Mission Possible

Amy OLeave a comment

It’s continued to be difficult getting tickets to Arsenal matches after our more reliable source dried up before last season. Currently, we’re arguably able to get tickets because we paid the club the annual membership fee of about $60 to be “Red Members.” A Red Member is able to participate in the Ballot for each home game, essentially a lottery. About 5-6 weeks in advance of each match, the lottery opens and we are able to enter a ballot for one ticket per person. Then a few weeks later, we receive an email from the club about how we fared. If we are successful, our credit card is charged for the tickets and we can plan our travels. (We refer to this as “winning the lottery.”)

If we are unsuccessful in the ballot, two additional avenues remain for receiving tickets. We can attempt to buy them in Arsenal’s official exchange, which for most matches is limited only to those who were unsuccessful in the ballot for that match. Or, we can attempt to use secondary websites where tickets are resold, like StubHub. We refer to the latter as “illegal” tickets, not that they are technically illegal in any way, but the club really does not want them sold that way and has been hammering away at eliminating this market. And you are for sure taking your chances about whether you will actually receive them and whether they are legit.

Many of the secondary resellers guarantee your purchase in the sense that if the tickets are not received and/or not legit they will intercede and make sure you are made financially whole. Which is ok-ish when your failed ticket only involves you taking the Tube across town and being turned away from the match. For us, we have invested in air tickets and hotels and taken PTO, and being repaid for the failed/illegitimate tickets doesn’t quite get the job done.

We had a fair amount of luck with the ballot early last season. We applied for all matches except for a couple during the month in which I was undertaking daily radiation therapy for breast cancer. (BTW: I’m fully healthy now!) We were able to get three matches via the ballot. My husband was able to get one ticket from the official Arsenal Exchange after a failed ballot.

As you may recall, the Premier League was only won on the last day of the season and Arsenal were fully in the running. I could not get even a nibble of a ticket on the official exchange even up until 10 hours before the match when we would absolutely have to be boarding a plane to get to the match in time.

To torture myself, I even kept checking even after there was no possibility of being able to get to London on time for the match. Not one ticket.

This season, we’ve applied via the ballot for every match except one….and been unsuccessful in every ballot. This leaves only the possibility of getting tickets on the official Arsenal exchange. Keeping in mind that every ticket in a stadium that holds 60k people has been sold, you’d still think someone might get sick, need to attend a wedding, have something intervene and sell their ticket. But a remarkable few end up arriving on the official exchange. When one does arrive, it gets snapped up immediately.

This creates a necessity–for those who are committed to getting to a match–of committing to keeping the exchange app open on your phone as much as possible and regularly clicking the button to see if any new tickets have arrived. 99.91% of the time, none have. 90% of the time one actually comes up, by the time you click less than a second later, it’s already gone.

For me, I have to also commit to being aware at all times what the operative cost is for airfare. If airfare is completely unreasonable, it saves a lot of clicks on the Arsenal exchange.

This brings me to the Leicester City match last Saturday. We received the rejection email from the ballot about a month ago, but I had a particular reason for trying my best to get tickets through the Arsenal exchange. We were already going to be in Europe for a trip taking place during a 4-week sabbatical offered by my company. If we’d been able to get tickets by Monday the week of the match, we would have been able to change our travel plans and go directly to London instead of flying back to Chicago from Amsterdam. But no matter how many times I clicked the button to refresh the results on the official Arsenal exchange, no tickets were available.

That is, until we were in line to board our flight from Amsterdam to Chicago on Tuesday morning. I clicked ONE MORE TIME and a ticket came up. I actually could select it and get to the payment page of the app.

I dropped out of the boarding line, pulled out my credit card and worked through all of the problems that occurred during the timed period by which the transaction needed to be complete–both because of restrictions on the Arsenal web site AND because the door to that airplane was going to close.

Given the fact that our luggage was already loaded on the plane and my husband was on the plane and our travel agent who could have helped with rescheduling flights was asleep in the US, there was no question that we HAD to fly back to the US rather than going to London. And that meant arriving in Chicago from Amsterdam on Tuesday and making air plans to travel to London on Thursday.

