Tag: Travel

(En)chant(ed)

Amy OLeave a comment

So I take back what I said before the Tottenham match. Maybe only the Club People have lost their belief. Maybe they never had it, or needed it. Maybe they all just desperately needed cash that day. Or a good night’s sleep. But what I experienced at the match showed fan hope and fervent love for Arsenal. Yes, some momentary despair was in the air at times. And for sure a thing that was in the air was a lot of disdain for our rivals, Tottenham Hotspur.

I’ve been the the North London Derby only once before and, like that experience, this one did not disappoint.

The route to the stadium was unbelievably straightforward. Trains not too crowded, gates running smoothly. We stopped at the Armoury again because we had so much time on our hands after we got to the stadium even though we got a late start. It was almost empty.

All of these things made me double down on my worries about what the atmosphere might be like in the stadium in the so-called-by-me post-belief Arsenal world. The only sign that this was a match a lot of people might care about was the massive police presence outside of the stadium near where the Tottenham fans would come in. We saw what looked like a well-protected group of Tottenham fans being held over one of the bridges into the stadium to guarantee safety as we arrived at our gate on the East side of the stadium.

And then. And then. We got into the stadium. So many people standing in the concourse singing with great passion and energy. It was raucous, so loud. The stadium was full. Even the Club part where all those tickets had been up for sale filled in nicely.

The singing is one of the things that brings me the feeling I understand as collective effervescence that brings me back to the stadium again and again. You just feel like you are being swept up in this crowd of people and becoming one with them. I know it’s over a sport, maybe nothing that will change the world, but when I’m in it I feel goosebumps right into even my brain. Listening to a crowd of 60,000 people singing “North London Forever” gets me. Tears sometimes. But this time, oh my goodness, it was so LOUD I think you could hear it on the moon.

I think both of my visits to the stadium this week reminded me that even though I’ve been a devoted Arsenal supporter for more than 15 years I can never fully understand the history that is in the bodies of these fans. At an FA Cup match there were FA-specific songs, many of them I had never heard before. But huge numbers of fans in the stadium can pick them up and sing them easily just because someone got the inspiration and let the song in their heart OUT of their heart. Each song was just waiting for someone to start it.

And with the Tottenham match, that history came out in a different way. Now, singing is used to inspire the team. “We love you Arsenal, we do,” is an example. It’s also used to reward the team. After a player does something particularly impressive, the fans often reflect that back with a chant. It might be that player’s special song bestowed on them by the fans, like Gabriel Magalhaes song or might be a tune everyone knows that inserts the player’s name. When Ethan Nwaneri, a homegrown 18-year old, does something well, the fans sing, “He’s one of our own, he’s one of our own, Ethan Nwaneri, he’s one of our own,” just inserting his name into a familiar construct everyone knows.

Big Gabi is sung a lot because, lately, he scores a lot. On a corner kick, which Arsenal is recently quite good at, his is the head that usually produces the goal. But it’s more than that. He just delivers a complete performance, like he deeply cares about doing his best. Fans appreciate and notice that.

But chanting is also used to put an opponent in its place. And although I would say the chanting at the Emirates is typically 80% for our team and 20% against the other team, when Arsenal plays Tottenham that balance is substantially changed. Probably 50% of the chants were for Arsenal and 50% were against Tottenham. And let’s face it, don’t we all get more creative when our brains are doing the devil’s work? Some of the anti-Tottenham songs were as choice as could be. And largely unknown by me. It’s not yet in my DNA the way it is for my fellow supporters. I am just a new visitor to the history of this great rivalry.

We were close again to the Tottenham supporters and the job of an Arsenal fan close to the enemy is to make sure they are drowned out. It was a tough challenge. Although Tottenham was abject, they still managed to score first and that really energized their fans and demoralized ours. But even when we could not muster a real song to drown them out, we perfected our booing to cover them up as best as we could.

