We reserved an Airbnb for a week in May, based on it being listed as “secluded” and a “cabin in the woods.” Today I read the detailed stuff they eventually later send.
We’d wanted something without other people and noise around, both for peace and quiet and the sanity of the two dogs.
Turns out this “cabin in the woods” has another unit over top it, and another on the other side of a wall. Eli only barks if there’s something to bark about, but if there’s a group upstairs enjoying a football game or an excited gathering on the other side of a wall, he’s going to bark.
I messaged the host to ask what he thought about the situation. He said the other spaces weren’t booked, but they might be, so barking and noise could be a problem. He also told me the reason they’ll probably be booked is because they’re hosting an artists retreat that week. Oh, and you’re not allowed to use the fireplace. (Weird, as it’s featured in the photos.) As you can see, this had rapidly turned into exactly the situation I did not want.
So, I said I’m very sorry for the trouble, I canceled, and I got a full refund. I immediately booked a charming cottage-cabin on the other side of the Hudson, on forested land in the Catskills with no one else around, a big claw foot tub, a fireplace, and a private gazebo with a grill. Perfect!
Then the original host’s wife then messages me, and asks if she could transfer us to one of their more secluded cabins up in the woods without neighbors, and if we liked, we could walk down to the artists retreat anytime we liked.
Welp. It was a little too late for that. I can almost hear her saying to her husband, “You just turned away a week’s booking in the bigger space and let a composer and a writer go during a week when we’re having an artist’s retreat.” I’m going to assume she’s the brains when it comes to the business.
Still. I love the new place we found in the Catskills. And it’s owned by theatre folk. Photos below!
I took a favorite boat ride, and visited a museum that I’ve wanted to see for quite a while — the Museum of London Docklands. Afterwards, I rode the boat a bit further and stopped off at Westminster for a little while. Thought I might be able to get a few decent photos.
Strangely enough, Uber (as in, the car service) runs the river taxis. They used to be called the Thames Clippers. Because most of the sights are within shouting distance of The Thames, I pretty much take these things all over the place up and down the river, rather than using the tube or buses. They’re very comfortable.
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It’s about a 30 minute ride to Canary Wharf, the boat docking twice to pick up and drop off people along the way. Much more pleasant than a city bus, nicely heated, a snack bar, and the view is certainly nice. (Plus, I don’t have to climb and/or descend a teeny-tiny steep staircase on a bumpy, moving city bus.)
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Canary Wharf/Docklands is only about 30 years old, all told. The entire area was originally warehouses, docks, and maritime businesses back in the age when London was the largest port in the world. Now, a brand new city sits where those docks and warehouses were. It’s all like, HSBC, Barclays, Santander, Rupert Murdoch’s stuff, blah blah. It strikes me as a very new, spotless version of Midtown Manhattan, minus the congestion and pee smell.
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O, look! Banks!
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Funny pollarded trees. Hi, trees.
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The museo was about a ten minute walk from the wharf, so that wasn’t too bad. The museum was especially prepared for people with mobility challenges.
Generous elevators, little chairs that convert to canes you can carry around, great signage, very helpful docents … really very well done. I noticed more than one group made up of carers and folks with serious mobility issues. But then, London does disabled access very well.
It’s mostly dioramas and period recreations, with exhibits of artifacts alongside each area. The aim is for us to see and feel what it was like in the docklands back in their docklandical heyday. They do a great job, so I’ll let the photos speak for themselves.
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I could totally live in that cottage in the center photo. In fact, if I squint a little, I do. It looks exactly like our house, lathe and all. (I’m not kidding.) I wonder whose fault that is!
I sat down on benches and chairs aplenty, but it was still a big walking day. After a sausage roll and a can of (Original) Coke, I was ready to get back to the boat — bye, bye Docklands!
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Tired Phill.