I was the last person boarding the plane, but I owned an official ticket to the Leicester match. I was shaking with excitement as I sat in my seat.

Once one of us had a ticket to the match and both of us had air tickets to get to London, we still had to work to get a match ticket for my husband. A great amount of clicking occurred over two days with nibbles of tickets, but no actual tickets.

As we were driving to the Chicago airport on Thursday, we finally were successful. The transaction was completed as we pulled off the highway into the exit to O’Hare. We both ended up having to buy Club tickets, but at least at market price.

Much as we hoped that a more reasonably-priced option might come up on the exchange (and then we could sell our Club tickets), we were never able to get one before the match.

But we had tickets! And we were happy.

It’s changed my life

Amy O1 Comment

We had managed very recently to get tickets for the Leicester city match (more on that later) and arrived in London on Friday morning. Our hotel, the the Clayton Hotel London Wall was located in the heart of the City neighborhood, tucked back into a cute corner near a pub, coffee shop, some fast food. It’s in the business district, close to the Bank of London and the London Stock Exchange.

We had selected this hotel for its proximity to Tube lines on which the night train runs. Our flight out of London on Sunday was going to be very early and we wanted to count on being able to use the Tube back to Heathrow. Given the short notice on which we had booked our trip, hotel rooms were scarce and expensive. However, this one was reasonable and quite nice, one of the nicest we’ve stayed in in London.

When we arrived at the hotel it was well into the afternoon. I mentally noted that we should eat every meal in our cute little neighborhood and so, after dumping our stuff in the room, we wandered over to The Telegraph. I usually I try to slowly work up to fish and chips when I visit London. Not this day; I dove right in. It was very good. In particular, the chips. I know they are just chips, but I felt they were especially yummy. Naturally the fish and chips came with mushy peas, of which I am a big fan.

After that we took the short walk to the Bank of England Museum, where there is a small exhibit about the history of the building–interesting on its own–as well as the history of money in England. There was also an exhibit about the future of money. I’m not sure what I expected, but this small museum kept our attention until we were literally kicked out at 5 p.m. when it closed. I particularly enjoyed learning about the history of coin and note production as well as attempts to prevent counterfeit bills.

With regard to the future of money, my favorite exhibit was about what is lost as money becomes increasingly digital. Is it as magical to receive monetary value electronically from the tooth fairy, for example, as it is to receive coins under your pillow? As a parent, I would have loved the convenience and ease of electronic delivery, especially since there were so many times when I forgot that the kid had put a tooth under their pillow. In the morning there would be consternation about the tooth fairy’s whereabouts. This led to inflation of the standard monetary prize the next night (accompanied by an excuse from the tooth fairy). Which led, in the future, to our kids hiding their teeth from the tooth fairy so that she would not be able to find it and would have to give a larger gift the next night. Unintended consequences of monetary policy. But have to agree with the Bank of England; it’s not as magical to get tooth fairy remuneration from PayPal.

My husband and I have a long-standing vow never to attempt to view a play or performance on a first night in London. It’s just too easy to fall asleep when the lights go out. During lunch we broke the vow and bought tickets to a play, Abigail’s Party, at the Stratford East theater. Stratford is quite a ways from the City, out near the London stadium built for the 2012 Olympics and now used by West Ham Football Club. We travelled over to Stratford after leaving the Bank of England museum and, given our late lunch, grabbed a small dinner at Pizza Express.

Stratford East theater is quite small but the production was well done. The play takes place in the 1970s, where a couple is hosting a get-together in their flat for a new couple in the complex. Their event is also attended by Abigail’s mother. The title character, Abigail, is never seen in the play–she is a teenager having a noisy party in her family’s flat in the same complex. The play is driven by the passive/aggressive behavior of the hostess, perfectly played by Tamzin Outhwaite, and her toxic relationship with her spouse. It’s fun & icky, and (spoiler alert) ends in tragedy. I probably did doze off a little bit, but the music, staging, plot, and great acting mostly kept me alert. Highly recommend.

