The ever so stylish and practical accessory that’s still popular with people who are stuck in the 80’s (along with their Members Only jackets), are called bum bags here in London.  That’s because “fanny” means something entirely different here.  I’ll let you google that; this is a family site.

Tally ho!  Bob’s your uncle.  Innit, eh?

Today was our first full day in London.  We actually got here late last night after a frustrating day of travel from Iceland, which I don’t want to talk about (I hate you, Iceland Air).  After having a lovely English breakfast at the hotel, we met up with Aunt Gail and Uncle Larry and decided that we would spend the day getting our bearings by riding one of the Hop-on Hop-off buses.  I haven’t been in London since I was a kid, so I was looking forward to see how things have changed.  Boy, have things changed.

One of the reasons I don’t like thinking too much about a trip or location before I arrive is because I’ve found that if I’ve created an image in my mind about that destination and what it should be like, if it doesn’t live up to that image, I find myself greatly disappointed.  That’s kind of where I’m at right now.  London is a much busier, crowded, and more cosmopolitan place than I remember. I know that by tomorrow, the self-created images and vague memories in my mind will fade, replaced with ones from reality, and I will be able to start enjoying myself.

One of the biggest changes that I’ve noticed is the lack of British accents in the city, which really threw me for a loop.  Over the past two days, only our concierge at the hotel and the tour guide on the river cruise had British accents; everybody else spoke English with an accent corresponding to a country of origin other than England.  I was really hoping we would get a more immersive exposure to the British accents while we were here, the reason as to why I will reveal later in this blog entry.

Speed bumps.

Traffic is a bit crazy in London, and the layout of the streets is incredibly confusing.  As we were riding the bus, we were taking so many turns and going around so many curves that I was completely lost.  I imagined that if I had been holding a compass, the magnetic needle would be spinning in circles, trying to keep up with the circuitous journey the bus was taking.  Kevin probably got really tired of me asking, “Where are we?” every five minuets.

The ride on the bus was also filled with jarring stops, blaring horns, and sudden starts.  I’m sure the drivers are used to it, but just watching the bus navigate the city made me nervous.  There are so many pedestrians on the road, and the overwhelming message I got during our ride was: the bus is the king of the road, and you better get out of its way.  There were several times when I thought some poor schmuck wasn’t going to get out of the way fast enough, and we would be subjected to the sound of a *splat*, followed by *blump-plump, blump-plump*, as the bus continued on its route, without hesitation.  Just like the honey badger, the bus driver don’t give a shit. [If you don’t get that reference, look it up on YouTube, it’s quite funny]

Kevin is the one who does the vast majority of the driving between the two of us.  I’m not particularly fond of driving, so I don’t mind that he’s usually the one behind the wheel, but I have to admit, I’m a terrible back seat driver.  Kevin has a slightly slower reaction time than I would like, so there’s usually a constant stream of “oh, god!” and “Jesus Christ” and “Kevin, Kevin, Kevin” coming out of my mouth.  I can imagine if we lived here, there would also be a very well worn-out spot on the floor mat where my imaginary brake is located, and a clear outline of my hand etched into the dash where it had been slammed repeatedly.  Maybe we just wouldn’t do the whole car thing if we lived here.

Where to start?

I think we could be in London for years and not even scratch the surface of everything there is to do here.  Every street is lined with cute little shops, restaurants, residences, hotels and tourist attractions.  There seems to be thoughtful consideration given to merging the new architecture with the old. Facades of old buildings are preserved, held into place by elaborate scaffolding, while entirely new construction goes up behind it.  For the most part, the city is clean and well-kept, although construction is absolutely everywhere. The lower part of Big Ben is being refurbished, so it’s completely wrapped. They’re also working on the bell, so the chime of the clock that normally can be heard throughout the city was silent, which was a disappointment.

Harry Potter!

If you ask Kevin to say something in a British accent, he will, without fail, say, “Harry Potter!”  I’m wanting Kevin to pick up another saying or two while we’re here, which explains why I was disappointed the with accents (or non-accents) upon arriving in London.  But maybe I shouldn’t even worry about it, the Harry Potter thing is incredibly cute and endearing.  Asking Kevin to say something in another accent is one of the things that make me laugh the most; his imitation of an accent other than British (that one is entirely unique) usually sounds like a combination of the Swedish Chef from the Muppets and Cheech from Cheech and Chong.  Even though I’m sure you’ll all find it tempting to ask Kevin to say something in his best Italian accent or something…please don’t.  He’s probably going to kill me for even writing this.