was time to get back to reality.

The Goodge Street Station is a five-minute walk from #35. Up Gower Street, on to the shady and tree-lined Chenies Street (and more memories), then up Tottenham Court Road to #72, where the memories ended. The area around the station was nothing at all like I remembered. No great locals-only hometown place serving fish and chips in rolled-up newspaper. Just a bunch of crowded, overshadowed trying-to-be-trendy-but-not-succeeding franchise places…

But I suppose Old People have talked like that since the beginning of time. To fix things up – get a better mood – I put my phone on Google Maps. (“Something new under the sun, Qoheleth!”) And lo and behold, I found Fitzrovia Belle, a “beautiful community pub on Tottenham Court Road which is all about friendly service & quality products.” Four minutes down Tottenham Court Road, and from there about a 10-minute walk back to the British Museum. (On the way I saw and took a picture of the “Big-shoes Guy” noted further below.)

Once back at the British Museum I met up with my patient travel partner and headed back to 9 Byng Street. From there, after a brief rest, I hiked down to the Greenwich foot tunnel, then crossed under the Thames and finally had that beer at Gipsy Moth pub. (A definite highlight.) And still had time to hike back and meet up with “friend Ola” for dinner. (At the Wahaca Canary Wharf Restaurant – rated 4.6 out of 5 – and another beer.) By the time we got back home I was tired – it had been a long day – but had time to write, “Last full day tomorrow. A visit to the British Library, with whatever happens after that, then back to the Digs to start packing. (Flying home Wednesday.) Now for a G-and-T, which I’ve learned to tolerate.”

That was the plan for May 20, but “there’s always the unexpected, isn’t there?” (Too many things to see and not enough time?) For whatever reason we opted out of the British Library and decided to “split the baby.” I’d see the Natural History Museum and my partner would go over to the Victoria and Albert Museum, right across Exhibition Road. On the way up from the South Kensington tube station we stopped for a mid-morning snack at the Kensington Creperie. I shared some food porn with the folks back home, via Facebook: “Coffee, sweet panini and some kind of chocolate croissant.” (A side note: At my first weigh-in back home I found that I had gained a few pounds. And I’ve been told it was a crepe, not a panini.)

From Wikipedia, on the NHM: A prominent exhibit – highly visible on entering – is an 82-foot-long Blue Whale skeleton that immediately caught my attention. (It replaced “Dippy,” a 105-foot long replica of a Diplodocus carnegii skeleton.) The museum is divided into “zones,” including a Red Zone, themed around the changing history of the Earth; a Green Zone, themed around the evolution of the planet; A Blue Zone exploring the diversity of life on the planet; and an Orange Zone, “Accessible from Queens Gate” that lets the public “see science at work and also provides spaces for relaxation and contemplation.” One thing I focused on, an anti-plastic research video, “Welcome to the Struggle!” (My reaction? “Frikkin microplastics.”)

Altogether way too much to see – to fully digest – in two busy days, but enjoyable for all that. (And I can come back in August.) But to chill things out a bit, we stopped at Honest Burgers, which Google Maps says is one minute shy of the South Kensington Tube station. I Facebooked to the folks back home, “Don’t know if this burger plate counts as food porn, but it’s g-o-o-o-d! Along with the 660 ml Brooklyn Pilsner. (Despite the name it’s brewed in the UK.)” And that from there we were “heading back to The Digs, to relax and start packing.”

But not quite: One more pub to visit. A 20-minute hike east to The Gun Pub in Docklands. It’s been around a long, long time, and offers a great view – off across the Thames – of The O2, “formerly known as the Millennium Dome,” on the Greenwich peninsula in South East London. And it was one enjoyable pub. In fact, so enjoyable that I’ll have to try and persuade my brother Tom to go there in August. But first, It’s time to finish this off and start getting ready for August.

“But wait, one more thing!” Remember the walk back from Fitzrovia pub to the Tottenham Court Tube station? And the young guy with the big shoes? That led me to think that London is full of all kinds of young people making all kinds of unique “statements.” My response? “Oy vay. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto!” I had to share the picture, and that I can’t wait to get back…

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The upper image is courtesy of The Gun Pub Docklands – Image Results. See also THE GUN – Updated July 2025 – 150 Photos & 88 Reviews – Yelp, The Gun | Pub and Restaurant on Docklands | Excel London, and The Gun – Historic Riverside Pub Docklands London – The Gun

Links to past posts on the trip. Starting last March, Next up – Hiking the Canterbury Trail, then A mid-May “Recon,” “London, Liverpool and Stratford,” A return, to “London, Liverpool and Stratford,” From Stratford-on-Avon to Byng Street in London, and From “Fat Henry” to Gipsy Moth pub.

Re: “I shall return.” See Douglas MacArthur’s escape from the Philippines – Wikipedia.

Polluted “Bath” water. See This is why swimming in the Roman Baths in Bath is NOT a good idea. Dated May 2019, the article said climate-change protesters had jumped into the green waters fully clothed, which brought up the “not a good idea.”

Re: Audrey Green cafe. See LOCATION – AUDREY GREEN – DAISY, and Eat and drink – National Portrait Gallery, which listed three other food services: 1) The Portrait Pavilion Cafe, Gallery forecourt, Charing Cross Road, “take-away only;” 2) Larry’s Dining and Bar, third floor, table service, booking recommended; and 3) The Portrait Restaurant by Richard Corrigan, fourth floor, table service, booking recommended. (The last two sounded way too swanky for the likes of me.) See Richard Corrigan – Wikipedia, on the Irish chef born in 1964:

He serves as the chef/patron of Corrigan’s Bar & Restaurant Mayfair, Bentley’s Oyster Bar and Grill, Daffodil Mulligan Restaurant & Gibney’s Bar in London, Virginia Park Lodge and adjoining pub the Deerpark Inn in Virginia, County Cavan, and most recently The Portrait Restaurant, located on the top floor of the National Portrait Gallery, London.

Corrigan opened the restaurant on the top floor of the newly refurbished National Portrait Gallery in July 2023. “The Portrait Restaurant has received rave reviews from Tim Hayward in the Financial Times, Giles Coren in The Times and more.” (Yup, way too swanky for the likes of me.)

