Marmalade Sandwiches

Tuesday August 27

So from Paddington station to the hotel is easy. Go to the end of the platform and up the lift.

Took a breather in the hotel lounge. Cool view.

Then it’s off for a half-day look around. Took the subway to Baker St so that I can look at the Sherlock Holmes Museum. Meh. The gift shop is actually more interesting, but sometimes you’ve just got to do it.

Then a walk down Baker St to Selfridges. A pilgrimage for Sarah. She wants to see their foody division (yeah right!) we had picked up lunch in Baker St., but still managed to fit in a cocktail at the bar.

Around the corner we head down to the Marble Arch. Sarah was expecting something on the scale of the Arc de Triomph, so was a little underwhelmed.

Back on the train to the hotel. 

And it’s Goodbye to Gladys

Tuesday August 27

Last morning in Windsor.

Breakfast, and then load up the car for the last time. Heathrow is only a few minutes away, and we need to fill the tank before we drop it off.

I must say that dealing with Rentalcars.com has been very positive so far. Don’t know if I mentioned this;  when I picked up the car, they offered, instead of dropping it off full, to prepay a tankful at a cheaper rate, and drop it off empty. Sounds like a good deal.

But...,
This process relies on the tank being empty when I drop it off. For any number of reasons, there is no way that I can assure that it will be that low. You don’t want to leave money in the tank, because you’ve already paid for it. You also don’t want to run out of gas a mile away from the drop off. Unless you do this all the time, and know exactly what you’ll need, you would have to be a mug to take the deal. I think that’s just another opportunity to take your money. The house always wins.

So we fill up, and drive into the Dollar/Thrifty depot, located at the Sheraton hotel, near terminal five.  Signage is good enough to find the drop off park. There’s a guy in the area, and he comes over. He’s got an iPad, and a list of expected arrivals. He takes a minute to find Gladys.

We unload the bags, and while I’m talking to him at the front of the car, Sarah is wiping down the back seat with a damp cloth. Because we have been carrying two big suitcases, they both wouldn’t fit in the boot. So every time we change address, I manhandle one bag onto the back seat. Over the days I’ve been doing this, there have been some scuff marks on the seat. No damage, just transferred dust from wheeling it to the car.

So the guy looks around the car, notes the damage on file from before my rental, and sees nothing new. I apologised for all of the Scottish and Welsh bugs on the grill. He says he’s seen worse.
He gets me to sign the iPad with my finger, he does too, and we’re done. I don’t need to find their desk inside. A great system. On pickup, they do their thing on the iPad, show me where that damage was (on the iPad), and sign me off. They don’t leave the office. At drop off, it’s the reverse, and they don’t leave the car park. Everything happens on the iPad. Always nice to se technology finding a place to add value.

Just as I finished with the assessor, the shuttle for terminal five turns up. Just like clockwork.  At the terminal we follow the (well signposted) directions to the train.

After taking advice from a local, we find that the vending machines down here also dispense brand new Oyster cards, and we can choose how much to put on. And there is the train.

Sarah had been stressing about getting all of our luggage onto and off of the train. She wanted us to hire a cab to take us all.

For clarity, the two pieces of luggage that we had carted around on the bus tour, and then on the Gladys tour, last night gave birth to a fully functioning midsized bag. I knew going in that there would be shopping. I also knew that the tour only allowed one bag each. So I Russian dolled it. I put all of my clothes into the midsized bag, and then put that bag inside the larger bag. Every night when I opened my bag, I would open the big bag, then unzip and open the small one, without taking it out.

By last night, we had two big bags, original hand luggage, and quite a few shopping bags. They had just been loaded into the car at source, and all unloaded last night. As luck would have it, the once empty big bag, now isn’t. In fact, it’s in danger of being overweight. May need to buy one of those luggage scales this week.

As advertised, the train takes only 15 minutes to Paddington. By a mad stroke of luck, Paddington is exactly where our hotel is.

A little tip, gentlemen. If you are traveling with one of the fairer sex, there will be luggage. Whether it was stuff she couldn’t leave at home, or stuff she couldn’t leave on the shelves, there will be luggage. There was a time when the best type of luggage to buy was what the crews used, because it would be guaranteed sturdy. Using that guide, most of us would have bought the Oyster (not the travel card) from Samsonite. This thing would survive nuclear holocaust. Two sturdy wheels almost flush with the body of the suitcase, for its own protection. There was a lever handle at the other end, so just pull up the end of the bag by the handle and walk away. The two wheels would transfer all the weight to them, and you could carry obscene weight with barely a grunt
And then there was ‘traveling with my wife’. Suddenly a bag each just won’t cut it. So here’s what you do. Get suitcases of similar size, and the both must have 4 wheels. Pull up the handles, align the cases back to back, and you can roll them on a smooth surface with one hand. That leaves you other hand to drag your Samsonite. Your only alternative is to pay for a vehicle big enough to take you and all of her bags in one trip. It was a gamble. The stakes were high, but I got lucky and my plan worked. For a change.

