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| Allie and LT in Allie's dorm room. |
Wednesday, October 6 into Thursday, October 7, 2010 Stan picks us up in Grandma Phyllis’ car at 10:00AM for our 12:45PM United Flight # 934 to London. At check-in, we attempt to scan our passports using a slit in the kiosk and realize the real “scanner” is a foot away. Luckily, Eli could grasp the wedged in passport with her fingernails and extract the undamaged document. Unfazed by our technological naiveté, Eli then proceeds to touch the screen to change our seats to window 44K and 45K and we anxiously see that we are going to be charged $327, so she immediately hits “discontinue.” We question a nearby clerk who reassures us that if the machine didn’t ask us to swipe a credit card, we won’t be charged. Then, when we go back into the program, we see we got the window seats and were not charged. The flight food was awful. Upon arrival at Heathrow Airport in London, we are given a huge Ford mini-van with “Magic” pushbutton ignition—the “key” merely has to be near or inside the car for the button to work-- that a worker has to help us understand how to use. At 8:30AM, we depart for Dover viewing lush green rolling hillsides just outside London. When we arrive at Dover and glimpse the docks, we recall our honeymoon arrival 27 years earlier. After threading through the town, always remembering to stay on the left side of the road, we wind our way up to the Dover Castle—a Norman structure dating from the 1100’s. It reminds us of Cherveux but on a grander scale—or a small white Tower from London itself. Inside the castle we climb wide stone stairwells and view huge medieval rooms decorated with period furnishings, including giant smoking fireplaces.
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| LT at Dover |
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| LT at tunnel entrance |
At the very top, braced by a stiff cold wind of the English Channel, we admire the port of Dover and the white cliffs. When it starts to drizzle, we head into the restaurant for pumpkin soup and a small glass of Shiraz. Then, on a whim, we enter the gift shop and see if we can join a tour of the Dover war tunnels—built during Napoleonic times but used extensively in WWI and WWII. The tour is booked, but the guide soon arranges for us to join a tour leaving in 5 minutes. The tunnel is staged to look exactly as it did during the Dunkirk evacuation in 1940, with war room tables, chairs, hospital rooms and beds, telephone center, even a sound track. On the guided tour we follow what would have happened to a downed British aviator fighter pilot with a broken leg as he was rescued and brought to this spot. We learned that sutures could be made from red hair or sterilized silk stockings. It is like walking through a stage set for a BBC weekly episode on Masterpiece Theatre. We depart for Canterbury and turn on St. Dunstan Street and eye the ancient Westgate still surviving from the town’s medieval wall.
The Falstaff Hotel, where we are staying for the first two nights, is right across the street. Eli executes a miraculous turn and we enter a spacious gravel parking lot behind the hotel.
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| Allie outside the back of the Falstaff |
We unpack in our cozy room, dating from the 1400’s and then embark for the University of Kent where we hope to locate Allie. By unfailing instinct, Eli locates the turn for the University, negotiates all the turns and we wind up at Parkwood, where Allie lives. Eli rings the doorbell and Allie descends from her second floor room.
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| Allie in her kitchen |
With Allie in tow, we drive her back to the Falstaff, park, then walk through the Westgate, soon locating Zizzi—a fine Italian chain restaurant—to which the Falstaff has given us a 10% off coupon. In a cozy backroom with a huge fireplace, we start with “princess” green olives, baby-sized bucket of fried calamari.
Friday, October 8 In the morning Eli picks up Allie and brings her back to the Falstaff Hotel for a breakfast of sausages, tough bacon, light-colored scrambled eggs, beans, yogurt, stewed prunes, mandarin oranges. After dropping off Allie for her Friday French class, we return to Canterbury, buy stamps, film and then enter the “precincts” of the Cathedral. Because there is a formal ceremony for Kent “justices” and barristers, the actual cathedral is closed, but we are allowed to visit the crypts where we join a Dutch group and hear a very knowledgeable English guide explain all the secrets of the Thomas Beckett shrine which pilgrims have been visiting since the 1100s. We return to the Falstaff, where LT naps and Eli explores the town and discovers the boat tours. At 3:00 PM, we sign up at the Weaver Restaurant (a very authentic and impressive Elizabethan half timbered structure). Ben our rower had just the day before defeated every other rower and been declared champion of the River Stour. Ben rows us past the surviving ruins of Grey Friars (Franciscan monastery—grey was the natural color of wool, needing no dye, and was adopted as the cheapest habit by the Franciscans) and the King’s School art display—tuition $50,000 per year. We ducked our heads beneath many low bridges and on our return saw the “Ducking Stool” used to detect witchcraft or punish nagging wives. Since it is nearing dinnertime, we head for the University of Kent, and Eli delivers the contents of a suitcase full of survival gear she has brought for Allie. Later, we all re-tour the Canterbury city center looking for more restaurants. Café Mauresque, highly recommended by Frommer, looks dark and uninviting. We settle on BoHo—a few doors down from Zizzi-- and enjoy abundant antipasti—cheeses, prosciutto, olives, baguette, rocket lettuce, humus and a plate of steamed mussels, before LT digs into a confit duck leg with black current sauce and “bubble and squeak” plenty of mashed potatoes with spinach and bacon in it. BoHo seems like a real student hangout, with an Italian poster for the original Woodstock on the wall and tables full of happy students.