In the morning, my intention to eat only in our little neighborhood was foiled by the fact that not a lot is open on the weekend in the financial district. We ended up walking over to the Leadenhall Market, which you may recall is supposed to be the model for Diagon Alley in the Harry Potter movies. There also wasn’t much open at Leadenhall market, but we did find a cute bakery called Aux Merveilleux De Fred. I had a raisin brioche and a latte and my husband had one of the most beautiful croissants I’ve ever seen. My husband often has hot chocolate for breakfast and almost always turns down the offer of whipped cream. (I know you are asking, “Can this marriage be saved?”) This time, he took the whipped cream and let me sample it. It was amazing. Only once before have I have cream that was whipped by hand with a whisk and it has the most amazing and perfect consistency. I have to believe they whisked it by hand. That, or they have some magical, secret, other way to do it. If you go, get the whipped cream. (You can ask them to hold the hot chocolate if you want.)

Our Saturday morning plan was formed by consulting Time Out London, a great source for understanding events happening around town. We ended up drawn to the Mudlarking Showcase being put on at the Museum of London Docklands as a part of the Totally Thames Festival. “Mudlarking” is the unusual hobby of seeking historical objects from the shore of the Thames (and other rivers) at low tide. Because the Thames was central to life and commerce through many centuries, the mud contains an abundance of treasures accidentally or intentionally finding their way into the river. The Mudlarking Showcase allowed mudlarkers to share exhibits of their finds, which included everything–coins, pipes, clothing, buttons, pottery and china, tools, product packaging from centuries past. What each mudlarker found was interesting, but even more interesting was the unique ways they exhibited their treasures, how they talked about their hobby, what they learned from it.

One of the mudlarkers talked us through the process of finding a trade token (we had learned about this form of currency at the Bank of England museum), how he researched it, how and what he learned about the coin, the tradesman, his business, the tradesman’s family. He had come to the hobby after losing his wife. “It’s changed my life,” he said. One mudlarker walked us through the friendly competition he held with his son (also a mudlarker and a future archeologist) about their respective finds. Another mudlarker described holding in his hands the base of a 17th century mug and very nearly chucking it back into the Thames before deciding maybe it was “something” after all.

One of our favorite London experiences, ever.

After a walk around Canary Wharf where the Museum of London Docklands is located, it was time to grab a quick lunch and engage in our perhaps less unique hobby, watching our favorite boys play our favorite sport at our favorite stadium.

Sucker for redemption

Amy O1 Comment

When our daughter was young, she played competitive soccer for a coach who had little use for her. Rather than try to fit her in the team in a place where she could add the most value, he tried to fit her in the team where he had the greatest need. I remember getting an email from him in which he told me goalkeeper was her best position. My daughter was a good athlete and a good soccer player, but I knew for a fact that she was not a good goalkeeper. He learned that as well in a tournament match in which the team got trounced. My daughter let in goal after goal. It’s never only a goalkeeper’s fault when goals go in, but there’s a reason they measure the quality of a keeper based on clean sheets. That was one of the world’s dirtiest sheets. After that, he didn’t much bother to fit her in at all.

My daughter is introverted to begin with, and I watched her lose confidence in herself and feel more and more unimportant to proceedings. Also importantly, her skills were clearly regressing. I remember she had a stint as a defender and what pleased her coach more than anything was for her to race up to the ball and boot it up the field. Naturally, once she realized what it took to make the people happy, she made the people happy.

It was dismal. After a few seasons with the team, I felt it was important for her to move on. She tried out for and was invited to join a few teams. With the best team she tried out for, she had an amazing tryout. I had never seen her play as well as she had on that day, and she made the team.

It could have gone lots of different ways but the way it went was well. Her new coach, Coach Nick, gave my introverted daughter an endearing nickname. He made her feel that hard work and good play really mattered to the team. He held her accountable. And she got everything out of that experience that you want your child to get out of a sport, whether they ultimately continue in the sport or not (she did not). She was confident and happy and felt that she fit in. And mostly because a person who had no reason to trust her displayed trust.

I was thinking about this after watching Kai Havertz score the winning goal in the Brentford match and the ensuing celebrations. Havertz joined Arsenal over the summer after what might charitably been deemed a just-OK stint at Chelsea. And not for cheap. He cost the club £62,000. Arsenal did good transfer business last summer but the Havertz purchase was the one that had everyone shaking their heads. What was our manager Mikel Arteta thinking?