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I was feeling a bit better after sitting on the comfortable boat for a while. Exactly what I needed, especially after the walk back to the pier. My leg nerve thing was actually not bothering me. That shows up as an overtired sort of thing. Today was more of a tingly, numb feet thing. That’s what happens when I’ve been walking and standing a great deal.
After the 30 minute ride back, I decided to stay on the boat another few stops and then turn back around to Bankside. It seemed like a good time of day for some photos of Westminster. I’m visiting Westminster Cathedral later in the week, but I’ll be right in the middle of where it’s rammed with people. I got a few nice shots today (although that big, stupid wheel shows up behind everything).
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After hopping the other-way boat back home to Bankside, I went a few blocks over to the drugstore to get some purple hair color. (Two or three aggressive washes takes the brightness out quite a bit, so I decided to have a much needed, happy, aggressive wash tonight; and purple it up tomorrow morning.) Swung by to see the friendly folks at the Red Bus Shop to grab some evening provisions, and then I got my favorite burger and fries to take-out. My tingly feet told me that they wanted to eat in the hotel room, rather than landing me on my face and imprinting souvenir cobblestones on my forehead.
Whew! That had to have been a good few miles today. However, I’m back in by 5 o’clock and looking forward to a hot bath, some British television, and a great deal of rest.
I can’t positively say whether I dislike all big city airports; but I can positively say that I absolutely loathe both JFK (New York City) and Heathrow (London).
We accrue a lot of JetBlue points, and that’s where they from and to, so it is what it is. As you’ve probably gathered, I’m planning my first post-recovery trip to London for January. I’ll still be recovering, but I’ll certainly be well enough to take a familiar trip — I know London backwards and forwards.
I signed-up for TSA PreCheck — No more absurd security lines. No more taking off your belt, shoes, and jacket. No more carry-on screening. Leave your iPad, laptop, and that quart-sized bag of liquids and gels in your tote. This solves a lot of my problems with JFK.
For Heathrow, I did my usual — adding a day at the end of the trip and checking into a hotel directly inside the airport the day before my flight home. No need to get up early, worry over time, stress, or get on a plane exhausted. Just walk out of the hotel door and I’m already there.
I’ll still have to get off the train from the airport at Liverpool Street Station, which is way down deep in the center of the earth near where the devil lives. 36 meters/120 feet, or about 12 stories underground. Platforms and hallways are incredibly long, and then you meet the most extreme escalator you’ve ever seen in your life.
Yes, that’s really the actual escalator I’m talking about.
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I like to be in a neighborhood, so I’m staying at a hotel in a buzzy pedestrianized area with an incredible location — Bankside, right on the River Thames, leaning against an ancient pub, across-ish from Shakespeare’s Globe.
The hotel entrance is at the end of the red-doors building, right across from Wagamama. On the left, that’s the terrace on the river.The Globe is right behind you.
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I’ll be doing my usual history thing. There are a few medieval churches on the list, the Docklands Museum, the effigies at Westminster Abbey, the renovation of the National Portrait Gallery, a few locations from BleakHouse that I’d like to see in person.
I have a contact that could get me in to play a historic pipe organ, but I haven’t decided yet. I’ll likely play the little pipe organ in the train station for sure. The Globe is doing Cymbeline while I’m there. Sadly, not a play I really want to see. I might go see the revival of Oliver though.
Shakespeare’s Globe
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Welp, I’ll finally be able to spend that £2 coin I brought back last year.
Experience told me I was having a day where it’ll be afternoon before I’m feeling up to much. I took a shower and a walk outside to see how I felt when upright. Yes, indeed. My stomach wasn’t quite with me, and my feet were not quite footing. No sad face though, I’m used to it and I knew it would pass by noon or one.
I emailed my friend at the church here to say I wasn’t feeling well, and would probably not make it in for one o’clock to play. (It’s no big deal, I was simply going to be playing for my own pleasure and for tourists visiting.)
I decided I’d walk down to the Tower of London (a block away) where there are shops, views, people, and of course, a castle. I could also hop on the Thames Clippers at the pier if I wanted to go for a boat ride. And so I did.
