Last day in London...

Driving through the English countryside seemed to be a pleasant memory now that we were back in London. So many more vehicles and pedestrians in the city, as well as bicycle riders... makes me wonder how many new gray hairs my husband got during those hours of driving in London traffic.

The first stop that morning was the Musical Museum... we had gone there twice during our trip to London last year, and we couldn't wait to see it again on this trip. The tour guide last year was a very talented and enthusiastic gentleman named Roy, and we were hoping beyond hope that Roy would still be a volunteer at the museum. Not only was Roy still there, but as we drove up into the parking lot of the museum, Roy was standing outside in the sun, awaiting his first tour group of the day.

It was a pleasure to say hello once again to Roy, to tell him that we had taken his tour twice last year, and we were there for one more look-see of the vintage music boxes and musical machines within the museum.  The tour that morning was two hours long, and we thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it as if that day was the first time we'd walked through the doors of that magical building.

For lunch, we went to The Cricketeer, a restaurant across the road from a cricket field and not far from Kew Gardens.  We had eaten there last year and remembered the food to be delicious, and we thought we'd try different menu items on that second visit. Well... turns out that the head chef at The Cricketeer was "on holiday" that weekend, and the kitchen staff was floundering without him. As a result, the food we ordered was indeed delicious, but it took one solid hour from when we placed the order to when our lunch was brought to our table. As a result, the manger of The Cricketeer came over to our table and apologized profusely, and then tore up the ticket for our lunch. "Your lunch is free today, and I hope you come back when we can serve you much better."  We were just stunned.  Neither my husband nor I were pleased with the hour-long wait, but we certainly couldn't complain about the delicious food we were served.

After we left the restaurant, we drove towards Heathrow Airport, to return the rental car and then take a shuttle bus to the hotel, which was just outside the airport grounds.  Finding the correct lane to drive in to get to the car rental return area was a nightmare in itself. I think we drove around Heathrow three or four times until we finally got to the correct location. True to its history, the GPS was useless when we needed it the most. (Too much interference from the airport equipment, would be my guess.)

The hotel by the airport was very nice... but certainly not the comfortable and home-y atmosphere of the beautiful B&B houses that we had stayed in during the trip. It was a bittersweet night at that hotel.  Funny thing was the hotel had a hair-dryer right inside the bathroom in front of a large mirror, but I found myself missing the tiny bathrooms of the B&B homes and having to dry my hair in the bedroom with a very small travel-mirror propped up on a pillow. (Not a single B&B house had a wall outlet in the bathroom that would accommodate a blow-dryer.)

We had dinner that night at the restaurant within the hotel, and we talked about all the castles and churches and gardens and bookshops, and the villages and cottages and the people... the wonderful English people we met who sprinkled our trip with graciousness.  After last year's trip to London, and this year's trip to The Cotswolds, I would be hard-pressed to decide which I liked better. (But I really think I left my heart in The Cotswolds.)

London is a city filled with majesty, pomp-and-circumstance, and ancient splendor wherever you look.  The tiny villages in and around The Cotswolds gives one a different view of the English.... hard-working and home-loving, gracious and well-mannered citizens who value their property, their families, their pets, and every minute of their very lives.

We Americans are a spoiled group of people... we have so much here to be grateful for, yet we take it all for granted, for the most part. Just simple things, like a grocery store.... the American supermarkets are larger than a football field, as compared to a Tesco store in England, which is about the size of a small American kitchen.  Our roads here, built for cars and trucks, are massive when compared to ancient roads around The Cotswolds which were meant for horses and carriages.  While American shoppers expect to buy anything and everything no matter the season, the English are content to tend their kitchen-gardens and buy in-season produce at their local weekend markets. And do we, on this side of the pond, really need 30,000 sq.ft. supermarkets with 178 varieties of breakfast cereal and 213 brands of soda?

Compared to our rush-rush system in the States, the English revere and trust their traditions. They don't sit in a cafe with a cell-phone glued to their ear, and they honor their family time with conversation. And time, priceless time... it seems to me that the English know the meaning of time, and time-well-spent, to be specific.  A simple cup of tea in the English countryside could take an hour of one's time, but that hour becomes precious time that you won't ever forget.

Going back to England after last year's trip was a treat indeed. The villages of The Cotswolds, with their storybook charm and quaint cottages.... it's all so hard to describe in mere words. You have to see it, to walk around in it, to breathe the air and smell the gardens, and drink the tea, in order to truly appreciate all of it. The cherry on top of the British cake for this trip was seeing my friend J, whom I hadn't seen in years, and I don't know when I'll see again.... the time we spent together was priceless for me, worth all the more because we hadn't seen each other for so long.

Even after two trips to the UK, I'd go back to England in a heartbeat.... if I never see another country again, I don't feel as if I'd be missing much. But the thought of never seeing England again would be very sad indeed. With all that we did see in London last year, and in The Cotswolds this year, I know for certain that there's so much more to see.

In the book "84, Charing Cross Road," there's a line that says (to the effect) that when one travels to England, one finds exactly what one is looking for... that whatever the history you're searching for, whatever the style of living you're looking for... it's all still there, right there, in England... you just have to look for it, and it will be there.

I love that book. I love those words. I truly love England.

God Save The Queen.