But Arsenal came good, scoring 2 goals. One from a corner and by Gabriel (although they later gave it as an own goal against a Tottenham player) and a bit later by a shot taken at distance by Leo Trossard. He had kind of a terrible match but he took a shot and the keeper did not stop it.

Then Arsenal managed to keep Tottenham at bay until the full 90 minutes + 5 added were up. I was a wreck for the last 30 minutes along with my compatriots. And so, apparently, was our captain Martin Odegaard, who collapsed on the field when the final whistle blew. So much soccer in so few days. And probably so much relief to ultimately hold on to the win.

And then “North London Forever” once more. Twice as loud as the loudest I’d ever heard it, at the beginning of the match, which was already twice as loud as the loudest I’d ever heard it before Wednesday.

We were happy, relieved, joyful. But we celebrated en masse on our way back to the train with the not-lofty but so familiar call and response:

“What do you think of Tottenham?” (Every Arsenal fan knows the correct answer is “Shit.”)

“What do you think of shit?” (Every Arsenal fan knows the correct answer is “Tottenham.”)

Merry, miserable Christmas trees

Amy O1 Comment

Ridiculously, after returning to Chicago for a few days in which we purchased a Christmas tree and put lights on our house and I worked during normal U.S. working hours, my husband and I returned to London for the weekend.

Both of the aforementioned Christmas activities in Chicago involved challenges. We had a lot of burned out lightbulbs on our Christmas tree last year so I threw quite a few strings out. Naturally, I forgot about that so when I went to put lights on our tree this year, the usual selection was not available. I pulled some options from a different box and put them up, only to discover they were flashing lights. We lived with that for a few days until we concluded we felt stressed after turning on our Christmas tree. I ended up removing my first attempt and completing the effort again with newly-purchased options.

The lights for the house also had burned-out sections and my husband spent time–both before and after our trip–trying to find replacement bulbs, seeking suitable replacement light strings, rejecting such replacements, seeking others, and compromising until the exterior of the house was finally decorated to his–probably compromised–satisfaction.

Although our trip to London was brief, it was fully devoted to relaxation and enjoyment. We walked around town, enjoyed the beautiful lights and decorations, visited a pop-up skating rink at Somerset House, and visited a winter festival featuring (for us) choirs performing under a Christmas Tree in Trafalgar Square.

We enjoyed our new hotel neighborhood near the Temple tube stop. Walking from the Tube stop to the hotel, the area felt like no place we had ever stayed in London even though it was relatively close to other areas we’ve stayed in. Every time we were walking around I was hit with the sensation of novelty which would morph into familiarity and back into novelty. Our hotel was the Apex Temple Court, which had a lovely lobby and pretty, spacious, and practical rooms. The hotel was serving mulled wine and tiny mince pies near the reception desk. Mulled wine = fabulous. Mince pie = not my thing. Mince pie was ubiquitous in London. But so was mulled wine.

Our main entertainment, other than the Arsenal match, was a Tour via the London Transport Museum of Jubilee line platforms at Charing Cross Underground station that have been closed to the public for 25+ years. It still has working tracks that can be used for storing trains during slow transit periods, that then can be whisked into service during rush hours. The other use for this part of the station is filming movies and TV shows that have scenes in Tube stations. It was used in Skyfall, The Bourne Ultimatum, and even Paddington. They showed us clips from the movies during our tour. We got to go into construction tunnels and even in a ventilation shaft above train platforms currently in use. Interesting way to experience history and a part of the train system you rarely see.

