My Solo Trip to London 1992

In the summer of 1992, United Airline Vacations advertised for $909 jolly good deal to England. Nine years after graduating high school at the American School in London, I decided that I earned enough money from teaching to take a trip back to London. The airline deal was named “An Invitation to London” and included round trip air and hotel accommodations for 6 nights, daily continental breakfast, a seven day Tube pass, a half day tour of London and a voucher for a pub lunch. It was a very enticing invitation but I was already familiar with London but there were old places I wanted to see again and new ones to experience. I packed one suitcase and a carry on bag.

My adventure began on a Tuesday evening, August 19th as Mom dropped me off at the airport at a long check-in line. I waited for my flight to board at gate 15, my lucky number. People kept asking me to watch their belongings as I was reading and not getting up out of my chair. I had bought an Oscar Wilde book that turned out to be quite boring. A woman sitting next to me was going to Edinburgh and we began to chat. We were supposed to board the plane at 7 but now it was already 8pm. They notified us that the longest we would for departure  would be until 10.  I couldn’t believe it, a four hour delay! That meant that I would be arriving later in the day in London. The problem with the airplane were the hydrolics. At 9:30 we started boarding the plane and took off down the runway at 10:30pm. I sat in the middle section of seats, aisle seat 42G. No window seat for me on this flight. Darn. I love those windows.

It’s been a tradition of mine to say a prayer and evoke a higher power, God at takeoff and landing and as needed during the flight in case there’s turbulence. My ears popped, the sign came on that we could remove seat belts and move freely around the cabin and the dinner carts came down the aisles. Barbecue chicken, an American meal but I was able to grab a teeny tiny bottle of white wine to sip as they offered chocolate cake and I ordered some Irish coffee.  I was expecting to get my eight hours of sleep as this was an evening flight. Not sure how long I slept but I awoke refreshed and did not drool.  We landed at four in the morning which quickly changed to nine, Greenwich Mean Time. There was a twinge of joy and tears in my eyes as I was back in Great Britain. The land of my birth.

Ah, Heathrow Airport, the long halls and no trolley for my bags. There I was, lopsided, carrying my suitcase once I retrieved it from the carousel. I stopped within the terminal at a currency exchange kiosk as I knew I needed money for lunch. For 40 US dollars, I received 17 pounds and 21 pence.  Yes, I was holding colorful British money again! I relished every step I took. There were no "exits", only “way outs”.  I purchased a London Transport pass, got myself to the tube, picked up a trolley at last and was already exhausted and sweaty at this point. The Picadilly line took me to the District Line and I missed the train at Earl’s Court. While waiting on the platform, I noticed a skinny fag checking out boys on the platform. Paddington was my stop. I figured out how to operate the metal turnstile by inserting the card and then grabbing it when it appeared on the other side. I trudged two blocks after exiting the station. I quickly scanned the area and noticed that there were several foreign currency shops around on Praed Street. My hotel had a fancy sign, the Norfolk Hotel. It was on a side street with a few shops on one side. At the front desk, I was told that my room would not be ready until 2 but they agreed to hold my luggage. I popped across the street and ordered a sandwich. Strange, it came cold but it was August. Cheese and tomato sandwich along with a coffee and a Kit Kat bar.

After lunch, I strolled around the block and purchased a Time Out. Only half an hour had passed but I decide to stroll back to the lobby to leaf through the magazine when they notified me that my room was ready.  A tiny, rickety lift took me up to the fifth floor very slowly.  It creaked and moaned as it chugged to the top floor.  I lugged my suitcase down the narrow hall to room #506.  Opening the door to my teeny tiny room, I was not disappointed. It was truly perfect for my memorable solo trip to London. The windows were different. They tilted inward on the wall and opened out on the top and bottom.  There was no screen and the sound of double decker buses rolling down the street was rather loud. I needed some air and went to freshen up with a shower. I had 3 mirrors in the room. I got  dressed and hung up some clothes in the wardrobe. Of course there was a tele but there was nothing interesting to watch so I laced up my sneakers and was out the door. Retracing my steps back to Paddington station, I purchased a ticket for St. John’s Wood.

It was 2:30 when I boarded the tube headed for St. John’s Wood. The route was not simple. I had to change at Notting Hill Gate to another train that went to Bond Street and then switch again to the Jubilee Line up to the Woods. There was reconstruction going on in the station and as I rode up the long escalator there was no newsstand or pub. Still the same crowd in the area, Indians, Americans and Arabs. I rounded the corner, feeling like a native and headed towards Europa for a few supplies.  I bought some cookies, Ribena and plasters. I had already worn out the skin on my ankle and had a blister. Plasters are Band-Aids in the United Kingdom.

At the newsstand across the street, I picked up the Daily Telegraph and a few postcards. I felt like such an American in my Reeboks, my bright white high tops. I do think that I went around the block circling Eyre Court where we lived on the 3rd floor but it was actually the 4th floor. They don't count the bottom floor and there was also a basement apartment where the doorman lived. I wrote notes when I got back to the hotel and I'm not sure if I took my camera but I probably did have it with me at all times. I had to figure out the way back to the hotel and I was sweaty and tired.  Jet lag was setting in and it was August which usually had muggy evenings and it rained every day almost around three. I needed to get to bed early this evening as I was still 5 hours off time and I didn’t cross the Atlantic to watch Oprah. I went down to the lobby to an old fashioned telephone booth with a big metal phone and called Mom. Yes, I was back in London, far across the ocean from NJ.  Then, I inquired at the front desk where I might find a warm sandwich nearby and they suggested CADS, a wine bar downstairs in the hotel. Brilliant!  No one was there except for the bartender and George Michael on the big screen tv as MTV was on. I ordered a burger and asked him about the top 40 and what the latest thing folks were listening to. He said American hip hop was big and rap but he was not into that. Dance music was also big. Oddly, Eddie Vedder came on with the video and somehow I felt like a very grungy American. My first evening in London and I was enjoying it more than I did at 17. 

8-20-1992 Thursday

I woke up at 6 in the morning before the alarm went off. Buses were already rumbling by. I showered and dressed in my short blue jean skirt and yellow top. There was that tiny lift again and I took it down to the Arundel Restaurant for breakfast, also located in my hotel. A continental breakfast consists of only a croissant and coffee. That was not going to suffice. A british breakfast includes beans and fried tomatoes and a sunny side up egg.  I had to fill up the tank for a long day of exploring the sights I missed the first time around. And I needed plenty of coffee. The tea cups were small and I felt like buying a big mug to bring down for breakfast. It took several refills.