Prime Wensleydale

I got up this morning with the express intension of going back to Greenwich. I really want to get up to the Royal Observatory there. So, I get out of bed early...about 10am. That gets me to the train station about 11ish. On the way there I'm not real thrilled at the weather. It's cold outside. It is threatening to rain. It's already drizzling on the windshield. My lightweight sweater is not going to protect me against this kind of weather. Stupid jacket. How dare it not come with me.

I briefly think about turning around. Screw it! What's the worst that can happen? It pours down rain? Snows? So, I run to the observatory and wander around it wet. After that, I can run myself to a pub and warm myself with a pint or two. This is the last opportunity this trip to get to Greenwich.

I jump on the train and follow the same path we took on Friday night. I get there without any problems and head up through the Old Royal Naval College and cross the street into the park. I wander the park for a bit which is large and open. The leaves are thick under the trees. The kind of leaf pile that you can bury yourself in. Families walk around the park, a group is playing football in a patch of grass, tourists (like me) are shuffling around taking pictures. It's not a glorious day, but, it hasn't dropped any rain on me yet. I'm thankful for that.

The Observatory is in the center of the park. It's up on a hill. The hill does not look friendly. All that hiking over the summer is about to pay off :). I get up to the top of the hill to see what I came to see. The Royal Observatory in Greenwich. This is the originating point of the Greenwich Mean Time. The Prime Meridian. Zero Longitude. Check this out


I'm standing in both the Eastern and Western Hemisphere at the same time! I know, it's cheesy. But, I can still say I've done it now. The inset is a cropped photo of a sign on the wall in front of me.

I wander through the museum there. It has several exhibits of astronomy equipment. It has much more on the aspect of time. You see, for the longest time this was the one place that kept the time. This location held the clock that was "true and accurate" for everyone else. So much so that people would come from all around to set their watch by the clock here. For a fee, some people provided a service of coming here, setting their pocket watch and then carrying the "accurate time" to the rich households of London. Eventually, they created a big red ball at the top of the observatory that would drop at 1pm every day to give a visual signal for people to set their clocks against. Guess what? That still occurs to this day out of tradition. Of course, I didn't get here until after 1pm, so I missed it.

There were exhibits on keeping track of time while at sea. This was pretty much the most valuable way to navigate back then. I won't bore you with the details. But, I thought it was pretty interesting. There was a clockmaker, John Harrison, who devoted most of his life to developing a clock that could be carried aboard a ship that wouldn't get screwed up with the rocking of the ship or the massive temperature changes. Over 31 years, he developed 4 different clocks each one better than the last. All four of them are on exhibit here...and seem to be still working.

Although the afternoon was spent marveling over science, to some science *is* a religion. So, we all know what happens to me after religion...I stop into the first pub I find. Actually, it's the second one. This one looked better from afar. The Kings Arms. I get myself a ping of Bombardier. Maybe I'll get some food once I find a table. That's when I realize I forgot something important. I forgot to get a "Me in Places" photo at the Observatory. Crap! That means I have to walk back up that hill. Such is life. I can't NOT have that photo. So, I polish off my pint to fortify me for the trip. I take my photos and come back down a different direction.

All that walking makes me a thirsty guy. Hey look, another pub :). This one's called The Admiral Hardy. I saunter in and order up a pint of London Pride. The place smells of urine from where I sit at the bar. Could be the proximity to the restrooms. I'm done with it already. It looks like the place that you could (should?) drink until you got sick. The next place I will stop for food. I don't even think they have food here...if so, I'm not sure I'd trust it.

So, I drop into a place called the Gypsy Moth. The place is pretty packed. I should just grab a pint and then move on. But, I'm a little hungry. Holy crap, they have a kreik on tap. I ask if it's a guze. I get a blank stare from the girl behind the bar. Is it a sour lambic, I ask. She shakes her head slightly with unknowing eyes...like I just asked something insane like "Has the red zebra caught fire?". She can't be more than 20. She offers a sample to me (probably because she can't answer my questions) and it is not a sour. So, I order up a pint as well as a plate of fish & chips. However, it seems that there is a change in the menu on Sundays and they don't have fish & chips. What kind of pub doesn't have fish and chips over here? She finds me a menu (a feat I could not accomplish) and there are very few things on the menu. Sunday roast seems to be what they are pushing. I decline, looking for fare a bit lighter than that. So, I order the Great British cheese plate. It has Wensleydale...Monty Python fans rejoice!

I grab a small barstool facing into a wall. It's pretty much the only place to sit unless I want to share a table with another group. I'd have to have quite a few more drinks before I do that. I am warm. Imagine sitting on top of a room heater. That's what is at my shins, literally less than a foot away from me. At least I'm toasty warm while I drink my beer and wait for my cheese.

Just an aside, there seems to be very little cell service in the Greenwich area. I can't seem to keep a signal here.

