It’s Spa Day … ahhhh.
It was a big walking day yesterday, and I was out from around 10 to 4. That’s a very big day for me, and an even bigger day for my nervy feet.
Ergo, I turned my alarm off, decided I could sleep as late as I liked, and decided the single event of the day would be eating at The Anchor, which is directly downstairs.
Maybe I’ll sit by the river a bit.
The Tate Modern (a notable contemporary art museum) is less than a five minute walk; but unsurprisingly, I couldn’t be less interested. It’s interesting that it’s built in a former power plant, but for me, it ends there.
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I stayed in bed until 11 AM, and then ran myself a hot bath in the big bathtub. Wonderful!
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The Anchor is an Elizabethan Era tavern and inn. Lotso famous people did lotso famous things there. It’s the sole survivor of the riverside inns that existed in Shakespeare’s day, when this area was the heart of theatreland. It was frequented by Shakespeare, Hemings, Burbage, surely almost all the actors from the Globe, the Swan and the Rose, and probably my 14th great grandfather.
All three theaters were literally within shouting distance of the tavern. It’s where Samuel Pepys (one of the greatest diarists of his own or any other era) observed the Great Fire of London in 1666. He took a quick boat ride across the river to “a little alehouse on bankside … and there watched the fire grow.”
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After the area faded from popularity as the theatrical center, it became very handy for smugglers and pirates. During the 19th century, a large beam fell and was replaced, revealing hidden rooms, fairly obviously created as hiding places for stolen goods.
I’m now back after an early dinner at The Anchor and a run by the café to grab an afternoon latte. Dinner was fine.
Don’t get me wrong, it was beautifully prepared and very nicely done, but I really wanted shepherds or cottage pie, and they didn’t have that. Which struck me as a bit weird for a major tourist pub. I had a steak and ale pie with mash. It was excellently prepared, but I wasn’t crazy about it. I ate half of it, and brought the rest back to the room. Might eat it, might not. I stole a fork on purpose. I put it in my takeout container. I’ll give it back tomorrow. That’s what they get for not having shepherds pie.
My leg and feet feel pretty good for this time of day. Awesome, since tomorrow will be a big walking day — I’ve already got entry tickets to Westminster Abbey and the additional exhibition with the centuries-old funeral effigies of the monarchs.
If anyone finds themself planning a London visit, I very much recommend this hotel if you’re into moderates. (Few amenities, rooms only cleaned if you ask, that sort of thing.) The staff is especially lovely — they got me ice. That’s a big deal. Trying to find ice in a London hotel is like trying to find a Yorkshire pudding in an American one. They took me back into the little restaurant kitchen, and sent me off with three glasses of big ice cubes from the freezer. Yay, ice!
Amusing Misadventure — I didn’t wear a headband today since it was warmer, and two people yesterday and one the day before said to me, “I have a wig/hat just like that.” This irritated me extremely. I’ve washed my hair vigorously twice, and it’s still pretty bright, so I haven’t purpled it yet. Maybe I won’t have to.
Anchor No-Headband Selfie! It’s my own hair!
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Sit Still Phill 