London, day 1.

Dear Diary

Today we landed at Heathrow International Airport, London’s main airport. First time I’ve been in the United Kingdom and so far it’s been a rather interesting trip. It began with trying to adjust to the high pitched cabin attendants asking me at 10pm if I wanted ‘beef or vegetarian sir’. I couldn’t tell if that was a question or a statement…or a threat. Anyways, before I go on about the plane trip let me rewind a bit and explain the rather serious conversation I had with the security guard at the Virgin-Atlantic ticket kiosk. As soon as I told him I was going to London and that I had never been there he gave me the ‘ol’ once over’. He decided that I looked suspicious and asked how I would be paying for my stay and why I was going so far from home. I told him I wasn’t paying for my stay and that it was a mix of work but leaning more towards pleasure. This must have really irked him as he gave me the ‘ol’ once over’ TWICE. I proceeded to enquire if there was a problem. I decided to phone Mr Roberts, who was saying his final goodbyes to his daughter and wife at an eatery nearby, just to double check the details. As soon as he saw me speaking to him on the phone and mentioning time delays and security guards and wasting and other such words the security guard happily let me through to the ticket booth. Hmmm, strange bunch those.

So I made it to the ticketing desk, the Virgin-Atlantic lady offered me a seat with more leg-room if I paid a measly $50, with a giggle I told her my legs were roomy as they were, thanks. She then proceeded to tell me about luggage she had spent 5 days looking for. The owner of said luggage had flown to be on a cruise somewhere in the Caribbean and she thought someone on a cruise needed nothing but a Speedo anyway. We proceeded to laugh about how real men don’t wear Speedos. Once again I giggled. Funny bunch these English.

Onward bound to Terminal 1, the furthest terminal I had ever walked to, God bless the man who invented the vertical escalator things that make you walk fast like a Vampire in Twilight…but it still felt like days before I got to it. The weird part was that no one else was there besides some airport staff. Maybe I was just extra-early, I thought to myself. After reading a magazine I looked up to realise I was still the only person there. Hmmm. A better look at my ticket suggested I rather go to GATE 11. “We’ll keep this to our self” I whispered in my head as I briskly made my way to Gate 11. I discovered that the lovely vertical escalator thingies only head in one direction. Argh.

Eventually after that lovely escapade I made it to the right terminal, Mr Roberts was there waiting for me…or not. Either way I was going to follow him, getting lost in an airport isn’t fun these days. I smiled rather smugly at the security guard who had earlier treated me like a suspect but was now treating others like suspects. The First Class, Business Class and some weird category called Premium Economy class were called up sequentially and the Economy class, our class of cause, was called.

The deco of Virgin-Atlantic planes is rather interesting, who would have thought red, silver, grey and purple matched as a colour combination. Premium-Economy was proudly decked out in lovely dark purple seats. Our seats were silver and red…and rather ‘cosy’. I sat next to a rather polite English woman in the middle seat in the middle aisle. I had been told that I was effectively in the worst seat on the plane. Nice. After the usual explanation about safety with its customary flight attendant arm-action to imaginary exits and hearing what route the captain would take to get us to England I proceeded to figure out how the famed Virgin-Atlantic entertainment system worked. After pressing and prodding to my heart’s content I eventually figured it out.  Before I could watch anything drinks and dinner were served. Some beef ‘thing’ was served with vegetables, a salad, a roll and the usual “what the hell is that” dessert. We were handed a ‘goodie bag’…or the officially termed ‘amenities bag’. It had socks, a toothbrush, an inflatable neck cushion and other little bits and bobs. I didn’t realise people who flew needed so much! The movies were as fresh as a daisy; I’d never seen such a new selection of movies on a flight before. I proceeded to watch Sherlock Holmes and settled in for what we were told was to be a 10 hour flight.

Back to the beginning…we landed at Heathrow. If I had thought the walk to Terminal 1 in Johannesburg was tough then Heathrow won the cup. I’m sure we were given the furthest terminal there is at Heathrow. The walk was lonnngggg. Very few vertical escalators and a lot of people tired and gatvol from a long, cramped flight.

We did the usual Customs thing, had an English Customs (I’m sure they’re called something else there but I forget) official tell us how he loved to make stews after he heard why we were in London. Other than that it was pretty painless. I saw someone get detained though. Which was something interesting to slice through the boredom.

As the time was only 7:00 am or thereabouts we decided to catch the Heathrow Express (a larny version of the Gautrain basically) to Paddington to drop our luggage off at the hotel.

Mr Roberts reassured me that he knew Paddington and how to get to the hotel. I reassured him that I trusted his judgement and that I would just follow him as I myself, knew 0% about London. To cut a long story short…we got lost. Dragging a 23kg suitcase and a laptop around a strange place during morning rush traffic is not recommended. After 3 or so enquiries from strangers and other hotels, we eventually found our way to what was to be our home for 4 days. The Hyde Park Premier London Paddington Hotel (Yes that is the name). After debating with the receptionist about our reservation and whether it existed or not we left our luggage and left to go fetch our tickets to the shows and attractions http://www.visitbritainshop.com had so generously awarded us. Little did we know what an adventure we were about to enjoy.

What I soon learned about London is that there are busses and trains to anywhere and everywhere…as long as you know where you are going. During my packing for the trip I discovered that my lovely camera didn’t have its’ lovely battery charger with it. I duly informed Mr Roberts about this and we added it to the now substantial list of ‘things to do’.

We headed back to Paddington train station firstly to get water, the miniature play-play cups on the plane didn’t do a drink of water any justice, and to get Mr Roberts his morning fix of caffeine. It was whilst there that I soon discovered doing currency sums in your head whilst overseas is not a good idea. Seeing a bottle of juice in a vending machine with a £2.50 price tag made my heart skip more than one beat. I couldn’t help but notice how busy the station was with business people and tourists with suitcases all mingling in one place. There was also quite a bit of renovating going on at the station, something I’d grown quite accustomed to in Jo’burg over the past 3 years.

We decided to head to the famed London Underground to catch my first London ‘tube’. The first thing that hit me about the Underground is the mass of people all heading in one direction but very