Day 3 London

Tuesday AM

My knee is killing me – the tendonitis is red hot and feels like fire. I kept waking up last night trying to find a comfortable position. While Les is getting ready, I drape a cold washcloth and imagine ice.  We’re moving slowly this morning and decided to revisit Le Pan Q for breakfast. 

My original plan was to trek to Hampton Court but it’s closed today so we tube back to Oxford Circle and Regency Street in search of Sotheby’s.  They have a free of charge display of tiaras.  The day is warm and breezy and it’s a pleasant walk past the rich and wealthy.  Think Rodeo Drive, times 3. 

The Sotheby’s exhibit is fantastic.  The tiaras are delicate, floating in space, refracting light as they twirl slowly.  Diamonds, emeralds, pearls.  They are wonders of engineering, many convert to broaches, necklaces, bracelets.  I’m quite taken by a butterfly design and the ones with botanical inspirations.  Ivy and palm motifs are charming when rendered in diamonds and topaz.

Unfortunately, all that glitters does not inspire us for the rest of the day.  I’m tired of planning things and Les has no ideas.  I suggest a few things but get little response.  It’s hot, we are tired and dehydrated and things are not going well.  We trek to Fortnum & Mason’s for tea shopping and are overcome by too many choices and not enough luggage space.

Empty handed, we retrace our steps and stop at a bookstore cafe with air conditioning. This shop has three cafes so we take the lift to the top and settle in with beer and snacks.  The cool air revives us and we’re able to make it back to the room without incident.  It will be an early dinner and a better night.

We lie down for another nap and mine is brief because I had an iced coffee from Black Sheep and my veins are singing.  Les has a higher caffeine tolerance and he drops off like a baby.  I abandon the nap and do some preliminary repacking because tomorrow we join our tour and I am READY. For some strange reason things that didn’t fit into the suitcase in LA do fit now. This is not bad news!

At 5ish we head up to the “Coal Drop” – another redeveloped area past the redeveloped mixed use office space and cross the canal to an area where they’ve installed posh shops and a ton of restaurants.  We don’t have reservations but hope we can get dinner before 9:00 PM.  It’s hot, and the late afternoon sun is blazing as we trek past the greenspace, office buildings, fountains and restaurants that shunned us the previous night.

We’ve chosen a Tapas bar and are greeted with the familiar “Do you have a reservation?  No?  We can seat you at 9:00”  “We’ll wait,” I hiss at my husband. My fire knee is not going on walkabout tonight. Despite the attitude, it all works out.  The hostess reluctantly seats us at the bar with other non-reservation slackers and we settle in for some vino and small plates.

Our server is on day 3 of his new job and his spanish-inflected english is charming.  We order a house version of sangria – red wine with a wedge of orange, sparkling water and a mist of sherry.  It’s refreshing.  He leaves us a carafe of water – first time that’s happened! On Les’ right is an intense Japanese couple who meticulously document every bite of food and on my left is an older British couple who communicate with the server in rudimentary spanish, which he seems to appreciate.

We’re hungry so we begin our meal with  meat – chicken thighs and romesco sauce and lamb skewers in pimento sauce.  The lamb is aromatic and tasty but the chicken is ambrosial.  It’s garlicky and crunchy with nuts and the smooth romesco sauce chases it perfectly.

Next up is a spanish tortilla that is a perfect hockey puck of satiny potatoes and onions that runs with a creamy eggy filling.  Our forks dance as we vie for each bite.  We almost lick the plate.

By now our server is a friend and he glows when we order the spanish cheesecake – “Made famous in the pandemic!” he announces.  It’s a rich eggy concoction redolant of sheeps milk that is lightly burnt on top and beyond delicious smoothness.  It’s not too sweet and it’s a measure of our relationship that we share it more or less equally.

I leave Les at the bar while I check out a store that’s popped on my Insta – Wolfe and Badger. True to form, it is more interesting online than in person and has nothing that I need or want.  We take an alternative route back to the hotel and are charmed by potentially edible artichokes blooming by the road.  I’ve read that artichokes are members of the thistle family, but never expected to see them in a garden.  It’s fun to see them emerge from a bright purple stalk.

I think that’s a pleasure of traveling.  You can read about something, but you gain understanding when you see it out in the wild. 

I think about how greedy we are – how entitled – that water would be free and bread and butter or chips will magically appear on the table for no extra charge.  We expect leftovers and aren’t used to paying a fair wage for service.  It’s very different here.

And then the strident voice of a lost soul shrieks obscenities into the evening.  We navigate around a sad human sleeping in the street.  Maybe it’s not so different.