London, Part 2, May 2023

• Sunday, May 21: Bristol, Oxford
• Monday, May 22: Bodleian Library, London
• Tuesday, May 23: Cambridge
• Wednesday, May 24: Cambridge

The final leg of our 2023 England trip, following London, Oxford and Cornwall.

Sunday, May 21

We had one last breakfast at the Padstow Harbour Hotel. I tried eggs florentine, served like a benedict on an English muffin. It was again more than I needed but quite tasty.

We bid farewell to Padstow and drove about three hours to Bristol, mostly on honest-to-God highways which were relatively boring but helped cover the miles quickly. We aimed to visit the M Shed, a free museum of Bristol’s history, located along the docks in the center of town. We found the museum easily enough but it wasn’t clear where to park. We roamed around the wharf area a little bit before returning to the one parking lot we saw, then had to wait for someone to leave but we finally got parked.

The M Shed covered a range of Bristol’s history arranged in several themes: Life, People, and Places. The problem with this type of approach is that it largely foregoes a chronological account of what happened when. I eventually found the section dealing with the Transatlantic Slave trade and spent about 30 minutes going through the exhibits. They did a credible job spelling out and acknowledging Bristol’s role but I’m still looking for a more comprehensive discussion of the Atlantic trade and its effects.

After about 90 minutes in the M Shed we were ready to move on. We window shopped along the docks for a place for lunch, with Barb impatient to press on to Oxford. Ada and I chose a little Greek spot for bowls that were (guess what) more than we needed.

We motored another 90 minutes to Oxford, dropped Ada off at the train station and bid farewells. It was great traveling with her. She was a reliable navigator, music selector and it was good for both Barb and I to have someone else to talk to.

Barb and I had to stay in Oxford one more night because the rental car return place closed early on Sunday — we needed to wait until Monday morning to return the car. So we checked into the Old Parsonage Hotel one more time. I had made a reservation again for Sunday Dinner at their restaurant. This time they still had roast beef available so Barb and I shared a plate, along with an asparagus appetizer for Barb and an eel soup for me. The roast beef plate was huge, with roast potatoes, a small bed of mashed potatoes to hold the Yorkshire pudding, roast carrots and broccolini. This meal truly pushed me over the edge but I couldn’t resist finishing with a scoop of pistachio ice cream before heading off to bed.

Monday, May 22

I woke up early, worried about the logistics of returning our car, getting breakfast and getting tickets for a tour of the Bodleian Library. I also woke up feeling a little queasy from the days of overindulgence. I decided to forgo breakfast (our last free one). Returning the car was very easy but I had to wait 30 minutes or so for a taxi back to the hotel. I found Barb having her breakfast.

We got ourselves out of the room, stored our bags at the hotel and got over to the Bodleian Library a little after 10am. We missed the 10:30 tour but got tickets for the 11:30. We killed time in the new wing of the library with its small exhibit on photography, cafe, gift shop, and reading corner. Our one-hour tour took us through several old sections of the library, but not the Radcliffe Camera, unfortunately. I was left to wonder what that distinctive building looked like inside, but certainly the old part of the main library was suitably ornate and impressive…and still in use.

Our Bodleian stop capped off our Oxford explorations. We went back to the hotel for our bags, caught a cab to the train station and were soon on a train to back to Marylebone Station in London. This train ride was smooth but still not quiet. There were no soccer fans this time, but a mother seated behind us traveling with two toddler girls kept up a running inane discussion with them, highlighted by when she pointed to some sheep out the window and the two girls shouted “BAA, BAA, BAA” for several minutes at the top of their lungs until the mother distracted them by asking what other animals said, finally arriving at fish which quieted the girls down for a few minutes.

We took a taxi from the train station to the Hyatt Andaz Hotel, another trip that took far greater time and expense than it covered in miles, but necessary because we had too much luggage to consider navigating the Tube. I’d chosen the Andaz because it was near Liverpool Street Station, the main rail hub toward Cambridge, and because I got Hyatt points. I didn’t know about the hotel’s history which we would come to learn.

Our hotel was very much in the business district, more or less on the border between The City and the East End district of Spitalfields. I took a short walk around the area before dinner to get oriented while Barb napped but I didn’t get very far.

I deliberately did less planning for this part of the trip, partly because I wanted to see how the first part worked out (particularly the train travel), what the weather would be, and to see what level of energy we had. I’d originally planned to go to Cambridge one day and the Imperial War Museum in Duxford, Britain’s largest aviation museum on another day, subject to the weather (we wanted to do Cambridge on a nice day so we could take a punt). At some point in Cornwall, I decided to scrub the visit to the aviation museum — it would be a long, tiring day of walking and Barb expressed interest in doing some shopping and having a proper tea at Fortnum & Mason’s. I decided having a sort of leisurely day in London would be a good thing. So, a few days ahead, I bought train tickets to Cambridge, still without being exactly clear what we were going to do there. I also booked a tea time at Fortnum & Mason’s (or so I thought…).