My Ride
Entrance to the Tower of London
I stopped off at Greenwich to take a few photos and change boats. (Switching to a different boat would let me ride around longer.) At Greenwich, I didn’t do much. Just took in the sights a bit.
The Cutty Sark
The Greenwich Foot Tunnel
This entrance to the Greenwich Foot Tunnel takes you down underneath the river, where you can walk a damp tunnel to the other side … maybe another day. I got a great photo of the Battersea power station on the way back — it’s decommissioned, and now one of these mall/apartments/entertainment center type places.
Battersea Power Station
By about five-thirty, it was time for the normal people to gather in noisy groups to go get their dinner. I was starting to mutter about them under my breath, so I got off early at Blackfriars and walked up to Saint Paul’s to catch a bus the rest of the way. I found the following handy chart to be absolutely, positively accurate.
Saint Paul’s — South Door
Saint Paul’s Churchyard
And finally, a short video including some of the things I saw on my boat ride! =)
I woke up at 8 o’clock (which I hadn’t planned on), took my medicine, and took a shower. I lied back down thinking, “Oh, I could just close my eyes for a few minutes.“
I woke up at 11:45.
Downed a double espresso and flew out the door feeling great! After I got back at 6:30 tonight, I realized I had taken 156 photos! It’s going to be a big photo day, but I’ll whittle it down a bit!
I caught the Route 15 bus on the corner at noon. It was packed, hot, and noisy. I don’t know why the air conditioning wasn’t on, other than British people tend to be like, “Oh my God, the sun is out and it’s hot! Isn’t it wonderful?!” I would’ve taken a cab, but when the bus goes door-to-door for £2, it’s hard to turn down.
I headed over to Saint Martin’s in the Fields. The church itself is a favorite spot. There’s an awesome café, education center, and shop in the crypt, so I always stop. The café was packed, but there’s a side hallway that no one knows about that leads to a seating area that’s always completely empty.
I’d like to solve. It was Mr. Phill, in the crypt, with his hair.
Heading up Saint Martin’s Lane, I passed a few familiar sites and the notable Brydges Place, but I was particularly headed for a few sights I hadn’t visited in a while — Cecil Court for great shopping and Goodwin’s Court, for a great photo.
Brydges Place, purportedly the most narrow alley in London.I don’t believe it. It’s not that narrow.
I stopped in Mark Sullivan Antiques, where I’d been a few times before. Mark is very friendly and likes to answer questions and talk, and he always remembers me. We had a nice chat. I looked for something I might like to buy, but didn’t find anything quite right. I headed over to Goodwin’s Court for a photo op.
Cecil Court, Mark’s shop is on the left.
Goodwin’s Court, always good for a photo.
I bought a little collapsible stool before I left, and I love it! Super-light, and folds up to about the size of a large Whitman’s Sampler. As I headed over to Covent Garden, it proved itself.
People everywhere, difficult to even walk, no seats available, like a packed day at Disney World. But. I could sit down wherever I wanted to, whenever I wanted to. I was under a shady tree for a good 15 minutes. The seat probably doubled the time I was out enjoying myself, being able to rest whenever I wanted.
Covent Garden had an exhibit of painted gorillas happening, and there were plenty of other things to take pictures of (following). I thought Audrey Hepburn should be there in her proper location, so I added her.
Gorilla, Gorilla
That mirror corridor thing
Busy entrance to the Piazza
“Two bunches of lovely violets trod in the mud. A full day’s wages!”
The nice new shady pedestrian plaza in front of St. Mary le Strand!
I saw the following two ladies on the walk back to my hotel. I’ve noticed that modern office buildings often incorporate sculpture or busts from the before-building that was torn down. After I saw this, I realized it must be a law that doesn’t state where the salvaged art needs to be.
These poor ladies are on a short retaining wall at the back entrance/loading dock of an office building that is ironically … derelict and empty.
Sit Still Phill 