The next day we took a train to London and checked into the comfortable Dorset Square Hotel. After we were all checked in, we took the tube to St. John’s Wood station and walked over to the EMI/Abbey Road studios and did the typical tourist thing where you get your picture taken walking across Abbey Road. We’re such Beatles fanatics, we just had to do it. Then we took an official tour — the “Beatles Walk” — to see all the Beatles-related sites around that part of London. For fans like us it was the best part of the whole trip.

Then we took a taxi over to this part of town, I think it’s called the Portobello marketplace, something like that… anyway, it’s supposed to be a great place for antiques. We were a bit disappointed by the selection of antiques, and I’d not seen so much garbage in the streets anywhere else in London.

Then we went to the movies and saw the X-Files movie. The flick was good, and the British movie theatre experience was new to me. Thirty minutes of TV commercials, five minutes of previews, and then the movie. And they have assigned seats, like in a real theatre. That was pretty cool.

Today we flew back and it’s good to be home. It’s good to finally be back where they know how to prepare food, and you can get a meal after 9:00 at night, and the toilet paper here isn’t low-grade sandpaper. Don’t get me wrong… I had a wonderful time, but it’s good to be home.

Another strange thing… people in London kept asking if we were Canadian. Apparently I have a Canadian accent. What the hell, eh?

And now, here’s my official summary list.

STUFF THAT IS COOL ABOUT ENGLAND:
Roundabouts — great way to keep traffic flowing
Other drivers — very courteous
Tits on public access TV
The word “fuck” on TV and the radio
The people actually have manners
Lots of rain
Everything is old

STUFF THAT SUCKS ABOUT ENGLAND:
The food in most hotels is bland and boiled
Nothing is open before 8:00 and after 6:00. I mean nothing
The toilet paper
The street layout
The street signs
The showers
Lots of rain
Everything is old

This list is incomplete. I’m tired and I’m going to bed.

I had a lot of fun on the trip, despite some of the negative overtones of this travel journal. Like I said before, maybe I shouldn’t wait until the end of the day when I’m tired and crabby to sit down and write because it tends to color the dialogue.

But I did have a great time.

It was raining and windy and generally miserable. I love weather like this! We skipped the Stirling Castle because it was a long walk in the rain, and instead we chose to check out the Wallace Monument.

The Wallace Monument is an enormous tower at the top of an abbey. It’s a long climb through several rooms and lots of stairs, and the view of the city from the top is incredible. Lots of cool stuff about William Wallace, and lots of Braveheart merchandise for sale.

Continuing north to Loch Ness, we stopped for tea in a little village called Pitlochry and I bought a scarf. Loch Ness was another spot that I was determined to see because I had been interested in the legend of the monster when I was a kid. Once we reached Loch Ness we were quite disappointed that the rain had caused the cancellation of the loch tours by boat. 

That night we stayed in the Polmaily House in Drumnadrochit along Loch Ness. It was a rickety old B&B, and as usual I had issues with the shower. It consisted of a hand nozzle situated in a little cradle in the bathtub, and when I turned on the water — only slightly — the nozzle leapt out of the cradle like a possessed snake and whipped around the room, spraying water and thumping off the walls. I swear the thing was attacking me with scalding water as it whisked around wildly, and it took me about five minutes to get the water turned off. Then when I actually started to bathe, it would scald and then freeze me at about thirty second intervals.

In the morning we went to the Loch Ness Monster Exhibit, which is basically a bunch of rooms that have pictures of the “monster” and they play pieces of this video as you walk from room to room. It was a very low-budget tour, but we enjoyed ourselves anyway.

Along the drive at the Loch we stopped to take some pictures and met a bagpipe musician along the side of the road. Between songs on the bagpipe he would walk around in circles and mutter to himself and comb his hair over and over again.  He was a nice fellow and played the pipes well but his brogue was so thick I could barely understand him.

We took a long drive through a valley along the Dee river. It’s beautiful country with long, winding roads and lots of sheep. Finally we arrived in Edinburgh again and checked into the Caledonian. It’s also a very fancy hotel with an excellent view of Edinburgh castle.

This morning we took a fantastic tour of the castle. Then Lisa wanted to do some more shopping which made me insane because I really hate to shop.  But I went anyway and still managed to have a good time.

