To London, to London ...

Saturday night we left the Borough of Barnet to make our way to London. We hopped on the tube and it didn’t go anywhere. The doors of the coach were open to the snow laden platform and the conductor kept giving us updates. “We are stopped, but we should be proceeding soon.” “The problem is at Archway, but we expect to be moving soon.” “We are getting updates that they are working on the mechanical problem.” “Just a few more minutes and we should be on our way.”

Steve said, “This is one step better than being trapped underground, standing in a car that is packed with disgruntled commuters who have already been on their feet for an hour. And it is better than the conductor seems more calm than the one a couple of days ago who screamed into the loudspeakers, 'If someone doesn’t step away from the doors of the train so it can close, I am taking this unit out of service.'”

Duncan was sure it was a recording we were hearing, the conductor just posting different iterations of crowd calming words.

We had started out early enough to have supper in a Sports Bar Rebecca and Steve had scoped out last week-end: the Sherlock Holmes Pub. I spent some time at the window of the re-created study of Holmes and Dr. Watson, noting the bottles of chemicals on one wall, the famous violin, the brown bear-skin rug in front of the fireplace, the flickering flames of the fire, the famous cape, even the wax model of Sherlock Holmes with a bullet hole through the skull, famous in one of his stories. We studied the menu – Duncan look at the item, Toad in a Hole, but there was not enough time now to order and eat, so we left as quickly as we had entered, and looked along the street for a quicker place to eat.

Rebecca was using the mantra, Prete a Manger, Prete a Manger, but the fast food joint, Herman ze German is also on the path that leads down to the Thames right by Charing Cross. So we slipped into a long and narrow shop, Steve asking me later if I liked the meal —the choices were sausage, sausage or sausage. Have bratwurst or other combinations of veal, veal and pork or a spiced sausages. The sausages were served in a bun or sausage in a bun with condiments, or sausage with French fries instead of a bun. Yes. I like sausage.

What the menu lacked in variety was made up for in the speed with which it was delivered ... speed, just what we were looking for. There was a steady stream of customers, none of them “eating in” as we were. I was taken with the bar-height of the pine-wood tables to sit at, and the fact that not only was there no room to get between them, but if a chair was being used on one side of the table, the chair on the other side of the table would be out of service.

Economy of space to the max. And a great way to begin a night at the theatre.