Waiting for the food here is almost painful. There is 'hip' music going on in the background and the place is filled with the chatter of too many conversations. This is less pub and more bar. Pubs to me are somewhere that is comfortable. Somewhere you can go in, order a beer and some food, sit down and talk to your friends. The coffee house of bars, in a way. To me the coffee house is based off the pub. The bar, on the other hand, is somewhere you go to drink. It's not there to be lived in. It's there to serve you alcohol. On second thought, I guess I could consider this a pub...just not a pub I could grow to like. I find that it would be very hard to find this place comfortable. "Lived in"? Heck yeah, it has that covered. The place is just crowded with people. And people are coming and going like there are turn styles in the doorway. I don't know exactly what it is about this place that I'm not liking.

Oh that's right, it's been almost an hour and no sign of my cheese plate. How hard is it to cut some cheese, slap it on a plate with some crackers and bring it out. Apparently, they are out of Wensleydale. Dammit! I knew mentioning that Monty Python sketch earlier would bite me in the ass. I decide it's neither worth waiting for any longer, nor is it worth making a stink about at the overly busy bar. I don't really want to wait around in this place anyway. So, I storm out. OK, really I just shrugged and walked out of the place, but, storming sounds so much better.

It's getting dark now and I wander back to the station. With the growing darkness, the temperature begins to drop further. It's darned cold. I'd tell you how cold, but, I don't have any way of knowing. I hop trains, and walk to the appropriate terminals. Eventually I get back to my car. The handy dashboard screen tells me that it is 6 degrees out. That's about 45 degrees in real temperature. I crank the heater and head back to the apartment. All in all, not too bad of a day.

Funnel Shaped Tank

We're up and out of the hotel early on our way to Heathrow. I know that I'm probably going to have to fuel up on the way there or on the way back. I still have a quarter of a tank in this beast. Just about a mile into the M25 I get a message from the car stating that I need to fuel up shortly. I didn't expect it to tell me this far away. Then it's handy dandy computer system tells me I have 39km left. Holy Moly! 39km on a quarter tank? It must be off. At any rate, I still have several miles to go before there are "services" available. John tells me that he's convinced that gas tanks are shaped like a funnel. As I see the gas gauge move as I drive, I'm inclined to agree with him. We're running out of gas fast. Don't be on the edge of your seats. I can see that you are gripping the mouse with intensity. It's OK. Our heroes make it through the day.

We glide into the service station with a smidgen of petrol left. Yes, a smidgen. It's a bit more that a skoash and less than a bit. I fill up and almost have a heart attack as I've just spent over a hundred dollars on a tank of gas. ::choke:: ::cough:: ::sputter::

After the service station, we notice that on the other side of the M25 there is a car overturned in the middle of the road. Emergency people are all over the place. But, no traffic. Think about the I-5 with nobody on it. That's what it's like here. I look around thinking "what happened to all the other people?" Several miles down the road we get the answer; They are being diverted to another motorway. A motorway, by the by, which would not take me to where I will need to go coming back. So, I tell John that after I drop him off, I'll just continue all the way around the M25. Remember me saying it's a circular road? It's the London Orbital. So, I'd be going from, say 9 o'clock on the dial counter-clockwise to just before 3 o'clock.

I drop John off at Heathrow and head back out to the road saddened at his departure. It's hard to imagine how lonely it gets while you are out on the road this long. It's a true and wonderful gift to have a traveling companion. Especially one like John who is easy going, has plenty of stories to add, puts up with me and my stories (a difficult thing at times) and doesn't complain when things don't go quite right with the plans.

I drive around the M25 until I get to about the 6 o'clock position. That's when it dawns on me that I have no cash on me. It's going to be a bit difficult to get under the Thames, which is a toll road, without a pound to my name. So, I stop off at another service center and grab some cash from the Magic Money Machine and a bite to eat. I try out a Wimpy's. It's a burger joint. Long story short? It's not that good. I miss In'n Out.

It's Saturday, it's mid-day and I've got the day off. What do I end up doing? Programming. Sorry to say that. But, I had some things that needed clearing up. So, I spend the day programming my little heart out. I grab a bite and a pint in the pub for dinner that night and head off to bed looking forward to tomorrow. I'm not programming both days away...

Adventure Redeux

So, we leave work a bit early. What the hell, considering Stock Take is going on (physical inventory for us Yanks) there is very little I can get accomplished while in the office. That seems to be more important than the the project that I'm here for. I'll stop ranting about work now...

So, we take off about 4:45pm to make a train into London's Fenchurch Station. From there we wander down to the Tower Gateway Station and pick up the Docklands Light Rail. Jump off that at the Westferry Station to head to our destination. However, due to a misread of the overhead monitors, I take us to a different track. Down stairs, across a street, up several flights of stairs just to realize that we've left the one track that we needed. Dammit! Apparently, this Moe guy is not much of a tour guide :).

At any rate, we get on the next train to Lewisham. That's not our destination, mind you, but the destination of the train. We were told by some people in the office that if we went all the way to Lewisham we'd probably be shot for our troubles. Seems that place is pretty...interesting. John says, tongue in cheek, that he needed to make sure to wear running shoes, just in case. But, several stops down the way is a stop for Greenwich. As in Greenwich Mean Time (GMT). Zulu Time. The center of time as we know it. Hell, I was excited about going there. Of course, it wasn't until we were on our way that I realized that I would be there when it was DARK. No *real* point in bringing the camera, huh? Maybe I'll come back here over the weekend...who knows.