Tonight there was a spectacular fireworks display as part of the Edinburgh festival that’s going on here this week. It was an hour-long show with some of the best fireworks I’d ever seen.

Next: Why don’t we do it in the road?

And here’s the thing… I’m a sucker for stupid tourist stuff. I guess I’m a dumb yank, but I’ve always wanted to visit the places that Robin Hood lived and fought and all that. When I was a child, Erroll Flynn was England to me. I wanted to join his merry band and eat mutton legs and laugh a manly laugh like manly men such as they.

But I have to say that it was a bit disappointing. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. First we visited the “Tales of Robin Hood” museum in downtown Nottingham. It consisted mostly of Disneyland-like rides that told the story of Robin Hood, and it was probably more appropriate for kids than for me.  Nottingham castle was smaller than I expected.

We drove about 10 minutes out of town to what’s left of Sherwood forest. All that remains is a very small woodland park, and the surrounding area is farmland. We wandered around in the woods for a bit. I wish there was more of it still remaining.

We drove up to York that night and stayed at a great hotel called The Judge’s Lodging. The next morning we did some shopping in York and then went to see the York Dungeon, another interesting museum with lots of presentations about disease and torture. Yummy.

Then we got lost driving to Thirsk, the home town of James Herriot. We showed up on Market Day and wandered around the booths but didn’t end up buying anything. We got to see James Herriot’s surgery from the outside only — they’re renovating the inside to make a “World of James Herriot” attraction that’s going to open up next year. It was a neat little town. I’m such a fan of Herriot’s books that I was compelled to come here and I’m glad I did.

The drive to Scotland was a long one, but we drove along the coast and it was very scenic. And windy, and rainy, and cold.

Last night we stayed at the Balmoral hotel in downtown Edinburgh. This place is very fancy and comfortable. And expensive… you’d think their adult film selection would be better.

Next: Braveheart and the Loch Ness monster…

This morning we had breakfast at Thornbury Castle and then drove north through the Cotswolds, stopping at Sudeley Castle and then at Hidcote Manor Gardens along the way. Very scenic, lots to see, we took a lot of pictures on the way to Stratford. I only got lost once while driving. Now I’m hungry, but nothing around here serves hot food after 6pm. Apparently the English don’t get hungry late at night. I guess eating five meals a day will do that to you.

Next: Robin Hood, James Herriot, and onward to Scotland…

The day yesterday started with a drive to Cadbury to see the remains of Cadbury Castle, which is thought to be the location of Camelot of King Arthur legend. When we were planning this trip, I had made a point to see locations that were related to King Arthur because I was really into the legend when I was younger.  Cadbury seemed like a good choice.

After a long walk up this rocky, muddy hill we got to a field of cows and cow shit.

The “castle” was no castle at all, but rather a fortification which wasn’t even really there any more. The top of the hill was surrounded by a man-made wall of earth (and possibly stone) which was about four feet high, and was probably a lot taller a thousand years ago. With a little imagination it was easy to picture the fortification as it must have been then. The view of the countryside was incredible, and it was easy to see why that location had been chosen for a military stronghold. It had a very strategic view on all sides.

Next we drove north and west to Glastonbury to visit the ruins of the abbey there.

The destroyed abbey is on the site where Joseph of Arimethea set up his church and Jesus is believed to have gone there with his uncle Joseph when he was a boy. Or something. Anyway, the remains of King Arthur and Queen Guenivere are said to be buried there. It was pretty interesting, visiting the grave and all, and we climbed the Glastonbury Tor and got another spectacular view of the countryside, then walked down the other side of the Tor down to the Chalice Well. It is said that Joseph brought the Holy Grail there and buried it in that well, and the water from the well is supposed to have some magical healing power. Tastes kind of like tap water to me, but I didn’t immediately turn to dust when I drank it, like the dude from Indiana Jones, so I figured it was safe and filled a little bottle from the well.

The drive north through Bristol was a bloody nightmare. All the signs to leave the city led to closed roads and strange detours that went in circles. We ended up circling the city four or five times before we got out of there. Lisa got kind of car sick from the whole ordeal and ended up puking when we got out of the car.