With regard to relaxation, we visited the historic Gordon’s Wine Bar, one of our favorite places to hang out and have a glass of wine in an outdoor garden under a very functional heating unit. We also visited a ridiculous number of pubs considering we were in town only for a long weekend. I love the pubs in London under normal conditions but during the holiday season they are beacons of warmth and cheer. They are decked to the hilt with lights and candles and garland, have special, fun menus and drinks, and are full of cheerful Londoners in Santa hats and Christmas sweaters and holiday tights. We visited Old Bank of England, Williamson’s Tavern, The Admiralty, and Ye Olde Watling. Old Bank of England is one of the grandest pubs I’ve visited, which I would have said about The Admiralty if the prior day I had not been in Old Bank of England. Williamson’s and Ye Olde Watling were cozy and friendly. My husband declared the Blade of Beef & Ale pie served in Old Bank of England to be the best beef pie in all of London. I think my favorite meal was just a delicious hamburger from The Admiralty. And the Hedgerow Berry Mess was also yummy.

It was all so very lovely, I was surprised upon returning back to Chicago to see an opinion piece in the Washington Post entitled Britain’s merry, miserable Christmas trees. I know this is behind a paywall so let me give you a synopsis. The author, Mark Lasswell, describes a national pastime in Britain of “lashing out at the comically forlorn approximations of holiday trees on public display.” The leading photo is of a tree in Trafalgar Square. A member of Parliament is quoted in the article as saying this tree resembles “a wonky corn on the cob.” It did look a little sad in the photo.

Photo credit: Kristin Wigglesworth/AP as shown in The Washington Post 12/17/2024

Then I realized I had been standing near that very tree only three days ago. How did I not notice it looked like that? What I remembered: everything was so pretty. So festive.

I dug through the photos on my phone to see if that really was the tree in Trafalgar Square. I did not have a photo, but I had a video of a choir performing right next to the tree shown in the Washington Post. It never struck me in the moment as a “comically forlorn approximation” of a holiday tree. But, yes, it’s not the most glorious. The fact checkers for The Washington Post had done their jobs admirably.

I can only guess that the persons decorating the tree at Trafalgar Square said, “Everything else looks so amazing, no one will even notice this tree. Let’s get this over with and make better use our time with mulled wine at The Admiralty.”

No one likes us

Amy O1 Comment

Although we weren’t able to do much London stuff in this visit, we did have Saturday gloriously open for fun around town.

Sadly, storm Darragh, which caused rain and winds all over the UK that day, wanted her say. So we made two plans that were respectful of her and one plan that ignored her completely.

It was pouring rain in the morning but we stepped out with our most rain-resistant shoes and umbrellas and went to the highly-rated local diner, Peter’s Cafe, for breakfast. It was nothing fancy but I had a perfectly delicious, basic, and reasonably-priced breakfast of eggs on toast with a latte.

After that, we went over to the Gunpowder Plot Experience close to the Tower of London. This is a tourist attraction whereby you participate with a group in simulating the attempted coup of 1605 on King James by Guy Fawkes. It’s a combination of interactive theatre and virtual reality. Not our usual thing! It was a lot of fun, albeit a part of history I’ve spent zero time thinking about. We played the part of Catholic co-conspirators. My favorite part of the experience was the virtual reality. It’s not that it felt actually real, but it produced some interesting effects and sensations of being there. With virtual reality, we flew over the city, took a boat over to Parliament, saw the aftermath of the attempted coup.

After that nice, dry activity we took the bus over to Millwall’s stadium, The Den, to take in some Championship football. We’ve attended a Championship match in the past at Fulham after they had dropped from the Premier League and before they came back up. Championship matches offer a grittier, and some say purer, experience than the Premier League. Whatever. We just wanted to go.

Millwall currently sits in the bottom half of the Championship and was playing on Saturday against Coventry City. It was very easy to get good tickets because of the expected bad weather and probably that thing I said about “the bottom half.”

Coventry City was even bottom-er in the Championship, and only recently started being managed by the villainous Frank Lampard, formerly of Chelsea. The fans at The Den seemed particularly annoyed by the presence of Frank Lampard. One guy near me shouted at him and insulted him the entire match. There is no possible way Frank Lampard heard a word of it, so far away were we and as windy and rainy as it was. Maybe Frank will read this and know the truth.