We were meeting John's niece, Katie and her husband, Garrath again. John had brought something for her that we neglected to bring on our previous meeting. Katie, John's niece, is a school teacher of first graders (Grade Two in England, IIRC). She's planning a lesson about the beach. Seeing as most of her kids have never actually seen the beach, she asked John to bring some sand and a few sea shells over for her from California. Note: Here's where John breaks the customs laws. It's against custom regulations to bring over soil of any kind. John brings over several pounds of sand. Not a small vial of sand sample, no. He brings "the goods". I understand his wife and two kids are to be given credit for the collection of "the goods". Well done team!

We finally arrive at Greenwich Station. Katie says that as soon as we get off there are a couple pubs right there. We can meet there. What she didn't realize is that I was on board this train and whenever you add me to the mix, things get...err...interesting. You see, our train dropped us off at a different platform that she was thinking. So, when we walked down the stairs we were given two directions; left or right. Neither seemed to point us towards a pub. We chose right. As we walked down the street, John asked a lady if she knew where the nearest pub was. Just up on the left was the reply. We walked into a wine bar. Katie and Garrath were not there. Just an aside; A wine bar is not a pub. Out we go from that place. Well, that was on a T-Junction of the street. So, we could once again choose right or left. We chose right again (remember the right-hand rule when lost in a maze?). Off we wandered. We found a bar (The North Pole Bar); No Katie. No Garrath.

So, of course, we wander off down the road. We are now walking through some darkened streets and John mentions something about getting mugged. I told him that's why we wore running shoes, right? John calls Katie who says she's waiting at the main window of the station. He relays this to me after he hangs up. I ask the question he was already thinking...there was a main window at that station? We continue forward as we have already crossed under the tracks and are coming up to where we would have ended up if we had taken the left off of the platform. Sure enough, we can see the Station proper coming up. We wander under the tracks again (we, of course, were now on the wrong side) and find Katie waiting right outside an actual indoor terminal. She guides us through the terminal and out the front door to meet up with Garrath...at the pub right outside the station (which, by the way, we left without buying a pint...there's gotta be a special place in hell reserved for me on that offense alone). To our right is the large building that both John and I recognized was next door to the Wine Bar. Let me recap quickly here; If we'd have taken a left coming off the platform we would have been here sooner. If we had take an left at the T-Junction outside of the wine bar? Yup, right to the the location we were standing just then. So much for the right-hand rule...Until otherwise directed, we will be using the left-hand rule. The right has betrayed us.

So, we rejoin the process of catching up that was ended last week. We wander along towards the Cutty Sark which is kind of beached/parked in Greenwich. Well, until it mostly burned down several months ago. You don't know the Cutty Sark? That's fine, at the time of this writing, I know the name, but, have no idea of the history attached to it. I want to say it was a famous privateer ship, but, I can't say for sure. Sad, I know. You're probably all very disappointed in me. But, trust me, I have done a bit of research and the following portion was added into this just before posting :)...

The Cutty Sark. I was wrong. It was a merchant vessel in the tea trade and the wool trade after that. Famous for her speed, she posted the fastest speed for her size of ship. Other than that, she was used as a training vessel and later a tourist attraction. Like the Star of India, I guess, but not as interesting. You see, sometimes history doesn't turn out to be all that awe inspiring. So, in light of that, here's her made up history according to me:

The Cutty Sark. She was a 16 gun privateer that sailed the seas under the Captain Charles "HellDog" McBrannon. Wildly cruel to his crew but paid a large share of the bounties. For years she stalked the waters hunting enemies of the crown. Fast and sleek, she struck larger, more powerful ships with surprise and deadly accuracy of her guns. In 1895 she was found floating dead in the water. She was boarded to find nobody else aboard. According to the ship's logs, Capt McBrannon had grown ill and died two months earlier and the first mate David Sweeney had taken over to get her back to port. A strange malady struck the crew when they were two days out of London. That was the last entry in the logs. To this day nobody knows what happened to the officers and crew...

Oh, she does have a whiskey named after her. That part's true.

We then took a (short) trip to the river Thames to take a look at it. I'd seen it many times before. I've walked along it's banks. I've (not) enjoyed the cool breezes that come off of it in February. Now it was dark. I have to tell you though, earlier in the day (or the previous night...or early morning...sometime while I was sleeping) some huge winds and rain and other meteorological events took place to cause high tide and heavy flooding. I was told that there was basically a wall of water 3.5 meters (about 11 feet) tall whooshing down the coast. Yes, wooshing! They had closed the barriers to the Thames to prevent that wall of water from getting in and causing any damage. This resulted in the Thames being much lower than it should be.

We walk down the Thames Walk to see the Naval Academy of yesteryear. It's all gated off but lit up fairly well. Very nice. I tell Garrath that I'll most likely have to come back here over the weekend during the day so I can experience it fully (and take some photos).

