The Protest

The bus ride to the theatre was not without incident. A Gaza protest was taking place all along Whitehall, with thousands participating, along with quite a significant police presence. It was as peaceful and without incident as it was large and I couldn't help but feel in the years to come we are going to see more and more of this all over the world.

The Dinner
 
My perfect meal before a night of the theatre while in college was usually, .05 cent package of Ramen, or a .25 cent box of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Some days I would splurge and have a hot dog. And this was my diet if I was in the play! Now, fifty years later, the prices may have changed but my diet has not changed all much. However, I was in England, and I was not even sure if Europe had boxed Kraft or how I was going to make using only room mattress like they do in prison. No, tonight was going to be something special. 
Attired in my slacks, white shirt, tie, and coat, I bused over to the West End in time to check out the possibilities. I promptly decided on a small little restaurant located very near the theatre that was called Steak and Company. Ah, yes. This would fit the bill quite nicely. It was a smaller restaurant with room for about 30 diners. Getting table for one was no problem and I soon settled in and ordered the following:
Beefeater’s Gin martini up, two olives. A fresh wedge salad with blue cheese and a steak fillet served with French fries. I washed it all down with a glass of French red and was stuffed. No dessert. All in all, the martini was dry, the cut of beef was well above average concerning the price, the chips were adequate, and the wine turned out to be perfect for the price. Five stars! A culinary win! Belly full, I left with a full stomach, a happy heart, and the eternal hope that my night of theatre prove just as rewarding as my meal.
 
The play was produced and performed at the Royal Haymarket Theatre in London’s West End. Since I had purchased my tickets last minute, I was forced to use the “Procrastinator Entrance,” which consisted of two flights of rickety old wooden steps that wend their way treacherously up toward the first balcony. I am not exaggerating when I say lives were nearly lost, mainly mine, ascending those stairs. 
If ever I wished to kill someone, my preferred method would be the actual balcony of the Haymarket. In order to provide a great view of the stage below, the incline is at least 90 degrees, which as everyone knows is 32.222 Celsius. By Jove, I’m beginning to think I actually got the hang of all this metric shit. At any rate, white knuckling your armrests is mandatory, if you do not want to tumble down the remaining rows and plummet into the orchestra level.
 
The Play
 
The Score by Oliver Cotton, set in 1747 and starring Brian Cox, concerns the ongoing feud between King Frederick the II and Johan Sebastian Bach. Who knew, right? I didn’t even know they were even acquainted, let alone squabbling. 
In an Act One that moved a bit too slow for my liking, we’re introduced to all of the major characters. Unfortunately, the main antagonist of the piece, King Frederick, gets short shrift in the first. This act is dominated by Cox’s grumpy portrayal of Bach as he readies himself to visit his son who happens to be employed in the King’s Court. Unbeknownst to Bach, the King and others are plotting to challenge the famous composer, forcing him to compose a score with impossible perimeters on the spot. 
Unlike the first, the second act of the play crescendos nicely, with the cat and mouse chess game between Frederick and the composer entertaining and thoughtful. Here the dialogue suddenly becomes barbed sharp, and both Cox and Stephen Hagen, portraying the Emperor of Prussia, clearly enjoy the heated exchange of dialogue and ideas concerning humanity and creative pragmatism.
Ah, but here-in lies the plays fundamental problem. The work simply can’t decide it it is a comedy or a drama. Secondary characters are drawn with such broad strokes; one cannot be sure what exactly the author has in mind. There is one major exception and that is the addition of a delightfully entertaining Voltaire. This character does work and left most of us wanting more of his devilish chicanery. 
Ultimately, it is Cox’s mastery of the craft that saves the night and what I think is a weak play. Without him, this over written, under prepared play will soon be doomed to the purgatory of small studio stages of colleges and small-town community theaters.
 
But, Believe it or not, I did not feel that my evening of the theatre has been cheated or was a waste of any kind. Cox himself once said, and I am paraphrasing, if you get a chance to see an actor you admire, take it. Even if it is a bad play. Well, considering that bit of advice, I came out a winner. 

