|... the aisles are so narrow, you have to pick up|
you carry on and go down them sideways with it ...
now that is really travelling economy
What I don’t like,” I said, “is that this is the first part of a nice long trip for me, and already, I think I have had the ten most memorable minutes of the whole journey.”
Well, I guess the turbulence got to my fellow passenger. It even got to the captain. When it was clear sailing again, he came on the intercom and said, “Ladies and Gentleman, what just happened is why we suggest you always keep your seat belts done up when you are in your seats. That turbulence came out of nowhere. ” He was preaching to the converted.
|... sunrise as seen from the Gatwick Express ...|
I have never seen Hyde Park, so to keep myself awake and upright, I strolled along the Italian Gardens, down the Serpentine, past the Water Memorial to Diana, Princess of Wales.
|... Peter Pan in Hyde Park ...|
I watched the runners out jogging, raising money for health charities.
The park was packed. Yes, I got lost – there are acres of park.
|... stopping to talk to a bird ...|
And besides that, I had to find the right gate through which to leave and go back to the hotel.
We went out to tonight – down to Regent and Oxford, going to buy a few groceries at Tesco. The store had only close 3 hours before we got there. Needing another option for food, we hopped a double decker bus to go back to what Wyona termed, “fries and a greasy spoon joint “ but it was her choice. I stood up before the bus stopped. She bawled me out. “No standing while the bus is still moving”. She told me that twice, so I finally sat down.
We exited the bus, Greg first, me next, Wyona last. When she got out tears were streaming down her cheeks and she leaned against a telephone pole, crying, moaning, my hand, my hand, I think it is broken. It was limp and she was holding it. Greg stood by, powerless, but trying to figure out which hospital was closer, St. Mary’s or University. I had a knot deep in my stomach. She leaned against the pole for a while, moved her fingers, and decided she did not have to go to the hospital.
Later as we sat beside the curb on Oxford street, eating our chicken schwrma’s she explained to us that she had caught her hand between the glass safety panel and the metal pole of the railing that one grabs onto to go down the stairs. The bus lurch, her body went ahead, but her hand didn’t release. I didn’t take a picture of her injury. When she gets home she will still be carrying the bruising on her left hand. Do touch base with her about her wonderful holidays when you see her. Greg and I agreed. She plans wonderful holidays. Next time we will leave her at home where she is safe and he and I will go on these adventures alone.
Continuing on our walk down Oxford I saw a beautiful faced woman, a product from MacDonalds in her hand, leaning over, offering it to a street person seated on the ground. It was 10 pm. The street light filtered ointo the sidewalk of the tight building corner that he was leaning against its wall as he sat, holding himself up. “Please, I bought it just for you. Please take it,” she was saying. “I just bought it for you.” I could only glimpse his face – a long gash now coated over with dried blood on his nose and he was staring at her, no affect in his face, no response – just staring stone faced ahead.
A story around every corner.