Beer run in the 23rd minute

December 8, 2023 Amy O3 Comments

After missing out on the Postal Museum Friday because it was fully booked, we scrapped our original plans to visit the Freud Museum on Saturday morning and properly booked reservations for the Postal Museum instead. The famous couch must await our next visit.

The highlight of my husband’s trip occurred at a coffee shop called Mouse Tail, just up the street from the Postal Museum. We had arrived early with hopeful hearts that we might get in before our scheduled time. Hopeful hearts dashed again, but quickly consoled with a warm pot of tea at the Mouse Tail.

As a backdrop to the highlight, my husband has become a committed student of the Italian language. He started exploring it around the time we moved to California and immersed himself completely during the pandemic. Over the past few years he has participated in Italian language classes, listened to Italian podcasts, has a standing, weekly appointment with an Italian via Italki, and participated in an Italian book group. That’s the formal stuff. Informally, he has visited Italy on several occasions, changed the language on his phone to Italian, and watched Italian movies with Italian subtitles regularly.

I understand almost no Italian. My biggest nightmare is driving with him somewhere where his phone automatically connects with Bluetooth in our car and I am tasked with removing it from Bluetooth or finding a specific app while navigating the Italian on his phone. My husband somewhat reluctantly agreed to come to London this weekend because he is taking an official Italian fluency test on Tuesday and has been studying like a madman. He hadn’t planned a break from his studying, especially after needing to be in Florida right before our trip to help with his parents’ move to assisted living.

On the plane to London, while I was sitting with my United Airlines-issued new husband after receiving our Basic Economy seat assignments, I learned after the flight that my REAL husband got assigned to a seat where he happily discovered that his seat mate was reading a book in Italian. He pictured himself speaking Italian across the pond, arriving in London well-practiced for his exam. Unfortunately, his seatmate, a native of Milan, had very little interest in speaking Italian with him. We ran into her on the Tube at the airport on the way into London. She greeted him very cordially and then quickly moved to another part of the car.

No matter where we travel, my husband is always attuned to people speaking Italian….or with accents in English that he judges to be Italian. My radar has become attuned to noting that his radar has detected an Italian speaker. He is almost always right, and usually the Italians he finds are happy to converse in Italian.

At the Mouse Tail, which was empty except for the barista, we ordered drinks and sat waiting for them to be delivered. Of the barista, my husband said, “I think she’s Italian.” I was doubtful. To me she sounded like she could be German. Naturally, my husband couldn’t resist finding out. Because although he had been soundly rejected on our flight over, every new opportunity to maybe speak Italian is an opportunity that must be explored.

She was Italian. They had a long & friendly conversation in Italian, so long that we could easily have missed our reservation time at the Postal Museum.

But we did not. We made it on time, where the first order of business was to ride a train through the Postal tunnels. The tunnels are tight, so the train is downsized. My husband is 6’2” and his head was just under the ceiling. The ceiling of the train is clear so you can see the tunnels very clearly. The train stops along the way to point out history of the Postal tunnels, details of how the trains worked, what workers did with the mail at various platforms, and safety features. The train takes about 15 minutes and then you are deposited back at the station to enjoy the exhibits that delve into more detail and allow you to participate like a worker. They are kid-friendly but interesting for adults as well.

We had reservations for lunch at the Holly Bush near Hampstead Heath, a place we had visited for Sunday Roast in the past, long ago. This is a lovely little pub. Great ambiance, nice menu, and the food is delicious and beautiful. I failed to take pictures of the food except of this amazing dessert. It claimed to be a crème brûlée, but the crème part was covered top and bottom NOT in a torched sugar crust but in a ganache-like chocolate layer that was out of this world. And covered in these lovely wafer-like leaves.

We had to rush off to the match, connecting in the St. Pancras station to the Piccadilly line. St. Pancras was thronged with people and when the first train pulled up it was completely full. We were pushed into the train where we gratefully co-existed with all of humanity for a few stops, much as a tuna coexists with other tuna in a tuna can, except for the getting-out-of-the-can-at-the-station part. It seems that some labor action caused parts of the Tube to be closed down or delayed, so people were running late into the stadium. Still, the entry to the stadium was smooth and we found ourselves in our seats in the Clock End.

Much lower seats this time, just a dozen rows into the upper stadium. And right next to the aisle, which means speedy exit for you (if you want it), but lots of people crawling over you to get to and from their seats. When you submit a ballot and it is accepted, your seats are just assigned to you and you don’t have any choice. We gladly accept these terms. And we were happy.

