Tuesday, August 18, 2015

The First Pub(s)

And...we made it!

We got to JFK ridiculously early, thanks to the slightly scary skills of our driver, a Bronx native who pleased us by actually saying "Fuggedaboudit" several times, entirely without irony. The flight was predictably uncomfortable, but we did have seats in the upstairs in the double-decker plane, so we can't complain (except about the uncomfortableness, and also climbing the stairs with our luggage, and then there was the food...). And our dear Klauser surprised us at the other end, waiting with a driver of his own to take us to his flat (note the word!) for tea and sandwiches.



Before dinner chez Klauser, we stopped off at our first pub, the Roebuck, a Victorian building tucked away in a side street, which had an outdoor garden. Though it was cloudy and cool, we sat
outside and partook in local beers -- a pilsner, IPA, and stout.





Sue made us a lovely meal, complete with a cheese course and a special birthday cake for Phil, who'd had to celebrate the day before on the plane with inedible chicken and a cardboard roll.

Our B&B was fine, though the previous tenant had, for no apparent reason, dismantled all the bathroom fixtures. I spent a bewildered hour tinkering with the plumbing and wondering if this was a futuristic European thing that hadn't yet come to America (no need for faucets! The shower comes on automatically when you step inside!). The owner, as confused as we were, quickly put everything back together.

In the morning Phil and BT visited Heythrop College in toney Kensington, getting only a little bit lost due to uncrossable high-speed railroad tracks that Google forgot to include. It's where Phil will teach, and he met the various officials in charge of the London Programme. Then they made a brief stop at the Imperial
Not phallic at all
War Museum, where the students will spend considerable time -- it seems to focus more on weapons and battles, less on the class divisions and military mistakes that contributed so much to the incredible destruction of the war.

A visit to The Flask, a pub in another Victorian building, brightened them up a bit. I quote from the pub's website: The name The Flask comes from the medicinal waters known as "The Wells" which came from a spring that ran down from the heath. This water was originally preserved for the sole benefit of the poor people of Hampstead. 

We found it quite therapeutic as well.

Tomorrow: Mallorca!
                                                                                                            
                                          The Flask       


                                        The Roebuck                                                                          



 

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