We end up at a pub called The Spanish Galley Tavern. Katie asked around using the knowledge that I was "a beer snob" and this place was recommended to her. I just think it's awesome that she went out of her way to find a compatible place. I am happy going to any ole pub and grabbing a pint or two. But, the Spanish Galley had several I'd not tried. Happy Day! I started off with a pint of the Bishop's Finger. With a name like that, how could I not order it :). John went with a pint of Master Brew. Apparently, the bartender called it a Local Hero. I ordered the Bangers and Mash and another pint; This time it was Spitfire. John came back with a Dutch beer Orengeboom.

We sat around and chit-chatted about various things. John regaled us with stories of when he and Katie were younger. I found out that Garrath is just completing his PhD in History (Ba-Damn!). And now, I can't recall if I added any stories to the fray. Knowing me, I probably did. Eventually, we had to break up the party. John had delivered the beach sand and shells and we had a great evening. The four of us walk back to the station at Greenwich so we can reverse our trek back "home". Goodbyes are said and the train pulls away.

Well, it's still early for us. John and I decide to stop by and have a pint at the Hung, Drawn and Quartered in London near the Tower. When we get off our first train John tells me that he'll follow me as I "can probably locate the pub by smell". Next thing you know, we're walking through the doors. I order the ESB. I'd wanted a pint of that for about a week now and have finally gotten it. John jumps straight to the old stand by; Stella. If I wasn't so dead set on trying all the various beers, I'd probably be ordering Guinness more often. We talk and watch the end of a football match.

We decide that we aren't really tired and have plenty of time. So, we order another round. I tell the bartender (a cute lady with a minor French accent) that it looks like I have to have a pint of the tap called Scrumpy Jack. We go into the tale of me trying every different drink that I can and she starts going through the list. "Have you tried ..." everything she brings up is "Yup", "Several Times", "Yes", etc. I had not tried the Discovery Blonde ale that John had when we were here the first time, but, I wasn't in the mood for that one. I wanted the one called Scrumpy Jack. And with a name like that, can you blame me? Turns out it's a cider. Slight bite at the beginning, but, a nice smooth, non-dry cider taste after that. John grabs another Stella.

We consume our beverages while talking to each other, watching a boxing match and watching a table of three people near us. This table of three had 8 or 9 Leffes bottles on the table when we walked in. Mind you, that's before the waitress could clear it off. One of the guys was...for lack of a better term...BLOTTO. He was gone. Wasted. Drunk of his ass. Inebriated. Intoxicated. Three sheets to the wind. He had a hard time standing up straight. We watched with humor him try to put on his jacket. He was having a hell of a time trying to get his arm in the sleeve. Poor bastage. It's guaranteed he's going to be shouting at his feet eventually. The Technicolor yawn, as we call it. There's just no way, in my experience, that you can get as drunk as that guy was and not have to. I feel bad for the guy. But, he was drunk enough to buy the evening's drinks for his two less inebriated friends. They were kind enough to help him sign the credit card voucher and put the receipt into his pocket.

Shortly after that we are told the pub is closing down and we have to finish our pints and leave. It's only 11, I say...The once friendly bartender basically ignores us from then on. We've paid for all the beer we're going to have. So, there's no point in trying to charm us out of tips anymore, I guess. We jump onto the train back to Laindon Station and head home for the night.

Postponed Steak

So, as you are all tuning in to hear of the big plans that were hatched last night, you tune in for disappointment. Yes, the plans did not come to fruition. We were on our way somewhere that I had hoped to give me such a more interesting story. Alas, they were canceled at the very last minute.

I won't tell you were those plans led, as I would spoil the plans for tonight. Yup, there's the silver lining on the cloud. The plans were just postponed. Unfortunately for you, that means the update wont hit the 'net until Monday when I have my internet connection back.

John and I had plans to go...somewhere (you thought I was going to say something, didn't you). I was reviewing the plan with Gary and Tim at the office and they said that my driving directions were a bit off. There was a better way to get there. Gary asked what time we were supposed to be there and I responded about 6:30ish. He almost laughed at me. It was a couple minutes before five and he said that we should have left an hour ago if we had that time frame. Tim confirmed that our best bet would be to take the train. We'd have to switch lines a couple times and get onto a line that I'd never been on before. However, they said that we should be able to get there in the time alloted.

Well, off John and I tool down the road. We stop off at the hotel to change into some warmer, more comfortable clothes (it had rained pretty hard a couple hours ago and it was fairly cold outside). When we got to the train station, I paid for parking and we walked into the terminal. I get up to the counter when I can overhear John on the phone making assurances that we would be there, albeit late (as I usually am).

Seems the whole plan was postponed for tomorrow. Bah! So, John and I take the consolation prize of a steak at Outback. Sadly, the best steakhouse I've found out here. The service absolutely sucked at the bar. We were not even *actively* ignored. That would have been better, in my opinion. It's more like we were forgotten completely. Really sad as we were sitting right in front of the damned bartender. I started off with an Australian beer (Coopers) because the only thing they had on tap (I was told) was Budweiser and Fosters. Well, I'm not drinking either of those! John went with a Stella.

