Ok, so quickly, a recap of Thursday.
I started the morning by bolting upright in my Frette-sheeted bed and noticing daylight. Oh (as they say here) bollocks. It was 9:31 a.m. and I was supposed to meet our group in the lobby at 9:30 a.m. The alarm on my brand new Google phone didn’t sound at 7:00 — a much bitched-about Android flaw — and I’d been hit with a nasty case of insomnia between 1:30 and 4:30 a.m., so I flew about the room in a panic for a few minutes. The phone rang, and it was Alison. “The good news is, we’re not leaving till 10:30, so you’re safe.” Whew!
Fortified with coffee and strawberry yogurt, I headed with our group over to Lamb’s Conduit Street with the lovely Clare Dowdy, a journalist and shopping expert here in London. To be honest, I wasn’t excited about a personal shopping tour and fretted I wouldn’t come up with story ideas, but I knew after a couple minutes chatting with Dowdy that this would be fun. It was like shopping with a friend who really knows the area, and who’s eager to point out the places she knows you’ll enjoy. She pegged me for Persephone Books, which quickly earned itself £27 (3 books, all work-related), and the cafe next door that sold some interesting London-produced foods (and smelled heavenly). I was sad to see Clare go. And wonder of all wonders, I *did* get some very good story ideas.
Alison and I went our own way after this. We stopped by another bookshop, then famished, headed off to Notting Hill with my list of cookbooks and appetites. We ended up having fish and chips at the Duke of Wellington Pub, accompanied by pints of beer (Guinness for me, a lager for Alison) then made our way around the corner to Books for Cooks. I didn’t go too crazy, but I did squeal when I found The Avoca Cafe Cookbook #2, which is very hard to find in the U.S. I also purchased Pasties by Lindsey Bareham, who did the Roast Chicken books with Simon Hopkinson (books which I adore), along with the two latest Books for Cooks recipe compilations and some other book, which I’m too lazy to dig out of its sack.
Then it was off to The Travel Bookshop across the street, which I understand was the model for the shop Hugh Grant ran in Notting Hill. I am hoping the gentleman at the till was pleased we didn’t ask him any embarrassing questions about his resemblance to Hugh Grant or whether he has a girlfriend who looks like Julia Roberts. Instead, we were all about the books. Alison found me a delightful little book called Instructions for American Servicemen in Britain in 1942, a pamphlet from the U.S. government reprinted by the Bodleian Library at Oxford that dispensed little gems for our fighting men. My favorite: “The British don’t know how to make a good cup of coffee. You don’t know how to make a good cup of tea. It’s an even swap.” (Times have changed, even from the early 2000s — I’ve found some excellent coffee around the city.)
Geez it gets dark early, and we knew we had to head back to our hotel, so we caught the tube at Notting Hill Gate, first stopping at a cozy place for tea, then settled in for some work in the hotel lounge since we weren’t hungry. Suddenly it was 10:00 p.m. and we needed a quick bite. Our concierge recommended Nobu. NOBU. Um, not quite what we had in mind, so we headed to a Turkish restaurant over in Mayfair, where we ended up getting more than a meal, but some eye-widening entertainment. On one side we had a table with a gentleman and two young ladies, a blond and a brunette, who were all three sheets to the wind. On the other side of us were two women of a certain age who were clearly entertained by the shenannigans going on next to us, and who provided amusing commentary on their drunken antics. When the blond stood up to go the bathroom, she knocked our salt shaker over. She could barely stand, never mind walk, so the guy made out with her a few minutes and she was off for the loo. The minute she was around the corner, the guy started making out with the brunette! Shocking! Then when the blond returned he snogged her some more, and they were off, not before cheerfully saying goodnight to the two older ladies who obviously hadn’t seen entertainment like this in quite some time. (Nor had I, to be honest. I live a sheltered life.) Anyway, we talked to them for awhile about Gordon Brown, Obama, tourism, and red light districts, and then ate our meal. Then it was back to the hotel — we passed Whisky Mist, where Prince Henry and company are frequently photographed, stumbling drunk on their way out; no sightings — and I actually got a great night’s sleep, but woke up with the scratchy throat.
So that was Wednesday. Now off to detail today, Thursday.
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I love Persephone Books – especially the fact that the endfabrics (endpapers, you know what I mean) are fabrics, Liberty prints, etc. from the era of the particular title.
The travel bookshop is one of our favorite stops when my wife and I are in town. She loves the selection of foreign literature that’s not available anywhere else. I love the maps.
Such a wonderful store. Notting Hill is a lot more fun when it’s not a market day.
Have you been to the Hummingbird Bakery on Portobello road? Their cubcakes are to die for.
You should get out of dreaded london, there are lots of lovely places up north, its not all grim. We’d love ya to come to yorkshire
Can’t remember how I got here, but what a great post. I will be back!
Sounds like you’re having a great time. Too bad I don’t have any plans to get ot London this week (Croydon is as close as I’m getting) or I’d buy you a cup of tea.