Road signs in Bristol kind of piss me off. The signs sneak up on you — you’ll be looking for a turn-off, and suddenly the sign and the exit appear together in an instant, and you have to slam on your brakes and almost kill yourself and everyone around you trying to make the turn. They never have street signs, and they never mark the road you’re on, and there’s no advance warning as to what streets are coming up. It was very frustrating.

Last night we stayed in Thornbury Castle, a real 16th-century castle which has been converted to a hotel. It’s pretty incredible; the rooms are very luxurious. I feel like the Pope here.

Next: I starve at Shakespeare’s birthplace…

After breakfast we went to Buckingham Palace just in time to see the changing of the guards. Seemed to be a bunch of marching and lots of crowds and people trampling each other so they could see it.

From there we took the tube to Tower Hill station and saw the Tower of London. The history of the place is quite interesting. It’s been a royal castle, a prison, a zoo, a mint, a treasury, and a place of execution. And now it’s a tourist attraction.

After that, we saw Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, then we went back to that great Italian joint for some dinner.

We left the hotel and London the following morning, on an express train to Gatwick airport. There we risked our very lives as I rented a Mercedes and started the drive to Leeds.

Driving in England on the left side is, well, interesting. Not as bad as I thought it would be; I was getting stomach cancer just thinking about it beforehand. At least the roads aren’t too bad in southeast England. Lisa keeps cringing in terror as I drive, which makes me more nervous, and then I start swerving, and then she starts to cringe some more, which only irritates me, and the cycle continues.

Radio here in and around London is kind of strange. One minute they’re playing Phil Collins and the next minute on the same station it’s the Backstreet Boys or Keith Sweat, and then it’s a country song, then it’s INXS, then back to more hip-hop crap, then dance mixes, then about 20 minutes of the idiot DJ talking over the one song I actually wanted to listen to. It’s enough to drive me mad.

Leeds castle was pretty cool. It had a neat garden maze, which I thought I had easily solved. See, if you go into a maze and follow your hand along the right wall without ever taking it off, eventually you will find your way out. And that’s what I did, and I ended up going all the way through the maze and back out the entrance, so I thought I had solved it.

However, what they did was they changed it about halfway through so that you have to switch and keep your hand on the LEFT side, then you make your way to the center and down through a little grotto and then out. But I still solved it. Ha!

Then we went on to Sissinghurst Castle gardens and wandered around there for a while. Very impressive grounds, with a big tower right in the middle of the gardens.

On our way to the hotel for that night, we had to drive through Leeds Village and then Cranbrook Village. They’re little tiny towns with small two-lane roads that have no shoulder, so everyone who needs to park does it anywhere they like. They just stop in the middle of the lane, put their car in park, and get out. It was a real challenge to slalom through the streets between all the parked cars. There are a lot of little streets like that throughout the countryside. We knew we were in trouble every time we saw a sign that read “Please drive carefully through our village”. That meant “the roads are narrow with no shoulders and pedestrians are everywhere”.

That night we stayed at the Kennel Holt Hotel, a nice old house with a great garden. Sort of a Fawlty Towers kind of a place, a bed-and-breakfast with a great garden. The dinner was a bit too fancy for me, though. I miss American food.

Today we drove to Silsbury and only got lost once or twice, even with the map. Not that I mind — the countryside here is quite charming — but I don’t want to spend half my life exploring it. We checked in at the Red Lion Hotel in Silsbury.

We took a drive out to Stonehenge today. I’ve always wanted to see it, and it was quite remarkable. I really wanted to touch the stones, but it’s all roped off and you can’t get up to it because too many tourists kept chiseling pieces off of it, so now you can only get about 15 feet away. It was still impressive, though, and I was tempted to just jump over the ropes and run through it. A few people did that while we were there and they were politely escorted off the premises.

The hotel is a short walk to Silsbury Cathedral. We got there too late to see the original Magna Carta or take a tour through the top tower. Bah. The building was being restored, so parts of it were covered in scaffolding. I have yet to see a building in this country that is NOT covered in scaffolding. At least I am enjoying this part of England better than I did London, although the people in Silsbury aren’t nearly as friendly.

