Not Returning - South England

Early mornings and disorientations.

I arrived on the Ferry last night from Cherbourg, France and wanted to get up to Reading as quickly as possible.

I ate at the hotel, asked where the train station was and took my bags and went out onto the street to negotiate the roadways and the roundabout and the bright sun and the rush hour traffic of Poole, England.

Across one of the highways was the train station but I was not sure which highway. Some guy was riding to work on his bike and was stopped at the traffic light.

I asked about the train station. He pointed and asked which way I was going and I said "To Reading."

"Right," he says, "You'll want the other side of the tracks for Reading, just take the subway to get there."

I thought to myself...."Poole, England has a subway system?? This must be a lot larger town than I thought."

I walked towards the "Subway" and realized it was the under-the-road-walk-way...they call them subways here.

Got to the ticket window...asked for a ticket to Reading.

"Certainly," says the ticket agent, "will you be returning?'

"No I won't."

"I'm sorry, have we offended you?"

(Rimshot....English humor.)

I boarded the train to Reading...never to return I suppose.

                

One has to be careful about taking the trains...just when you thought you had it figured out...you make a mistake and end up back in London instead of Liverpool as I once did. But today went quite well. Poole to Bournemouth, change, catch the train to Reading. This city looks quite good. My destination was St. Giles Church. 

I had a heavy bag to carry. I asked the train agent if I could store my bags...assuming I could not...."No, that's too dangerous these days...I'm sure you understand." He says. I did.

I pulled out my phone and Googled "Left Luggage"...found a spot 5 minutes away with Ishmail...the owner of a very good looking luggage shop. Paid my 5 pounds and was lighter of luggage and wallet and went off to find St. Giles.

                  

This baptismal fount and the church itself were one of the signature destinations of my Sabbatical. I have a whole story to go with it....I'll save it for later, dear readers. Suffice it to say....I found it

                 

My other destination was Windsor and Windsor Castle...about 20 miles or so from London...not far from Heathrow....Windsor Castle was built by Henry VIII....and how did he know it would one day be so covenient to the airport one day?

Somehow in all my trips to London I have missed Windsor Castle. Last year I put it on my list...especially the Chapel...St. George's Chapel...St. George who slew the dragon!

                    

Then during the past year, Prince Harry gets engaged and married....at St. George's Chapel...which I'm sure fueled an entirely new round of tourist-frenzy. There are still signs around town and photos of the Royal Couple. Let me know if you'd like any Tea Towels with Harry and Meghan on them.

I had booked a room in the George Inn...not sure if that is St. George or one of the many King George's....I suspect the answer is...."Sure, whatever."

              

Pubs with hotel rooms over top is a thing here in England especially....to get to my room I walk past the bar and diners and go to the back and up the stairs. If it's atmosphere that you want....this is the place. 

Privacy....not so much.

I could hear the TV in the room next door....and the diners and bar patrons below...and the guy in the other room on the other side, negotiating a bus to Heathrow....all when my head hit the pillow.

I fell right to sleep nonetheless.

            

Windsor Castle...King Henry the VIII...Queen Victoria....Royal Weddings....it's all here. I stood on the grave stone of Henry the VIII, saw the tombs of George VI and the Queen Mum....George didn't want to be buried on a shelf in the castle and requested that he actually be place in the ground under the floors slabs (It's good to be King!)

                     

It's mid-September, mid-week, and the tourist-crush is past. Indeed there are still tourists but not millions. I got right into the castle at 3:30 and barely made the last group to tour St. George's Chapel before it closed at 4 and then barely made the Royal Residences which closed at 4:30. They pretty much locked the doors behind me as I left each section.

                    

I still marvel that the English support the Monarchy...or perhaps it supports itself these days. And I must admit that having dignified, if somewhat stuffy figureheads such as the Queen and Prince....and having young Royals such as William & Kate, Harry & Meghan as somewhat representative of the coming decades is an attractive thing for a nation.

But...my goodness....the pomp and circumstance of Royalty. Gold plated this and that. Ancient rituals that make people swoon...the Knights and their heraldry....the tragic fire to the castle in 1992......hmmmm.  Though, I paid my money to view all the opulence....and I enjoyed it. 

As I left the castle, I noticed the worship times....and in five minutes...in St. George's Chapel (Where Harry & Meghan were recently married) ...was the 5:15 Evensong worship.

I hurried back and enjoyed a moving...sung and read...evening worship in the choir of the chapel.

THAT was worth the price of admission (though I did not need to have taken the tour for the worship).....there were only about 50 of us commoners attending...along with the male chorus and various priests.

Once it was over, I walked 10 minutes back to the George Inn (from the St. George Chapel to the George Inn....surely the British have other names to use).

I happened to tell the bar keeper that I'd come for dinner around 6.

                

And they had my seat by the window in the pub all reserved for me.

That was a nice touch. 

The rooms in the Inn are not numbered by named for the various brews that the bar owner...which is a big brewery.....brews. My room name is...Canberra....so I felt obligated to order a Canberra.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir", said the bar keeper, "We don't have that now...it's a seasonal brew."

"OK...then surprise me with another brew." I advised.

She did....and I ordered Fish & Chips....naturally, and sat on an overstuffed chair by the window and the fireplace.

                 

It had been a long day of trains and connections and towns that I don't remember...and an ancestral church in Reading, England.....and I stood on the gravestone of Henry VIII in the St. Georges'Chapel!

          

I celebrated Evensong as worshipped by the Anglican Priests and Choir of the chapel....I ate Fish & Chips in my Pub.

Though when I went out into Windsor my evening ....in search of gelato....I found them all closed.

                  

I like this town....the Castle....the nearby Eton College and the school kids in their English School uniforms....and the Thames....and the swans on the Thames. 

God Save the Queen. I say.

Peace,  Bob