A Royal Visit
(March 29, 2025)
After a hearty British Breakfast at the hotel, I commenced with what was my second day in London. The temperature was a sunny 59 degrees (15 Celsius), the sun was shining, the air was brisk and stimulating, and it was time to get this day started.
10 Downing Street
 
However, before I could proceed with my day, I had one stop to make. Just past Trafalgar Square is Piccadilly Circus and the West End.  Legend tells of a rare treasure located in all major cosmopolitan cities, and one such treasure was right here in London. It’s called TKTS and they offer same-day tickets for most West End Shows at a discounted rate. To get the best choice, I must get there right when they open.  I had successfully narrowed my choices between two shows that I wanted to see Book of Mormon and Tom Hiddleston and Haley Atwell in Much Ado About Nothing. Out I went, passing all of the sights of the previous day, huffing and puffing up the small hill and eventually making it to the discount booth before it opened. I had arrived fifteen minutes before it was supposed to open, only to find out… (dramatic music, please) it was closed! However, posted on the wall was their website with an invite to try there. iPhone in hand, I visited a nearby McDonald's, ordered a cup of coffee, and stole some precious WIFI.
Immediately, I was reminded of something the actor Brian Cox once said about never passing up the opportunity to see a great actor. And here he was in a play called The Score, with tickets available at an excellent price. Well, I took Mr. Cox at his word and purchased a ticket for the 7pm show. 
 
Digital tickets in hand, it is time to gulp down my McCoffee with cream, take a quick look at Apple Maps, and plot my course for the day ahead.  
First stop, the home of # 6 (The Prisoner), located at 1 Buckingham Place.
 
Any fan of Patrick McGoohan will be familiar with the iconic 60’s television show, The Prisoner. The ITC production answers the age-old question: What do you do with a secret agent who has either outlived his usefulness or no longer feels spying fulfills his work/life balance? The answer turns out to be a mysterious seaside resort where, if you choose to escape, you will be chased down and enveloped by a giant white ball of undetermined origin. Satirical and creepy at the same time, The Prisoner has a relatively large fan base and is must-see television for fans of the 1960s spy genre. 
 
The actual space has been many things since the 60s and is now the home office for a local barrister.  Walking past enough times to appear suspicious, I moved on and wandered into one of London’s  St. James's Park.
This is the most royal of London’s Royal Parks. Shaped by generations of monarchs and bordered by three royal palaces, St. James’s Park is the home of ceremonial events in the capital. From royal weddings and jubilees to military parades and state celebrations, this is the park where history is made. 
 
In 1532, Henry VIII added this sizable stretch of land to his collection of deer parks, fencing it off from the general public and constructing a hunting lodge that would later become known as the Palace of St. James. Since then, it has hosted jousts, fetes, festivals, and, as I understand it, several Star Trek Conventions. 
 
The park itself is expansive and leads to Buckingham Palace and the neighboring Palace of St. James.
 
Buckingham Palace: Home of King Charles and, more importantly, where his mother, Queen Elizabeth, would drink four cocktails a day.
A gin and Dubonnet (A French aperitif), with a slice of lemon and a “lot of ice.” 
A glass of wine and chocolate after lunch
A dry gin martini after lunch.
A glass of champagne and a sizable bong hit before bed.
Can this lady party or what? I just had to take several pictures of the party house, I mean, palace. 
 
To witness the changing of the guard, it is best to arrive at the location well in advance. Thousands gather for this event. I chose to skip the event, instead slipping back into St. James Park to head off to Hugh Grant’s private dance studio, otherwise known as #10 Downing Street.
 
Only nine minutes away, the official residence of the Prime Minister borders St. James Park. I followed the Princess Diana Memorial Walk, skirting the other side of the park, and shortly arrived at… 
 
NEWS FLASH!
Unfortunately, lowly serfs and tourists are not able to walk past the famous residence. Disappointed, but not undaunted, I decided instead to search for the next best thing; the home of Natalie’s parents from Love Actually (Poplar Road in Hearn Hill). The row of cute and connected houses where the movie was filmed is only a short walk from Downing Street, and I found it to be just as photogenic, with far less security than the Prime Minister’s residence.
Coming next: A Night at the Theatre

Friday, March 29. 2025. Temperature high, 10.5 Celsius (which if you remember correctly converts to 7 ft, 11 inches. Sky is grey and the air temp is brisk. Looks like a bit of rain in my London future. Never-the-less, I was up bright and early. Forgoing the traditional English Breakfast, I dined on a simple traveler’s meal of Oat Porridge, juice and one cup of coffee before tightening my shoestrings and making the most of my new day in London. 
 