I realize a lot of this trip diary sounds rather negative and I sound like a dumb American tourist, which I suppose I am… I guess I end up cranky at the end of the day when I sit down to write, and it colors my writing.

I am having fun, though. Really.

Next: The quest for Camelot and the Holy Grail…

We started with a walk to Harrod’s at Kensington, about 10 minutes away. We spent most of the walk griping at each other about mostly stupid stuff, which is pretty much the norm. When we arrived at the store, we did some shopping and I went nearly insane. When I go to a store, I buy things I need. Lisa, on the other hand, has to walk through the entire store, looking at and touching every single goddamned thing in the whole building, picking it up and examining it thoughtfully. This drives me into madness. So as she shopped my griping got louder and longer. I had also skipped breakfast and I was feeling pretty shitty, which did not help my otherwise charming mood.

After Harrod’s we had lunch at Green Man Pub which is downstairs within Harrod’s, and then Lisa had to buy some new shoes because the ones she had were killing her feet. I bought some new pants at the Big & Tall store next door while I waited for her. That was the only store that sold pants that had a leg longer than 28. Apparently all British men are about five-foot-two. I don’t get it. Anyway, they were totally expensive pants, about 75 pounds ($125 or so, I dunno, it requires math). At least they will fit.

All in all, we spent half the day in stores with me waiting around impatiently.

We took an open-top double-decker bus tour of London and saw most of the stuff we wanted to see without having to walk around in the crowds. There was a guy sitting next to us who kept us company. Neil, from Manchester. It was Neil’s first time in London, and with everything he saw it was “Cor! Blimey!” and he would snap pictures. Most of his pictures were of hotels and buildings with scaffolding up the walls. I don’t know what the deal is with scaffolding here in London — maybe it’s a restoration project or something — but every goddamn building here has pipe scaffolding up the sides of it. Even the churches and monuments, it all has scaffolds. With Neil’s pictures he could present a “Scaffolding Tour of London” slide show. He was a pretty loud guy, making jokes and wisecracks about everything and telling one-liners about the Royal family and soccer (sorry, “football”) players, and I didn’t get half of what the hell he was going on about. He was a bit of a loudmouth. My kinda guy… I liked him right away.

After the bus tour we had dinner at the Hard Rock Café, which is the same as every other Hard Rock Café in the world, sort of like a McDonald’s with memorabilia. I don’t see the big deal, but I bought a stupid T-shirt anyway. What a racket.

On our way back to the hotel, I stopped at one of the quaint little red phone booths to take pictures and was a little surprised when I went inside. The inside was wallpapered with ads for sex and totally weird shit. One in particular caught my eye — it was a plain white poster with the words “CANE ME? SPANK ME! A-LEVEL SERVICES” in big black letters. I wasn’t too sure what to make of this one… I mean, CANING??? Isn’t that what they did to that kid back in Taiwan when he egged all those cars, and it left deep scars on him?? I had to call up and have some fun with this. It went a little something like this:

I put a pound in the phone and a woman answered.

“Hi,” I said, “I’m new to this country and I saw your ad, and I have a question or two. What’s an A-level service?”

“Anal,” she replied.

“Oh,” I said, “you mean like fisting?”

There was a pause, then: “What?”

“Fisting. You know.”

“What, do you mean on you? Yes, we provide A-level services to the clients.”

“No, I mean on one of your models.”

“Oh, God no,” she answered.

“I see,” I said. “Well, what about arming?”

“Arming?”

“Yes,” I said, “it’s one level beyond fisting.”

“Wait a moment,” she said, “what exactly is fisting?”

“Hm? You don’t know what fisting is?”

“No,” she answered a bit apprehensively, “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Well, it’s, you know, like the name implies. It’s an A-level service.”

She paused for a moment, so I filled the silence with another question:

“What’s this ‘cane me’ business? Is this like a real caning? Because I’m in the mood to open the skin on a girl’s backside with a twelve-inch stick of rattan…”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted, “but I’m afraid we’ve nothing for you.”

She quickly hung up the phone and I immediately deposited another pound and dialed the number again.

“Hello?”

“What about a barium enema? That’s an A-level ser–” She slammed the phone down again and Lisa and I couldn’t contain our laughter any more. I guess they didn’t want my business bad enough.