The chanting is a bit different at Millwall than at the Emirates. The chant we understood best went something like this:

We are Millwall
No one likes us
We don’t care

It was a bad day for Millwall and good day for Frank Lampard. Coventry City ended up winning the match 0 – 1. It was his first win as the manager of Coventry City, we learned the next day.

We took the bus over toward our evening activity and stopped nearby at a nice pub, The Royal Standard. Beer for my husband, mulled wine for me. Fish & chips for him, Avocado & Mango salad for me. Brownie for him, Apple, plum & Damson (don’t ask me) crumble for me. Very delicious, and a nice atmosphere.

Our final activity of the day was Edwyrdian Tales’ Christmas Ghost Stories at Charlton House. Charlton house is a 400-year old former manor house, so a great setting in which to hear three old ghost stories. For me, it was only two ghost stories, for, as good as the program was, I was exhausted from a long week and being in the cold and rain for hours (and maybe the mulled wine had something to do with it). I slept like a baby during the first tale about Jerry Bundler. Well refreshed from my nap, I thoroughly enjoyed the next two ghost stories, “Smee” about a haunting that occurs while people are playing a game at a holiday party and “The Kit Bag,” where a lawyer is emotionally haunted both by his involvement in a trial for a horrific murder and actually haunted by something in the bag in his room. The stories were performed by a single actor, writer, and historian Matthew Wood, who did a wonderful job transporting us to a time in which these stories would have been very popular. Great atmosphere and great stories, well told.

It was good to get out into London at last before heading back to Chicago.

Report this

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About a month ago I got a survey from Arsenal. Arsenal do a LOT of surveys. Usually they are about your experience at a match. How was the process of buying tickets? How was the process of loading your digital pass? Were the stewards pleasant and helpful? How was the food? You get the picture.

But this one was different. To paraphrase, because I wasn’t planning to write about this and can’t recall the exact details of the questions, it wanted to know have I ever heard racist chanting or speech at the Emirates? Have I ever heard misogynistic or homophobic speech? Mistreatment of the disabled? Tragedy chanting? This last one I think is unique to football. It is chanting and taunting about tragedy that happened to football supporters or players. For example, the Hillsborough disaster, where dozens of Liverpool supporters were killed in 1989, has been the subject of taunting by supporters of other clubs.

In this survey, I was able to honestly respond that I’ve never heard any of those things while attending a match. However, the survey had one more question. Have I ever heard bad language at the Emirates?

Well, yes, I have indeed.

And, the survey wanted to know, did I know how to report this bad language to the club?

Er, no, I did not.

Never let it be said that Arsenal is not sincere in its efforts to make sure you understand you’ve been heard. In a useful touch before the Manchester United match last Wednesday, the Arsenal announcer explained at the outset of the match how this could be reported. You can text a number and tell them the seat number of the person producing the bad behavior.

Good to be educated.

The match had quite a late start, probably to work through issues of getting people to the match with public transportation on a night when there would be evening rush hour and when there were several matches in London. We had to get creative anyway because the normal route was just a no-go due to all the fans trying to get the stadium.

We were rewarded with what I perceive as an unusual light show show before the match. From our seats high in the Clock End the fire cannons were producing flame so big that we could feel the heat.

We were closer to the opposition fans than ever before, which means we were part of several critical sections responsible for being alert to drowning them out. It was challenging because they appeared to be feeling energetic.

If I’m being honest it wasn’t the most exciting match. Manchester United seemed pretty committed to slowing down the match and breaking up any action and usually when someone tries that, they are able to succeed. But Arsenal have a not-so-secret weapon that works even in this case. We are able to score from corner kicks more often than any other team. And when working against a team that is trying to break down flow, we tend to get lots of chances to take corner kicks.

Anything I might say about why Arsenal is so good at scoring from corner kicks is a waste of typing. In this morning’s The Athletic there was as comprehensive an analysis as you might ever want. Even I, who am deeply interested in this topic, started skimming the article after about two yards of scrolling.