My buddy Marc loves Stella. He sings it's praises to me every chance I bring that beer up. I'm not especially thrilled with it, myself. It's OK. But, that's it. It's just OK. John seems to like it as well. So, I don't give him any crap about ordering it. Even though there are a number of different beers available here...

I asked for a Tooheys. Although advertised in the bar at Outback, they do not serve it. I am not amused. So, I move onto a Victoria Bitter before my food arrives. I have not had one of these since I was "down under" back in 1999. I remember it being...better. Good even. This is neither. But, it was completely worth it as it made the inattentive bartender have to go into the back cooler to get a couple bottles of it. We move to a table so as not to have to deal with that heartless wench any longer. Service improves.

The steak is as expected. Nothing fancy. In the States, this steak would be ::shrugs shoulders:: eh...passable. Here in the UK, it's a good steak. John apparently had one at the hotel last night with room service (I wasn't real hungry when we got back to the hotel and so waited until later to get a bite in the pub). He said that it looked like the cut of meat had been sat on by somebody and left there for several days. Yup, that's English steaks. Nothing like the mouth-watering, succulent gloriousness that can be had back home.

I polish off a Crown lager (also from Australia). Nothing to write home about...but, that obviously isn't stopping me :). During the last of the beers that I will consume here tonight we watch the end of the Bolton v Munich game. This had more injuries in it than most of the Ultimate Fighting Championships. Everyone was getting injured. I was sure they were going to have to add another 20 minutes of injury time to the game.

So, the plans were a little postponed. I said that there were exciting plans in the work for the night. I didn't lie...there were plans. I never said the plans would be guaranteed to be executed :). However, I did tell you that I wasn't going to count out beer and football.

Curtain Hero

Not much to report on yesterday's activities. I worked during the day and can you guess how I spent the evening last night? If you said "Sitting in the pub watching a game" you win a prize. See the man behind the curtain to collect said prize. Yup, I watched a Manchester United game last night. Not to worry, there are plans in the work for tonight that do not revolve around a pub and football...I'm not counting them out, however :).

On a small aside, you should each read the following webcomic; The Wrong Hero. A good friend of mine is the artist and writer. It was recently a featured comic on the hosting site. You're getting in on the ground floor as the story is just starting (it's about 20'ish strips in so far). So go read it...I'll wait right here.

Football Temperature

Criminy! Only Tuesday and I'm done with this week. This project is a real pain sometimes. But, the only people who want to hear updates about how work is going are on a different distribution list :). So, I'll leave it at that.

The temperature got down to 4.5 degrees Celsius on the way home tonight. That's just over 40 degrees in real temperature :). Getting cold around these parts. I hope it stays around that temperature. I enjoy the cold. But, not too cold, mind you. Especially without my heavy jacket :).

John and I had dinner in the pub again. We were expecting to watch the Liverpool game. After not seeing the game come on I wandered up to the publican and asked about the game. He started flipping channels until he found it. Awesome. We'd already missed 15 minutes of the game but nobody had scored yet. That was just a matter of time. By the end of the night Liverpool had won 8 to nil in a wonderful show of fancy football. It was the largest margin of win for a game in that league's history.

Teams play in multiple leagues out here. It would be like the Padres playing in the National League and also competing in a league in South America and also in a league with both Canadian teams as well as Puerto Rican teams. So, there are multiple championships going on at once. Multiple games. Just because you won today and last Thursday, doesn't mean you're doing well. Both of those games may have been for different standings. Your favorite team could play every three days. Football all the time. It's wonderful :).

Bonfire Cider

Guy Fawkes Night. Bonfire Night. Should really be called Firework Week. There have been fireworks going off all week. In all directions. No matter where you are you can hear them. If you are up on a hill, you can see several shows at once.

John and I decide to have dinner in the pub and watch some more football...or soccer as John continues to call it :). He watches the games but refuses to budge on the naming of it.

Several pints are had between the two of us. John was drinking Stella and I got him to try Beck's Vier. He moved back to Stella after that. I'm fine with that. You try something new, you don't like it, you move back. But, never stop trying new things.

I started with Boddington's, moved onto Castlemane XXXX and then onto Gaymer's Old English Cider. I'll allow you a few moments of snickering and laughter. Now that you're done snickering at me for drinking cider, you need to know something; Although cider is usually considered a woman's drink, it has a higher alcohol content than most beers. So, this specific cider was fairly good. Not to biting, fairly smooth. After four or five (I lost count) I was feeling pretty darned good :).

We sat in the pub and talked about all sorts of things and pretty much missed the entire game. Not that the game was worth much of anything...

Later that night, after we had each gone back to our own rooms, I decided that before I turn in for the night I needed to iron my shirt for tomorrow. But, there's no iron in the room. So, I'll head out to the main desk and ask for an iron. But, first I had to put some pants on. I wander out of the building that my room is in, into the main building, past the pub and into the lobby. I ask the nice lady at the desk for said iron and she says one will be brought to my room shortly. So, off I head back to the room. By the time I get back outside, I realize that my feet are cold. That's when it dawned on me that I forgot to put on shoes. Remember? I had several ciders. I told you I was feeling pretty good ;).