Re: Pro-Palestine demonstrations “around the UK at that time;” i.e., May 17, 2025. There have apparently been many since then. (Google “london palestinian demonstration london trafalgar square.”)

Re: Sunday morning service. The link is to Mass in C major, K. 257 “Credo” – Wikipedia. The New Testament reading was Acts 11:1-18.

Re: Bad reviews on The Paternoster. See NOTES COFFEE ROASTERS & BAR | ST PAUL’S, London – Reviews (Trip Advisor), but also The Paternoster, London, St. Paul’s – pubs & bars review, gave it four-and-a-quarter stars out of five. And like I said, personally, we liked it.

Re: Wandsworth. Wikipedia says the London Borough of Wandsworth is one of “35 major centres in Greater London. The area takes its name “from the River Wandle, which enters the Thames at Wandsworth.” Its main communities are Battersea, Balham, Putney, Tooting and Wandsworth Town. (The latter is 2 miles southwest of Charing Cross.)

“4-pound Bud Light draft.” In dollars that would be (today) $5.37, still one of the cheapest draft beers I found “across the Pond.”

The coed at Eckerd College was Janine, mentioned in Countdown to Paris – 2021, and 2023’s Gearing up for the Stevenson Trail in France. After one week in London while she finished her course work, we toured Europe via Eurail Pass, including two days in Paris. Back then the Paris hotel prices were so “exorbitant” that we camped on the grounds of a no-longer-there youth hostel in Choisy-le-Roi.

Re: Hamilton Hall. For a non-“prove you’re human” link see Hamilton Hall – Good Beer, Good Pubs.

Re: A 10-minute walk back to the British Museum, from the Fitzrovia Belle. Google Maps says it’s 14 or 15 minutes because of “restricted usage or private roads,” but I didn’t see anything of that.

“Always the unexpected, isn’t there?” I remember that line from 1957’s Bridge on the River Kwai.

The full link for our May 20 mid-morning snack is Kensington Creperie London – themunchingtraveller.

I took the lower-image photo of “Big-shoes Guy.”

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Re:  The Israelite.  Harry Golden grew up in the Jewish ghetto of New York City, but eventually moved to Charlotte, North Carolina.  Thus the “Carolina Israelite.”  I on the other hand am a “classic 73-year-old “WASP” – White Anglo-Saxon Protestant – and live in north Georgia.  Thus the “Georgia Wasp.”    

Anyway, in North Carolina Harry wrote and published the “israelite” from the 1940s through the 1960s.  He was a “cigar-smoking, bourbon-loving raconteur.”  (He told good stories.) That also means if he was around today, the “Israelite would be done as a blog.”  But what made Harry special was his positive outlook on life.  As he got older but didn’t turn sour, like many do today.  He still got a kick out of life.  For more on the blog-name connection, see “Wasp” and/or The blog.

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July 10, 2025 – Here’s one more episode-post on my trip to England last May. (From the 7th to the 21st.) The Notes below have links to past posts on the trip, but meanwhile…

In less than four weeks I’ll fly back to London, and from there on to hike the Canterbury Trail. So I need to finish these “on May” posts before flying over for a second English venture.

In the last episode my companion and I ended up at Marlin Apartments, 9 Byng Street, in the Canary Wharf part of London. This was after our first (one) night in London – recovering from jet lag – then one night in Liverpool, and then two nights in Stratford-on-Avon. (The last two featured reservation “cock-ups,” explained and defined in past posts.) But from Monday, May 12 on, “I knew where I’d be laying my weary head for the next nine nights in a row.”

Briefly, here’s what followed. (A cheat-sheet of highlights.)

Tuesday, May 13, a day trip to Oxford and the Ashmolean Museum. Wednesday, May 14, a day trip to Canterbury, to see where I’ll end my hike in August.Thursday, May 15, a day trip to Hampton Court. Friday, May 16, a day trip to Bath. On Saturday, May 17 – our 8-day Britrail Pass having expired – we used Oyster cards to get over to London’s National Gallery. Sunday, May 18, we went to a service at St Paul’s Cathedral. Monday, May 19, later in the afternoon I hiked down along the Thames to a foot tunnel across from Greenwich, then crossed over – actually under – and had a beer at the Gipsy Moth pub. (A definite highlight.) Tuesday, May 20, I visited the British Museum while my friend visited the nearby Victoria and Albert Museum.

And on Wednesday, May 21, we flew back home to Atlanta. Now for more detail:

Tuesday, May 13. Oxford is roughly an hour train ride from London’s Paddington Station. It’s home to “the oldest university in the English-speaking world.” One thing I didn’t know: “There is a long history of brewing in Oxford. Several of the colleges had private breweries… In the 16th century brewing and malting appear to have been the most popular trades in the city.” But we focused on the Ashmolean Museum, Britain’s first public museum. (It started in 1678 as a place to house Elias Ashmole‘s “Cabinet of Curiosities.”) Of interest to me was the massive art collection, including drawings by Michelangelo, Raphael and da Vinci; paintings by Picasso, Cezanne, Titian, John Singer Sargent; and watercolors and paintings by J.M.W. Turner.

(I got tired just remembering trying to digest all those exhibits.)

On Wednesday May 14, we took a day trip to Canterbury. I noted, “Today I’m slowly working the way to Canterbury Cathedral, partly for penance? But mostly to see where we’ll end up at the end of August, after hiking all those miles.” On the way we stopped for lunch at The Old Weaver’ Restaurant, a quirky old-timey place four that “serves up hearty and flavorful British pub fare, with pies and fish and chips frequently highlighted.” (And a four-minute walk from the Cathedral.) From there we passed a statue of Geoffrey Chaucer – of Canterbury Tales fame – then walked the last block or so down Mercery Lane. That’s the same lane I’ll walk at the end of August, after hiking the estimated 133.8 miles or so from Winchester. (Depending on the source. I’ll give my updated estimate in September.)

The Cathedral itself was huge, and well worth the visit, but probably boring to the reader. (Besides, I’ll give an update with more detail when I get home at the end of August.) On the way back to the train station we stopped at Bakers and Baristas, 23 High Street, a coffee shop a mere three minutes from the Cathedral. (We needed time to recuperate from gawking.)

