So after we walked poor Grandma all over London, jet lag and all, we decided to take her out to dinner. This was in part a strategy because we were babysitting a five-year-old friend, Owain. A bright, funny, good-looking little fellow, Owain is the five-year-old equivalent of James Dean (for you older folks) or Zac Ephron (for those of you under the age of 18). Our girls simply swoon--and fight--for Owain's attention. By going to dinner, the theory was, we could keep everybody in a seat and occupied while still having a chance to visit with Grandma. We could also keep Grandma awake until a decent time to help her readjust her clock to a new time zone. The plan would have worked had it not been for the London transportation system. The restaurant advertised itself as being at the Kensington Station. We jumped on the District Line and shot four stops to South Kensington station. After wandering around in the bitter cold, the realization suddenly dawned. There is another Kensington, in another direction. What we had wanted was High Street Kensington, and we were a long walk from there. We quickly shifted gears, called he restaurant and changed our reservation time. We grabbed one of London's famous double-decker busses and headed off. It took three stops to realize we were on the right line headed the wrong way. We changed again, and we waited forever for our bus as Friday night traffic crawled through London. At last we got on the crowded bus, began to thaw and slightly relaxed. It was at this point that the automated voice which announces the stops announced: "The destination for this bus has changed; please stand by for further announcements." There were, of course, no further announcements. With Grandma looking like she would cry from lack of sleep, Laura looking like a thundercloud, four excitable and hungry kids in tow and Scott ready to blow his top at anybody, we determined to stay on the bus either until it arrived at our original destination or the end of its line, whichever came first. Fortunately for the bus driver and us, it was the former. Grandma's first day ended with our biggest adventure yet on the London busses, but from the way she fell into bed when we got home, I think she could have done without that cultural experience. Oh well, at least she and the kids slept well once we finally got home, and wasn't that part of of the point?
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Day 1 For Grandma: The Great Disconnect
So after we walked poor Grandma all over London, jet lag and all, we decided to take her out to dinner. This was in part a strategy because we were babysitting a five-year-old friend, Owain. A bright, funny, good-looking little fellow, Owain is the five-year-old equivalent of James Dean (for you older folks) or Zac Ephron (for those of you under the age of 18). Our girls simply swoon--and fight--for Owain's attention. By going to dinner, the theory was, we could keep everybody in a seat and occupied while still having a chance to visit with Grandma. We could also keep Grandma awake until a decent time to help her readjust her clock to a new time zone. The plan would have worked had it not been for the London transportation system. The restaurant advertised itself as being at the Kensington Station. We jumped on the District Line and shot four stops to South Kensington station. After wandering around in the bitter cold, the realization suddenly dawned. There is another Kensington, in another direction. What we had wanted was High Street Kensington, and we were a long walk from there. We quickly shifted gears, called he restaurant and changed our reservation time. We grabbed one of London's famous double-decker busses and headed off. It took three stops to realize we were on the right line headed the wrong way. We changed again, and we waited forever for our bus as Friday night traffic crawled through London. At last we got on the crowded bus, began to thaw and slightly relaxed. It was at this point that the automated voice which announces the stops announced: "The destination for this bus has changed; please stand by for further announcements." There were, of course, no further announcements. With Grandma looking like she would cry from lack of sleep, Laura looking like a thundercloud, four excitable and hungry kids in tow and Scott ready to blow his top at anybody, we determined to stay on the bus either until it arrived at our original destination or the end of its line, whichever came first. Fortunately for the bus driver and us, it was the former. Grandma's first day ended with our biggest adventure yet on the London busses, but from the way she fell into bed when we got home, I think she could have done without that cultural experience. Oh well, at least she and the kids slept well once we finally got home, and wasn't that part of of the point?
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1 comment:
And kudos for Grandma Dorothy! She's a tough, strong lady...and I bet the girls were thrilled to see her!! I have done that 'wrong way on the right bus thing', so I had to laugh...been there, done that! Glad all worked out the right way.. you all enjoy your visit!! :)
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