If you delayed getting into your seats for this match you missed all the best action. Arsenal scored two of the most quintessentially Arsenal goals you’ll ever see—read flowing and beautiful–in the first 15 minutes. The match promised to be much like the midweek match against Lens where Arsenal scored 5 goals by halftime. Fans must have felt so sure of that that when the Wolves’ goalkeeper went down injured at around the 23-minute mark, a significant number of fans headed for the concourse to get more beer. Remember, beer cannot be consumed in your seat at the Emirates, perhaps not at any Premier League match. I can’t imagine stepping away from the match at the stadium while play is still going on. When I take a bathroom break at home at a break in play, that turns out to be the most dangerous time for a goal to be scored. But I have no TV in my bathroom and there are lots of TVs in the concourse. Still, to purchase beer and drink seems like it takes more time than the average injury break. Maybe I underestimate the chugging speed of my compatriots.

Arsenal played well and was dangerous, but after the 15^th minute, we weren’t able to make any of our advances on goal count. After the first wave of people went for beer in the 23rd minute, the usual wave went for beer in the 40^th minute. By the time the half ended, with plenty of time added on, and I finally left my seat for the ladies’ room, the concourse was packed. I could barely get through it and back in the 15 minutes of halftime.

Our left defender, Oleksandr Zinchenko, is one reasons Arsenal have been playing so well over the past two seasons. He is a known agent of chaos in attack and he helps Arsenal sparkle. He contributed to one of the lovely goals scored sufficiently that fans were singing him with great verve. But defensively, he is less than a typical, solid defender. My husband once said, “he has a stinker in him.” And indeed he does. There will be 100 beautiful moments and then this one terrible one that costs us. Unfortunately, Zinchenko had such a stinker in him on Saturday near the end of the match where he failed to clear the ball decisively and the ball fell to a Wolves attacker who made no mistake. 2-1. After that were some nervy moments where you could see the three points slipping away. That’s how I felt, anyway. But in the 85^th minute quite a few Arsenal fans left to get to the Tube early. I guess they knew it was in the bag. I didn’t know whether to feel better or feel worse when they left, so I decide to feel worse.

At last the final whistle blew, with Zinchenko having only the one serious stinker in him this week.

The Tube at Arsenal station was unbelievably backed up when we left. We walked to the tube stop north of the Arsenal stop hoping for better luck. That was also inundated with Arsenal fans trying to work their way back. We were ultimately successful and headed to a pub in “our neighborhood” for the Pie Sharing Board. What a concept. Great way to celebrate a day at the top of the league.

Ghosts, lights & going postal

December 3, 2023 Amy O1 Comment

The first time we came to an Arsenal match, it was during Christmas. We had bought a package that included hotel and match tickets for two matches, a Boxing Day fixture against West Ham (that ended up being postponed because of a Tube strike) and a New Year’s Eve eve match against Newcastle. Whenever we talk as a family about favorite holiday memories, that trip to London is always mentioned. We brought Christmas tree lights in our suitcase with the idea that we might arrange them in our hotel room in the shape of a tree, but the only electrical fixture that was usable was next to a mirror over a dresser. So we hung them around the mirror, prompting songs by our kids of “Oh Christmas Mirror, Oh Christmas Mirror!”

There was actually no need for anything special in our room because London is so beautifully decorated for the holidays.

This trip is the only time we’ve been back to London at this time of year, so my husband and I were both looking forward to seeing it all decked out again. My husband has been preoccupied with his parents’ move into assisted living in Florida, so I did some minimal planning for this trip. Minimal in the sense that every moment from 2 p.m. on Friday was planned, and not one thing was planned for Thursday (all day) or Friday morning.

I had seen information on a museum I thought my husband would enjoy, the Postal museum, situated at the site of an underground railway used for many decades in mail delivery. As a part of your visit, you can ride a train through some of the tunnels that accommodated the cars that carried mail. Unfortunately, it hadn’t occurred to me that the museum would be such a popular option. When we arrived on Friday morning after a delicious breakfast at Gail’s bakery in our neighborhood, all available visitor spots had been sold out for the day.

So we went back toward the Thames and had a leisurely lunch before the play we had booked, Ghosts. Ghosts was running in the Sam Wanamaker theatre, a small indoor space inside Shakespeare’s Globe theatre. The play is performed under the light of about 80 candles, which are laboriously lit at the beginning of the play by one character and laboriously put out at the end of the play by another. Candlelight aside, this was a very dark play about family secrets. Somehow we had considered dozens of lighthearted holiday productions and selected this one instead. Holiday fare it was not, but it was an excellent production and I’m glad we chose it.

We left to walk over along the Thames to a holiday light installation at Southbank Centre. Very cool.

In fact, you could also say very cold. Bone chilling dampness made my husband realize that we were very close to Gordon’s Wine Bar, so we crossed the bridge hoping to find ourselves in the cozy wine caves. Instead, we were offered outdoor seating which might not have fit the bill but turned out to be under a huge, very functional heating lamp.

After a very relaxing glass of wine and some warming, we walked back to St. Paul’s area for dinner at Krua, a Thai restaurant. Very delicious. And, because there are so many lights to see, we took the tube afterward into the shopping districts where some of the most fun holiday light displays are.

