So much to do, so little time

My, how a day can disappear. We started the day early and got past that whole idea of walking everywhere and still the day flew by. This morning was probably a more typical day in London, overcast with occasional drizzle—still nothing to dampen our spirits for the day out. This morning we took a bus down to the Imperial War Museum. We spent probably spent close to four hours there and it wasn’t even enough time to see it all. And the primary focus of this museum is the two world wars with some modern conflicts thrown in to let you down gently. If there was any more history added to this building you would probably have to devote as much time to touring as you would to a cricket match. Needless to say, I am sure the janitorial staff had to work overtime to mop up the excessive drool I left on the floor. As I have mentioned before, I am a HUGE history buff and this museum did not disappoint. The main floor had weapons of all sorts from artillery pieces, complete aircraft suspended from the ceiling, tanks from both world wars including a rare German Jagdpanzer tank hunter (yes, I am a geek). On the lower levels there were impressive displays from both wars with tons of uniforms, weapons, newspapers, mementos, and any other items that could possibly relate to the subject. In the World War One section you could even walk through a simulated trench section—really, really cool.

After this, Terri and I decided to have lunch at a pub. Now, we have heard that true English pubs are named after simple things that illiterate patrons could have recognized by the visual seal usually associated with a pub. So obviously the pub we went to yesterday was way too highbrow as it had over five words and nothing easily identifiable visually. So today we went to the Three Stags, near the Imperial War Museum. So there it was plain and simple, even I could understand it. It had all the trappings of a traditional pub but actually had good lighting. There was even a table that said, “Stuart’s Table: 1951-2001”. Wow, Stuart had his own table for fifty years, although no one working that day knew who the hell he was. I am afraid my wife would not let me have a table that long without dire consequences—“Steve Gaines: 2006-2006”. There was even a corner named for a local clergy, something like Vicar’s corner or the like. So apparently if you plant your butt here for any amount of time you are immortalized. Who knows what would have happened if I stayed an extra twenty minutes. The amusing thing I have noticed about a lot of pubs is that they now have signs out front proclaiming to having new kids menus. I believe they are served with their own pint—I’m just kidding—everyone knows they would only get a half pint. So one day I can proudly walk into the Three Stags with my boys and show them the table I sat at (that in twenty more minutes would have forever been my table, immortalized with a brass plaque), order them the kid’s sized fish and chips and see how well they could handle a Green King IPA. But I digress.

After the Three Stags we walked up to the famous Waterloo Station and over one of the Thames bridges that offered a great view looking back towards the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey and the London Eye. Afterwards we wandered around shopping for mainly trinkets and even though I am not a soccer fan I felt compelled to buy a soccer jersey. At this point time was slipping away like a pint at the Three Stags. We did miss a couple of things we wanted to do like riding the gigantic London Eye (you know, the new thing that looks like a Ferris wheel that has gone all Barry Bonds) and we didn’t get the chance to go back to Westminster Abbey. We did find time to hit a couple of floors of Harrods—they were mainly the food, chocolate and wine areas and their equivalent to a food court. Actually it would turn its nose up at food courts. By this time our feet were in full rebellion and we decided to come back to the hotel. Terri said she was beyond shin splints and had actually worked her way up to planks.

After a brief rest we decided to have dinner out for our last night. We walked around near our hotel (we did not want Terri’s shin planks to work their way up to full timber) and we found a great place to end our evening. You could tell it was an authentic pub by the painfully obvious name—The Goat. Here it was, a pub distilled to the essence of one farm animal and it had been around since sometime in the 1600’s although there had been a couple of building changes and something about it being owned by a church at one time. It had the prerequisite amount of wood paneling with the modern touch of actually having a non-smoking section and numerous tap handles. My journey was complete.

So now our London journey comes to an end, for now at least. One day it will be a destination with our boys, who I am sure will initially be unimpressed as kids often are but at least we will all go together. And if I am a dad that seems silly showing them all the boring statues in Trafalgar Square, then fine, I am more than happy to be silly. I can always find a kid friendly pub.

Cheers.