Thursday, May 15. For starters, we had to take “Britrail to Hampton Court. Meaning getting up at the crack o’ dawn, because if you don’t get there early the place is ‘filled with [bleep]ing tourists!'” (We got up early and to Hampton Court early, but the place was still full of tourists, bleeping or otherwise.) It was chock-full, mostly with of large groups of students, mostly well-behaved, and all on “outings” like the kind Mary Poppins mentioned in the 1964 movie. For contrast there was one two-year-old who threw a long, loud and continuous hissy fit. She was brought to the place by Grandma and Grandpa, apparently to give mommy a break, “but really? A dark dank spooky castle-like edifice filled with strangers? No wonder she wailed!”

But other than that the place was a fun visit.

For more starters, lunch in the cafe included a local brew. (Or so I thought at the time. It was actually a Meantime Greenwich Lager, ostensibly brewed in Greenwich, 18 miles away as the crow flies.) But it was “crisp and refreshing,” and went well with a split lunch of some kind of veggie pie, with a great Cole slaw mixture and assorted roasted more-veggies, all topped with gravy.

Some other highlights? The place itself was huge; in Henry’s day “200 cooks worked slavishly from sunup to sundown to feed 800 guests when Henry’s entourage was staying at the palace.” And there’s a picture of me standing in front of the huge fire in the huge kitchen, to feed those hundreds of servants. “The lady behind me is the Keeper of the Flame.”

And speaking of the good old days, how they disposed of “refuse.”

Lots of people: Lots of poo at Hampton Court. All human waste was gathered in a cesspool. Some lucky men had the fantastic job of using this chain pump to empty the pool when it was full. Insert one end in cesspool. Raise other end to highr ground. Connect higher end to pipe leading to river. Insert crank to turn the chain. The paddles will now carry the poo to the pipe. Let gravity do the rest!

All that was explained by a big chart on the wall, right next to the jury-rigged slooshy-looking chain pump that carried “waste” from the cesspool to the nearby Thames River. (Upstream from London, but still…) Which is why the English in those days drank beer instead of water!

Later that day we got back home for some well-deserved recuperation time. Duly recuperated, I hiked the near-four-mile round trip, down from Byng Street to the Gipsy Moth Pub, across the river in Greenwich. Or in my case under the river, by way of the Greenwich foot tunnel.

Sometimes on the way down I could hike along the Thames Path, a footpath that I just learned – writing this – is 185 miles long. (It starts at the river’s source in the Cotswalds.) But often the pleasant riverside path was blocked by big-ass waterfront condos. (Like the big-ass waterfront condos back in the States that block so much beach access.) When that happened I had to shunt over to Westferry Road. In due course I got to the tunnel entrance and started over.

Or under, more accurately. That was quite an experience. Good acoustics, meaning you could hear screaming little kids pretty much the whole way. And practice “limberness” dodging the frequent bicyclists, all while remembering to “look left,” the way they say in the UK. (Not “look right,” like back home in the States.) But other than that it was an enjoyable hike.

By the time I got across it was late and I had to get back for dinner. (And one of those G&T‘s in a can from Westferry Food & Wine, a three-minute walk from our apartment.) I took some pictures, including the famed Cutty Sark, “a premier exhibit at Greenwich.” Also of the Gipsy Moth Pub. I wrote longingly later that day at the apartment, “in a day or two I’ll hike back down, and under the Thames, with enough time to have a beer.” Which is a story for next time…

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I took the upper-image photo during our visit. See also Henry VIII, Terrible Tudor? | Hampton Court Palace, which included the following: “Henry’s religious policies met with opposition in the wider country, which he ruthlessly crushed.” “In 1539, the Act of Proclamations gave full legal authority to all his commands. Discriminatory laws were also passed … which had terrible consequences for many innocent people persecuted over the next two hundred years. Henry had become a tyrant.”

Re: Links to past posts on the trip. Starting last March, Next up – Hiking the Canterbury Trail, then A mid-May “Recon,” On “London, Liverpool and Stratford,” A return, to “London, Liverpool and Stratford,” and From Stratford-on-Avon to Byng Street in London.

Re: Old Weaver’s. See Home | The Weavers Restaurant, The Old Weavers House, Canterbury – Exploring GB, and THE OLD WEAVERS RESTAURANT, Canterbury – Tripadvisor.

Re: “Hiking 130 miles.” Wikipedia says the Canterbury-Trail hike is 119 miles. My brother Tom’s estimate is 133.8 miles, which includes getting to some of the hard-to-find lodging along the trail.

Re’ “Outings.” See He’s never taken us on an outing. – Mary Poppins (1964), Mary Poppins (film) – Wikipedia, and Punting on the Thames, including “When you’re with Mary Poppins, suddenly you’re in places you’ve never dreamed of,” and “And quick as you can say Bob’s your uncle, the most unusual things begin to happen.” Note that aside from the noun, there is a quite different verb definition.

Re: Hampton Court. Aside from Wikipedia, see 10 Fascinating Facts About Hampton Court Palace.

Re: Greenwich Lager. See Meantime Brewery – Wikipedia, and Meantime Greenwich Lager 24X 330ml Bottles: “East Anglian malt and Kentish hops combine for a crisp, refreshing lager that’s full of flavour. A modern classic, straight from London’s back garden.”

Re: Beer instead of water. Medieval English People Drank Beer Instead of Water – Scimyst supports the theory, while Did Medieval People Drink Beer Instead of Water? – HowStuffWorks. See also How Beer Became The Drink Of The English Poor | ShunBeer for some more fascinating reading.

Re: Thames footpath. See Thames Path – National Trails, Thames Path – Wikipedia, and Ultimate Guide to Hiking the Thames Path. As noted, there are sections of the Path in that part of London, between 9 Byng Street and the Gipsy Moth, but frequently you have to shunt over to Westferry Road, then back. Google Maps says it’s a 1.8 mile hike straight down Westferry, but that doesn’t account for the “shuntings.” (Note, the noun “shunt” has a different meaning than the verb form.)