Our route back to the hotel took us over Tower Bridge, where the most fun light display of all is visible. The top of The Shard, the iconic tower near Tower Bridge, was fully lit in dozens of fun, moving & sparkly patterns. I enjoyed seeing it all over the city, but had the best views of it from Tower Bridge. Here are a few of the way too many pictures I took.

A packed day in a beautiful, bone-chillingly cold city.

I live by the river

December 1, 2023 Amy O1 Comment

By virtue of the much-maligned (by many) but appreciated (by me) Arsenal balloting system, we find ourselves in London this morning with tickets to the Arsenal v. Wolves match tomorrow. By our calculation of odds we expected to possibly attend one more match this year after Manchester United. Maybe luck will be with us and this will not be our last visit this season.

I have moved into the hotel lobby to post this while my husband has his Italian lesson in our room. It’s a cold and damp in London and the lobby doors keep opening to the outside world, but I am in a cozy nook with a giant radiator an inch from my elbow. It’s lovely.

We arrived yesterday, taking the late flight from O’Hare to arrive at around noon. The flight here is the only part of the trip that I remotely dread, but I slept better than I ever have. I credit Ibuprofen, Benadryl, and a new neck pillow. We flew Basic Economy on United, so no seat assignments until minutes before the flight. We both got aisle seats, not together, but A-ok! The gentlemen next to me was mistaken by everyone as my spouse. He fell asleep immediately and, as far as I can tell, never woke up until we landed in London. I woke up once to two snacks on my tray, one for him and one for me, and on other occasions was left to speak for his snacks, meals, and drinks. I learned that he always wanted what I wanted two of. And that he never wanted what I wanted none of. What an odd coincidence. Once I woke up during the flight and there was a strange pair of eyeglasses on my tray. Seemed someone found them on the floor and concluded they were mine….or his. But my tray is your tray, at least until the flight attendant finds the person of the missing eyeglasses.

Our hotel this time is called Dixon Autograph, one of Marriott’s small hotels in the Tower hill area. We’ve stayed in Tower Hill quite a few times recently, but this one is on the other side of the Thames. Funny how it feels like a completely different neighborhood. And maybe more like a real neighborhood. Nice hotel, nice area with lots of pubs and restaurants.

After we dropped our stuff off at the hotel we had lunch at The Ivy. One of the things I forgot that I love about London in December is that so many of the restaurants have special menus for the Festive period. The Ivy specializes in British cuisine and whether they always do this or only during the Festive season, they were serving both lunch and tea at the hour we arrived. We just had lunch but it was fun to see the tables being served with giant, multi-level tea trays full of yummy-looking stuff. Including one item at the top that seemed to have dry ice in it. The steam coming off it was spectacular and I never saw a tea tray set on a table that was not duly photographed by the recipient. It could not have actually been dry ice, could it? I guess we’ll never know.

I had a smoked gin drink that came under a glass dome, dramatically unveiled by the waiter, and a delicious butternut squash dish with feta, pomegranate seeds, cranberries, and a spicy sauce. My husband had a scallop risotto. I had cream tea for dessert because the scones it included came with clotted cream. I cannot resist that even though there was also crime brûlée on the menu. I have never before passed up crème brûlée.

By the time lunch was over, it was already dark. We had to hurry to walk over to St. Paul’s for the Evensong service at 5 p.m. Recently, my daughter and her partner took a trip to London and she asked me to share the Don’t Miss things to do in London. One of the things I recommended was Evensong, the music-focused service held in many churches here at twilight.

I once attended a performance of Rachmaninov Vespers at an outdoor venue near Chicago. It was a fully moving experience hearing music intended to celebrate the movement from day to night while literally experiencing this change. Clouds overhead, trees swaying, the sky going from bright, to pink, to dark. It’s kind of like Fall. I love Fall; it’s my favorite season. I love the colorful leaves and crisp, bright days. But it also makes me feel melancholy. Leaving a season of warmth and light and heading to a season of cold, dark. Pretty sure all of that is why I love the tradition of Evensong.

Given my advice, my daughter tried to go to St. Paul’s when she visited London but they were doing a different service that night. She ended up going to the Church of the Sepulchre, and loved it. I wanted to go to the Church of the Sepulchre but they don’t have services on Thursday, so St. Paul’s it was. Have been to church services there, but never Evensong. It was lovely. The acoustics are terrible for the spoken word and great for the kind music sung there. Beautiful music in a beautiful cathedral.

We walked over to the Somerset house to see the pop-up ice rink there and then over to Trafalgar Square to look at the lights and briefly visit a Christmas market. London is beautiful with all the lights and decorations. But it was cold and we were jet-lagged. We took a bus back, sitting in the top front row hoping to enjoy lights. The window was iced and fogged over but I enjoyed taking pictures of the lights through the ice.