You know that Roger Miller “England Swings” song that’s been running through your head since I put it on the blog? That England doesn’t exist anymore.
I knew that! But several times a day, John still comments, “well, what did you expect?” And my reply always the truthful same: I don’t know what I expected after 40 years. Who does?
Suffice to say, no “bobbies on bicycles,” unless you count heavily armed paramilitary officers, but these are surprisingly few and far between, when you consider the terrorism risk. But this city is so vast, so incomprehensively diverse and complex, how could you ever watch everything, or anything for that matter? So everyone just “keeps calm and carries on” with great haste and purpose. Just like the motto on the stupid coffee cup.
We are not really guided tour types, but I decided to book just one. This isn’t a particular criticism of the tour we took yesterday to Windsor Castle, about 25 miles from London. It was probably typical of most. The morning started very early, because we had to take the Underground in rush hour across town to the Victoria Coach (bus) station for 8:15 departure. Despite the general chaos, people seemed to find their departing bus for day tours far and wide.
The trip to Windsor is supposed to take 45 minutes, but it stretched to an hour and a half due to gridlock traffic and an accident on the M-something. At last we arrived at the Castle town. From the coach park, our guide said we would “walk briskly up the hill” to the entrance. No kidding, and it was quite a hike with folks struggling keep up. We lost sight of the guide and were basically carried along with the crowd of thousands. Like a giant tourist pilgrimage, half Chinese, who move in groups. Once again, we stood in slow lines for the airport security check. Our weapon was already confiscated, so no problem.
Finally we were actually inside Windsor Castle, that is, the part they let you troop around in. The guide left us and it was nice being finally able to explore at our own pace. You can see why the Queen loves her weekend home. It is surrounded by beautiful country side, most of which she owns and can ride her horse as she pleases. It is the oldest, continuously occupied castle in the world. Windsor is magnificent, almost to the point of feeling fake. At times I could have sworn I was in Disneyland. I kept forgetting this was the real thing. Remember the little country wedding there in May? We actually got to go in the exquisite St. George Chapel where it took place. Jealous?
In summary, the Queen owns lots of stuff: priceless paintings, endless chinaware sets, gold, tapestries, furniture beyond belief and so on. And this is just her weekend home, it doesn’t even include Buckingham Palace. Speaking of which, at 1 pm it was time to try and find the bus park again. The town of Windsor is basically a shopping mall (I recognized many stores) but laid out on confusing medieval streets. Directions and finding things isn’t easy. When someone tells you “it’s just across the road” it can mean anything.
We found the bus again (fortunately John wrote down the license) and headed back to London. Most of the poor souls on the bus were actually touring Buckingham Palace in the late afternoon. Can you imagine. We had the half day tour, but it sure felt like a full day to us.
We are walking about 14,000 steps a day, according to our phones. This is normal for John, but quite a bit for me. We are well but weary.
An easier day today hopefully. More later...
Cheers!
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