I arrived at the airport mid-afternoon and, after some failed attempts, managed to find a cash machine with money left in it on a Friday. Pascale had generously sent me British pounds with which to take a cab, but I didn’t want to be completely broke when I arrived, so I got another 100 pounds out, figuring that’d last me a while (it’s about $167.)
The cabbie was great—just like all the guidebooks say. We had a nice chat and he found the place with no problem, because Ken had left me a map of the housing development. The cabbie even helped me get my very heavy bags through the courtyard and into the building.
The cabbie was great—just like all the guidebooks say. We had a nice chat and he found the place with no problem, because Ken had left me a map of the housing development. The cabbie even helped me get my very heavy bags through the courtyard and into the building.
When I got inside, I realized I was going to have to carry my bags all the way to the 4th floor. It turned out to be 65 steps!
Finally, the door to the flat!
It took me about half an hour to get everything upstairs. I thought I was going to have a heart attack a couple of times there. I was so tired already, and having to drag not one, but two 50-lb bags up 65 steps, banging them up one step at a time, almost did me in. (I know, it should teach me not to bring so much stuff, but I gotta tell ya that I’ve already used most of it, except the Summer clothes for France, and I’ve only been here 3 days. I guess having the stuff with me is worth the one day of Hell of lugging it.)
The flat is nice. It’s old, and it feels smaller than my place but that might just be from the sloped, attic location ceilings. It’s laid out like this: enter into a long hallway. On the left are the living room, the bedroom, and a back bedroom that is now a utility/storage room. On the right is the tub room, the toilet room, and the kitchen. Since it’s at the very top of the building, every room has windows, which is very nice. I don’t know what directions the windows face, but I think the LR side might be North, because it doesn’t seem to get any direct light, and the bathroom side seems to get light all day. If that’s true, then the window in the kitchen faces East, which could very well be, because it gets light in the morning.
The Hallway from the Front Door
The Living Room, Window Side
The Living Room, Bookcase Side
The Bedroom
The Kitchen, Window Side
The View from the Kitchen Window
The Kitchen, Sink Side
What doesn't show in the photos is the fact that one whole wall of the kitchen has a very steep slope to it. Even as short as I am, I have to be careful not to lean in at all, and my nose isn't too terribly far from the wall when I'm working at the counter.
The Loo
So the flat is nice. I was too exhausted to do much of anything but unpack and wander around in a brain-dead state. There was hardly any food here. Actually, Ken left bread and milk, which I don't eat, and there was some soup in the fridge, but it's in containers that look a bit like a take-out cup, so I didn't recognize it. When I was so hungry I could no longer stand it, I went out into the chilly rain to find the pub Ken had said was nearby.
Sure enough, the White Swan was just down the street. I went in and got a table near the window. Unfortunately, it was Friday at happy-hour time, so the place was hopping. Loud house and techno music was playing, and my table was directly under the speakers. But the staff was very friendly, and my fish and chips were pretty good.
After dinner I went walking around for a bit. I was heading down the big street, Vauxhall Bridge Rd, to the bank, when I noticed a man looking at me. He seemed to want to say something, but didn't. My first instinct was to help him out by initiating the conversation myself, but then I remembered reading that Brits don't like strangers talking to them. It's fine to ask directions--everyone's super nice about that and will stop and help--but one isn't supposed to try to converse with people one doesn't know. So I kept walking. He finally did speak to me. It turns out he's a Canadian tourist and was looking for the Tube station himself. I had a map, and we started off in the direction we thought we should go--blind leading the blind, you understand--but within a block or so I lost confidence and asked a man coming down the street. He said we were walking the exact wrong way, and pointed out that Pimlico station was across Vauxhall Bridge Rd, and that Victoria station (a huge Tube, Coach, and Rail station) was straight up Vauxhall Bridge Rd. The Canadian and I both opted for Victoria Station, as it's famous and huge, and happens to be on the way to Regents Park as well as where he needed to go. The Londoner had said it was only a 5 minute walk; it was more like 18, at a very brisk pace.