London is a walking city, the proof being the number of tourists killed every day while attempting to cross the street.
On every corner at every major crossing, there are arrows, instructions for distracted pedestrians to look left/look right for oncoming traffic. These arrows just happen to be situated directly beside the chalked outlines of persons who did not glance down.
 
I had several stops planned for the first half of the day, including Big Ben, Parliament Square, Trafalgar Square, Whitehall, Westminster, and The West End. First stop, Westminster Abbey! 
And wouldn’t you know it?  I arrived an hour too early to get inside. Damn. The gothic structure made famous in the sci-fi classic The Quatermass Experiment was closed, and I had two hours before it opened.  
 
 Westminster Abbey, formally titled the Collegiate Church of Saint Peter at Westminster, is an Anglican church in the City of Westminster, London, England. Since 1066, it has been the location of the coronations of 40 English and British monarchs and a burial site for 18 English, Scottish, and British monarchs. 
 
This is a truly impressive and majestic piece of architecture, with a thousand years of British history oozing from the lime mortar, which was pilfered from the Romans.
Most royal events, from coronations and weddings to the occasional Quinceañera, take place here, with the cathedral also serving as an upper-class funeral home.
A few of the historical and literary notables buried here in Poet’s Corner: Chaucer, Shakespeare, Sir Issac Newton, Charles Darwin, Hardy, Kipling, Laurence Oliver, and the guy who played “Screech” on Saved by the Bell (I know. I was surprised by that last addition as well. I always thought he was from Atlanta).
Taking a quick walk around the entire circumference and courtyard, I decided to return when it had opened for the public. 
 
Idiot Mistake #7. Upon returning several hours later, I discovered a line that stretched completely around the entire structure. I had blown my chance at viewing the gravesite of both Henry the VIII and Chaucer. Bad me.
 
In London, history literally surrounds you, and in Westminster is around every corner. From Whitehall to the Ministry of Defense, you are reminded of the men who helped preserve the Empire. Leaving Winston Churchill at Parliament Square, you will soon encounter General Montgomery (Monty), General Gordon (Gordon Pasha), and monuments and statues to countless others.  And there one more historic spot that I passed that is even more heroic and stands as a testament of the true British spirit. 
 
Of course, I am referring to the home of the traditional steak and ale pie, The Old Shades, “Purveyors of Real Ale, and Exquisite Spirits.” 
 
As beloved as any hero, a pub and a meat pie are a staple in the diet of any true British patriot. Historically, the meat in these pies has fluctuated from that of real cattle to an occasional horse, and during more challenging times, perhaps something more. Never one to pass up the culinary guessing game, “What’s My Meat?” I stepped into one of London’s most beloved pubs for a pint and a meat pie. Served over a bed of smashed potatoes, smothered in a rich ale and beef gravy, and baked in buttery, flaky pastry, this little beauty has all the healthy nutrients needed for a full and balanced heart attack. And, by the way, if you happen to be wondering…the meat at the Old Shades was definitely beef.
 
A short distance from Trafalgar, I experienced my first London downpour. It was a real cow quaker, but undeterred, I stepped into a nearby Haberdashery and purchased a typical British cap known as a Flat Cap. Now, looking like I stepped off the set of Peaky Blinders, I pressed on in the rain.
 
Trafalgar Square is a public square, established in the early 19th century around the area formerly known as Charing Cross. The square's name commemorates the Battle of Trafalgar, a British naval victory in the Napoleonic Wars over France and Spain that took place in 1805 off the coast of Cape Trafalgar. 
 
Just beyond the square is the National Gallery and the even more famous Pay Before You Go restrooms. One houses priceless, untold treasures of art,  the other requires a small charge. I will leave it to you to guess which one.
By dark, I had managed to include a hike into Hyde Park and was somewhere near the community of Paddington.
Hyde Park is a 350-acre, historic Grade I-listed urban park in Westminster, Greater London. A Royal Park, it is the largest of the parks and green spaces that form a chain from Kensington Palace through Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park, via Hyde Park Corner and Green Park, past Buckingham Palace to St James's Park.
The park is huge and really worth exploring. I was in, as Shakespeare referred to it, The Undiscovered Country, and as it was getting dark.  I checked my faithful phone to see exactly where it was and, gasp, I was nearly out of battery.
 
