Friday, December 19, 2008
Nearing the End
Well, I'm getting down to the final couple of days of this fantastic journey to Hull and back. Don't expect anything well-worded or cogent at this point as my focus is on the words that will matter.
Still, I feel the need to let a few thoughts fly.
1. It's very difficult to eat in pubs in this part of England. Even places that advertise "Food All Day" look at you cross-eyed when you try to interrrupt their pint business. And, honestly, when I'm in a place where NO ONE is eating, I am usually not going to step up and ask for a menu.
2. This is my fifth hotel on this trip. And it is the fifth time I've struggled with getting the temperature right for a shower/bath. Now, before anyone thinks I chose a bath on purpose, you should know that my last stop was at a fantastic Bed and Breakfast in the wonderful town of Beverley. All that was missing from my cozy room was a shower. Wish I had some Mr. Bubble.
3. We speak the same language, yet we don't speak the same language. Just had some Fish and Chips in a place that's mostly a Take-Away joint. I tried to keep it simple, ordering a small Fish and Chips. "Wrapped or open?" I was asked. I had to ask for an explantion. Wrapped was to go, Open was to eat right away. I went for Open. "Can I have some ketchup for my chips, please," was my next question, and the answer shocked me. "Ten pence each, sir." Say what? Yes, a packet of ketchup goes for about 17 cents at Toby's. And, the amount of ketchup in the packet was so little, it got me through about three fries...errr....chips. On a positive note, the "small" fries put an American large to shame. In lieu of ketchup, I loaded on the salt.
4. My latest hotel is a World Class dump. And could someone please get the British to hand over a real bar of soap in a hotel room, please? I have had it with the hair and body gel in the squeeze bottle or packet. Next time I come over, note to self, pack a bar of Irish Spring.
5. I ran from Beverley because the owner of the B & B (and adjacent) pub was trying to entice me to stay by showing me his backroom "disco" that will be hopping tonight (Friday). One thing England does not need to see is my arse on a dance floor. And another thing this 45-year old does not need on Day 9 of this extravaganza, is a night in a disco.
Also it's the night before the game and The Gaffer wants me fit. Cheers and thanks to all who've taken the time to read my tales from England. See you all back in the States.