The lower image is courtesy of Gipsy Moth Pub Greenwich – Image Results. See also The Gipsy Moth Pub & Restaurant in London, Greater London.

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July 6, 2025 – To catch you up, last May a companion and I visited England, from the 7th to the 21st. See links in the Notes for the trip’s purpose and progress, but meanwhile: Less than five weeks from now I’ll be flying back to London. There I’ll meet up with my two “Camino” hiking partners, brother Tom and his wife Carol. After a couple days getting settled in, we’ll take the train to Winchester. Two days after that we’ll start the long hike on the Pilgrims’ Way, from there to Canterbury Cathedral. All of which means I need to finish writing posts about the May visit – that Mid-May “Recon” – before beginning the next adventure in England.

In the last episode “we” got as far as the White Swan Hotel in Stratford-on-Avon, late Saturday night, May 10. (This was after leaving an updated “Much Ado About Nothing” at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre – “Waterside” – at 11:00 that night, then heading north – on Waterside – into the alien darkness – “not knowing where we’d lay our weary heads.”)

But things worked out, and the White Swan was a real treat. That continued into Sunday morning, before we headed to the 10:00 service at Shakespeare’s Church – Holy Trinity. (“Stratford-on-Avon’s oldest building,” on the banks of the Avon, and one of England’s most visited churches.) In the Swan’s breakfast nook I shared some food porn with folks back home. (Using two terms not often seen in one sentence; food porn and English Breakfast.) The Swan’s nook offered a multitude of items, including the classic “baked beans on toast.” I forewent that option and instead chose the French toast topped with fruit and some kind of yogurt. My conclusion? “Delish!” (Another word not often used in connection with “English breakfast.”)

After that we walked the 25 minutes or so to the 10:00 Holy Trinity service. (The post London, Liverpool and Stratford had a picture of me with the church in the background.) After that we stopped for lunch at Barnabys fish and chips, 22 Waterside, then “we” picked up some fudge at a street festival. (I certainly didn’t need it.) Then back to the Swan and a change of clothes.

In more casual dress we met friend Jane at the Shakespeare’s Birthplace museum about 2 pm. The visit included some old-timey-dressed performers doing bits from Shakespeare plays that involved some crowd participation. (Luckily I didn’t get volunteered.) We then followed Jane to her new flat down the street. (The afternoon before – before the hotel reservation “cock up” – we stopped by the two-story flat she was moving from.) Then headed back to the hotel.

Later that afternoon I took a walk. First, east on Bridge Street over the Avon River, then a bit more east down Banbury Road, then backtracked to the riverside park. (“The Recreation Ground,” including the Stratford-on-Avon Bandstand.) From there down the riverside footpath to the Lucy’s Mill footbridge, back across the Avon. From there I followed the footpath up past Holy Trinity – from the other end – and on back up to the White Swan.

My appetite restored, we had dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. A great shared meal including roast chicken, roasted root vegetables and gravy, and Yorkshire pudding. (Which I thought was a dessert, but no. “Not sweet, a savory crispy bread.”) There’s more detail in the Notes about this “no it’s not really a dessert even though the name makes it sound that way!” (Which illustrates the joy of discovery on your travels.) The hotel staff also showed us some things about the White Swan that had been uncovered during one of many renovations.

That included a framed readout of the hotel’s history, dating back to 1450. The readout included that after his 1582 marriage to Anne Hathaway, Shakespeare and Anne “would have drunk many a drink in the newly decorated tavern.” Another find? An ancient Bible in French open to the Book of Tobit. Yet another, a wall painting uncovered in a more recent renovation, this one in 1927. Research showed that the painting was commissioned by William Perrot, and could be dated “around 1560,” because Perrot and nearly all his family died “in the great plague in 1564.” The painting itself depicted the story of Tobias and the Angel, said to be a subject “doubly appropriate for a tavern of the day.” (Which I didn’t know.)

Next morning, Monday, May 12, we took the train from Stratford back to London, with a stop off at Winchester. (Where I’ll start my Pilgrims’ Way hike.) The goal was Winchester Cathedral, where the August hike will officially start. But first, we stopped for lunch at The Royal Oak Pub, the “oldest bar in England,” from at least 1002 A.D. (According to the chalkboard.) We checked out the Cathedral – and it was awesome – then headed back to the Oak. The Royal Oak that is, after an hour or two touring the Winchester Cathedral. (Lots of stuff to see.) This time I saw that “the Oak” had Estrella, a Spanish beer, on draft. (A brew I first learned to love on the original Camino Frances – French Way – from Pamplona, in 2017.) And by the way, I’ll have more pictures and commentary of Winchester in September, when I get back from the hike.

Finally, way later in the afternoon, we got on the train to London and eventually arrived at “The Place.” The place where I’d be laying my weary head down, for nine nights in a row. At Marlin Apartments, 9 Byng Street, in the Canary Wharf area. But first, the Ordeal…

The ride on the Elizabeth line – from Waterloo Station to the Jubilee metro station – was the ordeal, or more like a nightmare. 5:00 pm, big-city London, and the cars were jam-packed, all full of hot, sweaty, tired and anxious-to-get-home bodies. We had to let two trains go by, as they were packed like the proverbial sardines – chock full of people. Eventually we saw the third train a BIT less crowded, so we got on. Still, in all the jostling I got separated from my travel partner. She ended up surrounded – and jostled – by tall thuggish teenage lads, who refused to hold on to safety rails and giggled at the resulting bumper-car mayhem. I was luckier. I was surrounded – back against the sidewall – by a bevy of lovely young lasses. (Apparently, aside from the usual rush hour business-person traffic, a local high school just got out too.)

But wait, there was more! Google Maps says it’s a mere half-mile walk from Jubilee station down to 9 Byng Street. That’s assuming you head straight south, past Oysteria seafood, cross the New South Dock Bridge from Canary Wharf to the Isle of Dogs, down Admiral’s Way to Marsh Wall, then catty-corner over to Byng Street. That’s what Google said to do, but the only problem – construction! As in construction unanticipated by Google blocking the Google-suggested way. Meaning we had to backtrack up to Bank Street, then head west and on to negotiate the Marsh Wall Roundabout, then down the A1206, also known as West Ferry Road. All while lugging our bags behind us – and my “backpack on my back” – in what turned out to be a full mile hike, through a-bit-past-5:00 London rush-hour traffic.

