Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Clueless in London

Around the Shaftesbury Premier London Paddington Hotel there appeared to be any number of eating establishments. It's just that none of them served breakfast. Tastily, I mean. It needed to be tasty and worth that morning's 4+ miles. I needed sustenance. And soon.


There were a TON of Italian restaurants - all closed. Then there was a Garfunkels, a Krispy Kreme, something called Budgeons (whatever that was), and then, a hopeful spot called The Pride of Paddington. It looked nice on the outside, and I felt that anything with the name Paddington had to have something substantial on the inside.

The Pride of Paddington was, in fact, a Pub. It had a decent enough menu, and it wasn't crowded. And you don't always find breakfast food in a pub. But The Pride did have it, as well as a burly and super friendly barman shouting "Come along in, my love!" as I drifted through the door. What a friendly man! He handed me a menu.

The place somehow began to fill up as I cluelessly studied the menu at my table. I should have dashed to the bar instantly to order, but - should it be the sausage and the eggs? I had liked that in St Ives. Or the pancakes? That was also nice. Maybe they would be American style.. I finally opted for the eggs, poached, on toast. And coffee. Which I now needed very badly. 

I glanced for the barman, but could not see him behind all the patrons now crowding and lining the bar. I approached, but there didn't seem to be any system whereby you ordered. Shouldn't we take 'turns'? There didn't appear to be 'turns', though, so I waited, and tried politely to squeeze in. The clock was ticking.

If only I could just grab some coffee. Waiting in lines if you have your coffee is not nearly so bad as waiting in lines without it.

Finally, I boldly shoved my way to the front (was anyone else in there headed for Heathrow? I ask you). By the time I had reached the bar, ordered the food, waited for the food, wolfed down the food and the coffee, and paid the bill, it was definitely time to make tracks. Airplanes wait for no one, not even the SconeLady.

The food was alright, but as I dashed back to the hotel and grabbed my bags and coat and checked out, the poached eggs weren't feeling all that nice anymore. There was just so.much.stuff! The laptop. The backpack. The roller bag. The St Ives artwork bag. The gynormous coat no longer needed. 

Dragging all of this toward Paddington, I had a sudden inspiration. Somebody was waiting for me. Lots of somebodies were waiting for me! They were asleep in their comfy beds, but they knew that the next time they woke up, Grandma was going to be there, rather like Santa Claus. I don't know if sugar plumbs actually danced in their heads, but they might have.

They were certainly dancing in mine.

See you along the way!
the SconeLady

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/55935853@N00/7787977920">Pride of Paddington, Paddington, W2</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/">(license)</a>

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