The fact is, even if you know Arsenal are good at corner kicks and you know exactly why Arsenal are good, it’s still very hard to stop us.

Not long after half time, Arsenal had a chance at a corner kick. My husband and I were probably seated about as far away from that action as you could possibly be in the stadium, but we couldn’t fail to see Decan Rice’s inch perfect kick and Jurrien Timber’s expert glancing header into the net.

That helped open the match up as Manchester United sought an equalizer, much to Arsenal’s advantage. Even so, the next goal was also from an Arsenal corner kick in the 73rd minute. In this case, I could see Bukayo Saka’s lovely kick but how it ended up in the goal was more mysterious. There was a weird delay from the point of impact before the Arsenal fans in the North Bank put up a giant cheer. After the match I could understand why. The original kick ended up on Thomas Partey’s head, which he hit so hard it bounced off William Saliba’s butt and into the goal.

Happenstance? Saliba celebrated so thoroughly that you would have sworn that means of scoring actually was the plan.

In any case, that left about 20 minutes of breathing room with Manchester United looking like they would not be able to score a goal even if there were six days available.

Although it is often the case that fans chant and we can’t tell what they are saying, what happened next was perfectly clear. At least 50,000 people in the stadium started singing, “You’re f*cking shit, you’re f*cking shit, you’re f*cking shit, you’re f*cking shit!”

Now, recall that we now know how to report such behavior to the club. In this case, we were all saved the effort. It would be impossible for the club not to be able to report it to itself.

Never gets old

Amy OLeave a comment

We had the extreme fortune of being successful in Arsenal’s ballot for the Manchester United match so no additional persistence was required to get tickets. Unfortunately, the match was midweek and I’ve just taken a 4-week sabbatical from my job. I felt disinclined to ask for the almost full week off required to travel to London to be there for a Wednesday match.

Also, my husband was scheduled for his upcoming Italian language test on Thursday in Chicago after the match. Virtually no way we could get back to Chicago on Thursday and also see the match. Fortunately, the Italian test is delivered on that day all over the world. We found it was possible for him to reschedule in London. Meanwhile, the cost of airfare was a nightmare. We actually found it significantly cheaper to stay in London for the full week than traveling back the day after the match.

So we decided to leave for London on Monday night with plans to study (him) and work (me) all week. That might sound like a bummer but it turned out to be pretty nice. We stayed in a hotel that we’ve been in before, the Doubletree London – Tower of London, not because we love it so much but location is great, rooms are a bit more spacious for a week-long stay, and it promised to be a good place to work.

I work so much more efficiently with a second monitor that I was a little nervous about how productive I could be on the road. But I researched and found a very cost-effective and sweet portable option from ARZOPA that could fit into my backback with my laptop. It was pretty perfect for my needs and the price was right.

My husband works better in quiet so he used the desk in our room and I worked from the lobby. I’d go down in the morning with my stuff and all day long I was pampered by the staff with cappuccino and tea and at mealtime by my husband who would pick up sandwiches and quesadillas and bring them back.

So yes, it was London and I was working and not seeing much of London, but here is the equation I learned: Playing from London > Working from London > Working from Lombard, IL.

I was out in London mostly in the dark. Walking around the neighborhood in the morning, going to the match on Wednesday night, meeting a friend for dinner on Thursday at our favorite London restaurant, Dishoom. But London is so lovely at Christmastime in the dark. Trees and lights and markets and everyone is so damn cheerful. During the evenings while I was working the lobby became a loud nightclub with lights everywhere, loud music, everyone dressed in sparkly skirts and tuxedos. And the staff took care of me by bringing me glasses of wine.

One morning we were out walking next to the Thames. It was so magical with lights playing on the surface and mist in the air. My husband looked at me and said, “This never gets old.” In a trip that really did not involve much fun, where we stayed at a hotel we’d been to before and ate mostly at restaurants we’d eaten at before, where not much was novel and everything was just nice, I can only agree.

Mission Possible

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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.

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.