Meaning, by the time we turned left onto Byng Street and found the lodging, we were hot, tired, hungry and bedraggled, not to mention in no mood to go back out looking for a place to have dinner. But somehow we got checked in, unpacked a bit and admired the nearby view of the Thames, through a gap in the tall buildings. And somehow I managed to find Westferry Food & Wine, a three-minute walk south in the Tower Hamlets building. There I found a bonanza: A slew of Ashoka Ready to Eat packets, including – for that night – Ashoka Aloo Matar, generally around £1.79 a packet. (We had two that night, to mix and match.) Also a prophylactic 16-ounce beer for right-away-me, and a good selection of ready-mixed gin-and-tonics-in-a-can. (A late-nigh libation I grew quite fond of over the next nine nights.)

For the morrow we planned a day-trip-by-train Oxford and sights like the Ashmolean Museum, but that’s a story for next time. Meanwhile, enjoy the view of Marlin Apartments, Canary Wharf. We had the seventh-floor apartment that included the ship-brow-like patio-balcony at the “toppermost of the poppermost” of the picture below. I later found out that it cost an arm and a leg – at least to me – but at a split cost of $100 a night, “actually not that bad – for London!”

Plus – I knew where I’d be laying my weary head for the next nine nights in a row…

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The upper image is courtesy of Royal Oak Winchester Uk – Image Results.

Re: The Notes for “the trip’s purpose and our progress.” Starting last March, Next up – Hiking the Canterbury Trail, then A mid-May “Recon,” On “London, Liverpool and Stratford,” and A return, to “London, Liverpool and Stratford?” 

Re: “Camino hike.” My definition: Any hike where at the end of each day you can look forward to a warm bed, hot shower and a cold beer. (You don’t have to pack a tent, sleeping bag, etc.)

For more on Shakespeare’s church see Church of the Holy Trinity, Stratford-upon-Avon – Wikipedia.

Re: Yorkshire pudding. The Britannica article included this about the classic old-fashioned British Sunday lunch: roast beef (not roast chicken), “typically cooked on a spit in a fireplace:“

Below the roast was a metal tray into which the fat and beef drippings fell. When the roast was done, a batter of egg, flour, and milk was poured into the tray, rising in the manner of a soufflé and forming a satisfying crunchy crust at its base where it had come into contact with the sizzling beef fat. The resulting pudding was then cut into squares, covered with gravy, and eaten as an appetizer or, less often, served alongside the roast, since it is considered a dish that should be served at once while hot.

And now you know more than I did when I first tasted this “Surprise, it’s not a dessert!” Also, Pudding – Wikipedia says it’s a type of food which can be – but doesn’t have to be – “a dessert served after the main meal or a savoury (salty or sweet, and spicy) dish, served as part of the main meal.”

Re: Backpack on my back. An allusion to The Happy Wanderer – Lyrics – Scout Songs.

Re: “Toppermost of the Poppermost.” A phrase from the Beatles’ early days, when times were tough. To cheer up the group John Lennon would say, “Where are we going, fellers?” The other three would respond, “To the top, Johnny!” Lennon: “And where’s that, fellers?” Response: “To the toppermost of the poppermost, Johnny!” See The one line John Lennon would use to cheer up The Beatles, and The Poppermost: The Poppermost Explained – Blogger. (I used the word “fellers” from Michael Shelden’s England, the 1960s, and the Triumph of the Beatles | Plus, from Great Courses.)

The lower image is courtesy of Marlin Apartments 9 Byng Street London Images – Image Results.

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As an extra added bonus, see If you want your 70s to be the most fulfilling decade of your life say goodbye to these 10 behaviors, for use in some future post.

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May 28, 2025 – Incidentally, that title could be sung to the tune “Hartford, Hereford and Hampton.” (From My Fair Lady,* with the English Her-e-ford in three syllables, and yes, “showing my age;” 74 in July.) But all that serves as segue to the fact that I just flew back from London, “and, boy, are my arms tired.” But seriously, it’s been over three weeks since my last post.

That’s because on May 7 I flew over to London, for two weeks “dress rehearsal.” That is, to get a feel for flying back next August and hiking the 130 miles of the Pilgrims’ Way, Winchester to Canterbury. (Plus do some additional sightseeing I won’t be able to do in August, like taking that “ferry ‘cross the Mersey” in Liverpool or visiting Stratford-on-Avon.) So after the last three apocalyptic posts, it’s time to get on with some fun in life. Like going over to visit London, Liverpool and Stratford, then getting to write up a scintillating travelogue about it. (A term “supposedly a blend of travel +‎ monologue,” something I didn’t realize before writing up this post.)

Starting off, the May 7 red-eye flight to London was scheduled to leave Atlanta at 9:50 p.m., but didn’t actually take off until 45 minutes or an hour later. And this time the Delta movie options didn’t include either “My Fair Lady” or “Rocky Horror Picture Show.” (I like them both for the great music.) So I watched a bunch of “Everybody Loves Raymond” reruns.

At Heathrow airport the trip through security was amazingly smooth, possibly because of the ETIAS clearance I got months ago. Then came a ride on the Elizabeth Line (the London Tube) to the ABC Hyde Park Hotel, 121 Sussex Gardens. One of the first things I noticed was a lot of “look right” signs, painted on the pavement at London intersections. We in America are used to looking left first (mostly because we drive on the correct side of the road). But Britain is different, and I almost got my “self” run over twice before I caught on; once by a huge bus and once by a speeding bicycle which showed no sign of slowing down for unaware American touristas.

Once we settled in, my travel companion and I walked the half-mile to Kensington Gardens, with its Italian Garden, along with the Serpentine (“recreational lake”), and the 1912 statue of Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie. (Bringing up the song, “I Won’t Grow Up,” which you might say applies to a 74-year-old man who keeps flying overseas to hike 130 to 150 miles just to burn off beer calories.*) Meanwhile, for those interested in such things, for a quick lunch we split a fish-and-chips order at Sussex Fish Bar, London – Paddington, about four minutes southwest. Then later on we dined at the Mughal’s Indian Restaurant, London – Paddington, also close by our digs.