We took it easy for the afternoon in our room and decided to have dinner at the nearby City branch of Relais de Venise. Our dinner was, of course, very similar to the one we had at Marylebone, but not quite as good. The second helping came out far too soon, before we were ready for it, and I was starting to feel seriously overfed and even a little feverish. I was afraid I was coming down with something (please, not Covid!) but I didn’t say anything to Barb nor did I take a Covid test. The dinner was further marred by having to hear the conversation from the neighboring table of business people including a young and annoying American woman. It was one of the perils of eating in a business district restaurant.

We retreated to the room and a relatively early bed time. We discovered that, oddly, this most expensive and international-grade hotel on our trip had the poorest selection of TV channels. We struggled to find something vaguely palatable to watch and ended up with a binge of Big Bang Theory episodes.

Tuesday, May 23

Today it was off to Cambridge. Breakfast consisted of a McDonald’s sandwich for Barb from the Liverpool Street Station branch adjacent to our hotel, and nothing for me because I was still a tinge queasy. There was what I thought was a genial protest underway outside the station featuring a large inflated penis. I got a quick photo but didn’t figure out exactly what they were protesting. By the time we returned, it was gone. It turns out to have been a marketing promotion for a dating app, WeAreX. The Brits are more open minded about certain things than Americans are — I can’t imagine a similar campaign in New York or DC. Well, maybe in New York.

The train ride to Cambridge was easy, but actually took a little longer than the ride to Oxford, nearly 90 minutes. This time, however, the other passengers were thankfully quiet. I was mildly upset I forgot to bring my earbuds — I could have listened to a podcast or some music. Instead, I contented myself watching the industrial backyard of London give way to the bucolic green English countryside.

It was a somewhat long walk from the Cambridge train station into town through largely modern, nondescript buildings for the first mile before we reached the old town. I pointed us toward the Central Market, a mix of produce stands and fast food stalls, most of which were just coming to life. I hadn’t eaten breakfast so Barb encouraged me to get something before the crowds started to arrive. I made a quick search of options and decided to get a sort of middle Eastern sausage baguette, allegedly spicy with tzatziki sauce. It was decent but a little messy. The pigeons near my feet approved. 

We saw the official bookstore for the Cambridge University Press, so we browsed in it for a while, a peaceful little oasis. Barb found some paper bookmarks with no pricetags on them so she assumed they were free and took a couple to give to colleagues. No one said anything, so they were either free or a very cheap shoplift.

We took a quick look at King’s College Chapel from the outside but it was under scaffolding. Barb was starting to get cranky – she said she was about touristed out so it was no time to explore aimlessly. So we headed directly to the River Cam to find the punts.

As soon as we reached the river we were politely accosted by a student tout trying to get us to sign up for his punt company. In the short course of our conversation the price dropped from GBP 72 to 60. I said we’d consider it and moved on. Within a few feet, another tout offered a better deal for GBP 40. With Barb’s patience wearing thin, I tentatively agreed and asked to see the actual boats a bit further up the river. It turned out to be the Cambridge Punt Company which was top-rated by TripAdvisor anyway, so we bought spots on the next boat in about half an hour. We waited out the time on a bench on the Jesus Green.

We had a very enjoyable 45-minute punt tour with Zoe as our guide. She was a smallish woman who expertly maneuvered the boat as she ran through her list of sights and anecdotes. She answered Barb’s many questions and basically gave us a private tour even though there were 8 other people on the boat. The others were a mix of European and South Asian tourists who didn’t raise any questions and didn’t seem to mind having their own conversations while Zoe talked. In truth, the views from the punt are an odd perspective of the buildings being so low in the water, but the punts are the only way to see many of the colleges – the riverfront is off limits to tourists which is decidedly a good thing.

We learned a few bits about the various colleges which we quickly forgot, but Zoe made the excursion interesting. We also learned that Zoe grew up in Cambridge but was on a gap year before going to Oxford to study world religions. She was one of only a few women punt guides on the river, but we were glad we got her. She did an excellent job despite being at it for only two months. We tipped her generously, after joking that she owed Barb 10 pounds for correctly answering the question of how Kitchen Bridge got its name.

