London City

It’s quite a late start, the flight being just after 17:00. Allowing me to be lazy and do some of my preparations in the morning. Like my final packing.

I also need to get Andrew organised, as he’s coming along with me. Acting as my research assistant. At least, that’s what I’m calling it. Slave labour is another term. Though he is getting all the cider he can drink. A good deal, if you’ve seen the way he knacks it back.

We jump in a cab about 14:00. Security takes longer than usual as they pull out my bag. And there’s a whole queue of them before mine waiting to be checked. This is going to take a while.

Luckily, an Italian family with a small swarm of kids has three bags in the queue. Which all get pulled out pretty much at once. We’re delayed by maybe 15 minutes.

There’s a bit of a queue for passport control. But it’s moving at a fair lick. We pop out airside pretty quickly. And head immediately for the lounge. A bit later than I’d hoped.

“What do you want to drink, Andrew?” I ask, already knowing his reply.

“A beer.” I knew that’s what it would be.

I get myself two whiskies, obviously. I’m a vulture of habit.

After we’re settled, I give the food a once over. They have the beef stew thing I tried last week. It’ll do quite nicely for lunch. Covered in cheese which I assume is really intended for the pasta dish.

I accompany my food with another pair of whiskies. And another beer for Andrew. I’m not a monster.

Another couple of whiskies perks up my appetite again. Second course is a sandwich and some pickles. Even Andrew eats a sandwich. I snap a photo of it for posterity (for Dolores, too). And he has another beer. He’s not a monster.

Not sure when or where I’ll be eating again. I get a bit more bread and cheese. And whisky.

It’s a bit later than I thought. Meaning I need to rush my food. At least the board says our gate, E21, is only 3 minutes’ walk away. Which is nothing at Schiphol. Walking times of up to 19 minutes are being shown.

Three minutes – what a joke. I assume that’s the time to gate 2. Add another 10 minutes for gate 21. Which throws our timings all off. It’s far more of a rush to the gate than I’m comfortable with.

They’re already boarding zones 1 and 2 when we arrive at the gate. We add ourselves to the end of the queue.

It’s another bus, tarmac and stairs job. As we’re flying to London City. I genuinely didn’t notice it was London City until after I booked. It doesn’t really make much difference to me. Heathrow or City.

We get a bag of cheesy biscuits and a bottle of water. In the short time that we’re in the air. Luckily, I’m not feeling very hungry. No idea why.

I’ve explained to Andrew how badly the DLR connects with the tube. And how painfully slow it is. Like a little shuttle train at an airport. Which is why I suggested that we change at West Ham to the Hammersmith line.

“It’s a bit slow.“ Andrew comments.

“I told you. Like a toy system. Not serious public transport.”

After a small false start when we get on a District Line train by mistake, we’re bouncing and grinding on our way. My god, tube trains can be noisy.

The Hammersmith line platforms aren’t quite as stupid deep as the Piccadilly Line ones. But still quite a pain in the arse to escape.

We drop by the Euston Flyer on the way to our hotel. For a beer or two. And maybe something to eat.

“Are you hungry, Andrew?”

“Maybe I’ll eat something in a while.”

“Let’s start with some beer.”

“Cider for me.”

“OK. Beer for me, cider for you.”

After a drink or two, Andrew finds some appetite.

“It’s annoying that they don’t say how big the burgers are.” Andrew complains.

He doesn’t want too large a meal. Eventually, we settle of fish and chips and a portion of onion rings. Intending to share. I would have ordered a pie, but there isn’t one on the menu.

I end up eating all of the fish and most of the chips. The fish is dead good. Proper battered fried fish.

We have another couple of drinks. Then head for our hotel, pausing only at the supermarket to stock up on essentials. Like crisps, cider and whisky.

By the time we’re checked in, it’s getting pretty late. We laze around in the room for a while. This being an economy trip, we only have the one room. We don’t leave it too late. No later than nine we need to be up. For our appointment at Battersea Library.



The Euston Flyer
83-87 Euston Rd.,
London NW1 2RA.
https://www.eustonflyer.co.uk