Next, as noted in the last post, after the day off in London – to recuperate from jet lag – the trip would go on to Liverpool and Stratford-on-Avon, then back to London. We got eight-day Britrail passes, so once we used that up – with the trips to Liverpool and Stratford, plus day trips out of London – we’d stay in London and travel around the city on the Tube, or by bus, using our (Visitor) Oyster cards. (Which came in very handy.) But here I run into a problem.

In Liverpool and Stratford we ran up against reservation problems. Those problems were pithily described in an English expression I remembered vaguely from long ago, but it “hit the nail on the head.” That happened in Stratford, so I’ll take that episode out of order. In the next post I’ll describe the Liverpool visit, then revisit Stratford, then go on to the rest of the story.

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We have a friend in Stratford, Jane, which is why we stopped off there. (That and the Shakespeare stuff.) She went with us to where we had a reservation, an apartment in a small gated complex right across the street from Church of the Holy Trinity, Stratford-on-Avon. (Which would have been very convenient for getting to the 10:00 service next morning.) We went through the gate, looked around for someone to check us in, but no one could be found. There followed long attempts at phone calls and texts, all to no avail, very frustrating. Time passed by, we knocked on doors, but got no answer until one young gent finally answered. He had no clue but did his best to contact someone, anyone, to get maybe a code to enter into a lock-box into whatever room where we were supposed to stay? Until finally Jane said, “What a cock-up!”

At that I couldn’t help but laugh, despite the frustration, and my wondering “where, oh where will I lay my weary head tonight?” In such situations I always opt for a beer at a local bar, which usually includes the WiFi necessary to solve today’s travel problems. So, on Jane’s recommendation we hiked up what became Waterside Lane to The Dirty Duck, a “historic pub with two names and a royal connection.” Meanwhile, Booking.com tried to find an alternate place to lay our weary heads later that night. But unfortunately the “Duck” was packed…

Looking back it’s all kind of fuzzy, but there was an English gent sitting at a table on the streetside patio, with three empty chairs. Somehow I ended up in line with him, waiting patiently, while the ladies kept watch at the patio table. I found out his name was Chris, and asked him what he was drinking. He said an Abbot Ale – which I’d never tried, or heard of – so I ordered two, one for each of us. From there, hopefully, things would start to sort themselves out.

Meanwhile, we had expensive reservations at the Royal Shakespeare Theater. (With still no idea of where to find a bed for the night.) In due course we left “the Duck” and Chris, then got to the theater and were able to check our bags and my pack. Then we sat through a unique version of “Much Ado About Nothing.” (See the Notes for a review link.) All the time, watching and listening, I kept wondering, “Where, oh where am I going to lay my weary head tonight?”

The updated play was a unique blend of Shakespeare’s original Elizabethan dialog, combined with a “football club” setting. “We open at the final of the Euro League, as Messina FC takes the cup. Shakespeare’s lines are interspersed with football chants; ‘vaping’, ‘signed’ and ‘manager’ replace the Bard’s original words.” (The updated play frames the story “within sports to explore toxic masculinity,” and later gets into “slut-shaming, revenge porn and deepfakes, using the setting to their advantage to really explore these themes through a modern lens.”)

And all the while, trying to process all that hubbub while sitting in the way-up-high balcony I kept wondering, “Where, oh where am I going to lay my weary head tonight?”

But the play and the hubbub finally ended, and after that we got our checked bags and my pack, then trundled off into the late-night unknown. “Booking” said they’d found us a place, “but who the heck knew?” Which makes this a good place to end this post, with the Faithful Reader all on tenterhooks. (“Very nervous or excited [and] keen to know what it going to happen.”

I’ll describe what happened in the next post, along with my fulfilling a life-long dream in Liverpool. (Or at least a dream I’ve had since 1964, when I was 13.) That and yet another “cock-up,” this one involving our Liverpool hotel reservation. And I’ll do that even though my writing may “go all over the place!” You know, like Leviticus, Isaiah and Tristram Shandy?

As its title suggests, the book is ostensibly Tristram‘s narration of his life story. But it is one of the central jokes of the novel that he cannot explain anything simply, that he must make explanatory diversions to add context and colour to his tale…

On that note it seems that I too cannot explain anything simply – like tell a travel story – but feel compelled to add in “explanatory diversions to add context and color.” Which is another way of saying that I get a lot of grief because my writing ostensibly “goes all over the place.” But to me that’s the fun of both travel and writing about your travels. In my writing I explain those off-on-a-tangents as rabbit trails. To me they’re the fun part of blogging, as for example the rabbit trail that led me to Robert Burns and his expression, “cock up your beaver.” (A derivative of the “cock-up” expression, and relax, neither term means what many people think.*)

As John Steinbeck once said, you don’t take a trip, a trip takes you. So maybe the same thing applies when you start writing about your travels. You know (or should know) that the cock-ups are going to happen, so it’s better to just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride. And maybe learn something new? Or experience something never expected? In the meantime, the next post will continue the story with an account of coming into Lime Street Station in Liverpool, though perhaps not as “majestically” as Brian Epstein, as described by Paul McCartney. Stay tuned…

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The upper image is courtesy of my traveling companion. See also Church of the Holy Trinity, Stratford-upon-Avon – Wikipedia. On this trip we visited three other churches – Winchester Cathedral, Canterbury Cathedral, and St Paul’s Cathedral in London.

Re: “Hurricanes hardly?” People of a certain age will recognize the allusion to 1964’s My Fair Lady. It struck me that “London, Liverpool and Stratford” has the same rhythm as “Hartford, Hereford and Hampton,” where Eliza used three syllables for “Hereford.” (In the song The Rain in Spain, “a turning point in the plotline of the musical. Professor Higgins and Colonel Pickering have been drilling Eliza Doolittle incessantly with speech exercises, trying to break her Cockney accent speech pattern.” Wikipedia.) See two live versions at Hartford, Hereford, Hampshire… – YouTube.