The newborn  even though they are 2 sizes, the handles are the same, so you can hold them both with one hand  

A Busy Day

After a nice breakfast at Marco’s restaurant, we are on our way.

Did I tell you that we have at last found a restaurant that is currently owned by Marco Pierre White. Alert the media. It is the inhouse restaurant of the Castle Hotel we are staying in.

Pick up a ‘get out of car park free’ card from reception, and we are on our way to Hampton Court Palace. It’s on the outskirts of London, and just under 30 minutes from here. What can go wrong?

We leave at about 0940, and we can already see a big queue up at the Castle entrance. It’s going to be 33deg today, and the doors don’t open till 1030. Fuckwits!

Gladys takes us to about 100yds short of the palace entrance. Thanks again, Gladys.

Ahead of us is effectively a t-intersection, but with a roundabout. The Palace entrance is through the roundabout to the right, and right there on the left. I had done a bit of a PhD on parking in the area, and I know that the Palace has its own parking just to the left of the main gate, at £1 and change per hour. Being a bank holiday, we were banking (no pun intended) on light traffic and a light turnout.

What we didn’t know till we were on final approach, was that there was also a food festival going on at the Palace. Fuck.

The whole left side of the road all the way down to the roundabout was a park called Hampton Green.  It was being used as a car park.
Consensus was that we follow the P signs around to the left at the roundabout. We’re winging it now. Just as we come out of the turn, there were about 4 parks on the side of the road on the left. Can it be that easy?

We pull up behind another guy who is parking there too. The parking sign says every day including bank holidays. Limit 4hrs.  Perfect. By the time we are ready to feed the meter, the other guy is studying it. It says no charge. Not out of order. No charge. He took a photo of the screen. So did I. And off we go. Cross the road and we’re there.

In preparation for this trip, we had bought 6-day London Pass tickets. I had every one of those six days mapped out with military precision. This would be day one. They are loaded on my phone (there’s an app for everything), and the first time they are scanned, the six day countdown begins.

There’s a shop and ticket office just inside the gate, with a queue pouring out into the sun. While Sarah is warming up her shopping muscles, I check with the staff. Yes the London Pass gets you past this queue. Just go on up to the gate and scan there. Bonus!

This really is an impressive building. Lots of history. Lots of rooms. Sarah is grumbling because there is no specific path through the place, like many others we’ve been to. Perhaps if you got the free audio guide, it might tell you which way to go next. Shut up!

The only place we couldn’t take photos is the chapel. It’s a working chapel, so no hat and no camera. It is absolutely beautiful, though.

After we’ve done the rounds, we go to their cafeteria for lunch. There are a couple of small cafes inside the palace, but their selection was limited. The main one is in the gardens, and has a much better selection than the others.

Then it’s back to Windsor. Gladys did a good job here.

So it was off to the Castle. No queue jumping here, I’m afraid. I knew there was only a few locations that offered the queue jump, but it’s all good. A bit bakey in the sun, but it’s only a few minutes. Tickets, security screening, and we’re off. First place that had security, but it is a royal residence.

Also, no photos inside, so outside only. There must be about four gift shops scattered around too.
I think I mentioned that Sarah loved the inside of Cardiff Castle. This is so much better. Stunning. Don’t take my word for it. Ask uncle Google.

As we head down towards the exit, we come to St George’s Chapel, where Harry and Meghan got married. Again no photos, and again a stunningly beautiful building, inside and out.

Just as we were leaving, there was a changing of the guard. Not a big one, just one-for-one.
So there were a group of us, crowded around, watching and photographing their goings-on. I was at the edge of the group, and there was about 20 feet space to my left.
Anyway, once they finished, the sergeant who led the replacement out, marched off into the parade ground to call out a couple of new guys for somewhere else. I was still focused on the guy in the sentry box, so had my back to him. He wheeled past me and whack, his gun butt catches me as he goes past too close. WTF???? Clearly I was standing in the wrong place, and he had no intention of veering off his path. To paraphrase my beautiful wife, ASSWIPE

Now I can hon