And, whatever Arteta had been thinking when the purchase had been made, why, during the season was he continuing to think that?

Now, I do not know how new songs get created by fans for players or for the team, but I would say that past few years have featured somewhat of a renaissance for Arsenal song making. While it has always been the case that songs often get recycled for players or borrowed in part from other teams or generically get repurposed depending on what’s happening on the field, there has been a particular level of creativity from the Arsenal fans of late. And this creativity seems to be on display during away matches. For example, the song honoring William Saliba, which is based on the 50s pop hit “Tequila,” was first sung by the Arsenal away supporters for the August 2022 away match against Bournemouth. Saliba had been such a positive addition to the team, the fans couldn’t help but be excited and honor him. You can have a look at it here.

With regard to Kai Havertz, his song first made an appearance during the September 2023 away match also at Bournemouth. But in Havertz’ case, nothing good had happened such that creating a song made any sense. As far as the fans were concerned, he was struggling in the team and due for a long stint on the bench. But during that match that Arsenal had been winning handily, a penalty had been given to Arsenal and team captain Martin Odegaard handed it over to Kai Havertz. Clearly a charity case. Given the struggles he’d had in the team to date, it was a big gamble. How might it have gone down if he missed the penalty? But he managed to hit it and the fans broke out his newly minted song. Football chants are almost always recycled but I’d never heard the tune used by any other team so I have to believe that the Arsenal away fans had practiced it or planned it for some time, just never finding the moment until then.

And on first hearing, I wonder how Kai Havertz felt about it. On the surface, it’s kind of cruel. Sung to the tune of Shakira’s Waka waka, these are the words:

Tsamina mina, eh eh
Waka waka, eh eh
60 million down the drain
Kai Havertz scores again

It’s several months down the road and, during 2024, Arsenal haven’t lost a Premier League game. Kai Havertz has been a big factor. He has been on a serious scoring streak, including one during this week’s Brentford match.

The song is ubiquitous in the stadium. It no longer seems mean. It seems ironic, as ironic as it was clearly intended by the folks who invented it. When nothing was going right for him, somehow they anticipated that Kai Havertz was going to be important to the team. And even inspired him to live into those aspirations. It’s not so much a redemption–he never had a chance to lose value and regain it–as a “demption.” Being deemed valuable before you show an ounce of value.

Here’s to the people who expect much from us.

And speaking of Havertz, he was a big factor in Tuesday’s Champions League win against Porto. He worked hard all night. Porto did what teams do to be successful against skilled teams. Stalled, time wasted, disrupted flow. Like the Brentford match it was a bit frustrating. But we Arsenal fans were up for it. The stadium was rocking.

Source: Arsenal.com, Getty images

It’s hard to play well under the conditions Porto threw at us, but we managed to score the goal that put us equal on aggregate just before the first half ended. We weren’t successful scoring in the second half—not any goal that stood up to VAR review, anyway—or in the two overtime halves, but we prevailed in penalty kicks to move to the next round. David Raya had a wonderful night in goal and saved two, very difficult to accomplish. And all of the Arsenal players who took a penalty, including Kai Havertz, hit the back of the net. He also managed to get a little shove on the Porto manager during the match, cementing his place in Arsenal lore.

I’m still warming up to the guy, but what can you say? 60 million down the drain. Kai Havertz scores again.

London Rain

Amy O2 Comments

Often, what we’ll try to do in a trip to London follows closely what we were unsuccessful organizing in the prior trip. I had hoped to visit the Sky Garden in our December trip, but hadn’t realized how much advance notice was required during the Festive Season. For this trip, I registered for a free visit to the Sky Garden as soon as we learned we could make the trip. In reality, very little advance planning would have been required because today was so rainy. I suspect many people decided not to bother. And for sure, it would have been a better experience with a clearer view. But it was still fun and I’m glad we got to do it. We learned that while the Sky Garden does indeed have a garden, the greater attraction is the view. The garden is on the 35th floor of a tower and you can see all of London on a clear day. On a not-at-all-clear day, I really enjoyed the view of The Tower of London.


