revwaltp: June 22, 2022 - London, England

Yesterday, a union strike for the Underground started. It had been planned to go from Tuesday through Sunday. Thankfully, I didn’t have any set plans yesterday, so I didn’t really care too much. I’ve been having an issue with my Eurail pass. It is a continuous use pass for 3 months with the possibility of using it in 33 countries. You can basically get on any train throughout Europe anytime you want to and are guaranteed passage. However, (not necessarily in the fine print) you aren’t guaranteed a seat. You really need to secure a seat prior to boarding as a reservation, especially if you know when you will be traveling. Some itineraries might require that you “purchase” an upgrade to secure that seat. I’ve seen it listed, roughly, at $10-30 per trip. I haven’t had that issue…yet. I did purchase a 1st class ticket, which has given me some additional leverage thus far and I’ve not found it difficult to travel with wonderful seats (and free food/drinks!). On my way from York to London last week however, the QR code for my Eurail ticket wouldn’t come up like it had been doing on all other travels. The QR code gets linked to your account which you download and use with an app on any smart phone. I’ve tried to get the issue resolved, as it caused a minor problem during my travel to London, but no amount of trying to contact Eurail or doing anything on their website, etc…has helped. People have given me lots of suggestions and friends have given me several numbers/people to contact. Nothing has worked, even someone at the train station ticket window was unable to assist me. So, yesterday I figured I’d take care of this and just go to a travel agent and let them figure it out. No such luck. After taking busses and walking to 4 different travel agencies, I finally came to the conclusion that Travel Agents are no longer operating in England. Every office was closed - permanently, or no longer even existed! One person at the front desk of a building I’d been directed too, said, “O yeah, I guess during the pandemic, there wasn’t much they could do and we all figured out we can just go on line and do it ourselves, anyway.”

Anyway, most of the day ended up being taken up by that.

Today, I had a ticket to tour Stonehenge and Avebury (one of the largest stone circles) and even older than Stonehenge. The tour company for Stonehenge sent a reminder email and confirmation about where to meet - there were four options and you should have chosen one of them when you booked the tour. If you wanted to change this pick up location, to let them know by email. Having figured out the bus routes better by the end of the day and anticipating that the Underground would still not be working today, I realized that a different pick-up location would work better for me, so I sent an email asking to be picked up at a different one of the four locations. I figured out the route last night. This morning I got up extra early so that I’d be early for the new pick up location, just in case. It took over an hour to get there, but no worries, I was still early. At 8:50am, the time of pick-up at my previously chosen location, I received a call asking if I was going on the tour. I told them that I was and that I had sent a reply email stating that I’d prefer pick-up at the Victoria stop. Them: Well, they weren’t going to pick me up there as no one had requested that stop and it would be back-tracking for the bus, but I could meet the tour guide at the last pick-up spot, if I got there by 9:15am. So, I hopped in a taxi and spent 45 minutes to go less than 2 miles. By the time I did get there, the tour bus had already gone. So, now I’m in a debate with the office regarding a refund. They want to put me on the same tour for Sunday, instead. However, I’m leaving London on Friday. Sigh.

At first I was frustrated and a bit angry, but then reminded myself that although it’s wonderful to see “all the sites”, I’m not really here for that. It’s just a bonus. I’m here for the experience and for whatever God wants to show me along with what I’m learning regarding my Sabbatical theme. After taking a few deep breaths, I figured God had something else in mind for me today. Sometimes that becomes blatantly clear when scheduled plans get derailed - God’s plan instead becomes obvious and you realize it. But sometimes, like today, I still have no idea why I wasn’t supposed to go.

Walking a couple of blocks from the last tour pick up spot, I realized I was close to Harrods. Harrods, the world famous retail store, where you could literally buy anything. If you wanted something a little quirky and not normally at a local store, you’d set a meeting with someone on the 6th floor and “they’d make it happen.” Besides that, Harrods is known worldwide as being a very expensive department store. I hadn’t planned to go to Harrods, but since I was there….

Pocketbooks and Perfume from the world’s top designers pervade most of the first floor. I wound my way to the Food Market and Cafe. Here are some pictures.

Each pocketbook or pair of shoes only has one on display and has an entire shelf to itself. For the more expensive brands, you are admitted into a room for that brand to speak with the sales associates and to be catered to. There’s really no such thing as “browsing”.

The food market:

The escalator/staircase:

The cafe; the head barista is in a suit:

I ordered a Chai Latte and a Chocolate Croissant:

I’m sitting at their Coffee Bar and a strange memory comes to mind. You have to picture me sitting in one of the world’s most expensive department stores in the world eating a Chocolate Croissant and drinking a Chai Latte. (Don’t even ask how much it cost; they had caviar sandwiches on the menu!) There are beautiful shelves neatly stacked with gorgeously arranged packaged food items and fresh food that looks like it was lifted off the pages of a gourmet magazine. And what am I thinking about? I’m reminded of sitting at a very similar counter eating a grilled corn muffin and drinking an apple juice at West Chester’s Five and Dime store when I was less than 10 years old. THE FIVE AND DIME!!!!!!!!! When the memory flooded in, I nearly snorted - two places that couldn’t have been further from one another in reality. And yet…

What a strange juxtaposition. Honestly, the memory of that grilled corn muffin and apple juice was better.

From Harrod’s I went to Blackwell’s Book Shop. I’d ordered a book a week ago, The Theology of Food, on-line from them. It covers exactly what my Sabbatical is all about. It was published by Blackwell in London. The form on line said that it would be at the Holborn location in 2 days. It was a perfect opportunity for me to stop in and get it. Upon asking for it, the gentleman behind the counter couldn’t find my order, so he went online to “sort it” as they say A LOT here. He found out that it was only available from their warehouse in Tennessee and would take over 2 weeks to arrive. I told him that I’d be leaving London on Friday, and if that was the case, I guess I’d cancel this order and just re-order it when I got back home. It took him a really long time to process what this meant. He seemed to think or believe that I’d be back in London and could pick it up when I returned. Finally, after explaining to him three times that I actually lived in the US, he said that he could send it to my home address when it arrived. So, he took down all of my information. And then said, “that will be an extra 10 pounds.” I already paid for the book. Shipping to London from their Tennessee warehouse is free, but it’s an extra 10 pounds to have it reshipped to my home address in PA. No, thanks. I’ll just order it when I get home in the US where the book is, anyway. He was really reluctant to cancel my order. And of course, I have to wait for the refund.

Shortly after this exchange, I got a phone call from the installers who are replacing the flooring in our laundry room back at home. The installer said that they are authorized to move the washer and dryer but they are not permitted to disconnect or reconnect them. What? This moment was doomed for a less than pleasant exchange on my part.

Shortly after hanging up with him, Mom texted at “good morning”. I told her some of the above. She was sad for me and texted back, “Go to a church, pray things improve.” So, I took her advice and went to St Paul’s Cathedral.

They happened to have an orchestra practicing for a later concert. I sat listening for God’s Spirit speaking to my spirit. We were not allowed to take pictures (although I quickly took 1) and of course we were not permitted to record anything. Although I desperately wanted to record just a few seconds to share, it wouldn’t have been the same. You needed to experience the sound. Under the dome of the center of the sanctuary the sound reverberated everywhere. It echoed and lengthened, especially during melodic moments, but because the notes lingered while new notes began, it was often jarring, as well. The sound was at once above you and beside you, under you and at crucially climactic moments felt like it was coming from within you. It was truly the most glorious and strangest sound I’ve ever heard. A few seconds of a recording would never do it justice.