The Long Road Home

Friday brought another day of work, a long meeting, and a bus back to London. It was Kristen’s last weekend over here, so we were to spend the weekend relaxing and maybe seeing a few more sights. Unfortunately on the bus ride there wasn’t much to see. Not even the pages of my book. The damn lights were broken on the bus so I had to read by the light of my iPod, at least until we hit Heathrow and were able to procure another set of seats on the bus. Ones with working lights. Hey, I need to keep busy, okay?

Once in London it was back to our old hotel, but there was no sign of Kiefer. I wonder if I upset him. I hope not. He needs to concentrate on his career, not etiquette.

It was late, so it was off to find some sushi. Unfortunately our luck in that department hadn’t been doing so well over the past week. Save for the sushi in Cheltenham the rest had been sub-par, and this place in Chinatown wasn’t much better. Something was wrong with the nori (the green ‘paper’ they wrap rolls in) making the sushi taste funny. But I wasn’t laughing. So we cut our losses and went off for some brews.

A friend had recommended this place, Waxy O'Connors, so we went there. This place was huge, and very intricately done out in all these wood staircases and such. But it was also crowded. Very crowded. Granted it was a Friday night, and on any other weekend I should think we’d have enjoyed it there, especially if we were with a bunch of friends. But I was looking for something a bit more, well, intimate, so that we could talk without shouting and order beers without elbowing. So we went back to the little Italian restaurant/bar and hung out for a bit.

The next morning it was off to St. Paul’s Cathedral to climb the stairs to the top. I’ve chatted about that place before so I’ll just remind you how beautiful it is. Here are some snaps from there:

We then crossed over to the south side of the river and contemplated warming up inside the Globe Theater, but that looked too boring, so we opted for some warm drinks instead and a pub by Big Ben. On the way we met this juggler. Nice guy, but I think he was a bit drunk or, maybe, not quite right in the head.

The pub was great and Kristen finally got the hot dog she’d been craving all week on the way to Leicester Square to see “The Cronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.” It was even better the second time around. Maybe it was the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream beforehand. Or maybe it was the popcorn. Or just possibly it was that I was sober. Yeah, that was probably it.

After Narnia we were in the mood for another small pub, so we found this other bar a bit off the beaten path and proceeded to chat the night away, and then get lost trying to walk back to the hotel. I’d been doing so well up to that point so one could forgive me this time. But it took a taxi to get us near enough the hotel that we were happy. We were even happier to walk past the sausage vendor. I had like three myself. But be warned: late-night sausages are like late-night kebabs, and with them comes early morning stomach-aches. But drunks don’t worry about those things at the time, do they? Nope, they just cross that bridge when they come to it. One last drink at the Italian bar and it was off to bed.

Sunday was indeed a sad day, so I won’t linger on it. We grabbed a taxi to Paddington Station and then boarded the Heathrow Express to the airport. After some trials and tribulations getting her checked in we went our separate ways, her on her plane, and I on my bus. It was time to return to our respective worlds, for now.