We also scheduled lunch at the Piazza, the restaurant at the Opera House that has a balcony bar overlooking Covent Garden. In the cold and wet, the balcony was less of a draw, but we enjoyed a yummy lunch anyway. Covent garden market is mostly covered. While we normally are not big shoppers, we enjoyed ducking in out of the rain. I sampled some warm tea at the Wittard of Chelsea tea shop and bought some rose tea for my daughter.


On Sunday we had planned a day that included a return to Kew gardens, so I selected a pub in Brentford called the The Black Dog for Sunday roast. It was a 10-minute walk from a museum called the Musical Museum of London, where we started our day. The Musical Museum turned out to be mostly the collection of machines that made music started through the compilation of one man, Frank Holland. The collection includes a Wurlitzer museum organ, player pianos, and some of the most interesting music “boxes” I could ever have imagined, including huge ones that play drums, violins, horns. The museum holds music machines built since the 1700s, right up to the phonograph that first brought music machinery to the masses, a great many of them still functional. We enjoyed a wonderful tour of the museum given by Edward. Highly recommend.


Our Sunday roast was also delicious. The Black Dog was a friendly neighborhood pub. We had the roast beef.


Sadly, we had to cut our tour of Brentford short with no Kew gardens because the rain had become seriously aggressive. Given how we had hit the ground in London running, we were happy for an excuse to return to the hotel for a quick nap before heading out for dinner and going to the musical, Six, about the six wives of Henry VIII. It was a good musical to attend while jet lagged. Loud and energetic.


In our visits to London, we’ve rarely left town, but I had always wanted to visit the Cotswolds, a hilly and picturesque area about 2 hours away by car. I’m too much of a chicken to attempt to drive on the “other” side of the road, so I booked a tour with Viator. We’ve used Viator when traveling to other places when we’ve wanted mostly to plan for ourselves but sometimes pass the planning (and driving) off to someone else. Our tour was Monday, the only day since we’ve been in London that it didn’t rain. That was extremely lucky. Our tour went to Burford, Bibery, Bourton-on-the-Water, and Stow on the Wold. Our tour guide, David, was extremely knowledgeable about the area and, as it turned out, a wonderful jazz vocalist. We got him to play some of his music on the bus. We had time to walk, eat, and pub, and enjoy scenery on the nicest day of our visit.


Even with the rain, we did plenty. And what we could not do because of the rain, well, hopefully that’s a seed of an idea for next time.

A note for future me: maybe consult the weather before you show up. 🙂

Pep talk from the universe

Amy O1 Comment

A lot has happened in our world since our last visit to London. My dear mother-in-law passed away recently, not long after she moved into assisted living. She was such a lovely person, it’s hard to think about her not being among us. My husband has been busy, visiting with his mom in her final days, helping my father-in-law with financial stuff, researching and writing an obituary, and so forth. My husband has also some challenges with joint pain and is in the process of commencing physical therapy. And, right before our last trip to London, I was diagnosed with noninvasive breast cancer. My 2024 has included a lot of doctor visits and two surgeries, with radiation treatment to come in a few weeks. And every time I get together with friends lately, the subject has come up, “When are you planning to retire?”

The sum of all this addition has produced at our home a lot of what my son refers to as “old people talk.” I’ve been especially exploring the idea of what makes for a good retirement, or more to the point, what kind of retirement doesn’t feel like you are just waiting around to finally die? I’ve seen examples of people in retirement who’ve look like death would be a serious interruption of some great living, and examples where it seems death already came–they just haven’t realized it yet.

A few weeks ago, I was in the office of one of the financial planners who works for my firm. I help build software for our financial planners and was visiting to get his impression of a new feature we are building. I noticed he had a Post-it note attached to his bookcase and asked him about it. He told me one of his clients had quoted it to him and he wrote it down. A good life, so the client said, requires:

  • Something to do
  • Someone to love
  • Something to believe in
  • Something to look forward to

Note that the planner is quoting a client who is quoting someone, but in googling I’m unable to come up with a definitive source to attribute. In any case, I find this simplistic list to be compelling. The people who look like they are living out a good life all seem to have those things. And the ones who have a life I do not wish to emulate are missing some or all of those things.