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| LT digging into the starters at BoHo |
Saturday, October 9, Eli
and LT breakfast on more Falstaff delights, including freshly baked rolls, which Eli praises for being crunchy on the outside with steam upon opening as she slathers them in British butter. After sampling the English breakfast, we try to depart for Rye. Leaving the Falstaff we exit Canterbury along the medieval wall. We soon see a long line of cars stretching perhaps 5 miles in the opposite direction—all hopeful weekend pilgrims seeking the enjoy the unusually fine sunny weather in Canterbury. We miss a key turn—easy to do on the English roundabouts—but Eli blithely executes a U-turn and headed in the correct direction. We pass green pastures dotted with flocks on white sheep, and, then, after successfully navigating several chaotic roundabouts we enter Rye and steer into a Jenson’s grocery store lot and dock our vehicle. Vehicles get 2 hours free parking, and there are all sorts of scary signs warning of the consequences of over-staying the two-hour limit. As we take off uphill, LT can recognize the square bell-tower of Rye’s St. Mary’s church. Eli nips in at a bookstore and gets directions to Henry James’ Lamb House, where “the master” lived for nearly 20 years and wrote most of his major books—The Ambassadors, The Wings of the Dove, The Golden Bowl.
It turns out we are quite close to West Street, at the top of which lies Lamb House, which is only open on Thursday and Saturdays—so we are lucky it is a Saturday—but which does not open its doors until 2:00PM. It is now about 12:30PM. Luckily, West street connects with Mermaid St, and we are 4 doors away from the famous Mermaid Inn, which was a famous smuggler’s hangout and dates from the 1400s. We quickly enter-- there are signed pictures of Judy Dench and Johnny Depp near the entry area-- a long, Elizabethan wooded dining room with elegantly appointed tables, fine decorated ceramic plates, and are escorted to a window seat, where we can look out over the town. It is a lovely summery sunny day, and lots of folks are eating out in the garden area. Our table is set with fine English linen, porcelain, suited waiters hover discreetly around us. From the 20-pound fixed price menu, Eli selects bacon-wrapped scallops in Lobster cream with fresh peas, followed by Cod in vanilla butter with broccoli flowers and rocket salad. For 24 pounds, LT splurged on a whole (massive) Dover Sole fried in butter and accompanied with sliced fingerling potatoes and spinach. We select a French rose to wash down this harvest from the English Channel. For dessert we have wonderful British cheeses.
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| Eli on Rye cobblestones outside Mermaid Inn |
Lunch lasted longer than we expected, so we paid our bill and walked uphill to James’s house, which was now open. After listening to a fine brief summary of James’s work and acquaintances at the house, we hastily tour the 3 open downstairs rooms and the wonderful garden.
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| LT outside Henry James's Lamb House in Rye |
We arrived in the Jensen’s parking with no time to spare and enjoyed a smoother ride back to Canterbury, where we now checked into the Victoria on the London/Canterbury road. After settling in, we picked up Allie at 5:30PM, showed her our new digs and then walked perhaps 1 1/2 miles from the Victoria along the Stour River to town, where after much deliberation and discussion, LT pressures Eli into returning to Zizzi, where he again insists—amidst teasing from both Allie and Eli-- on having the wonderful chicken Caesar salad with its precisely cooked and very flavorful chicken breast. When we finish dinner, we drive Allie back to Parkwood. We tucked ourselves into bed in our third floor room at the Victorian, and Eli watched British TV, commercials and “Grime Busters” until she fell asleep.