Though it was still early afternoon when we finished the punt, we decided we’d had enough touristing for the day so we strolled back to the station and caught the 3:03pm train back to London. Very easy. Yes, we spent 3x longer on the train to and from Cambridge than on the punt, but it (punting and the train, I suppose) was a civilized way to travel. I know we didn’t do Cambridge justice but at this point in the trip we were more tired than we were inquisitive. My impression was that Cambridge was larger and a bit more cosmopolitan than Oxford, with a larger old-town core and more diverse set of dining options. But from our skimpy effort it seemed easier to see the actual college buildings and students in Oxford. Laurie, who spent a summer studying in Cambridge, prefers it and I suppose I can see why, but on the surface they are two very similar peas in their respective pods.

I spent most of the train ride trying to figure out where to eat for dinner, finally deciding on a well-reviewed English pub, The Magpie, near the hotel for one last hit of fish and chips for Barb and possibly some garlic-drenched chicken schnitzel for me. When we got back to Liverpool Street Station, I decided to take a few photos for posterity. There was a statue in front of the station commemorating the Kindertransport which was kind of touching but overlooked by nearly all the passersby other than us and the pigeons.

While on the train, I looked up the history of our Andaz hotel and learned it stands on the site of the original First Bethlehem Hospital, or Bedlam. We were staying in a crazy place. It was also a former (and still current?) Masonic Temple. We confirmed this with the concierge, a very nice woman named Ophelia. She helped us make a request to get a tour the next day of the Masonic Lodge and the 1901 Ballroom which were otherwise reserved for special events.

The schnitzel at The Magpie turned out to be a brick of flat chicken with a smudge of green stuff on top, hardly a drenching, and my fries were not nearly as good as Barb’s version with the fish and chips but it was filling, the beer was good and the overall pub experience felt vaguely authentic.

It was still fairly early in the evening but Barb was ready to retire to the room and to bed and to more Big Bang Theory episodes. In anticipation of tomorrow’s dinner, I asked Ophelia for a recommendation for Indian food in the area. I figured if Barb had afternoon tea she wouldn’t want much dinner and I’d have the chance to get something interesting on my own. Ophelia recommended Dishoom, about a mile away in Shoreditch, another neighborhood I’d never seen. I decided to take the opportunity to scout it out and get a little walking in.

This was a far busier and businesslike sector of town compared with Bloomsbury and the British Museum area. I had only been in the area once before in 2017 when Allie and I came for an early dinner at Ottolenghi’s restaurant. It took me a while to even recognize the neighborhood until I found the Old Spitalfields Market. I walked from the hotel up Bishopsgate Road, also known as the A10 which meant it was a very busy road with lots of traffic. I came across the London outpost of Eataly near our hotel and wandered through its aisles of Italian food and accoutrements. By the time I got to Dishoom it was nearly 8pm and there was a long line out the door. I asked the doorman about getting in as a single the next day; he suggested coming before 6pm. I scoped out the menu and decided it would be something worth trying. On the way back, I took a little more time to check out Spitalfields and the Old Market. The market itself was shut down for the evening — I was surprised it closed around 5pm and was completely cleared out by 6. There were several interesting animal sculptures in the area I don’t recall seeing, including I Goat and a herd of bronze elephants scattered around.

It was close to 9pm and the sun was finally setting. Rather than head out for a wild night on the town, I headed back to the hotel room where Barb was reading. We settled into another evening with The Big Bang Theory.

Wednesday, May 24

Having decided against taking the train again towards Cambridge for the Imperial War Museum in Duxford, this was our free day in London. I was looking forward to a leisurely day of serendipity and exploring. The only things on the agenda were picking up Barb’s colleague’s work phone that was left in a hotel near Trafalgar Square and doing some shopping capped off with tea/lunch at Fortnum & Mason. In anticipation of lunch, we skipped breakfast altogether…which turned out to be a mistake.

We took the Tube to Trafalgar Square, giving us a chance to try the new Elizabeth Line, the massive east-west subway project that opened in 2022. The separate station was ostensibly connected to the Liverpool Street station but it proved to be a long underground walk and the train itself was packed, which dissuaded us from any possibility of using it the next day to get to Heathrow – it would be way too much a hassle to manage with our luggage. But for the few stops we rode on it, it was nice.

We found our way back to the Club Quarters Hotel near Trafalgar Square. We had tried unsuccessfully to retrieve Barb’s colleague’s work phone on the second day of our trip, nearly missing the start of the Harry Potter play. Barb wrote some disparaging emails to her IT department that had suggested the mission and after a few days they assured her the phone was indeed there. Why exactly they couldn’t just ship the phone back to DC remains a mystery to me, but somehow it was easier (for the IT department) to have someone (like Barb) pick it up. This time around, Barb asked the concierge about the phone and they actually knew what she was talking about. We were done with the transaction within minutes.