The Canadian man went to take his train, and I went to find an Oyster card. It was too late; the ticket offices were closed. And man, Victoria Station was intense at 6:00pm on a Friday night! There were people from just about every country, it seemed, coming or going. Thousands of people pouring in and out of there. It was all a bit much for me, so I headed back down Vauxhall Bridge Rd (and even finding my way back there out of the station that's positioned on a point where 5 roads come together was an adventure). On the way home I saw some young men closing up a shop that sells dongles, and I spoke to them about my needs. They said to come back the next day.
When I arrived back home I managed to putz around until 10:30, which took a lot of effort. But I wanted to get on a decent schedule as soon as possible. By 10:30, I was beat, and thought I'd be able to sleep in any bed. Ken's is okay--a bit springy for my tastes, but mostly okay. It's actually two single mattresses put on a double frame. While that makes it somewhat less comfortable than having one solid mattress, it does make it possible to pull one off when guests come.
Part of my dawdling around was to discover that the electrical outlets all have their own switches. The lamps won't come on if you just press the lamp switch. You also have to open the circuit for power to flow through the outlet. Believe me, it took me a while to figure this out in my over-tired state.
I did sleep,until 1:30am, when a couple of alarms started going off. One was the clock radio, and one was mysteriously across the room near the dresser. I couldn't find it, but it stopped. I crawled back into bed, but could not go to sleep for anything. I was awake until dawn, right around 6:00am. Since I was too tired to do anything substantial, I just read a trashy novel and lay there thinking about all the stuff I wanted to accomplish before my class early Sunday morning. I did fall back asleep just as it was getting light, and didn't wake up until 11:30am. So much for getting on a decent schedule right away!
So that was the first day in London. Half-day, really. More posts to come later.
Sure enough, the White Swan was just down the street. I went in and got a table near the window. Unfortunately, it was Friday at happy-hour time, so the place was hopping. Loud house and techno music was playing, and my table was directly under the speakers. But the staff was very friendly, and my fish and chips were pretty good.
The White Swan Public House (Pub)
Plaque on the side of the White Swan Pub
The Canadian man went to take his train, and I went to find an Oyster card. It was too late; the ticket offices were closed. And man, Victoria Station was intense at 6:00pm on a Friday night! There were people from just about every country, it seemed, coming or going. Thousands of people pouring in and out of there. It was all a bit much for me, so I headed back down Vauxhall Bridge Rd (and even finding my way back there out of the station that's positioned on a point where 5 roads come together was an adventure). On the way home I saw some young men closing up a shop that sells dongles, and I spoke to them about my needs. They said to come back the next day.
When I arrived back home I managed to putz around until 10:30, which took a lot of effort. But I wanted to get on a decent schedule as soon as possible. By 10:30, I was beat, and thought I'd be able to sleep in any bed. Ken's is okay--a bit springy for my tastes, but mostly okay. It's actually two single mattresses put on a double frame. While that makes it somewhat less comfortable than having one solid mattress, it does make it possible to pull one off when guests come.
Part of my dawdling around was to discover that the electrical outlets all have their own switches. The lamps won't come on if you just press the lamp switch. You also have to open the circuit for power to flow through the outlet. Believe me, it took me a while to figure this out in my over-tired state.
I did sleep,until 1:30am, when a couple of alarms started going off. One was the clock radio, and one was mysteriously across the room near the dresser. I couldn't find it, but it stopped. I crawled back into bed, but could not go to sleep for anything. I was awake until dawn, right around 6:00am. Since I was too tired to do anything substantial, I just read a trashy novel and lay there thinking about all the stuff I wanted to accomplish before my class early Sunday morning. I did fall back asleep just as it was getting light, and didn't wake up until 11:30am. So much for getting on a decent schedule right away!
So that was the first day in London. Half-day, really. More posts to come later.
Too bad about the stairs. But it looks like a nice place! Very handy that you got it in an apartment swap. Kudos to both of you!
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