After the crazy rush-around day yesterday, we woke quite late - 10am - to a sunny, warm day. Went to the Tesco supermarket to buy yoghurts for breakfast. Half an hour later we had chosen our yoghurts - we're not used to all that choice, people; first there are all the flavours, then you get 4 for this price, but 6 for that.
And another 15 minutes to get through the check-out! It was our first time at an automated teller - they trust you to pay for everything you've chosen! In South Africa, the store would have been cleared out in 20 minutes - and they wouldn't have received much remuneration.
It's tickets for you, Punks!
So after checking out of the Travelodge, we made our way to David & Victoria's (Whisson) place in Hornchurch, a village to the east of London. At the Underground station, we were deciding what tickets we should buy when an older Spanish couple popped up in front of us and started gesticulating passionately (waving their hands around!) Not the thing to do to a couple of street-smart and slightly jumpy South Africans. Did they want money? Was this a mugging? Watch out, people, we're from Johannesburg - we'll take you out and ask questions later.
Turns out they were offering us their Underground tickets, which they were finished with for the day. So we learned people can actually be kind and thoughtful - well, foreigners anyway.
On the Underground and on the run from the law
We only got lost a little on the Underground so it took us 50 minutes to get to Hornchurch. Only thing is: we realised our tickets were valid only for Zone 1 - 4. Hornchurch was out in Zone 6. We were illegal immigrants, living on the edge; the Law could be ready to nab us as soon as we set foot on our destination platform.
All the way there and nobody home
Obviously no-one could care less so we stepped off at Hornchurch, birds twittering and not a peep from anyone. Only problem was, we couldn't get past the turnstiles. And there was no-one working behind the ticket window at the station.
What to do? I considered the height of those turnstiles; I could make it but Marcia has shorter legs. We were rescued from plunging deeper into a life of crime by some kindly gent who used his (Oyster) travel card to let us through.
Relaxing
Outside the station we found ourselves facing a quiet English village. We breathed out the tension of travelling in the big city. As Marsh crossed the road to buy a cell phone SIM card from the convenience store, I reflected on how different things are here: I don't have to worry about being attacked and our things being stolen. You can literally feel the absence of fear in the air. The peace was like - my shoulder was roughly yanked back and a gruff voice hissed in my ear something like " Give me all your money!" My heart hammering, I whirled around to face my attacker... a smiling familiar face - my friend Dave and his wife, Victoria. Ruffian. I still owe him for that.
Well met
Marsh returned, hugs and kisses all around - a happy reunion. All of us chatting non-stop while walking 5 minutes to their flat. It was like the Famous Five meeting up for the first time in "the hols"! We plonked our bags down and expressed how grateful we were to be able to rest in one place for a while. And their place was so warm and welcoming; they even put us in their bedroom:
The local pub
After many minutes of chatting in the corridor, we realised we have to decide on a place to sit. Dave wisely recommended we sit at the local pub, where we could get some lunch at the same time. It was opposite the rail station and a quintessential English pub: locals gathered at tables, talking and having "half a pint" (of beer), pictures of the countryside on the walls...
Treated!
They treated us to a lovely chicken sandwich (D) and a baked potato with cheese and baked beans (M). Mmmmm. After that it was back to their place where we just had such a wonderful time talking while the afternoon faded into evening. This was the first time we'd been able to spend such a lot of quality time among just the four of us. Excellent. It was a Bank Holiday (public holiday) and Vic had taken leave to be with us.
Just when we thought we couldn't be spoiled any more, Dave made a satay stir-fry for supper - we thought it was chicken but apparently it was quorn - followed by some homemade apricot biscuits and the world's best banoffee tart. If we had died then and gone to Heaven, I'm not sure we would have been able to tell the difference.
Tuesday 6 May -
Lazy stroll around Hornchurch
The next day we slept late, found our breakfast crockery laid out and a welcoming note from Vic to make ourselves at home. These people know how to make you feel special. No, I'm not giving you their address. After dressing, we took a stroll through the village, while the sun warmed our backs. Marsh was finally able to get the Orange SIM card to work so we could FINALLY use our cell phone. This is a quaint garden restaurant we passed...
All the houses look exactly how one imagines England...!
But much as we wanted to, we couldn't laze there all day: we had places to go, things to do. London was calling...
No comments:
Post a Comment