Touring London Town (England) with Savvy Mom Ruth Paget
Before
we went on Laurent’s business trip to London (United Kingdom), I spent the week
doing laundry and ironing clothes to get ready for the trip. I wanted Florence to be cute in her stroller
throne. I would touch up our clothes in
the hotel room once we arrived.
I
was asked to come along on the trip, but I was tired. Keeping a toddler in lovely, ironed duds was
tiring me out, but I did not want to tour London Town with Florence, Laurent,
or me wearing wrinkled clothing.
I
ate a croissant for breakfast with a hot chocolate, and we all headed out to
the airport. I could still wear mini
skirts eating breakfasts like this even though I had a toddler in tow.
Laurent’s
British counterpart picked us up at Stanstead Airport outside London, built by
the same man who designed the Pompidou Centre (Beaubourg) in Paris.
We
drove on the M20 Highway called “The Orbital.”
Pretty soon we hit a traffic jam.
We heard on the radio that a milik “lorry” (truck) had tipped over on
the Orbital, causing a several kilometer traffic jam.
“I
guess we’re on a real Milky Way,” I said.
Laurent’s business counterpart scowled, probably thinking “Second City
in the Car” as he had to deal with a traffic jam in a stick shift car.
As
soon as we could exit the freeway, we did and found ourselves surrounded by
thick hedgerows on either side of a narrow road. I love England for this easy coexistence of
the modern and the rural. I was
expecting Robin Hood to pop out with the Sheriff of Nottingham chasing him at
any moment.
My
breakfast croissant was wearing off. I
wondered where this rural road would lead and if I could eat at the end of it.
Finally,
we arrived on the North Side of London in Hampstead Heath. We would be staying at the Posthouse Hotel
with the closest Underground Station being the Belsize Park Northern Line.
I
came to London to see London, so I walked down to the Belsize Station with
Florence and got on the escalator with her.
The Underground is about 1 mile under the surface streets in London, but
I made it down before developing vertigo by looking at ads on the walls.
I
boarded the train for the Charing Cross Station and exited at Trafalgar
Square. I carried Florence up the stairs
in her baby stroller; this station did not have an escalator. Mini skirts actually allow your legs to move,
so you can do this.
I
straightened Florence up above ground and started strolling around the
neighborhood with the cute baby in tow.
The
“Look Right” and “Look Left” signs painted on the street curb corners prevented
me from getting hit by cars a few times, because the British drive on a
different side of the road than Americans do.
I
pushed Florence in her stroller down Whitehall from Trafalgar Square past all
of the touristy buildings. I kept track
of what I was passing by in my tour guide.
It
was warm and the London citizens were lying on the grass in parks. This behavior was typical for Americans, but
atypical for the British I later learned.
The heat brought on this behavior.
It was unusually warm.
I
let Florence walk around in St. James Park, which has lots of shade. I did not want her to get sunburnt. I admired Buckingham Palace, the Queen
Victoria Monument, and Big Ben through the trees at the Park’s exit.
I
spent a terrified, adrenaline rush for half an hour as I tried to cross the
street to Green Park. When I reached the
other side, I pushed Florence along the Constitution Hill side of the Park, which
runs parallel to the Palace Gardens.
Riding
a horse in Green Park is probably de rigeur for nobility to do in this part of
Royal London. I pushed Florence through
the pedestrian subway to Hyde Park.
I
was getting a pretty good workout on one buttered croissant for breakfast.
I exited
the Pedestrian Subway and saw a restaurant with several-layered cakes in the window with lots of
frosting.
“I
am eating there,” I said to myself after dealing tiny dessert portions in
Paris.
By
Ruth Paget, author of Eating Soup with Chopsticks and Marrying France
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