London Sights

This morning John and I are headed to London. 11:00am: I call John to wake him up so we can get started. Sure, it's a bit of a late start. But, I wanted to make sure John had enough sleep and I was busy watching Two and a Half Men. So, we pile into the car and head off to the train station. No, I still don't drive into London. You go down the wrong street and you'll get ticketed with a congestion charge. Besides, I don't want to have to deal with parking while I'm there.

The train ride into Fenchurch Street station brings no surprises to me. I've been on this route a number of times now and can still do it without too much worry. We head out of the station towards (in my mind at least) the Tower of London. Sure enough, after several minutes of walking, I realize that I've chosen the wrong direction. So, we head down another street. Rest assured, dear readers, that the Tower of London was found by our heroes. We walk round the exterior of the castle and John decides that he's not going to fork over the 16 pounds to wander the insides as well. Besides, we've got quite a bit of London to see in one day :). While we're in the area, we do get a good look at both the Tower Bridge and the HMS Belfast.

By this time John tells me that it's come time to eat. I'm up for some of that. I explain that we've got a couple main choices. We can eat the overpriced, crappy food that can be found around the Tower where we are, or we can find an open pub. The smile on his face gave me the answer. Strange that I have a hard time remembering the directions to the Tower from the train station, but, can remember the exact location of the nearest pub; The Hung, Drawn and Quartered. Food was ordered as well as a couple pints; Fuller's Chisswick for me (a bitter) and Fuller's Discovery Blonde for John. We also got to sample the ESB. I said that would be my next pint before realizing that we won't be here for a second pint...too much to do. A trio of people sat down next to us and began chatting amongst themselves. Only near large tourist attractions such as the Tower could I come to London and sit down next to other Americans.

We'd seen the major items on John's list in this area of town. That means we need to grab the underground. We walk over to the terminal only to be confronted with the roll up doors locked and a couple of Underground employees standing out front. The Circle Line was down for the weekend for planned maintenance. Crap on a cupcake! It's my main line of travel through London. The nice lady standing in front tells us to grab the number fifteen bus across the street and get off a couple stops down and grab the District Line.

Well, we walked over to the bus which proudly stated it was heading to Trafalgar Square. Happy Day! That's one of the places on the hit list. We can take the bus the whole way. Sweet! So, we step onto the bus (more like crowd onto the bus) and head off towards the destination we had planned. Not too much time passes when we're told, basically, to get the hell off the bus. We've arrived at the last stop.

We walk to our location; Trafalgar Square. Nelson's Column looms before us. I begin to tell John about Admiral Horatio Nelson. John looks at me like I'm speaking of things that have happened during our own times. It warms me. I enjoy teaching. I enjoy giving out knowledge. However, he already knows about this. I should have known when he specifically asked to see Trafalgar Square. Not many Americans would ask to come to this location. Most people, I would think, would want to see the really popular things; Big Ben, Parliament, Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, etc. Not many of us would actually know about Trafalgar Square. Not many would know about Nelson.

Regardless, we wander the square. We take in the sights. We enjoy, and we move on. As we walk away from Nelson's Column, I decide we should take an exact opposite path of my trip in February. So, I start down an Eastern road, called The Mall.

Not too long until we get to a point where the street has been closed off from car traffic entirely. John asks if this is some sort of parade route. I smile and say "sort of". Eventually, we move from the side walk into the street. See, The Mall runs from Admiralty Arch down to Buckingham Palace. It's usually closed to car traffic on the weekends, in my albeit very little, experience. We walk down and gawk a bit at the Queen Victoria Monument and the Palace itself.

I have, yet again, showed up at a time when the guards are dressed in their drab gray uniforms and not in the standard red ones that they are known for. I am a little bummed out that I have yet to capture a guard in the red uniform.

We wander back through St. James Park to the Horse Guards Parade. I am still amazed that the first time I wandered through this park it was a big "mistake" for me. I had been looking for Trafalgar Square and got sidetracked :). Anyway, we wandered through the park, all the while chit-chatting about this or that. I marveled at the amount of people that were there compared to February. The place was bustling with people as well as water fowl and squirrels. You should see the amount of squirrels that are there this time of year. You can't walk ten feet without seeing one...waiting for somebody to call it over to take a peanut out of their hand. Yup, they're pretty tame, if you want to call them that. Hand fed, definitely.

We wander through the Horse Guard Parade grounds. There are a couple of them on foot in the grounds. I was telling John that you do *not* want to get in their way when they move.Last time I was here, one began his march and yelled out something (which I couldn't make out) to the people in front of him as he marched from one post to another. The people who were in the way almost jumped out of his way. We walked in front of the Parade Grounds where there were mounted horsemen. I'm surprised that people get close and pet the horses with signs like this.

Just down the road is a road that many would recognize; Downey Street. I tell John that's what we're approaching. It only takes him a couple seconds before he asks "Isn't that where the Prime Minister lives?" I'm so proud :).

