Sunday, September 4, 2011
Once inside the Gatwick Airport, chaos striked out like a sputtering of bullets. People were everywhere. Confused like us.
“Where’s luggage?” Sweetman asked, pulling me along.
“Don’t ask me. I’ve never been here. I’m following you.”
Well, they do things a bit backwards in Gatwick from the Tampa Airport. One must stand in line for an hour to prove you’ve a got a foreigner's passport before one can retrieve their luggage. It didn’t help when we got in line with a Har Krishna dude (very happy guy) and a nose-picking child who gawked at Sweetman and me.
Impatience had Sweetman rocking back and forth on his heels. Little gasps and grunts escaped him. I thought for sure the morphing process from human to monster would take place in front of everyone. Curly hairs from his chest were now waiving at me from the top of his collar. The process had to be near to finish.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered.
“You know, for a Jew, you sure do call out his name a lot lately,” I said. “What does H stand for. Horus?”
He mumbled something under his breath.
I shrugged and pulled out my camera.
“What are you doing now?” he asked.
“I’m going to take pictures,” I said.
He pointed to a sign. NO PICTURES ALLOWED. Above that another one read: LINE FOR IRIS SCANNERS. We can’t take pictures of them but they can take pictures of everyone's eye innards. WTF!
“You’re going to get us arrested,” he said.
I rolled my eyes and tucked my camera back into my purse.
I know you guys are dying for some pictures but I had to tell you the Gatwick story.
On with the pictures but I must warn you first. There’s not too many since I was totally wiped out from the flight there. Sleep pervaded the halls of my mind. I needed sleep and we were there a whole twenty-four hours before we took the flight to Israel.
We stayed at Grovenor’s House.
This is the foyer.
AWWWW…the bed.
On our way to Piccadilly Circus
I want one of these for our living room. It would make for a nice conversation piece.
This delicious tower is for Christina and Beth. Sorry, but I couldn’t stuff it in my suitcase.
Eve and Norma, I thought of you guys, too. But the pastries just gooed into my clothing and Sweetman totally morphed over it.
I haven’t a clue what this is. Possibly a centerpiece for Sir Wills's coffee table.Yeah! That’s what it is.
The Ritz
This is a centerpiece for Sir Wills's dining room table.
This is where we stopped for cocoa and cappuccino.
I love the double-decker buses.
Time traveling back to the sixties.
How’s that for time travel?
Haven’t got a clue where I’m at now. Somewhere in London.
I’m all for toys. And not, the chitty-chitty-bang-bang ones.
We ended our day here for the most part but it was expensive and not worth writing about. The food and service sucked.
I could hardly wait to jump into the giant bed and go to sleep. It was lovely, too. Soft sheets. Fluffy pillows. Nice dreams.
Okay. That’s all for now folks!
See you tomorrow with more exciting travel tales!
Shelly
