I Heart British Airways, Part 1

(Actual date of events - Monday, April 14th, 2008).

DAY 1

Sweet British Airways, how I love thee. Let me count the ways...

1. You were on time to whisk us away to London.
2. Your online check-in worked perfectly, and the seats you let us pick ourselves were great.
   
3. You greeted us with a complimentary mini-bottle of red wine to help us relax, even though we weren't in First Class.


4. You didn't repeat everything you said in French.


5. Your seats had lovely side head rests.


6. You gave us a mini toothbrush, toothpaste, a pair of 'airplane socks' and an eye mask to help us sleep.


7. You served us a yummy chicken & veg dinner, with another complimentary mini-bottle of the red stuff.


8. Your smooth ride lulled us to sleep for a solid 5 hours. (The wine & eye mask definitely contributed to the slumber also...).


9. Our luggage arrived at our destination.


10. You were just all-around delightful to be around.

Mmmmmm...London. How I missed you, you super-awesome lady. When we spilled out of Paddington Station onto your cobblestone streets, and wacky opposite-day traffic, I felt at home. Something about you is just so comfortable and familiar, yet exciting and limitless at the same time.

We arrived at the quaint little Hyde Park Radnor Hotel to settle in to our temporary home. But NO NAPPING. We made that mistake last time. We weren't going to mess up our inner clock again on this visit. So off we headed for a refreshing walk in Hyde Park to rejuvenate from a long travel day. But, Lady London, you weren't too into that idea. So you started to spit on us. Don't worry, we didn't take it personal and were happy to change our plans to suit your mood, because that's how much we love you.

Plan B was to head to Covent Garden to see if we could find a good place to eat an early dinner. On our way we came across a restaurant called Porters, so we snapped a photo because it made us think of our sweet Porter at home. They were all booked up, so we couldn't eat there.

Then we came across the Angus Steakhouse, and also snapped a photo. But, didn't eat there, because who flies from Alberta to London to eat steak? We never did find a restaurant with River's namesake though...

With Covent Garden turning up no real contenders, we hopped on the Tube and headed to Leicester Square and ate at a cheap place that our travel book recommended, that was a block or so away from all the tourist eateries. Warren had classic Fish & Chips, and I had Pork Chops. Warren washed down his meal with a tiny-little pint.

After dinner we unwillingly decided to circle around Leicester Square to see what movies were playing at the 4 or so cinemas, and then proceed to debate over which one we might want to see, to get out of the rain that Lady London continued to spit on us. A consensus was never reached. Who doesn't want to see Juno, honestly? But, with the exchange rate on a British Pound being so high, it wasn't worth paying to see a movie that only one of us was interested in.

So, off to the Tube again, in search for another adventure. We decided to search for the Tate Museum, since our travel book said it was open late - until 10pm. The Captain (Warren) miscalculated something on the map, and we got off at the wrong tube station, turning a 5 minute walk to the museum into a 45 minute walk. But, no matter, because the Thames is a lovely river and you can't complain about a 45 minute walk along a lovely river.

The Promanade had a bookstore, where we found the 'Profanisaurus' that Rob had asked us to buy and bring back for him. Good. One thing checked off my to-do list. Then, as the sun began to set, the trees along the promanade lit up with little twinkling lights. Awwwww. I'm on holiday. (Photo of this to come...Warren hasn't uploaded all his photos yet).

This is a photo that I snapped when the sun was setting behind the bridge that we had crossed. Lady London, you indeed have some beautiful city scapes. (And, thank-you for not spitting on us ALL night).

Unfortunately this adventure did not have a perfect ending. Once we eventually found the Tate Museum, it was closed. And it wasn't even 8pm. We were cussing our travel book's advice as we flipped frantically through it's pages to find this misprint of information, only to discover that we had misread.

Open late until 10pm, on Fridays.

But, without that misread sentence, we would have missed out on twinkling tree lights, sun sets over bridges, shrinking to-do lists, and an overall lovely walk with sweet Lady London.