As we pass on down the street towards Parliament, John gets a call form home. We are just down the street from some big sites. I can already see Big Ben peaking up over the rooftops ahead. If you're not looking for it, you can easily miss it. John apparently has. I get a little bit more giddy with each step. Silly? Yeah, I know. But, My buddy Ben is a lot bigger in real life than he is on television. Parliament is huge an ornate. It's impressive. Until you take Ben into your vision. The clock tower is enormous. To me, it really is lager than life. John mentions the detail of Parliament. He seems impressed by the building until he sees the clock tower. Then I get the "Wow" from him. It's a little bit of justification for me. It's nice to hear that something that impressed me with it's grandeur had the same kind of effect on someone else.

As we walk towards Westminster Abbey John finally gets a hold of his niece Katie. We had been trying to reach them for a get together while John was here. Well, shock of shocks, they were actually in London at that moment in Trafalgar Square. They were just down the road from us. We agree to meet up in a few minutes in front of Big Ben.

Not too much longer and the four of us (John, myself, Katie and her husband Garrath) are wandering back up the street to find ourselves an eatery. We settle on a pub (The Silver Cross) where we get some food and a couple pints (London Pride for me and Hoegaarden for John). Eventually, we split up and we needed to figure out how to get back to Fenchurch Station. Katie and Garrath walked us over to an underground terminal where we caught a ride for a couple of stops. Then came the realization that it boils down to us walking the rest of the way. It was not as far as it looked on the map. We were back at the Hung Drawn and Quartered before we realized it.

John stopped and gawked at one building as we were walking to the station. It had been proudly labeled near the building's entrance as The Corn Exchange. That's when we were asked by some guy if we were lost and needed a place to sleep. We assured him that, no, we were exactly where we thought we were and already had a place for the night. He walked back "with" us to the station the entire time regaling us with tales of his current troubles; He currently owns two homes but has to rent them both out to pay for the mortgages. Thus, leaving him to find shelter for himself each night in hostels. He assured us, even though we really didn't much care, that it was a profitable business arrangement he had. I guess profit is in the eye of the beholder...

Parkinghenge

Got up this morning to headed to the airport. I set the alarm so I could get up and get breakfast before I left. Sleep overrode breakfast. I slept until the last possible moment. What the hell were you doing the night before, you ask? Nothing what so ever. I was alternating between watching TV, muting the TV to read a book and finishing up the Podio book that I was listening to. Before I knew it, it was 2 in the morning. Bleh! So, I head off towards Heathrow. As I'm driving into the place I notice that there are two types of parking structures advertised. One is long term stay. The other one is business stay. Well, I figured that the long term stay was not what I was after. So, that left me with the business stay. Sure enough, I was mistaken. There really is a third option that they do not advertise which is short stay. I found this out after I'd taken the courtesy shuttle into the terminal to pick up John. There it was. Oh well, life goes on. John can ride the shuttle back to the car with me.

Half hour later I've collected John (who had very little sleep on the plane) and headed back to the car park. That's when I had the shock of the day. Apparently, business stay costs 21.50 a day...Pounds people! Pounds! Yes, that's right, over $40 for parking. I was there less than an hour. E'gad! Lesson learned.

After getting the low-down on John's flight, I asked him how tired he was. He said he was a little tired, but, pretty keyed up at the moment. You see, we were on the other side of London already. There is a site that should be seen, in my opinion, by anyone who has the opportunity: Stonehenge. Due to the fact that it's on the other side of London than where we are staying, if we head there from the airport, it'll cut of an hour's drive. He said he was up for it.

The weather was quite nicer than it was when I was here the first couple of times. The sun was out and shining. The wind was restrained. The temperature didn't force me to wear a wool cap, gloves and a scarf (and wish I had more). So, of course, that meant that the place was filled with tourists. John opted not to pay the 15 pounds to go in and walk around Stonehenge. So, we wandered along the outside of the chain link fence and marvelled at it. I wont tell you what John thought about it as I wouldn't want to put words in his mount. I, however, was still impressed by it. I took several shots of the monument.

Once John had had enough of Stonehenge, we got back in the car and started to drive back. I told him I needed to make a quick, 5-minute detour first, though. I took the first left at the roundabout, drove through a little residential area and then took another left. Parked the car and invited John to get out of the car and come share in my disappointment. He didn't understand. We walked across the street and stared into the field. I said "Welcome to Woodhenge". It took John about a second to remember Woodhenge from the first trip and start laughing. He pointed at the "stumps" in the ground and looked at me. He just continued to laugh. I nodded, looked over at Woodhenge and waited for him to stop laughing. I'm glad he found it so humorous.

John nodded off here and again on the ride back to the hotel. He said he needed a bit of Lunch before heading off for a nap. We get him checked into his room and hit the pub for a bit of a bite. A couple of burgers and pints were had while watching a huge football game of Manchester United vs Arsenal. Awesome game with an exciting finish. Frank joined us shortly after that and we sat around and chit-chatted for a bit.