This was my first real emergency on my trip, and it required quick and decisive thinking. I exited the park, stumbling directionless into what is known as the Paddington neighborhood. Much like our President, my precious phone craved power, and I was not entirely sure where I would find it. No Apple Stores, no Best Buy or even Target. I was starting to panic until I saw an entire street lined with bodegas, one of which was an electronic store. Surely…
As tiny as this store was,  it was crammed with electronic merchandise on every shelf. The proprietor quickly assisted me with a portable battery, assured me it had a full charge, and within thirty minutes, I was back in business. Once again, I had artificial intelligence and direction in my life.
 
Weary over my ordeal, I thought it best to secure some sort of transportation back to the hotel and checked my revitalized phone. 
And then I saw it, rumbling in my direction. My savior in red, heading up Bayswater Road. Dare it be? Could it be? 
 
It sure as hell could. It was the signature red of the London double-decker bus. Once I confirmed its destination on Apple Maps, I climbed on board. There was no need for exact change, as I had set up my Apple Watch beforehand to work with the London transit system. Just place the face of the watch on the reader, followed by a slight vibration, and I was up the winding metal stairs to the top floor of a double-decker. The fleet is almost exclusively electric now and more modern; a far cry from the classic buses of just twenty or thirty years ago. But, even at nighttime, the view from up top proved enough to take this rider on a nostalgic trip into London’s magical past.
 
The ride back to the hotel was quick, the bus dropping me only several blocks away from my hotel, and I was all ready for some supper.

​The City of Westminster is a London borough with complete city status.  It is the site of the United Kingdom's Parliament and much of the government. It contains a large part of the city, including most of the West End, such as the major shopping areas around and the entertainment district of Soho. Many historic landmarks are within the borough, including Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey Whitehall, Westminster Abbey, Whitehall, Westminster Cathedral, 10 Downing Street and Trafalgar Square. Over 200 thousand people live in the district. Converted from the metric, that is well over three million souls. – The Internets 
 
From Victoria Station to my hotel was only a short walk. But being an obese American, ever vigilant at the prospect of marauding pickpockets or “Droogs,” I decided to take a cab. 
Disappointed that there was no horse-drawn Hansom Cab anywhere near, I was forced to take the next best thing, an electric taxi. Once inside, I rapped on the plastic partition with my walking stick and ordered the good man to take me to the hotel. And, if he happened to manage the trip in under 30 seconds, there would be an extra “fiver” in it for him. I was quite confident that I would not have to pay as I was at least 45 seconds from my hotel.
 
Weather 1st day: 16.11 Celsius (converted into American totals over sixty U.S. dollars). Wind WSW at 12 MPH, Humidity at 67 percent.
 
Spared of relinquishing my fiver, I arrived at the hotel several minutes later and checked into The Westminster London Curio Collection by Hilton before 1pm. Check-in was easy and after spending several minutes in the same device used in shrinking the Proteus for the movie Fantastic Voyage, I was finally small enough to fit into my rather weensy room. I should have spent the extra 20 quid on miniaturizing the suitcase as well as the room was so tiny, I literally needed to step over it every time I wished to move around the room.
It was still early enough in the day to experience some sights, so after a quick Elvis bath (pits, crotch, Brute, and A and D ointment to keep my lips soft), I was ready to take on The Big Smoke. Watch out London, here I come.
 
Other nicknames for London that you may be unfamiliar with: 
The Capital, The Swinging City, The Metropolis, The City of Dreams, The Global Village, The City of Villages, The Green City, The Foodie Capital, LDN, London Town, The Great Wen, Londinium, and last but not least and  one that I came up all on my own, Runny Eggs and Bean Town (more about English Breakfasts later). All, save maybe for the last one, are suitable ways of addressing the city, so feel free to use any of these when conferring with locals.
The Curio is conveniently located two blocks from the Thames, MI 6, and six blocks from Parliament. I decided to start with these ands if my stamina chose to hold, fan out to other locations from there. 
MI-6
The SIS Building, also called the MI6 Building, at Vauxhall Cross houses the headquarters of the Secret Intelligence Service, (SIS), also known as Military Intelligence, Section 6 (MI6), the United Kingdom's foreign intelligence agency. It is located on the bank of the River Thames. The building has been the headquarters of the SIS since 1994 and is the home of James Bond 007 before he was killed by Jeff Bezos and Barbara Broccoli. The Internet.
 