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| Dinner at Zizzi--great chicken caesar salad |
Sunday, October 10 We are on our own this morning because Allie has a tea engagement, so we drive to Herne Bay via the University of Kent campus. Traveling through the narrow, tree-tented roads our goal is Herne Bay, where the “downstairs” servants from the old 70’s “Upstairs, Downstairs” TV program would take their once a year holiday—led by Mr. Hudson and Mrs. Bridges. We are bundled in our warmest clothes while the locals sport T-shirts with 55 degree temperatures and a blustery Arctic wind—described on the helpful tourist plaques along the beach walk as “champagne” air because there is nothing between Herne Bay and the Arctic Circle. We watch folks on jet-skiis, small yachts in a regatta a few miles offshore. At 12:00 Noon, we open “Le Petit Poisson,” a small new fish restaurant for which we received a color flyer when we were in the Falstaff. It does not disappoint us.
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| White seabass |
The owner Valerie, who is a Belgian woman, describes the specialties to us and we settle on a French Rose to accompany LT’s white sea bass (@14 quid) with pine nut crusted bubble and squeak with red currant sauce—and finely cut red cabbage on the side. Eli opts for pan-fried grey mullet topped with a sauce that includes lots of crumbly tasty bacon and almonds and plenty of broccolis on the side. For dessert, we couldn’t resist the poached William pear with warm almond cake (warm, moist, very tasty) and ginger ice cream, which is cool and tangy with a real fresh ginger taste. This is an incredible desert, which we will order again when we take Allie to “Le Petit Poisson” in a few days. The Poire William dessert seems to be the perfect Christmas meal finale. We share a small glass of sweet white dessert wine.
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| Allie, Eli and LT lunching at Le Petit Poisson |
We return to the U of K via Whitstable—making several false turns. But this is OK because—though we don’t know it yet-- we’ll be returning to Whitstable with Allie on Thursday for an incredible meal at “Birdie’s” fish restaurant. More about that later. Alas, when we arrive at Allie’s she announces that her tea wasn’t at 10:00AM as she thought but at 3:30PM. Since Monday is a heavy class day for Allie, we reluctantly part and agree to rendezvous at 11:30AM on Tuesday when her classes are over. Back in Canterbury town, Eli and LT walk from the Victorian to the Westgate for a 55-minute “punting” tour of the River Stour. This is the ultimate, relaxing “Wind in the Willow” experience as we glide past long necked white swans, ducks and Monet- Giverney style bridges. With long-branched willow trees framing both sides of the river, we sit side by side and occasionally pump our punter guide for information about the town and re-arrive at the West gate-feeling fine.
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| Our view while being punted down the River Stour |
Needing some form of dinner even though we had a real “feed” at “Le Petit Poison” we wander East gate side streets and finally agree on re-turning to Zizzi for its high quality food and 14
th Century location. LT insists on again having the 5-star Chicken Caesar Salad with its exquisitely broiled chicken breast. Eli goes for Spinach salad, avocado, red onion, and finely shaved reggiano cheese. At the meal’s conclusion, Eli peruses the dessert menu and discovers an amaretto soaked apple, hazelnut crumb-dusted offering served in a black ramekin and accompanied with homemade pistachio ice cream. The dessert—it has a wonderful sounding Italian name that I can’t remember-- is simply divine.
Monday, October 11 We awoke in the Victoria, then made tea and watched house auctions and re-models, and then “heir-hunters” on the TV. At 10:30AM, we departed for Leeds Castle near Maidstone. As always, the map system and the roundabouts lead us a merry chase. When Eli feels we’ve traveled too far on the “right” road, she inquires at a gas station and finds out we’ve missed the correct turn by about 3 miles. On the way back, we see plenty of sings for “Leeds Castle,” but in the other direction—the one we’d gotten lost on—there had been no clarifying signs. Leeds Castle is an imposing Norman structure located on two islands in the middle of a lake.
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| Eli and LT outside their new home -- Leeds Castle |
It is interesting both as medieval architecture and as a hub of late 1920’s jazz age social activities since it was bought by Lady Olive Baillie (Pauline Whitney’s daughter) and turned into a very fashionable home. For the admission fee of 17.50 for Eli and 15 for LT’s “senior” rate, we walk through the 500 incredible acres of sweeping hillsides and wonderfully kept grass and parkland, with white, black, and black-necked swans as well as peacocks parading around us. We try to imagine the 1920’s when these animals were complemented with zebras and llamas roaming beside them. We start up a conversation with Brian, one of the head docents, in the long banquet room—where the day before they had had a wedding dinner—and he gives us the benefit of his 16 years on the property. He points out Lady Baille’s hidden staircase—descending from her bedroom on the second floor right into the banqueting hall. He also explains how the two portraits of Richard II are really copies. We enjoyed his inside commentary, as he had actually met Lady Baille’s son Gawaine and the estate’s executor Geoffrey Lloyd, who actually ran the castle after it was given to the British nation. After touring all the rooms, which again made us think we were walking through the set of a BBC Masterpiece Theater series, we adjourned to the Fairfax Restaurant, where we take window seats and have a stunning view of the Castle as we LT dines on “gammon” with baked potatoes, carrots, turnips, and Eli samples a leek quiche with red cabbage, lettuce, walnuts, chutney and pickle cornichons.
