Change In Plans

My wife gave me good feedback on the first few posts:

• Stop talking about whether things are expensive or not
• Find some alternatives to the adjective “great”
• Write about funny things that the kids do

Great (I mean, “very constructive”) feedback

Writing funny is difficult, but let me describe our visit to ChristChurch Cathedral in Dublin. The reason we chose that site, as opposed to any of the countless other cool things to see in Dublin, is that our Viking tour guide on the “Viking Splash Tour” mentioned a mummified cat and mummified mouse that had been found in the organ pipes. For the rest of the day, Zola asked relentlessly “When are we seeing the dead cat and mouse? When are we seeing the dead cat and mouse?”

When we entered the cathedral, there was an organ-playing competition in progress, which was great (I mean, “inspiring and awesome”). Somehow, Zola’s 8-year-old brain was under the impression that the competition was a staring contest, which must have been a big deal in the Willow School second-grade class this year. He was very psyched that he was attending a huge staring contest champioship, with judges, and loud music, and a whole bunch of people in the audience. He insisted on sitting in the front row, and he kept asking India: where are the competitors? How do they get judged? What does the winner get? After a while, mother and son were very confused in their conversation.

Finally, he realized that there was no staring contest, only the weird loud music, and he was out of there like a shot. We did go down to the crypt, and saw the mummified cat and mouse, which was great (I mean, “as advertised, but really cool for an eight-year old”).

I give this about a 3 on a scale of 10 for funniness. Maybe another one later.

Being in London was great. Surprisingly, much less expensive than Ireland (Euro a lot stronger than Pound Sterling), an endless variety of things to do, and good friends to see.

I reported Zola’s missing luggage in an on-line report to the London Metropolitan Police, all done on my BlackBerry. The next day, a professional and friendly policewoman called and took all the details. They didn’t find the bag (of course), but I was amazed at the efficiency of the system.

Aside from the missing bag, and upset stomachs for Peter and India, our short stay really could not have been better.

Our hotel (Athenaeum - always great) was directly across from Green Park, and close to Hyde Park. On the first day, we spent hours running and walking in the parks, and playing at the Peter Pan playground.

We took the train down to Surrey, to see our friends Hubert and Tori and their three kids. Because of poor post-natal NHS care, their six-year-old son, Felix, is tetraplegic. This means even less motor control than a quadriplegic. I honestly don’t know how they all cope. He is a beautiful and sweet-tempered little boy, and he wants to participate so badly. Felix always makes me want to count my blessings. Their 4-year-old daughter, Imogen, and our Tallulah had a good time together, and their baby, Beatrice, is a big, beautiful 9-month old. Repeating myself, I just don’t know how they cope.

On Friday morning, we watched the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, and had the extra excitement of the queen herself being driven right past us. (India overheard a group of American teenagers immediately talking about updating their Facebook pages to record the queen spotting).

From Buckingham Palace, we went to the Natural History Museum, which Zola liked a lot, and we walked the streets and looked at the buildings for a long time. We had lunch at a Napolitano restaurant in Knightsbridge, where the simple, fresh, food made us think more about how bad the food had been in Ireland.

On Friday evening , Zola and I went to watch a “Twenty20” cricket match with our friend David and his 10-year-old son (my godson), Jake. Twenty20 takes about two hours (each team gets a maximum of 120 pitches to hit before they are done), and the game is designed to be entertaining. Unlike American baseball stadiums, where drinking is limited to little cups of watery light beer, at the cricket, the vast majority of men were carrying around four pints of beer in special holders. 45 minutes into the match, on average, the crowd was four-pint buzzed. By the end of the two hours, on average, the crowd was song-singing, Mexican-waving, foot-stomping drunk. Then we all left. It was great.

India and her friend Nicola (who, conveniently, is married to the David I was watching cricket with) took the remaining kids and went to the Nelson Mandela 90th birthday concert in Hyde Park. He has been doing these big concerts to raise money for his “46664” foundation (that was his prisoner number). The acts they had were amazing, and India, Nicola, etc. had a great time.
London is just great.

On Saturday morning, we started the long trip “home.” Having no home, this means we flew to Newark and drove to our cabin in the Catskills.