I’m sad to report that the house that Bond built has seen better days. From my vantage point across the Thames, it had appeared to have not been taken over by Blofeld after all, but rather poor relations from the States. But I was surprised that after the fatal explosion during Skyfall and the demolition of the entire building from Spectre, the old girl still stands. Only goes to show what’s possible when the British and Q put their minds do it. 
Heading east, it did not take long to stumble into a park that led to a view of the backside of Parliament and the historic structure that has been the seat of British Government for over six thousand years. It has been often said that at one time the sun never set on the British Empire and that was due in no small part to the controlling of the earth’s weather from this very building (the antennae located somewhere inside Big Ben). Unlike MI 6, this building has not suffered at all from the ravages of time. She stands proud, tall, and erect, much like the Grand Dame Maggie Smith in most all of the Harry Potter Films.
 
Six hours later, in darkness and wandering through unfamiliar neighborhoods, I had managed to see all of the above, with the addition of Westminster Cathedral, Victoria Station, Big Ben, and the theatre where Hamilton is playing. In search of a special first night in London dinner, I passed several hundred examples of pubs, taverns, cafes and restaurants that all happened to be filled to capacity with locals.  Without any luck, I headed home through the unfamiliar neighborhood.
 
Even though the neighborhoods were dimly lit, I never felt threatened by Droogs or any other menacing gang of tapdancing, pickpocketing hooligans. The streets were quiet, safe and worth another look in daylight. Finally arriving back at the hotel, I ordered a pint of the local beer and a Caesar salad, strategizing my itinerary for the following day.

Did you know Heathrow is at least an hour’s distance from London? I sure didn’t. Converting the distance to Britain’s own metric system, it is well over 20,000 kilometers. Doing the math in my head, that’s the number I came up with. Feel free to figure it all out for yourselves. Just make sure you don’t forget and carry the 3. That’s very important. I am not sure what the great distance equals in minutes, but there seems to be plenty of time to figure that out on England’s jolly old transportation treasure, The National Express Bus.
 
Heathrow offers a variety of options for getting from the busy airport to the city of London. There’s…
*Taxi (for the very rich, those with huge families or groups, or those wishing to spend their entire vacation savings before setting foot in their hotel.)
*Express Train (Around 18 pounds and featuring non-stop service to Paddington Station. It is rumored that this is the very same train that a particular world-famous bear happens to take.)
*Tube (Many stops, no place for your luggage, and the threat of pickpockets lurking around every corner make this the popular choice amongst both victims and native Londoners.)
And this leaves… 
*National Express! (A shuttle bus that wends and winds its leisurely way through the countless terminals of Heathrow before eventually spitting you out somewhere in the forbidden zone between London and the airport. It is another hour from here before you arrive at Victoria Station.)
I took National Express in both directions, and while I will share more about my return trip later, I do have one bone to pick with this company and all shuttle buses in general: the sincere promise of all buses offering free WIFI. First, this promise is like the existence of Santa Claus, often repeated and never verified.  If it does exist, it must be powered by some Flintstone-inspired technology based on the faster you go, the better your connection.  Undoubtedly, the whole operation is powered by some prehistoric squirrel on a treadmill hidden discreetly in the luggage compartment below. “It’s a living.”
In both my trips, to and from, I never once managed to get online.
Even though I was on the lam (see last week), finding the appropriate shuttle was easy. I merely followed the exit signs until I reached traffic, where airport officials could point me in the right direction. Once aboard, all I had to do was sit back, relax, and enjoy the promised free WIFI. Instead, I chose to gaze out the window and marvel at a geography that shared so much in common between many locations, major cities, and their sister airports - nothing.
I was getting excited, though. Despite being sleep deprived, at age 71, I was in a foreign land. And I would soon be in one of the major cities of the world, London.
 
Roughly 20,000 kilometers later (an hour), I stepped off the shuttle and set foot in London and historic Victoria Station. The sky was blue, the air was chilly, and the streets were filled with Londoners, no doubt gaping at the "idiot" from the land of idiots, who had no doubt illegally and criminally entered their beloved country.