Anarchy in the UK: Holyhead and London

Monday, Jan. 5 - In the wee hours of the morning, a very nice cab driver delivered a very tired Erica, Alex, and myself to The Boathouse Hotel. We arrive sometime around 1AM, and a very nice lady was at the door, holding it open and ushering us into her little establishment right near the water, although we were a bit too tired and it was a bit too dark to fully take in the landscape. The woman, who I later learned was named Sasha Howard, owner of the hotel, was possibly the nicest person on Earth. She asked quickly that I sign us in, but told us that we could take care of paying in the morning. She offered us tea and coffee, saying that there were kettles up in our rooms, but that she could make us a fresh pot down in the kitchen. Remember, we had just come from the Travelodge Castleknock, the most unhelpful hotel in the world, and so, tired and stunned by this unprecedented kindness, we sort of mumbled, "No thank you. I think we'll just head to bed." The woman helped me with my bag up a flight of stairs and, just as we were about to head into our rooms, she asked, "Oh, and what time would you like breakfast? It's served from 7 to 9:45. Is that too early? Too late?" Again, we sort of mumbled that 9:45 would be wonderful, thanked her profusely, and collapsed into our respective rooms. My room was amazingly cozy, the way you'd imagine rooms at a lake house or mountain cabin that you rent for a week in the summer. Despite how tired I was, it took me a while to fall asleep, but I've never been happier going to bed.

Tuesday, Jan. 6 - I woke up and remembered that I had died and gone to Heaven. It was a beautiful day, and the view out my window looked over the coastline and a rocky Irish Sea. Erica knocked on my door sometime after I had showered and dressed, and we both just sort of stared at each other, affirming the thought that, yes, this was Heaven. I met them downstairs in the breakfast room. Mrs. Howard came out and asked me what I wanted for breakfast, directed me towards the juices and milk on the bar counter, and then brought me out a breakfast that she had cooked herself. Alex and I played with the Howards' cat for a while. Alex was thrilled to see a cat. Eventually Mrs. Howard came out to make herself a cup of coffee and we talked about her work as an art teacher on a cruise ship, the hotel business, and Holyhead. We had to catch a train to London at 2, but she recommended that we take a walk around the neighborhood before we left, and offered that either she or her husband would drive us to the train station. Heaven.

After breakfast we went for a walk around the coast, came across some cats in an abandoned playground, mused that it was a playground for cats only, and went up on a hill by someone's horse paddocks. We pet the horses, traded "hello's" with some passers-by, watched an old woman stop to give carrots to the horses on her walk back from the supermarket, and took pictures of the gorgeous scenery, all the while repeating various incarnations of the phrase "We're in Heaven."

Holyhead seems to be a small, peaceful sort of coastal town. When I mention it to people back at UEA, they sort of scoff and say it's not all that interesting. Not a prime tourist destination in Wales. I can see how there isn't a lot to do, but it was lovely for a morning stroll. Around noon we headed back to the hotel. Mrs. Howard gave us all one last cup of tea as we waited for her husband to get ready to leave. Then Mr. Howard and his little grandson took us down to the train station, asking all the sorts of stereotypical questions that foreigners ask about Americans. In turn, though, he seemed like a stereotypical grumpy old Welshman, except that, according to him, he wasn't Welsh. He was originally Italian. I didn't see it, but I suppose he'd know best. We thanked him for the lift, told him to say goodbye to his wife for us, at which he commented, "I wish I could say goodbye to her!" and left.

Our train ride was mostly uneventful. It wasn't all that long, considering how we were going cross country. Our train was supposed to go straight into London Euston, but there had been some sort of accident along the way, so instead we had to get off and change trains at one point. The only thing that occured on this trip was that there were these two gossiping women and this one guy they had met on the platform who kept having the same conversation over and over again. It was really annoying. And then, on the second train into London, I sat right across from the two women, who continued to have the same conversation.

Around 7 we got into Euston Station and walked over the the Arran House. It felt so good to be back in London. I felt like I was home, back on my territory, doing a walk I had done a dozen times or more back during my first month in England. After checking in, we went up to our room, which was up four flights of stairs. I hadn't known that the Arran had that many floors, since my room had been in the basement. Anyway, we made a bag of pasta that we had bought in Belfast, ran into Katie and Sarah (and her boyfriend) from the Norwich program, and hung out in the room until we fell asleep.