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| LT right outside the Fairfax Restaurant |
After this splendid lunch, we attempt to solve the green hedge maze, but we soon get stuck and need the help of the “guide” who stands at the top. We exit through the underground grotto, a tribute to Neptune, Ovid, and Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner.
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| Eli at top of Leeds Maze |
We stroll back to the gift shop and learn from posted signs that a male swan is a cob, a female swan is a pen, and a young swan is a cygnet. We also read about water voles—like Ratty from Wind in the Willows
We head back to Canterbury and (as if the Leeds Castle maze wasn’t difficult enough) face the challenge of navigating the city center streets until we strike upon the ones leading us into the actual Cathedral precincts. For the next three nights, we are staying the Canterbury Cathedral Lodge, located perhaps 50 yards from the cathedral. Eli’s solution is to follow the roads that parallel the ancient city walls. After a couple of missed turns, Eli courageously doing a three-point turn in the middle of traffic on narrow streets, we thread the needle and gain entrance through the “postern gate.” For 85 pounds we have a postcard view of the cathedral, which seems to be lighted in the evening just for our delight. Holly, the receptionist (who has just graduated with a degree in marketing) recommends that we dine at “The Dolphin,” which she says is a cozy and friendly pup. We stroll down Palace Street and locate the pub, which lives up to Holly’s description. There are stacks of board games neatly stacked in shelves along the wall, and we learn that on some days all the middle tables are devoted to folks who play them. LT goes for a large British burger with cheddar cheese and onions, while Eli has fish and chips. We wash this food down with an assortment of half-pints recommended by two very helpful waiters, who are probably in their early twenties. Admiring the Kentish ales, LT falls in love with “The Golden Braid” a light, hoppy ale that is perfect with his burger. Eli finds out that “the black cider” is a favorite drink of college girls, comprised of Strongbow Cider with red current cordial added—“a sweet fizzy drink” according to the two waiters—which we sample this concoction in a small shot glass. We walked home through the nearly empty streets, sometimes hearing the bell chimes from the cathedral and sometimes turning a corner and seeing the cathedral towers vaulting towards the dark night sky. In a way, it is like being in Venice since there are no cars on the narrow streets and many streets do not allow cars at any time.
Tuesday, October 12 After breakfast in the “Refectory”—tea, coffee, rolls, cheese, ham, mandarin oranges, stewed prunes, grapefruit, apple and orange juice—we visit the Pound store--Poundland-- and Wilkinson’s for Allie essentials.
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| LT and Allie in the Library of the Cathedral Lodge |
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| Allie and LT with van outside Cathedral Lodge |
As previously arranged, at 11:30AM we pick up Allie under cloudy skies and head out to Herne Bay again. Returning to “Le Petit Poison,” Eli has Brill—soft white smooth fish fillet with lemon and capers. LT has the whole Dover sole—which he must de-bone himself-- in anchovy butter. Allie selects Bream with leeks. We again choose a French rose to accompany this haul of fish from the Channel. After sharing the Poire William dessert, we walk along the paved beach strand until we reach the party-colored bathing sheds with line the shore and had excited our interest when we first pulled into Herne Bay a few days ago. Then we return to the Cathedral Lodge, where Allie enjoys British TV, a hot shower, and a real hair dryer, while Eli and LT tour the cathedral proper. At 5:30 PM, we return Allie with some groceries to her Parkwood room. Our return to the city center is exciting, because after 6:00PM the usual “postern gate” is closed, and we must cautiously drive on the pedestrian only streets (with permission since we are “Lodge” dwellers) and turn right into the famous Christchurch gate (with its medieval blazonry and heraldic emblems), where all the tourists line up to buy tickets during the daylight hours. Walking along the city streets later that evening, LT decides we should dine at Posilippo Pizza—a highly recommended Frommer choice—located down Palace Street and 20 years past the entrance to Kings School. Although the restaurant is nearly empty, we enjoy great food. LT has white sea bass and Eli has scallops wrapped in proscuitto—she determines that this is the “only” way to prepare scallops.
