Well, it was back to London today. Rick wanted to visit the Sherlock Holmes museum on Baker Street. We also had to stop at the Euston Rail Station to check out the trains to Birmingham for our trip next weekend to see my relatives. Trains run frequently from Dartford to three major stations in London and from there we can either take the Tube or bus around the city. It seems that there is virtually no where that you can’t reach through public transport and if you change your mind about where you want to go, within minutes you head off in another direction exploring and weaving through this fabulous city.
Since it was on Rick’s wish list to visit 221b Baker Street, we hit the gift shop first (notice a theme with our touring?). To my surprise, he passed on purchasing a tie or a t-shirt since they were too expensive (14 pounds for a tie). I did, however, manage to score a solid souvenir which teams up nicely with my Dr. Who badges that I now have pinned to my pack. For 50 p, I got a button that says, “221b Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detective 1881-1904”. I think that the Doctor would be proud to be on display with such a crime solving legend.
While Rick toured the museum, Channing and I relaxed at a cafe around the corner and indulged in a terrific cup of coffee for me and hot chocolate for the boy (so good that he had to ask for a spoon to scoop the cream from the bottom of the cup). They had the most wonderful display of desserts in their window and Chan and I admired the cream cakes with glazed fruit, coconut and chocolate sprinkled on squares, wisps of whip cream on pastries, and even pies to make you drool. As we sat inside, we would watch the pedestrians strolling by and every once in a while one made an abrupt stop to look in the window for a few seconds and then carried on. They were probably thinking the same thing I was, sure looks good, but I better not eat that. I had Channing take a photo of me sitting outside of the cafe with the treats behind me. He asked what the point was in taking a photo if we didn’t eat anything. Typical male! I said that it was so pretty and I wanted to remember how it looked. I also couldn’t get my Granny Mason’s saying out of my head, “A moment on the lips is a lifetime on the hips”.
With Rick’s tour of 221b Baker Street complete and his purchase of a book called, “The Mysterious World of Sherlock Holmes”, we continued our trek and made stops at Piccadilly Circus and watched a truck advertising home repairs blow bubbles out from under the hood (or the bonnet in UK terms). The driver started singing along with Lionel Ritchie’s “Stuck on You”, into a microphone near the steering wheel. Lots of people stopped to take photos and the three of us chuckled and then Rick slapped his forehead in disbelief. I wasn’t sure if he was more interested in advertising his handyman or karaoke abilities. My first impression, unfortunately, was both sucked.
We eventually stumbled onto Harrod’s. We were so fixated on taking photos of the buildings along our journey, that initially we just thought it was another interesting place to admire. But when we noticed the streams of people coming and going and the fur protestors at the store entrance, we realized it was the world famous department store.
Once inside, it was difficult to decide where to go first. The security guards asked the guys to take their back packs off and carry them. I thought we were going to have our bags searched and then it became apparent that it was so that they wouldn’t knock something over. We wandered from perfume to handbags and upstairs past ladies (I am not usually intimated by clothes but I literally made a complete circle in this section of the store, didn’t touch a thing, and walked right back out again) and men’s wear (I kept shushing Rick cause he was practically yelling the prices of things out while we were walking past) to the toy department. Perhaps it was because it was okay to touch and do in this department that we spent the majority of our time and ultimately experienced the most fun.
Channing preferred the station where the sales clerks were demonstrating miniature helicopters. He tried to give it a go himself and the clerk asked if Chan wanted him to lose his job. Oops, not such a good idea to try that, I guess. Chan and I played with slot cars, watched a snow demonstration (yes, my fellow Canadians, they were selling snow making kits for 14.95), skipped over a remote control snake that slithered along the tiles, and tried out some bizarre looking remote control plastic cars with big wheels that flipped like a tuna freshly yanked from the ocean and tossed on deck. Rick wanted a crib board and a deck of card and couldn’t find either, so set out to find a Frisbee. Interestingly enough, even in the world’s largest department store, he couldn’t buy a Wham-o Frisbee. He found a child’s car that will go 19 miles per hour for 20,000, a 20,000 bike, a 100,000 under water propulsion device, and an 80,000 grand piano, but no Wham-o-Frisbee.
When it was all said and done, we had been there, didn’t buy the t-shirt (pretty sure the stuff at the Sherlock Holmes gift shop were looking pretty good now), but settled for a Disc Magic Frisbee for 4.99 and me having a free photo with the door man. However, we did have to listen to Rick complain the whole way home about how this Frisbee paled in comparison to the Wham-o for its soft texture, blah, blah, blah. As a consolation, I did have the addition to my crime fighting hero’s collection and it was "Elementary, my Dear Watson."
