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.
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