Wednesday, October 13 For breakfast at the Refectory, we have yogurt, fruit. Eli experiments by opening a small plastic package of “marmite” which tastes brown and “yeasty” (like distilled gravy?). She accompanies this with cheese, ham and “a gallon” of coffee. On our morning shopping tour—which is our way of assimilating British culture since we see everyone going about their daily tasks—we return to “Wilko,” that is Wilkinsons—and buy Allie a hair dryer, a shower caddy, a kitchen utensil organizer, and various toiletries. We also revisit the Pound store for some additional items. We deposit all these essential items in our large Ford mini-van and remove one of the large suitcases for grocery shopping at Tesco. While LT waits at the checkout line with the suitcase—intended to help us transport our haul back to the mini-van—Eli ambles through the store selecting items Allie might need in order to create a special “Los Angeles style” dinner for her 5 other suite mates. Eli assembles ingredients for a Mexican extravaganza as well as spaghetti red sauce, soup cans, chicken breasts, and ground meat. We use the self-check out line and our assisted several times by a helpful young woman who knows how to make the machine do things we can’t. Unable to lift the suitcase into the mini van trunk, we unpack it bag by bag. We pick up Allie and persuade her to take the perishable chicken, beef, and veggies and then we embark for Chillham, which we’d heard about the day before from a professorial-type gentleman (“slightly older than Lloyd” as Eli now likes to say) who was backing out of the parking line just as we were. Ten miles SW on A 28 off a roundabout and hidden up a forest-lined drive we park and walk a few hundred yards uphill to the little hamlet of Chillham, which is basically a village square lined with impressive Elizabethan half-timbered two story buildings and a 11th Century church with the typical square Norman bell tower. For lunch we choose the White Horse Inn—a pub where we start off with green and black pitted olives and homemade bread that is almost like cake.
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| LT and Allie "lunch" at the White Horse |
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| Chillham bookstore |
For our main course, Eli has a large bowl of chicken curry—so large she only eats the scented green meat. Allie goes for steak and ale with puff pastry top, and LT wisely decides to splurge on the “fish pie” a tour de force of channel fish, which includes salmon, haddock, and cod covered with a mashed potato topping. The portions are huge and we stagger out of the White Horse and tour the small town, focusing on the 11th century St. Mary’s church where the inside has a musty aroma and a crate of apples perfumes the air. It has a beautiful blue stained glass window behind the altar. Outside on the crunchy gravel we head to a gift shop and purchase a souvenir for Hillary—a “crafts” book for children which hopefully contains some ideas for exciting the imaginations and calming the tempers of her STARS kids. Eli is stunned that LT apparently is oblivious to the odor of horses in the town—even though he is the only one who remembers seeing two women riding horses while we were all sitting at the pub eating. We wind back through the Kentish roads and deposit Allie back at Parkwood. LT naps and Eli does email—on the free Internet computer located in the book-lined library in the cathedral lodge-- and shops. Later on in the evening, still full-bellied, we stroll the cold quiet city streets noting the Christmas decorations and then slip into Tesco to buy a smoked chicken and basil sandwich and bottle of white wine to share back in our room. Returning to the lodge after dark is always exciting because we are like solitary pilgrims going under the famous Christchurch gate. While we eat our frugal repast, we watch British TV and see a channel four program that explains how to butcher a rabbit.
Thursday, October 14. Eli makes a second attempt at “marmite” this time thinly spread on some bread and she realizes its appeal. LT again holds off on a full English breakfast and chooses fruit and yogurt, as he knows lunch will be a treasure. This is the day we are pulling out of Canterbury and checking into the “Arora” Heathrow Airport Hotel—which turns out to be a splendid place although we didn’t know it at the time, nor did we realize the hell-ish amount of driving near the airport and pedestrian walking “avec baggage” it would take for us to actually locate the hotel. Our before departure shopping includes a revisits to the Cathedral gift shop, sea salt at the Poundland, stamps at W. H. Smith’s.
