You know you're not on vacation in London when...

• You clean the toilets for the second time.
• You go to IKEA for the second time.

(Going to IKEA involves a 7 minute walk, a 15 minute tube ride, a 15-minute wait for the IKEA shuttlebus to come and get you, vigorously defending your spot in the queue against those who do not respect queueing rules, getting the last spot on the bus, talking the bus driver into letting your 14 year old also get on the bus, a 10 minute ride on the bus, forty-five minutes of walking around in a daze in the store with your clipboard, half an hour on line in the cafe to get a piece of cake and a bottle of mineral water, 15 minutes to eat the cake and drink the water, going to the self-service warehouse and finding they are out of carts, giving up and making a bee-line for the check-out, having the 14-year old tell you there are some carts arriving out of a cart-distribution tunnel, vigorously snagging a cart, an hour of time in the self-service warehouse where you locate the desk-top, desk legs, chair top, and chair legs, and bookcase on three seperate aisles, only to find out that the drawers for the desk you want are out of stock and cannot be ordered on-line, so you will have to come back. Another 20 minutes on line for check-out, actual payment at check out (one minute), finding out that there are six people ahead of you in line for the delivery service (additional fee), Waiting 20 minutes to talk to the nice man who tells you that the delivery fee will be 25 pounds for Tuesday or 35 pounds for Today between 5 and 8 pm (it is now 4 pm), two minutes for signing up for delivery Today, another 10 minute wait for the IKEA shuttle bus, a dash across the road to the tube stop in the torrential downpour, the 15 minute tube ride back into central London, where the rain has miraculously stopped, and the 7 minute walk back to the flat on Abbey Road.)

I think I'm done with IKEA for a while. Except I'll have to go back for those drawers.

Teen survives academic encounter

Tuesday morning all three of our alarms went off within one minute of another in a cacophony of sleep-shattering sound at 7 am.

Teen was ready to in a timely fashion. Hubster made a pot of coffee. I had a bowl of low-fat granola and was fortified to begin my day.

We crossed Abbey Road at the famous zebra crossing just before 8 am. The crossing re-enactors were already out, trying in vain to be the only ones in the crossing so their compatriots could take their photos. The people who actually NEED to use the crosswalk face the dilemma.

Do I just go ahead and cross, probably ruining this person's photo op, or do I wait? Meanwhile, the heavy traffic at that hour becomes impatient with all the unnecessary to-ing and fro-ing.

The traffic laws here require the vehicles to stop and yield to anyone who puts even their big toe into a pedestrian crossing. So these drivers have to slow down and assess whether any of the assembled crowd had the Intention of setting a big toe into the crosswalk. Many times people just stand there gawking, or do not understand that their stationary presence at the margins of the crossing is confusing the driver, or are waiting for the cars to stop. Of course the drivers do not have to stop for people *waiting* at this particular crosswalk, but they do have to stop if you make a motion of moving *into* the crosswalk. Such drama for a simple act.

We chose to just go for it, deeming being on the way to school MUCH more important than anyone's holiday photos.

After dropping off Teen's medication with the school nurse, and putting money on her lunch debit account, I headed out to the grocery store. I had armed myself with three large plastic shopping "sacks" from our last trip to Waitrose, and took the bus up Finchley Road.

I arrived at 8:25 am, which was BEFORE the store was open. There was a gaggle of women near the door waiting for the manager to unlock for the day. It was a first for me, being at a food market before it was open. I am used to markets that open at 6 or 7 am.

I commenced my shopping, and was very careful to only place items on the floor of the smallish carriage, so that I wouldn't buy too much and not be able to lug it home. Alas, I failed.

Once I had paid (and bagged it myself, haven't seen so much as a bagger yet) I realized that it was going to be a challenge to lift it all. I wished that I had invested in a shopping Trolley, a wheeled contraption that even trendy young folk like me use. I hefted my bags across the busy road intersection and waited for the southbound bus, which came immediately. I had to park my three bags in the area reserved for wheelchairs/strollers, and hovered nearby. There were no seats on the bus at that hour anyway. I hefted the bags off at the St. John's Wood station, and juggled them from right hand to left hand about every fifty feet, trying to find the most comfortable weight distribution. The bags seemed to have the uncanny ability to change weight once they had been placed in the opposite hand.

I struggled along for a few minutes, then decided to call Hubster to see if he was still at the flat. I parked myself in a bench at the Crosswalk Intersection and watched the photo-re-enactors. He was! After dressing, he made his way down and escorted me and the heavy bags back to the flat. Hooray for Hubster! Who needs to pay for a gym when there are activities like shopping in which to engage?

After all this strenuous early-morning activity, I was quite exhausted and did the most decadent thing I can imagine. I took a nap. My excuse was that I was waiting in for the third of our Mailed boxes to arrive. In addition to the 21 boxes sent by freight shipper, two days before we left we had more stuff than would fit in our alottment of luggage, so I mailed it via the US Post Office. The two large boxes had already arrived, but the third smaller box, which contained useful kitchen things, including salt and pepper shakers and lots of small spice containers, was stil AWOL. That of course, was the one box that contained things I wished I had had. Yes, I know, they sell spices over here, but the cost of sending that one box was less than buying a whole shelf full of flavourings.

So I camped out on the sofa and waited for the bell to ring. Two hours later, I got up, completely forgetting that I was waiting for the postman, who Only Rings Once. While I was getting ready to go, 'Brrrrring', the bell rang and the delivery man's profile appeared on the door/cam thingy. I successfully used the intercom/phone on the first try. Up came the delivery man in the lift, and voila! Our spices and salt and pepper shakers had arrived. Yes, we've been cooking without any flavorings at all since arriving.