Re: “Arms tired.” The link is to What’s the source of the phrase “and, boy, are my arms tired,” indicating it’s the punch line of an old joke, variously attributed to Henny Youngman or Bob Hope. Definitely a “rabbit trail” – for more, use the search engine above right – that led me to Did anybody ever really laugh at these? – Cafe Society.

Also on the Pilgrim’s Way see Pilgrims’ Way Stages: Winchester to Canterbury | One Step…

The link travelogue – Wiktionary, the free dictionary adds that it describes “someone’s travels, given in the form of narrative, public lecture, slide show or motion picture.”

On “not growing up.” I myself did have that 50 or 60-year interim – before my “second childhood?” – but the less said about that the better. Another note, before that interim I didn’t have beer.

Re: The Serpentine. “Although it is common to refer to the entire body of water as the Serpentine, the name refers in the strict sense only to the eastern half of the lake. Serpentine Bridge, which marks the boundary between Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, also marks the Serpentine’s western boundary; the long and narrow western half of the lake is known as the Long Water.” Wikipedia. I walked down below Serpentine Bridge, unaware that I’d crossed from Kensington Park into Hyde Park.

The site Cock-up – Meaning & Origin Of The Phrase said the phrase “isn’t commonly used in the USA, where it is generally assumed to have a vulgar meaning.” But no, “‘Cock up’ sounds rude, but it isn’t:”

What they might make of Robert Burns’ poem, which took the name of the old Scottish rhyme ‘Cock up your beaver‘, is best left to the imagination. What Burns was actually referring to was adorning a beaver fur hat by putting a cock’s feather into it.

None of which I knew before writing this post, one big reason I love blogging.

On that note see The Dirty Duck, Stratford-upon-Avon – Wikipedia: “It has existed as a pub since 1738 and has been known as The Black Swan since 1776… However, the pub is more commonly known as The Dirty Duck. It is unclear where this name originates.”

See a full review at Review: Much Ado About Nothing (Royal Shakespeare Theatre, The RSC).

On my writing shortcomings, and for future personal reference, see Rabbit hole Meaning & Origin | Slang by Dictionary.com, Definition of ‘go off on a tangent’ – Collins Online Dictionary, Unity and Coherence in Essays | Writing Center, and Unity & Coherence – ENGLISH 087: Academic Advanced Writing. (The last two show that at least I’m trying.)

Re: Steinbeck on trips. The actual quote is “people don’t take trips. Trips take people.” John Steinbeck – Travel Quote of the Week – Authentic Traveling.

The upper image is courtesy of Liverpool Lime Street railway station – Wikipedia. The caption: “LIME STREET STATION LIVERPOOL JULY 2013.” I used the image to lead off the post, A mid-May “Recon,” then on to Canterbury! The reference to Brian Epstein riding “majestically” into Lime Street Station – with a record contract, finally – is from England, the 1960s, and the Triumph of the Beatles | Plus, a series of lectures by Professor Michael Shelden. As I recall, Shelden described McCartney mentioning the incident during a “cock-up” during the filming of a fairly recent television interview.

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March 31, 2025 – “Think positive thoughts, think positive thoughts…” Which I will now try to do, by focusing on a pleasant, upcoming overseas trip – instead of the current sordid and polarized state of American politics. As noted in the last post, this coming August I’ll be doing another Camino – Hiking the Canterbury Trail in England. (And once again, I define a Camino hike as one where at the end of each day you look forward to a warm bed, hot shower and a cold beer.)

But before that I’ll do a little recon, going over for two weeks this coming mid-May.

And by the way, before you can get into Great Britain you have to get an “ETA,” an electronic travel authorisation. (I applied for and got mine last December.) And just to be safe I also got a set of buttons indicating who I didn’t vote for. (“Let the reader understand.”) I’ll let you know how that turns out, but I’m thinking maybe I’ll get some free drinks along the way?

Then there’s the question: “Why would you spend good money to visit England twice, same year, in the space of four months?” For one thing, ever since 1965 – when I first heard Ferry ‘Cross the Mersey, that “Pacemaker” song – I wanted to do just that: Take the ferry across the River Mersey in Liverpool. This year I wanted to do that by flying over early in August, then taking the train from London to Liverpool. But it turned out that plan just wasn’t feasible, joined as it would be with trying to hike the Canterbury Trail on the same trip. But as it also turned out, a dear friend – and future travel-but-not-hiking companion – has a friend who lives in Stratford-on-Avon. And Stratford – as it thirdly turns out – is halfway between London and Liverpool.

But first, some preliminary details. First, the plan: Fly to London – another red-eye from Atlanta – and arrive next morning, all jet-lagged. Then get a modest place for that night, and next day take the train from London to Liverpool’s Lime Street Station. (The same one Brian Epstein repeatedly left from and came back to in 1962, trying to get a record deal for the Beatles. “Time and again he boarded the London train from Lime Street station… And time and again he would return with bad news for the band. One record label after another turned the group down.”)

Anyway, the point is that through a confluence of circumstance – ones I couldn’t foresee when I made my plane reservations for August – I am now able to make this mid-May trip to England. In turn that means I can both do a little recon for the Canterbury hike, while also being able to cross off a number of other Bucket list items that have been hanging fire lo these many years. (Decades in fact.) So this post will look ahead to that mid-May trip: 1) as a “preview of coming attractions,*” 2) as a point of reference for when I get over there, and 3) for future reference, for when I get home and can compare how dreams and plans matched up with reality.

So, aside from visiting London – for a second time; I went over in 1979 – on this trip in May I hope to: 1) take that ferry across the River Mersey, 2) come through Lime Street Station, with its historic connection to Brian Epstein and the Beatles, 3) see other Beatles-connected sites in Liverpool, 4) visit Stratford-on-Avon, with its historic connection to William Shakespeare, 5) make a day trip  to Winchester (via BritRail), where my hiking companions and I will start out in August, and 6) make a similar day trip to Canterbury, where we’ll end our hike.