Small detour to the story about the pub attached to the Park Inn. It gets great reception for sports on the satellite. It should considering it calls itself a sports bar. Enough screens surround the room that you can watch the game where ever you sit. All in all, very nice. With one exception; The beer selection is rather poor there. They don't have any hand pumped ales. Not a one, dammit! I can get a pint of Murphy's Irish Stout there which is what I've been getting. But, I can get that at home. Damned near anywhere to boot!

The three of us break up and agree to meet for dinner that night. Frank has just returned from the office, John is going to take a nap and I'm on my way into the office. Lucky me.

Several hours later I'm back at the hotel and ring John's room to wake his arse up. It's time for dinner. He answers the phone and tells me that he's going to continue to sleep. No biggie, Frank and I will dine without him. So, when there's a knock at my door, I'm expecting Frank to be standing there. Wrong again, buck-o! John decided that he was awake enough to go to dinner with us. It should make him tired enough to sleep through the night.

Frank arrives and we head off towards Lakeside mall. There are several restaurants there that are worth going to. Frank has been to most of them and he and I ate at one the other night...a Spanish place that served tapas. I'll make another small digression now;

The Spanish place was good, they offered up a decent bottle of California wine (difficult to find out here according to Frank). Wonderful place. The wait staff showed up only when they were needed and let us enjoy ourselves. We left and had to return to get Frank's jacket that he'd forgotten on the seat. The waiter that we had asked us what was wrong with the service, which took both Frank and I aback a bit. We replied that the service was good and nothing was wrong. The waiter then began to lightly complain about us not tipping. Now, you have to understand that on the bill that was presented to Frank, this very same waiter had drawn a bit black 'X' through the tip area of the bill. We had thought that a bit strange. So, now he's complaining that we didn't tip after he X'd out the are that Frank was supposed to add the tip. I don't know, left a bad taste in my mouth.

Back to the story, we went out to an Italian place and had a decent meal. Nothing out of the ordinary, food wise. Although, in John's semi-groggy state, he burned his thumb on the plate that obviously hot. The cheese on his lasagna was bubbling it was so hot. But, he didn't see that until it was too late. So, other than the minor burn, a good time was had by all.

Composition Urgings

So, John tells me that he has a message from the States; Blog more. I'll see what I can do. Truthfully, there hasn't been alot to blog about. I've not been doing much of interest and/or value. I've been working a bunch and writing code or reading when I get back to the hotel. I do, however, watch a football game almost every night with dinner in the pub. Yes, I would love to get out and experience more places to eat. However, I usually realize that I'm hungry just about the time that the game is starting in the pub...it's hard to get in the car and drive off somewhere when I can get the game just 50 feet away :).

At any rate, I'll try and throw some more entries up. You should get some entries up this week with John and I running around :).

Free Enjoyment

So, there's been very little updating of the blog. Truthfully, I've not done much worth writing about. This last weekend I took a trip over to the mall that my hotel is near. Mistake. Seems all of South London decided to do the same thing. Same old stuff. I choked at the prices of things. Near 16 pounds for a CD. 7 pounds for a paperback. I stopped into an outdoors place and chit-chatted with one of the workers there. The place was tiny and didn't hold much. If I wanted high quality camping and hiking gear, I was in the right place. However, if I was looking for anything that wouldn't be considered basic, bare bones equipment, I was screwed.

At any rate, I spent most of the weekend programming. Yeah, I know; BORING. But, I've got a number of things that needed to be done and I wasn't going to be interrupted with other tasks while doing it. I made a ton of progress, but burned my weekend in the process. Such is life. However, I did take breaks during the day to relax. In that time I got some reading done. Finished off one of the books that I brought (Benighted) and started up on another (A Walk in the Woods). I didn't make it 6 pages before I laughed out loud at the writing of the later. Not the uproarious laugh out loud. Kind of the quick unexpected laugh.

I've also been listening to an audio novel in podcast form (Podio Book apparently) called Seventh Son. I'm actually on the second novel of the trilogy, Deceit. It's enjoyable and not too contrived :). Enjoyable and free are two great tastes that taste great together! It also makes driving to and from work interesting. I can't listen to it while I work if I'm coding. Too much of my attention is pulled away from the code. There's actually a coded message in the second book that tore me away from my coding for a couple hours. Well, it didn't take me away from coding exactly, as I threw together a program to decode it. Yes, I know that later in the chapter it will decode it for me. But, I wanted a shot at it myself. I made quite a bit of progress. But, it finally bested me. I went back to listening to the novel. Sure enough, there was one piece of the puzzle I hadn't thought of. And that was the key. Dammit! Oh well, it gave me a couple hours of entertainment outside of the story :).

To answer a bunch of people back home; No, they don't *really* celebrate Halloween over here. It's apparently caught on over the past couple of years or so, but, nothing like it is back in the States. I missed it :(.

I've been watching a lot of football while I've been here. Hell, there's a game on almost every night in the pub. So, I get some good eats, good food and good football staggering distance from my room. Life can't be too bad. I still want to try and get to a live game while I'm here. We'll see how that goes.

I can't wait to get back home and sleep in a bed that doesn't have a crack running down the center of it. True, I haven't found a surface that I can't sleep on. However, I would like a bit more comfort.