Wednesday, Jan. 7 - We woke up and had breakfast. It was so nice to have an Arran House breakfast again! Then we walked over to the British Museum. We got fish and chips at the Museum Tavern, because they had a sale on certain menu items, stopped at a comic book store around the corner, and went to Sainsbury's to get ingredients for the night's dinner. I introduced Alex and Erica to elderflower water, which I hadn't had since London, and we bought more Jaffa Cakes. Erica also spend a good ten minutes debating whether or not to buy a bottle of wine. We did eventually get a very cheap bottle of rose.

When we got back to the Arran, we put the wine in the gutter outside our window to chill. It then became known as "gutter wine." We spent some time reading in our room. Eventually I got a call from Katie saying she had found cheap tickets to a show at the Royal Festival Hall on the South Bank, and did we want to go? So around 6 we went to my beloved Goodge Street Station, fumbled with putting money on Oyster cards, and took the Tube down to Embankment to meet Katie at the theatre. We saw The Lost and Found Orchestra, from the creators of Stomp, which was really entertaining. Good choice, Katie. Eight pounds well spent.

After the show, we walked over toward the London Eye, and I found my playground! The same playground I had played on with Bonnie and her friends the summer I went to stay with her in London. The gate was closed but not locked, so we went in and I giddily started climbing the big rope castle while Alex, Erica, and Katie watched, amused and probably annoyed. We took pictures, played around, Katie and I had a swing contest, and eventually went back to the Arran.

Thursday, Jan. 8 - We woke up, ate breakfast spent the day out. I'm not entirely sure what we did this day. They all sort of started to run together. I think we spend the time after breakfast reading and just sort of staying in. Eventually I think I convinced people to get up. I'm pretty sure we went to the Sir John Soane Museum, which I thought Erica would like because it's just a random collection of artifacts that this one guy amassed in his house. I think she liked it, but we left the museum engaged in a heated debate about museum politics. I'm not sure what else we did that day. It might have been the day that we went to Trafalgar Square to see the National Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery. We got lunch (falafel!) at a pub. At night we made dinner, ate it, and then remembered that we had a bottle of wine in the gutter. So I had a glass, Erica had one or two, and surprisingly Alex had most of it. Katie eventually came up, had a glass of gutter wine, and then convinced Erica and I to go out to the Marlborough Arms, the local pub, for a drink, but Alex staunchly refused. I was still on antibiotics, so I didn't want to drink too much, but after standing around watching Erica and Katie with their pints, I finally bought a Baileys. I don't think I had ever had straight Baileys before, but I find that I really enjoy it. Yay, something else I can drink.

Friday, Jan 9. - I'm pretty sure we spent the day at the Tate Britain, then decided to dash over to St. Paul's for Evensong, but got there right after it had finished. So, instead, we walked around the City. I basically dragged Alex and Erica all over, but I showed them the ruins of the Temple of Mithras, and I tried to show them the last remaining piece of the Roman London Bridge, but it was gone! Fiends! I finally found Bread Street, where Milton was born. Then I took them over towards Leadenhall Market to see the Lloyds HQ. We did a futuristic dystopia photoshoot, then went back to the Arran. At some point in the day I finally finished Shelley's The Last Man, which just might be one of my least favorite books ever, but I started the book Alex had bought me for Christmas, To Reign in Hell, a sci-fi interpretation of Satan's fall from Heaven. I finished it before we left London. It was interesting, different, but really good.

Saturday, Jan. 10 - We went back to the British Museum in the morning so that Erica could see the Sutton Hoo helmet, which she had missed our first time around. Alex stopped back in at the comic book store, we dropped stuff off at the Arran, got paninis at the patisserie, and went on to Goodge. At the Tube station, we watched a bunch of guys in Guy Fawkes masks protesting the Scientology Centre that was next to the station. Honestly, there are better things to protest. Then we went to the British Library to see the Gutenburg Bible and other wonders. It was fabulous, as always. One of Erica's friends from Bryn Athyn was in town, so we met up with her, got lunch at the Library's cafe, stopped in quickly at King's Cross to see Platform 9 3/4, and took the Tube out to Camden Market. Erica's friend led us specifically to a store called Cyberdog, which sells clothes that the Jetsons would be proud of. It was really, really cool, though, and I sort of regret not buying anything. We stopped at little hole in the wall place called Falafel King right across from the Tube stop because Alex and I wanted fresh falafel. We ate and went back to the Arran.

Sunday, Jan. 11 - I bid Alex and Erica an early morning adieu as they headed off for Sheffield. I had breakfast and found that Abby was staying there with her family and needed a travel buddy back to Norwich. So we took a series of Tubes, buses, trains, and cabs until we were finally back safe and sound at the Village.