I’d been to Merry Olde England before. It was the beginning and end of our Family European Vacation in the 90’s, and more recently I’d been here in June doing the same sort of work I was here for again this time. The location is Theale, which is near Reading – about 40 miles west of London. Last time the taxi fares were ridiculously expensive. The client pays this, but I still wanted to save them money, while also staying a bit out of the way at a Marriott/Renaissance hotel back near Heathrow. So I rented a car, something I’ve never done in Europe. I’d driven on the left before however, in Australia, New Zealand, Jamaica. I had always had Debbie to navigate and remind me to stay left. This time I’d be on my own. What a disaster.
Immediately after arrival I drove out to Windsor to see Windsor Castle. I had no trouble finding the main motorway, M4. I had no trouble finding the exit for Windsor. I had a great deal of trouble, however, following the directions into town, which was only a couple miles. When I did finally get there, it was seemingly almost by accident. But this little spell of being lost finding the village would prove to be nothing. Now the problem was where to park. All of the street areas and parking lots required exact change, and I had only large bills. After several tries, I finally did find a lot that had a change machine.
I walked around the village for a while, and then headed into the castle. It’s a village in itself. You can tell right from the start that it’s a “proper” castle, with a moat, turrets, etc. Of course it has changed and grown over the centuries, but it is the largest and oldest royal castle that is still in continuous use. I think for over 800 years. These days the royal family uses the castle on weekends and for special occasions. The Queen’s colors are flying from the top of the keep when she’s in residence; otherwise it’s the union jack, as it was when I was there. Also, when the royal family is present, some of the state rooms that I toured are closed to the public, so that they may actually be used. The ones I saw were appropriately grand. There were also some famous works of art. Besides the state rooms, some other castle highlights were the chapel, which was grand, and the royal guards.
One would think that finding my way back to the hotel afterwards would be no big deal. After all, it was very close to the airport, on one of the busy nearby roads. But nooo. I accidentally passed the exit and was forced to remain on the motorway almost all the way into central London. This was a near disaster, but I did manage to turn back and again, only by dumb luck, find my way back.
The being lost stuff would actually get worse over the next couple days of work. One would think that once I figured out one way to get to the hotel, that I could just continue to repeat that. But nooo. Not when I only find it by dumb luck. My next bout with being lost was the worst – I got off the motorway one exit too early and found myself on another one going the wrong direction. And then, after many miles I was finally able to get off to try to turn around, but I found myself unable to do so – because I was on yet another motorway! This was truly motorway hell. I should say one good thing about driving in Britain. Only one. The drivers are extremely courteous. No cutting people off; no road rage. I almost never heard the toot of the angry horn. And there were plenty of time where people had reason to be angry enough at me for a toot.
Another experience to report: lunch with at a proper pub. Interestingly, my client had to leave his credit card with the proprietor to cover any tap fee. When I asked, huh?, he told me it was to prevent us from having a beer and running off without paying for it. We weren’t even having beer; we were there for the fine cuisine. And the pub grub really was pretty good.
“Remember, remember the fifth of November.” I haven’t forgotten this extremely profound little poem I learned from the movie, “V for Vendetta”. It turns out that, as noted in the movie, the people of Britain actually do commemorate the day that some anarchist nearly succeeded in firebombing parliament in the 17th century. They celebrate with fireworks and bonfires. The most fun, I take it, is the making of a straw man and throwing him into a bonfire, as was done with the anarchist. I’m really not sure whether this is out of respect or contempt for the guy; maybe a bit of both. I did witness plenty of random fireworks on my way back to the hotel that night. I also smelled the smoke of bonfires as I got out of the car. Don’t know if any anarchists were burning.
Earlier on that fateful 5th or November, I awoke at 4am to watch John McCain and Barak Obama’s speeches as the election concluded. I was surprised at the amount of interest on this side of the pond, and it’s almost all positive. The TV networks and newspapers are full of it. So were the folks I was working with. One guy stayed up all night watching the returns, although he was up with his young baby anyway. But he made his 8-month old son watch Obama’s speech so that the boy would witness the historical moment.
.JPG)
.JPG)
