Well, here we are, back in England! At one stage we thought that we might actually miss the flight when we were trapped on our way to the airport by a B-Double that had jack-knifed trying to make a u-turn in a road that was far too small for it! The last time we witnessed such an event was in France, and on that occasion it took more than three hours to extricate the vehicle. Fortunately the owners of a couple of cars parked in the street were found, and they moved their cars to enable those of us, trapped the wrong side of the B-Double, to escape. We didn’t stay to see how long it took the B-Double driver to get his vehicle out—-he might still be there for all we know.
Following that shaky start, we had a very smooth, boring flight from Melbourne, travelling Royal Brunei business class. We could not fault it at all. Check-in at Melbourne was courteous and cheerful, but complicated slightly by our using brand new Australian Passports. It seems that computers have good memories, but are lacking in staying up to date with what has been happening to people. It didn’t like our ‘New Australian’ passports because it remembered that we last entered Australia, more than two years ago, on British passports, and wanted to know why we were now trying to leave on Australian passports. A second check-in lady came to the rescue and soon got it sorted to the satisfaction both of us and of the computer. Then it was to the departure doors—-now controlled by another set of computers rather than people, and we got through that well enough. The baggage check was ok, apart from having to hang on to my pants to stop them concertinaing around my ankles when I took my belt off so that the buckle wouldn’t raise the alarm. And then I had trouble with the automatic passport reader which simply refused to open the barrier. But at least I got to speak with a human being who not only opened the gate, but went above and beyond the call of duty by wishing me a pleasant flight—-which is a lot more than any of the computers had managed.
I must say that having access to the Brunei lounge was terrific, and got us off to a nice relaxed start. It also helped resolve the problem of Ann losing her boarding pass for the second leg from Brunei, as the young lady behind the counter quickly printed off a new one! As already mentioned, the flight was very smooth and the food very good; and we didn’t even miss having a drink. I think the two days of non-drinking practice just before we left probably helped there. Arrival at Heathrow was pretty standard, and it was easy to find the underground station. What was not so easy was to find a human who could explain the Oyster Card ticketing system to us. That being at last achieved, we boarded the train on the line that would take us to Charing Cross, where we would change to the line that would take us to Old Street. Considering it was about 7.45am, I expected the train to be jam packed with commuters, but in fact there was plenty of room, and most passengers stayed on for only a station or two. However, when we got to the platform for the Old Street train at Charing Cross, it was an entirely different set of circumstances, and the trains were packed like the proverbial sardine cans. At this point we abandoned the underground and went for a taxi! An unexpected market provided some rather nice Chelsea buns, pain au chocolat, and coffee, and whilst Phil and Ann sat in the sun, I found a stall where I could get a UK sim installed in an old phone we had with us. This was a necessary task, as we had to phone the agent for the apartment before we could get the code to get in. Then on we went by a proper London taxi to the apartment in Hoxton. And what a find! Huge! Two bedrooms, both with en-suite facilities, a large kitchen/living area, and a roof-top garden!
It is one of several apartments in a quaint little mews, protected by a coded gate. It was very clean, had a nice ‘feel’, and was beautifully quiet. There was even a balloon whisk in a kitchen drawer. Not only that, it was just 5 mins walk to a nice little park, and even less to really great pub, The George and Vulture, where we enjoyed our long-awaited pints of English beer!
The pub had a wood-fired pizza oven so we decided to eat there that evening, thinking it would be a nice quiet place to go after the hustle and bustle of 28 hours of flying and under-grounding. The very pleasant young lady at the bar, who took the above photo of us, offered to reserve a table for us which was very fortunate, as when we got there the place was heaving! There were at least 50 people spilling out onto the pavement outside — it was a beautiful evening — and every conceivable nook and cranny inside was crammed with people—except for our table sporting its “reserved” notice! We squeezed in with our beers, and the waiter squeezed over to us with our excellent pizzas. What was very interesting was that there was no TV screen to be seen, no music of any sort, no swearing or profanities. There was just the babble and laughter of happy good natured people enjoying a Thursday after-work drink. Nobody drank too much. In fact very few people, who were mostly in their late 20’s to 40’s, even went back to the bar for another glass. In contrast to all the noisy youngsters in the bar, an elderly gentleman with a small dog on a leash sat quietly at a single small table in a corner near the door. He finished his pint, called to his dog, and quietly left. My guess is that he did this every night. It would have been good to have had a chat with him, but the crush and the babble would have made that a bit difficult. The George and Vulture claims to be the tallest pub in London. There are a couple higher, by being on the upper floors of taller buildings. But The George and Vulture is the entire building.
After an excellent night’s sleep it was time to walk to Old Street station for the tube to Victoria Station via Moorgate. In 1975, Moorgate Station was the scene of the worst ever crash on the Underground, when a train ran at full speed into the solid end of a no-through tunnel killing 43 people and injuring 74. But we had no trouble, and arrived at Victoria Station in time for a coffee before catching the train to our destination, Whitstable.
Slingsby's Miscellany 