That’s Message 1 from the universe.

Message 2: as I navigate the cancer diagnosis, for better or for worse, I’m working with physicians in a medical group associated with a particular hospital. It has made taking each “next step” relatively easy. Dr. A’s office says “make an appointment with Dr. X.” I have barely entered my house after leaving Dr. A’s office when Dr. X’s scheduling person is on the phone to set up an appointment.

This particular group has a prior association with a particular religious order. So at the end of the endless collection of data in every visit about my health history and the history of every family member, they always ask four kind of strange questions.

  1. Do you have someone in your life who loves you?
  2. Do you have something you look forward to?
  3. Do you have something in your life that brings you joy?
  4. Are you at peace today?

The first time I was asked those questions, I asked, “Is someone doing a research project?” Now I wonder if it’s not just a more disarming way to ask people about how they are really doing. Yes, they already asked me if I live with someone because they need to make sure I can get by without heavy lifting after surgery. But does that person love me? We are at a different level now. I don’t know what they would do differently if ever I answered “no” to the questions but so far, with clean conscience, I have always been able to answer “yes.”

I say “with clean conscience” because I’ve been surprised sometimes how much my inclination has been to not be fully honest. When my husband is with me during the medical questioning, he serves as a truth meter. Once before an MRI I was asked by a medical professional how I function in tight spaces. Naturally, I behaved as though this would not be a problem at all. But my husband was present and he said, “uh, really?” In the end, it was agreed that this procedure was best completed under anti-anxiety medication. My husband is not usually present at my appointments so the truth is sometimes, let us say, under-examined.

The way I choose to look at those four questions is they must be asking because those things are medically important to quality of life. Looking at the people who seem like they are living well, I have to agree that they would usually be able to answer these four questions in the affirmative.

If we were to do a Venn diagram of the two messages from the universe, we are easily able to note that one of the overlapping ideas is to have something to look forward to.

And that is the one that would be a bit of a struggle, if not for one essential fact: We’ve been lucky enough to score two tickets to the Champions League match against Porto next Tuesday and are leaving for London tonight. As unlucky as it was to have to have a second surgery when we had thought it would only be one, it re-set the clock a bit on radiation treatment which allows the perfect window for travel.

And so, I depart for London after weeks of looking forward to the trip, with someone I love (who I have every reason to believe also loves me), to do a bunch of fun things that will bring us joy, in the hope & belief that Arsenal can make it to the next round of the Champions League. And hopefully, return to Chicago at great peace.

It’s practice for the future.

Beer run in the 23rd minute

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 15th 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 40th 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 85th 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

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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

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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.

If you look carefully, you’ll see a weird version of St. Paul’s cathedral in the one above.

Believing in Beauty.

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A new statue for Arsène Wenger has been placed on the grounds of the Emirates since our last visit. After the match we wandered around trying to find it. You know my love for Arsène Wenger. It’s a bit out of the way and the grounds were so thronged with people, we struggled to find it. A nice steward pointed us in the right direction. Many people were lined up to take a picture with the statue and we waited patiently for our turn. Near the statue there were signs like the one above that surely reflected his philosophy. I recalled an article in which he was quoted in which he stated that he only facilitates “beauty in man.” I fell in love with Arsenal because of the beauty he so valued.

But that was at the end of the day and we should start at the beginning. We had breakfast again over near St. Katherine’s Dock, close to where The Big Half marathon was being run by thousands of people. After breakfast, we walked along the route where people were lined up to start and where some had already started and had doubled back to cross the Tower Bridge at around the 7-meter mark of the race. I am that annoying person who claps for every graduate at a graduation, so I am also the person who claps and whoops for runners who happen to be doing something I will not do. When I am giving (in my mind) motivating words to my kids, my family calls it “happy Mom talk.” When I am cheering at graduations and races, it’s “happy Mom cheering.”

I make no apologies. Except (mentally) to the people sitting near me. Sorry your ears hurt. Now start clapping for the graduates, you lazy, selfish beast.

Afterward, we took the Uber boat over toward the Eye and Big Ben just to enjoy the lovely day. It was shaping up to be a warm one.