It was still several hours before our 1:45pm tea/lunch reservation so we elected to kill some time in Trafalgar Square. It was a beautiful day so Barb grabbed a seat to read while I checked out the statues and snapped some photos like a good tourist. Most prominent of the statues, of course, is Lord Nelson atop his column, celebrating his victory (and death) at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. I was surprised to learn there was a statue of George Washington and had to seek it out by the National Gallery. It is actually one of many bronze casts of the Houdon original marble statue completed in 1792. It was installed in Trafalgar Square in 1914 to mark the centenary of the Treaty of Ghent that ended the War of 1812.

I learned that the traffic circle adjacent to Trafalgar Square is the original site of Charing Cross, a medieval structure that marked the intersection of multiple roads in the 13th century. The cross was destroyed by Cromwell in 1647 and was replaced in 1675 with an equestrian statue of Charles I which is still there. I thought Charing Cross was just a Tube station nearby; I didn’t know its history.

We walked slowly through the Admiralty Arch and down The Mall, following the Coronation route part of the way. There were some big reviewing grandstands which I learned were for the House Guards Parade and in particular for the Trooping the Colour ceremonies for the King’s birthday in June.

We cut up Regent Street to Picadilly Circus, then went down Picadilly (a silly name for a road, I must say) to Fortnum & Mason where we shopped for tea for Allie and Barb’s friends.

We finished shopping and were getting hungry well before our 1:45 reservation so I tried to get into the restaurant but they had no reservation for us. The hostess at the restaurant was no help even when I showed her my confirmation email. It slowly dawned on me that our reservation may have been for a different location. I checked with the wine bar’s host who finally clarified that our reservation was for a Fortnum and Mason branch at the Rotal Exchange. He gave me directions and it turned out to be not far from our hotel; there was still time to get there via the Tube.

We walked further up Regent Street to the Oxford Circus station for the Tube to the Bank station. We made our way to the Royal Exchange which turned out to be an upscale mini-mall in a very fancy old financial building. The Fortnum & Mason cafe in the center looked very nice and indeed had our 1:45pm reservation…but the hostess told us that they were not serving tea until 2:30pm. Barb was hungry, upset and didn’t want to wait that long, nor was she interested in the expensive lunch menu. She got it in her head that we could have tea at our hotel and we confirmed on the website that it was available daily from noon – 3pm. So we said thanks but no thanks to the Fortnum & Mason lady (and complained about the mix up in address and tea availability) and marched the 10 minutes to our hotel (it turned out the Royal Exchange was just a block from the L’Entrecote where we went two evenings before).

When we got to the Hyatt, they said we couldn’t just walk in and have tea – reservations were needed there or anywhere in London, and tea needed to be for two people, not just one. These seemed to be arbitrary and capricious rules, and research proves them to be incorrect (and here). But those were the rules presented to us. Barb looked sad and flustered enough that the manager went back to negotiate with the chef. After a while they agreed to accommodate us at 3pm, but we would both have to get tea – they couldn’t do it just for Barb. That was fine for me, though it threw off my timing to have a nice Indian dinner at Dishoom before 6pm. 

I was peckish and went across the street for a spicy Jamaican beef patty that was actually pretty good; my 2pm breakfast and lunch.

We came back to the Hyatt’s 1901 Wine Lounge (and tea room) at 3pm to find just two tables occupied and one flustered waiter who eventually took our orders for tea and a non-alcoholic cocktail for me – Barb was emphatic she did not want to pay for alcohol for her and it seemed to throw the waiter for a loop. We were shortly served a traditional three-decker tray of goodies, few of which were actually appealing to me. The afternoon tea mix of sweet and savory bites are just not the way I prefer to spend my calorie allotment for the day, but I was hungry and helped Barb work through most of the tray. I actually enjoyed my ginger and citrus tea. 

We finished tea by about 4:30pm. Barb wanted to take a walk so we retraced my steps to Spitalfields and Eataly. Barb liked the Spitalfields market even though they were already taking down most of the stalls. She also liked the elephant sculptures and sought out more of them scattered around. We found an interesting Gillie and Marc sculpture, Together Forever on Wheels, that I swear wasn’t there the day before. I wasn’t familiar with either the artists or this sculpture but it was fun.

We contemplated taking in a show of The Mousetrap, the very long-running Agatha Christie play. This was our chance to see the play with the secret twist ending that has somehow endured in London since 1952. But we let the chance go by. I doubt we’ll ever actually learn the twist.

