Remember, it’s just a pond

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Those were the words Lindsay said to me as we were about to board our plane from Atlanta to London. It is an eight hour flight, which makes it one hell of a pond!
We arrive at our destination, in St. Albans at 14.00 local time. We have spent 15 hours traveling, and it’s been 27 since I’d had a shower. We got lost in St. Albans looking for her brother, Robin’s house. When we finally turned around so I could find a map, we were at his place in 10 minutes. One of the first things anyone would notice is that all of the “townhouses” are narrow. I mean, there were some as little as eight feet wide. They are a bit deep, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that it’s necessary to invade another’s personal space just to pass them in the family room. It was a wonderful little place, and while we visited, we were treated to our first real food in quite a while. Lindsay’s mom had made some veggie soup and there was fresh bread that really hit the spot.
After that I collected my bags and was escorted to my bed & breakfast, The Fleuchary House. There is literally nothing better than a good b&b, and this one happened to be authentic and extraordinary. The key was waiting behind a flower pot on the front stoop (can anyone in the states imagine that?), and we let ourselves in. The room was quaint, and I don’t mean it in the typical derogatory way that it has come to be used in describing real estate as small. This room was the very definition. It had two single beds, a window looking out over the neighbor’s garden, a sink, a couch and not much else. The décor was right out of a C. S. Lewis book. The bath and toilet were down at the end of the hall, and shared with two other rooms on the second floor. Most people would’ve been put off by having to share, but I only saw one other guest the three days I was there, and that was only at the end of breakfast. It really only added to the aesthetics.
I started unpacking, but promptly fell asleep for a couple of hours next to the open window. I then got up, took a desperately needed shower and headed back to meet for dinner. My first evening in London, after crossing the Atlantic Ocean is what? La Cosa Nostra, a neighborhood Italian place, because when you visit another country, you should eat what you could’ve had back home. It was truly lovely, in all honesty, and held the record for best pizza I have ever eaten, and that included Monicals which, as anyone who’s had Monicals will attest, is the greatest pizza made. Well, now it’s qualified as the greatest made in the United States. Ironically, in just another twenty-four hours, a new winner, Gourmet Pizza, on the Thames, would take the prize.
After dinner we all walked around St. Albans, stopped in some pubs, then we sent the parents home and Robin, Lindsay and I headed out to paint the town red. We closed any number of pubs, and had a lovely time doing it. Something a traveler should know, at a pub, don’t tip, especially if it’s the owner. The British get really offended by some seemingly trivial things. I found it best to ask “why?” a lot. You rarely get the information you want, but at least you sound interested. Now, if there’s someone bringing you food, tip in cash. Even if you’re paying with a card, they likely won’t get the tip unless you leave cash on the table. If you really like the company of the owner, or manager, and you want to do something nice for them there are two acceptable choices. First, offer to buy them a pint. They will either, say thank you, pour themselves one and charge it to you, or two, not. This should not be pushed; all you can do is offer. When you leave, you should tell them what a lovely time you had, and say cheers. Which brings me to our linguistic lesson for tonight.
Oscar Wilde said, “America and Great Britain are sister countries, separated only by language.” I never thought how different the languages are, but here’s a sample:
Cheers = thank you
Ok = you’re welcome or my pleasure
Lovely = used for everything good the world could possibly have to offer, but can also be used facetiously.
Pub (public house) = a bar, restaurant, and in some cases, hotel.
Napkin = feminine hygiene product
Serviette = napkin
Bathroom = literally, room where the bath is
Toilet (aka loo) = bathroom
Way out = exit
Something else, beer is served at room temperature. Don’t go into a pub and expect a cold beer. For that matter, don’t expect anything like Bud, Coors, or Michelob. This stuff is real beer, for real beer drinkers, and it has higher alcohol content. Against everything I've always believed, I love England.

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