Trip to a small island

The last part of June heralded the arrival of my Aunt Carolyn and Unca Ian to our humble abode. They had been traveling through Italy and Greece and france and were having a rest with us prior to heading “Up North”.

I copied Ian’s pictures to my laptop to give him a backup of his CDs. Then, as all travelers do, there was the obligatory review of all the photos. I must say, Ian does a good job with the camera. My PC screen still has Ian’s finger marks all over it where he would point out “What I was trying to capture here was the effect of the yellow honey bee spiffing the flowers . . “ and “What I was trying to capture here was the two dogs arguing over the maggoty bone . . “ etc.

It was truly great to see them and they brought Aussie flags with them for the World Cup which we duly hung out the window to snub at the thousands of English flags adorning cars, trucks, windows and almost some people’s orifices.

My enduring memory of Carolyn is when we walked her to the Skim for a meal. “Where are you taking us?” You’ve got us lost. Ian – he’s got us lost!” and “I will tell your mother!”

That night we took in the Ecuador v England game so that we could experience the smoky English world cup soccer scene. I must say, I have to stop cheering for the underdogs!

On the 22nd June, the Aussies made the quarter finals of World Cup soccer. And so 3 rather drunk Aussies woke up to hangovers on the 23rd. We decided to celebrate by taking in a Charles Dickens London walk.

Our host was Jean, a sprightly little lady from up Oxford way. She met the walkers dressed in her Dickensian costume and led ua off through the Inns of Court and Lincoln’s Fields.

I find it fascinating to walk the same streets as old Londoners did pre the days of motor cars. Of course, much of London was destroyed during the Blitz and replaced with concrete monstrosities. Still, the history flows all around you with these informative guides.

Our tour took us past the Olde Curiosity Shoppe, through Holborne Square, and finished at a bust statue of good old Charlie.

We toddled off to Leicester Square and to Covent Garden for a look around and enjoyed some fantastic street performances. It is so easy to find yourself entertained here. I loved the way the street performer parked his unicycle.

Back from Granada and into the swing of London again. On the 17th of June, we headed into London for a London Walk. This time the London Kensington Pub Walk.

Amongst the gems of knowledge imparted to us included the origin of the term ‘daylight robbery’. At one stage in England’s past, the government of the day had a window tax. It soon became the strategy of householders to brick up windows to save on tax – hence the term that the government is now robbing us of daylight. As with many of these origins, the bricked up window became an architectural feature of future houses.

The walk wound its way through the back streets of Kensington, past mock Tudor houses, old stables or Mews turned into trendy houses, Ava Gardner’s house, an MI5 discovered Russian Dead letter drop and the original Harrods store that is now apartments.

A favourite pub was the ‘Bunch of Grapes’.

Incredible décor. In fact, I took a picture inside the pub and a few minutes later was accosted by a woman claiming to be George Bush’s wife.

She wanted the camera and for me to delete the photo as it is not permissible for anyone to take the picture of George Bush’s future wife. When I got home, I enlarged the picture and sure as eggs, there she was, sitting in a corner of the photo where I hadn’t spotted her, having a beer and a smoke. She was a sight and if George knocks her back, I hope that her future is not spoilt.

We finished off near one of the trendy clubs frequented by Princes Willie and Harry but they weren’t in that night. Incidentally, we weren’t invited in. So we adjourned to a nearby pub and had a chin wag with some newly arrived aussies.

Talk about doing it tough. They were staying in a one bedroom place nearby shelling out ₤900 a month rent. Wow!

He was working as a carpenter for an English builder. He hadn’t been paid for nearly a month. His boss had gone to Spain for the weekend forgetting to pay him. In fact, while we were in the pub, his boss rang and promoted him to site foreman. But where was the money?

The next night we went to a dance at the Rivoli Ballroom. Unfortunately I failed to take my camera that night and thus, missed out on pictures of this incredible ballroom that has not changed one iota from the late 1940s or early 1950s. i swear you could feel the ghosts of servicemen and women, dancing to the tunes of Benny Goodman, Glen Miller and the big Swing orchestras of the day.

Next time take the camera!