We went back to the room so Barb could take some time to pack. I was too full to consider dinner at 6 or even 7pm. By the time it got to be 8pm and I was vaguely interested in dinner, I had little interest walking the mile to Dishoom, much less waiting in line. I found a relatively meaningless soccer game on TV (Manchester City vs. Brighton & Hove Albion) which offered some distraction while I polished off my bottle of scotch and ate a variety of cookies and chocolates Barb had collected through the trip. So much for our final night in London. We are party animals.

Thursday, May 25

I had checked with the concierge earlier about adding the breakfast buffet for our final day. He let me know that we could do it for GBP 20 per person rather than 30 because we were guests. We signed up for the deal and took our time eating way too much one last time.

We arranged a 10am tour of the hotel’s 1901 Ballroom with Mark Truman, events sales manager. He was quite friendly and patient with our questions. It seems the entire hotel, along with all of Liverpool Street Station, is due to be completely rebuilt in another year or so, despite the protests of many residents including folks like Stephen Fry, evidently. The ballroom was impressive but we really wanted to see the Masonic Lodge which was in use and unavailable for viewing. Still, it was nice of Mr. Truman to give us 30 minutes of his time for a tour and conversation.

We thought about wandering to Spitalfields or somewhere but I didn’t want to get sweaty, so we lounged in the room with bad British TV – a version of their Today show and then one last Big Bang episode. We checked out of our room shortly before noon to catch our car to the airport.

The hotel concierge suggested a car with a lower price tag for the airport (GBP 100 vs 160 quoted the first day), so we booked it. It turned out to be a modern version of the London black taxi with a friendly driver and plenty of room for us and our bags. We went on a circuitous route, crossing the Thames twice and running beside it several other times. After 45 minutes and much maneuvering through different neighborhoods we’d barely traveled 3 miles westward, getting just past Buckingham Palace, Harronds and the V&A. We finally got on something resembling a main road and ultimately made it to Heathrow more or less on time, just a few minutes after 1pm. There’s no doubt the Elizabeth Line subway would have been faster and much cheaper but it was still more pleasant to take the car. 

We checked in easily enough and waved as our two checked bags scuttled down the belt into Heathrow’s bowels. I shopped for some whiskey as thank you gifts for Mark while we waited for our gate assignment and departure.

As we waited at our gate, we started to hear announcements of other flights being delayed. When it came time to board, our own gate attendant admitted there were some “IT issues” at Heathrow and our boarding would be delayed 40 minutes. We eventually got on the plane but then the pilot announced that the IT issues had somehow impacted assignment of pushback crews so we would have to wait a while to get pushed back from the gate. More than an hour passed before we were finally pushed back and on our way.

The flight itself was fine, though Barb did not like her dinner options (lamb, chicken tikka masala or a vegetarian pasta). I was fine with the chicken tikka but she only nibbled at the pasta. Fortunately she had an emergency salami sandwich packed from the breakfast buffet.

The plane finally landed around 9pm (2am London time) and the pilot announced that, surprise, they hadn’t been able to load any luggage in London so we’d all need to check with the gate agents inside about getting our luggage. When we did, the one flustered customer service person in the customs area (who wasn’t even a British Airways) said we’d best fill out claim forms online and British Airways would get our luggage to us when they could. I wasn’t terribly worried but Barb was becoming increasingly agitated, even though the main things we had in our bags were dirty clothes.

We made it to our car and got home after 10:30pm; I filled out the forms and we eventually staggered to bed around midnight (5am body time). 

Postscript

Barb woke up very early (like around 5am) to start working on emails and headed off to work around 7am. I was up by then as well. Later in the day I couldn’t get an update from British Airways’ website so I made what I highly suspected would be a fruitless drive to the airport but couldn’t find any BA representatives. Later in the day, I got through on the phone and stayed on hold for a long time before an agent told me it might take 3-4 days to get the luggage to us.

Late that night, I got an update that the luggage might be on its way but it was unclear what day it might be delivered. The next day, I got more ambiguous messages that it was en route and/or picked up by a courier at BWI. The bags were finally delivered to our house on Sunday, three days after landing. We were glad to get them and started doing laundry.

Overall, Barb and I were very pleased with this trip. The first few days in London were busy and fun. The British Museum was overwhelming but educational. The time in Oxford and Cornwall with Ada were terrific. Barb was able to actually relax and not fret so much about work. The hotels and food were excellent. We are big fans (maybe too big) of having breakfasts included with our room, preferably buffets. The final few days in London and Cambridge were a little haphazard as we were getting tired and I didn’t have them as rigorously planned. Barb likes to have a destination and specific things to do each day. She doesn’t do so well with wandering and leaning into serendipity. Lessons learned.