London Has Been Waiting For Me

I first visited the UK as a child. My older sister had moved there, and my mother and I went to visit her. Being from Texas, I was raised knowing that I lived in the best place on earth, so it was a shock to go to another country and see that they had interesting people, delicious food, green grass, castles, bookstores, cool accents, and men wearing skirts. It shook me to my core. Then I embraced it, and I was changed.

I passed through London for less than a day, twice, in the past few years. Both times I was too jetlagged and giddy to settle down and take it all in.

Then, it all came together. I live in Paris, and my niece lives in London. I took the train to see her for Girls Weekend. London is still magnificent, maybe even better than I remembered. Here’s why.

​First off, the food. You know how you eat something delicious in childhood and you dream about it for decades and when you eat it again it’s just not that great and you feel sad, as if times had changed and nothing would ever be good again? (I tasted a Big Red soda a couple of years ago and needed therapy to cope with the disappointment.) The food I ate in London transported me, like that scene in Ratatouille where the mean food critic tastes the dish his mom made him back in the day and then he turned nice. I ate this sausage roll and became a better person.

​At the Burough Market, you can buy food to take home, food to eat right away, and stuff people make (not like I would make, stuff really talented people make). I ate this steak and kidney pie with gravy and mash (that’s British for “mashed potatoes”). The pastry was flaky and the insides were steaming and delicious. I was moved.

We went to a pub, an honest-to-goodness neighborhood pub, which is really a thing in England, and I ate fish and chips. That green stuff? Smashed peas. They smash peas and add some unicorn honey and it’s divine. Also please note the half-finished glass of  mulled wine, which was so good I almost wept. Customers came with friends and family, eating simple yet delicious food and laughing with their folks. My niece and I talked and laughed and had seconds of the wine. No regrets.

I had forgotten about the British sense of humor. Actually, it may have just been lost on me as a little kid, but I truly appreciate it now.

Who doesn’t want coffee with a tart? It’s either a tiny pie or the most interesting woman you’ve seen all week.

Get it? It’s a masonry shop, or that weekend in 1987.

The Snooty Fox. I also passed a pub called The Famous Cock but no picture because I was laughing so hard I couldn’t hold my camera straight. So much joke material there. So much.

Indulge me in my Harry Potter fandom for a second. (I still re-read Harry Potter, even though I’m a grownup because they are terrific books. I do not apologize.) Visiting London as an HP fan, I can see how the series could only take place in England. People dress in a wide variety of clothing, some ethnic, some eccentric, some just wacko. It’s a feast for the eyes, and witches and wizards in bright purple robes and pointy hats would not stand out. In Paris, people would recoil in horror and refuse to serve you. In California, they’d wonder what movie you’re in. In Texas, they’d think you’re in a cult. In England, you’re just somebody on the street, going about your business.

Doesn’t this street look like Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade? It’s just a street, seen from a department store window.

Also, that mysterious food they serve up in the Great Hall? It’s on the menus. It all came together for me this trip.

I took a long walk alone and visited the Tower Bridge and Saint Paul’s. St. Paul’s was a delight to this peace-seeking middle-aged soul. I entered less than an hour before closing, so the ticket seller gave me a year’s pass. Score! Then she informed me that the cathedral was closing to tourists soon but would have an Evensong service, if I’d like to stay. Would I?! I love a good Evensong, the late afternoon service with singing and quiet reflection. I wandered around the cathedral, enjoying the view from the Whispering Gallery that surrounds the dome, and stepping on famous people’s graves in the crypt. Arthur Sullivan is buried there, among others. (Extra credit if you tell me in the Comments section who Arthur Sullivan is.) When it was time for Evensong, I was able to be seated in the quire, the rows of seats facing each other in front of the altar. The choir, all men and boys, was divine. It was wonderful to participate in this kind of service and to experience Christianity from a different perspective. I’m in.

Other lovely things:

Here’s a view of the London skyline from the top of the Tate Modern. We saw the Modigliani exhibit--so many lovely nudes!

Here we are, my niece and me, in front of Buckingham Palace, where Queen Meghan will one day rule and the UK and the US will be united once more. No? There’s always hope.

You can pick up a book for your Tube trip at this little library.

We shopped for flowers and oddities at the Flower Market. The cactus vender called me Luv.

Finally, I packed up and went back to St. Pancras Station to catch the Eurostar home to Paris. I'll be back.