But back to Lime Street Station. We’ll arrive there – after three hours* on the train – just like Brian Epstein returning from London in 1962, with the great news that his then-unknown group (the Beatles) finally had a record contract. (Though perhaps not coming in as “majestically” as Paul McCartney once put it.) We’ll only have one night in Liverpool, but that’s okay because the next day we only have to travel half-way back to London, to arrive at Stratford-on-Avon. (Or maybe the Leamington Spa station, a 24-minute car ride from Stratford.) Meaning that while we’ll only have that one night in Liverpool, most of the things I want to see there are clustered around the same area. (Between Lime Street station and the River Mersey.)

For example, the dock at Pier Head (Mersey Ferries | Liverpool) is a mere 20-minute walk from Lime Street Station, and only two minutes further from the hotel I booked for our one-night stay. There’s a Beatles statue in the area, along with the British Music Experience museum, the Liverpool Beatles Museum and The Cavern Club itself. (Where “it all started.”) So we’ll have plenty to do in Liverpool before heading southeast to Stratford.

And in Stratford? There are three Royal Shakespeare theatres, along with Shakespeare’s Birthplace, Anne Hathaway’s Cottage, and even a Shakespeare’s Distillery, “an artisan gin and rum distillery certified as a carbon-neutral business.” And maybe some practice hikes around the area, drinking in the ambience of those long-ago halcyon days. (Or so they seem to us.) Possibly followed by a G&T at that Shakespeare Distillery. And on Sunday, a service at Shakespeare’s Church – Holy Trinity, Stratford. There I’ll pray for continued safe travel, before getting ready to hop on the train back to London for seven or eight days. Once back in London we’ll use the remaining days on those BritRail passes for day-trips including but not limited to Winchester and Canterbury. (That’ll be the pre-August, pre-hike “on to Canterbury!”)

Finally, once the BritRail passed run out we’ll see if there’s anything else to do in London…

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The upper image is courtesy of Liverpool Lime Street railway station – Wikipedia. The caption: “LIME STREET STATION LIVERPOOL JULY 2013.” The article included the photo below left, “Inward view of Liverpool Lime Street Station in 1959.” (Closer to the time Brian Epstein frequented the place.)

Re, positive thoughts. The full link is to How to Think Positively Every Day: Advice (Wikihow). See also 11 Ways to Boost Positive Thinking, 5 Tips to Train Yourself to Think Positively – Walden University, and others, by Googling “think positive thoughts.”

Re: “Recon.” The link is to Reconnaissance – Wikipedia: “In military jargon, reconnaissance is abbreviated to recce (in British, Canadian, Australian English) and to recon (in American English), both derived from the root word reconnoitre / reconnoitering.” I’m familiar with the term because I came of draft-age in the late 1960’s (and thought I might end up involved in such things). More precisely, familiar with the term “LURPs,” long-range reconnaissance patrols in Vietnam. (A LRRP was conducted by a “small, well-armed reconnaissance team that patrols deep into enemy-held territory.”) For more information see Long-range reconnaissance patrol – Wikipedia and Long Range Patrol in Vietnam War| K75 Rangers: “The long-range reconnaissance patrols (LRRPs) of the Vietnam War operated in a silent netherworld of dark green shadows where error could mean death and where the extraordinary was commonplace.” (All of which means some things from your “yoot” are hard to forget. And by the way, “Lurps” is not a misspelling. That’s how they pronounced it back in the day…)

Re: “Preview.” See the old-time (1960’s) Prevues Of Coming Attractions (1960s) Cinema Promo Trailer.

Re: Stratford-upon-Avon. I usually shorten that to “on Avon” on the theory that in this day and age the average reader is overwhelmed with data and so of necessity has the attention span of a gerbil. Thus fewer syllables, fewer words, shorter sentences, shorter paragraphs, etc.

Re: “Hanging fire.” See Wiktionary, the free dictionary, that aside from figuratively meaning to “wait, or hold back,” it literally referred to the case “when a gun does not immediately fire when the trigger is pulled, but may fire shortly after.” (Which I didn’t know. See also “misfire.”)

On Brian Epstein trying to get a record deal, see Lecture 5 in the Great Course, England, the 1960s, and the Triumph of the Beatles. (“Beatles for Sale: Brian Epstein’s Genius.”) Professor Michael Shelden opened by quoting Paul McCartney during a taped interview in 2007. Enduring a number of technical glitches Sir Paul said serenely, “We’ll get it right. We’ll move majestically to the end like the steam train bringing Mr. Epstein into Lime Street Station to tell us we had a record deal.” Shelden added that if the Beatles were to conquer the world “they knew the journey would begin at Lime Street Station with the long trip to London.” And that Epstein repeatedly took that long train ride until, after “many frustrating setbacks,” he finally came back with a deal. (As for that deal, it was officially signed in June 1962. See George Martin offers The Beatles a recording contract, though it seems the band’s very first record contract came a year earlier, “in Hamburg, Germany, where the band honed its craft playing gigs in the city’s boisterous nightclub district.”) And here’s the full “time and again” quote:

Time and again he boarded the London train from Lime Street station and kept pitching the Beatles as the next big thing in music. And time and again he would return with bad news for the band. One record label after another turned the group down.

Re: The Mersey. The link is to Ferry Cross the Mersey – Wikipedia, about the Gerry and the Pacemakers song “released in late 1964 in the UK and in 1965 in the United States.” Also, “The Mersey Ferry runs between Liverpool and Birkenhead and Seacombe on the Wirral Peninsula.” See also FER Gerry Marsden Ferry Terminal – Seacombe Ferry Terminal. And there was also a Ferry Cross the Mersey (film), which I didn’t know until working on this post.

About that “three hour” train ride from London to Liverpool. I’ve seen Google Map references that say many such trips can take seven hours, but I’ve been assured ours won’t take that long.

Re: Stratford. See e.g. The 18 best things to do in Stratford-upon-Avon – Time Out. See also Church of the Holy Trinity, Stratford-upon-Avon – Wikipedia.

Re: “Anything else to do in London.” That was either sarcasm, irony or maybe hyperbole? I sometimes get those three mixed up.

The lower image is courtesy of Church of the Holy Trinity, Stratford-upon-Avon – Wikipedia.

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