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| Eli in front of her favorite store |
Inspecting the McDonalds at the end of the High Street, Eli sees porridge and bacon buns offered for breakfast. There is a chipotle wrap that is called a Hoisin wrap—chicken/cucumber and hoisin sauce. She cynically notes that McDonald’s coffee comes only with milk—Cream is available only at Starbucks—and there is no senior discount as in the United States. When we were in Paris, we saw McDonalds everywhere and LT had fallen deeply in love with the coffee. Here in Canterbury there appears to be only one McDonalds. As we check out of the Lodge, the middle-aged woman with long wavy grey hair who has become Eli’s confidant tells us that we should forget going to Faversham, but instead drive to Whitstable for our last meal. Her advice is golden. She, too cannot recall the name of the character in “Upstairs, Downstairs” who plays the head butler—Gordon Jackson is real name, and we later find out he is called Hudson in the series. We pick up Allie at Parkwood for our last meal together. By now, Eli could drive to Herne Bay with her eyes closed and we quickly locate the colorful bathing sheds and turn West for Whitstable. After mistakenly trying to enter a parking lot on the town outskirts, we retrace out steps on narrow streets, gain the main road and find a good parking spot. A local helps us figure out how to buy time on the parking machine. At Wheelers—recommended to us as Whitstable’s top dining spot by the owner at “Le Petit Poisson” the previous Sunday—we discover there are no tables available and we will have to take our chances at the “counter” and even for that, we must wait until 1:00PM. The owner recommends we try “Birdies” down the street.
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| In Whitstable, we lunch at Birdies, our favorite restaurant |
Birdies is a British restaurant dedicated to French cuisine. There is a 13.50 pound prix fixe two-course meal where Eli chooses half a baked local lobster, Allie has steak with blue-cheese butter, and LT goes for a sea bass fillet with capers and brown butter. For a change, we choose a Sancerre Rose, which has the distinctive Sancerre taste but a beautiful deep rose color. With these come a side of thinly sliced zucchini and baked yams. Our cheese course is British cheddar and a French “delite de Burgoyne” triple cream. Both are delightful and made perhaps even better by the small glass of dessert wine and port which Eli surreptitiously asks our waitress Nancy to bring to the table.
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| Cheese Store where we buy more Delite de Burgoyne |
Near the end of the meal, Eli starts taking pictures and an elderly woman at a nearby table, introduces herself and snaps all of us in the photo. We talk to her a bit sharing our enthusiasm for the food and the coastline. She agrees and hopes to meet us again in the spring.
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| Cheese course at Birdies |
As we return to the Parkwood parking lot, Allie’s mobile—as the British call them—slips under the back seats and is swallowed up in darkness. We spend several anxious minutes trying to retrieve it before Dr. Eli uses her slender fingers and successfully extracts it in two pieces, which Allie confidently clips back together. We exchange hugs and kisses and then leave Allie at her British University home for the next year.
The drive to Heathrow Airport was quick, but once we entered the airport roads, it quickly became hellish. We had an awful time locating the Hertz lot, which was in the opposite direction from Avis and Enterprise. Eli made a few three-point turns and eventually we turned into the Hertz lot. We unloaded our heavy wheeled suitcases, got some semi-helpful directions from the attendants and began the walk to the “Arora” [yes, this is the correct spelling no “u” after the a] hotel. We had seen it across the road, but didn’t realize how hard it would be to race across the speeding traffic—like illegal immigrants—tug the small, hitherto fore reliable wheels over the soft loamy dirt before eventually reaching the hotel. The Arora hotel itself was excellent. We had a warm, clean 4th floor (452) room with a huge bath and felt quite comfortable. For our last English meal, we descended to the dining room. LT had chicken Caesar salad—the dressing was slightly sweet and spoiled the otherwise excellent chicken breast that included three anchovy slices—an overwhelming but enjoyable blast of saltiness. The Caesar chicken salad was nothing to compare with Zizzi, but still not bad for airport fare.
Friday, October 15 We awoke before 6:00AM, Eli made tea; we made one last check of our suitcases, took the elevator down and checked out. At the bus stop right in front of the hotel, we waited perhaps 2 minutes before a “U” bus pulled up and took us to Heathrow Center. We immediately wheeled our cases to Terminal 3, before noting on one of the signs that United was actually in Terminal 2, so we retraced our steps and after lots and lots of walking—during which it seemed like we passed “tube” stops which we had used when we were last in England back in 2004 (5?), we located the United check in line. Once we checked in and deposited our suitcases, we hit the waiting area. LT found a barstool seat, while Eli got some coffee. After waiting in a long line, she returned with her coffee and we both shared the British cheese and small roll we’d bought the day before in Whitstable.
It had been a great trip. We’d spent some part of almost every day with Allie, eaten many incredibly memorable meals, and now had lots of local detail to help us imagine how Allie will be spending her days.