In keeping with the theme of trying new things, I considered not having Sunday roast in London on this trip. That seemed over the top, so instead, I booked a different restaurant than I normally do, called The Marksman Public House. I found it by consulting an article. How does the article know? I have no idea. I ruled out some locations that seemed too close to Tottenham Hotspur stadium, although I was pretty sure they were not playing there on Sunday, and then focused on those not too far from the Emirates. The match was at 4:30, a little late to have Roast afterward, so we planned to go for lunch.

The Marksman turned out to be awesome. It had a more casual feel from the incumbent favorite roast place, the Princess of Shoreditch. The decor was light and airy, and people were laughing and relaxed. There were many big groups of people sitting near us, suggesting a popular family/friend gathering place. There was significantly less attention on food presentation. Importantly, there was plenty of attention on the taste of the food. We shared a crispy, perfectly seasoned, juicy whole chicken, a cloud-light Yorkshire pudding, deeply caramelized potatoes, and green beans and carrots with minted, crispy breadcrumbs. Perfect.

We both selected for dessert a thing called a brown butter tart. When it came, I was disappointed. It had sounded so glorious and looked so plain. Big lesson here. With the first bite I understood why no one bothered to make it look good. What would be the point? I’ve never tasted anything as delicious in my life.

We took the bus to the stadium and, because we were newbies to the new check-in procedure, went right in. Like all of the teams, Arsenal appear to be cracking down on the secondary market for ticket sales. In the past we would be sent a pdf of our tickets and would print it out to be scanned; this year, Arsenal require you to download their app and use the wallet feature of your phone for the ticket. A screen shot is not sufficient. As participants in the lottery, we would have been eligible to sell our tickets on Arsenal’s exchange, but we would not be permitted to transfer the ticket to other parties at will.

There is so little chance we will ever part with these precious tickets.

The check-in process went smoothly and we walked up a great many stairs to the novel location of our seats, high, high in the Clock End. I was shocked to realize that from our new seats I was not even able to see our old seats because there is a dip in the roof that conceals parts of the stadium. It had never occurred to me from our old location that most people in the stadium are unable to see all of the seats. We had a fine view of the field and the stadium was rocking when we got there. Literally. The chanting was deafening from the moment we walked through the turnstile until pretty much half time.

At the Clock End, you are very close to the opposition fans, and it became very clear what our role was to be: drown them out, counter their nonsense, and remind them they are guests, very unwelcome ones at that. It seemed the Man United fans were more organized than many who show their faces at the Emirates, but I’ve only once before sat this near the opposition. We had to endure their happiness when Man United scored the first goal, very much counter to play. We rubbed it in their faces when Arsenal scored our first goal about a minute later.

What to say about the match? In the stadium it felt like Arsenal had the upper hand and Manchester United’s only idea was to slow things down as much as possible and break our rhythm, hope for a counterattack. They executed their tedious plan well.

Arsenal had a call for a penalty that was overturned by VAR and Man United had a goal that was ruled offside by VAR. It looked like we were headed for a 1:1 draw well into the very substantial 8 minutes of stoppage time due to Man United’s time wasting and the time spent on VAR reviews.

The noise was more intermittent as the match wore on, but the fans got behind Man United’s substitution that brought Harry Maguire onto the field. Even the Arsenal fans–especially the Arsenal fans–were chanting his name. If you’re struggling to score a goal, there are not too many defenders a team would be more delighted to take a chance against. That is until Man United introduced Jonny Evans as a another substitute defender. I couldn’t believe he was still playing. In his day, he was probably one of the better defenders in the league. He played for Manchester United years ago and more recently played for Leicester City, who was relegated last year. So although nothing much was happening for Arsenal, you had to feel optimistic. And, like the sign said, you had to keep “Believing in Beauty.”

At least 5 minutes into the 8 minutes of added time, our captain Martin Ødegaard hit a hard shot that deflected off of a Man U defender for a corner kick. Saka put it into play and while Jonny Evans got distracted by Gabriel Magalhaes’ antics in front of the goal, the ball bounced off the face of our new boy, Declan Rice. He had a million years to take aim at the bouncing ball and tag it off Jonny Evan’s leg into the goal. The Emirates went insane. When Declan Rice ran to the corner flag to celebrate with the fans the fans in that corner rose in a wave from their seats to join him.

