Oddities and Ends – The Return Home

So yesterday, Saturday, I began my journey home, starting with a trip on the train from Thirsk to King’s Cross in London.  I arrived in Thirsk a little early, and while waiting for my train, turn around to see a very smoky diesel passenger train go by.  No it wasn’t a diesel, it was an honest to god steam train with a full complement of passenger coaches travelling at full speed down the mainline!  We later passed another one after York.  I believe that that one was the new Tornado locomotive.

Once in London, I dragged my luggage across the street from King’s Cross, got myself a room in Kensington, on the Piccadilly line so I could go straight to Heathrow, and dragged my luggage to the London Lodge hotel.  I was quite disgustingly sweaty by the time I got there and probably not brand positive.

Once I’d freshened up I decided to take a walk down Kensington High Street to see if I could find the English versions of Harry Potter for Kerry.  Yes, after suffering with all the luggage, I thought I’d be a good idea to add seven books.  What I do for love.

The first Waterstone Books I found was missing two, but they had the others at the larger Piccadilly shop.  Figured, what the hell, I’ve got nothing better to do and walked up to Piccadilly.

So London is this giant loud, crowded cosmopolitan city.  And the users of the road, drivers, buses, taxis, cyclists are pretty much insane.  Everyone’s driving as fast as they can with clearances of millimeters between them and other vehicles, the curb and pedestrians.  And for a country that’s supposedly pedestrian friendly, I didn’t find the drivers that tolerant.

I also questioned the value of bus lanes.  There’s a bus lane on Piccadilly Street that went for blocks and had bus after bus sitting on it.  I mean there was no free space and as far as I could tell, the busses never actually moved.

On the fence around Green park on Piccadilly street, there is a block of vendors set up selling souvenirs, junk, bad art, really bad art and just plane intolerable art.  I’m still trying to figure out one of the sellers.  He was this anarchist with little framed anarchist diatribes against Obama, the US, corporations and society in general.  Each one had a little tag with an anarchy sign on it.  These were followed by cute pictures of dogs faces, again with the anarchy tag, but apparently for sale…Really, I’m not making this up.

While walking down Kensington High Street and Piccadilly street, I kept running into this couple.  One of whom was a very effeminate cross dresser/transvestite.  Except that he she had a clearly deliberate wispy blond beard and mustache.  London is very fashion forward that way.

And finally, my hotel room had a phone mounted on the wall next to the toilet.

Today I boarded my flight home.  Nothing much of interest getting to the airport.  Terminal 1 seemed much nicer than Terminal 4 that Lee flew into.  IcelandAir is quite nice.  Good selection of food, free movies and flight attendants with funny little pill box hats.

Iceland – flat, barren, cloudy, drizzly, cold (looking…I haven’t actually been outside) and apparently closed on Sundays.  All of the shops and restaurants in the terminal are closed.  Or maybe it’s just because I think the only plane in right now is ours.

The men’s room doesn’t have urinals.  I actually stepped back out and checked just to make sure I hadn’t walked through the wrong door.  In fact the stalls are actually fully enclosed closets with walls to the ceiling and doors.

My mistake on the closed on Sundays thing.  They apparently open once a flight has arrived and everyone’s sitting here waiting for there connections.  Looks like all the flights arrive around the same time and the outgoing flights leave around the same time.  Ours just arrived first.

There’s a couple interesting snacks, Paprika Pringles and Cool American Doritos, which I believe are Cool Ranch.

It feels a little odd wearing shorts and sandals in this climate, even though I’m not going outside.  Of course, I’m assuming that they’re appropriate for the Boston climate on my arrival.

A few odds and ends.

I learned from Peter that the reason some Imperial measurements, such as pints, are different in the UK and US is that during colonial times, Britain and the colonies had the same measurements.  However, in the 1800s, after the American revolution, Britain updated their weights and measures standards, changing some, and the US never updated theirs. 

Another weights and measures tidbit.  The UK still weighs people in stones.  Mr. Serious, a non-smiling, but nice and friendly individual I met at The One Eyed Rat, relayed a story about a Texan friend of his from “RAF” Menwith Hill Station.  At his first physical over in the UK the doctor asked him is weight.  After answering in pounds, the doctor asked what that was in stone he responded “how big?”

I think I forgot to mention the story I heard at breakfast at the B&B on Thursday morning.  A couple there mentioned that they’d gone to see the hornblower the previous night.  They mentioned that the new deputy was an American and I piped up that I thought that was interesting because my dad, an American, used to be the deputy.  They then relayed how the old American deputy was there.  The man who donated the plaque and that he got to blow the horn in front of city hall.

Small world.  The previous morning, I was speaking to an English couple and it turned out that there son lives in Hopkinton.

As if to prove Peter’s point about English, I stare at the seat in front of me and read “Bjorgunarvesti Undir Saetum”, “Life vest under seat”.  I’d give it a good guess that German/Saxon and Icelandic (?) are closely related.

While wandering around London I saw a store TK Maxx.  Seemed to be the same logoish as TJ Max.  Why add one to the letter?

I was disturbed to learn that Lyme disease has spread to the UK.  Apparently not as bad as here yet but there nonetheless.

Finally, on my arrival at customs at Logan, while carrying my Whole Foods reusable shopping bag with grapes on it, I was asked if I was carrying grapes.  I said no, it’s just a Whole Foods shopping bag.  “But you’re not carrying grapes, right?”

Welcome back.