We took the tube back to the hotel and it was my first time on a subway. Nothing exciting to report about that — there’s a first time for everything.

I’m having a good time but I guess I’m not very impressed with London yet. It reminds me of every other major metropolitan city I’ve ever been to, except maybe this one’s a bit cleaner and the buildings are older. But the streets are all jacked… I go around the corner a couple times and I’m completely turned around. I’m just not into the swing of things yet, and I feel a little out of my element. I must sound like a real American tourist idiot because every time I ask someone here a question they look at me like I’m from Mars.

Next up: Stonehenge…

I didn’t expect to experience a massive disorientation. All the streets here are taking me a while to get used to; they all go off in all different directions, half of them aren’t even marked, and all the buildings look the same! I got all turned around and lost. None of these street signs make any sense. I feel totally out of my element. Thank God that Lisa was paying attention to where we were going.

We wandered around for a bit, passing lots of restaurants as we went, but apparently nothing much stays open late on Sunday nights. Finally, after about a half an hour, we found La Fontana Ristorante Italiano and hand some great Italian food. Again Lisa ordered something she didn’t like all too well (that’s 2 for 2) but I thought it was good. The owner was an older guy, probably in his late fifties, and he was extremely nice and charming. To us, anyway. Every few minutes he would turn and bellow at the waitress (I think it was his daughter), but anyway he’d scream in Italian or French or something. Then he’d throw a pan on the ground and stomp out of the kitchen, and come up to our table all nice and smiling and sweet. It was creepy and yet fun all at once.

It had stopped raining by the time we started back to the hotel.

On to our tour of London…

Tensions were running a bit high as we got our things together. Lisa was relatively calm, but I was somewhat panicky as I threw my clothes into my suitcase like a madman, wadding my shirts and shorts into little balls and trying not to break the zipper on the suitcase as I cursed it and demanded that it close.

The drive to the airport was smooth, with little traffic to slow us down, and we arrived at Wally World, or Wally Park or whatever the hell it’s called, the long-term parking joint, with plenty of time to spare. At the airport I exchanged $100 for 60 pounds, and the guy in line behind me at the exchange booth offered me his advice regarding where to keep my money. “Put most of it in one pocket, dude,” he said, “and keep just a few bills in the other pocket. That way, when you get rolled, you can reach into the pocket with the small bills and go, here man, here’s all my money, and still have a lot left over.”

“Uh, thanks,” I said.

“No problem,” he replied nonchalantly. “That’s how I do it when I buy drugs, it works every time.”

He gave me the ‘thumbs up’ sign as a farewell gesture, and Lisa and I went over to the restaurant at LAX called ENCOUNTERS. I don’t quite know what to think about that place. It’s pretty weird. We took an elevator to the top (there was strange lounge music and purple lighting in the elevator) and took an uncomfortable seat at a tiny table. The hostess seated us with: “Have a nice encounter!”

Twenty minutes later we finally “encountered” our waiter and ordered a couple of steaks (the only item on the menu that wasn’t slathered in vinegar). The meat was *incredibly* spicy, and Lisa could only take a few bites. As for me, I love spicy food and had my portions as well as hers. But it still wasn’t worth sixty goddamned dollars. We looked around and noticed that most of the people at the other tables were just sort of staring at their plates and nobody was really eating. I don’t think anyone was particularly enjoying their food.

The flight was long and fairly uneventful. I watched a movie on the little TV screen in the back of the seat in front of me (those things are frigging cool!) and slept the rest of the way. I guess there were no bombs on board.

We were greeted at Heathrow by our driver, Kevin, who took us to our hotel in London. We didn’t have to stop at customs or anything like that (all that money for plane fare and not one cavity search! what a gyp). When we arrived at the Sloane Hotel I tipped the guy five pounds. I have no idea what I’m supposed to tip here, if anything, and I can’t quite get the hang of this whole converting-dollars-to-pounds thing. Spare me the math, please. The hotel room is nice — lots of antiques, and very cozy. I think antique furniture is nice looking, but this chair and table are wobbling as I write. I guess that means they’re expensive. It’s raining out right now, and I only brought shorts and two pairs of long pants. Moron. I’m going to have to go shopping. Bah. $$$$$

On to the next day…