With the subs and celebrations, we had no idea how much time was left and we all stood and sang with great nervousness waiting for the final whistle.

Instead of the whistle, the ball came loose in Arsenal’s half and our sub, Fabio Viera (a far better choice than Jonny Evans or Harry Maguire), put a beautiful through ball exactly where our other sub, Gabriel Jesus, could run onto it, feint to draw the last Manchester United defender into a fruitless slide, and slot it calmly into the corner of the net.

Bedlam. Joy. Unbelievable relief.

And now we are hoping the match never ends.

Acts of Hope

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We woke up relatively early and headed out to our favorite breakfast place in Tower Hill, White Mulberries. It’s just a coffee shop with typical coffee shop options (I always choose the yoghurt and granola), but the basics are beautiful, and it’s on St. Katherine Dock. Yesterday, we sat outside and enjoyed looking at the flowers and boats.

We had not done much research on what there was to do in London this weekend before we got to the airport, but while at O’Hare, I looked a bit and saw that there were a number of events around London associated with the Greenwich + Docklands International Festival. Last year we happened to be in town for the festival and enjoyed it a lot. Mostly acrobatic performance art, or at least that is my recollection. This year’s theme was “Acts of Hope.” Anyway, we selected a few things that looked interesting to attend and, after breakfast, headed over to Greenwich on the very fast (and, it turned out, a bit splashy) Uber boat.

That was a tactical error, because it turned out that, while there were many events around town this weekend that are part of the International Festival, the festival at Greenwich was, in fact, last weekend. This was readily apparent when the boat (which held very few people for a Festival weekend), pulled up to a subdued and relatively empty dock. We regrouped a bit and visited the Greenwich market before planning how to get to a play called Sliding Slope which was over at the Royal Victoria Dock, no place close. After a long bus ride over to the O2 center, we walked over to the cable car entrance where I first understood that we were actually going to take a cable cars to get across the river. I am desperately afraid of heights, but I was more afraid of missing the performance, so cable cars it was.

Sliding Slope was interesting. Marginally based on the North Sea Flood in 1953, it depicted a group of people gathered on a submerged rooftop living out their final days as seas rose due to climate change. Dark content for a (mostly) sunny day, but thought provoking and interesting.

After a brief respite back at the Doubletree, we took a bus over near St. Paul’s where we found a cute pub built by Sir Christopher Wren, The Old Bell. It was supposedly built as living quarters for the stone masons completing reconstruction after the Great Fire.

We had a quick pint before heading out to Sir Christopher Wren’s possibly more famous project, St. Paul’s Cathedral. This was to be the site of another Greenwich + Docklands International Festival event, Resurgam. We had attempted to see this the day before, but with the train delays we experienced, we arrived only as the performers were taking a bow at the end. Resurgam is a vertical dance performance by an American company called Bandaloop, starting high on the South side of the cathedral and ending at the bottom. The performance, Resurgam, was named for the inscription that appears on that same wall, meaning “I shall rise.”

What can be said about this? It was beyond magical. Beautiful dancing, beautiful music, on a beautiful building. It was not lost on me what a coward I am for being afraid of the cable cars, when these dancers were doing this. My hands were wet with sweat in some form of solidarity. Solidarity, that is, if they felt any form of nervousness. They did not appear to.

We walked over the Millennium bridge afterward with throngs of happy people who had enjoyed the performance toward our first stint, at Shakespeare’s Globe, as groundlings. The play was As You Like It. And what can I say but I will never try to experience a play at the Globe any other way. We were standing on the left edge of the stage with our arms resting on it. Yes, we stood for about 2 hours, but there was nothing tiring about it. We were in that play, seeing every twitch on the faces of the actors. Loved the play, loved the music, loved the experience. I even collected an apple from one of the actors, shown below.

And though it had been a big day and quite late when we returned to the hotel, I couldn’t begin to settle down to sleep. Maybe the plane ride back to Chicago?