I went out for stamps, and then waited for Teen E to come home from her first day at school.
She called to say that she was going to Starbucks on St. John's Wood High Street with Teen A and Teen K, whom she had met during orientation. A little while later she called and asked if they could come over. Of course they were all welcome.

Later that evening, we went out to eat with Hubster's colleague T. and his wife J. The last time we had seen them was in Boston, when we had driven them around Medford, where they had lived 30 years ago on their first international posting. It was wonderful to see them as they are preparing to leave London now that they are OAP's (Old Age Pensioners) and they are moving back to their home country to farm a tree plantation.

All in all a very good First Day of School.

Monday Update and new photo

On Sunday afternoon I took the bus up to Swiss Cottage to get a prescription filled for Teen. There are several "chemists" in our own neighborhood. All but one are closed on Sunday, and the one that was open did not have our item in stock.

I took the 113 bus north on Finchley Road and got what I needed at the Boots, Swiss Cottage. Then I found Amy's, a small store selling kitchen and home supplies, where I bought two lampshades for Teen's room, as well as some other small kitchen items.

I walked back, through a neighborhood that I had initially considered living in. Our neighborhood is so superior, given it's leafy character and generally safe and genteel vibe, that I no longer regret the decision to be so far from the supermarket.

On the way back, I took this picture of a lovely rooftop with chimney. (see photo)

On Monday, we had half-price tickets to the King Tut exhibition down at the O2 Centre in Greenwhich. This used to be called the Millenium Dome, but has been left up and now houses a concert arena, a cinema, 40 restaurants, and an exhibition space like a museum would have.
Teen was interested in seeing the exhibit, the first time in 35 years that Tut has been in London. (Where in the world has Tut been?) We had a quick lunch in one of the restaurants so we could make our timed-ticket time, which we did with two minutes to spare.

I learned more about hieroglyphics, and came to recognize those used for Tut's name on gilded boxes and such. "Tut" is represented by a bird and means "truth", "ankh" is the symbol for life (I wore an ankh symbol on a necklace for a while in high school) and "amun" is the Source Deity, spelled with a feather, a zig-zag, and a game board symbol. I was startled to see that on a present-day presentation board, the characters were presented in mirror-image. Poor editing, or did the Ancient Egyptians write them facing in either direction? I felt very clever to have noticed this, and would appreciate an answer from the reading public. No photos were allowed, so I can't prove anything.

After the exhibition we took in the movie Mummies 3-D, which was good, but left us wanting more technical info about extracting DNA from Mummies. There is a researcher who hopes to find a cure for modern malaria by comparing the organisms to those found in mummies. If the organism has changed over time, this could provide clues to it's prevention. More power to her!

We snacked on Ben & Jerry's ice cream (again, seems to be at all O2 centres) and retired to the flat to regroup and get ready for Teen's first day of school today.

Meanwhile, a blister pops

Sometime during the week after we landed, Teen's blister popped. This was a blister that had developed on her hip due to the hiking trip she had just undertaken at camp. A five-day hiking trip on the Long Trail in Vermont with a new back-pack frame that rubbed in just the wrong place. This probably happened two days before we picked her up from camp, and just two days after camp we were on an airplane to London. It was DURING the flight that she first complained about the blister, which didn't itch. I didn't think too much about it.

Several days later, the blister erupted and drained and peeled as blisters do. I wasn't concerned about it. We dressed it with antibiotic ointment and a gauze pad. We had a discussion with the local pharmacist on Nugent Terrace about me being allergic to bandage adhesive, so he gave us tape that should have been OK. Except that the areas around where the tape was adhered to teen's hip now became red and inflamed, as did the blistered area itself. We applied more antibiotic goo and put on another guaze pad. The next day the red circle was bigger and uglier. After returning home from CHICAGO (the show, not the city, see below) and seeing that the size of the thing had doubled since the morning, there was no doubt that Teen had an infection cooking. My intuition told me it was staph, but of course here we are in a strange land thousands of miles from Dr. Mitchell, and the thought of flesh-eating bacteria was lodged in my head.

By this time it is 8:30 pm, or 20:30, as they call it here. We "rang" the hospital around the corner as our first step. They do not have an emergency department, but we didn't exactly need that. We needed someone to take a look on Sunday, the middle day of a three-day weekend. The Night Manager at John and Lizzie's (full name--the Hospital of St. John and St. Elizabeth, and it's St. E. of Hungary, NOT St. E., the mother of St. John, how odd is that?) said he thought he knew someone who was around, and that he, the Night Manager, would call the doc and then call us back. Luckily I mentioned that Teen is a student at the American School, for we found out the next day that the nice doctor to whom we had been referred was one of the doctors used frequently by families at the American School. He works with the nurse there, and has many families there in his Family General Practice. Also, he works privately, not for the NHS, so , as we are not (yet) covered by the NHS, he was happy to send us a bill that we can now submit to our US based insurer, who e-mailed us the International Claim form. Note that no money was required of us at the time of the visit!

So, not only did we get Teen's rather nasty-looking condition diagnosed and treated (course of antibiotics and swab with hydrogen peroxide four times a day), but we also got a very good description from the Doc about how the NHS vx. private health care works, and the names of several insurers who provide good coverage for Americans living abroad. He took extra time with us on a Sunday morning of a three-day weekend to talk with us. Thank God for kind people like Dr. D.! (whose office is Just Across the Most Famous Crosswalk in the World)

We score half-price tickets to Chicago

No, we're not travelling to Chicago. I'm talking about the musical. The one with all the Razzle-Dazzle, and All That Jazz, and He Had it Coming, about the depraved murderesses in the Cook County Jail.

The last weekend in August is a Bank Holiday Weekend. This is akin to the US's moving all the holidays to a Monday in order to give a three-day weekend. Except that this weekend is not a holiday that celebrates anything, it's just the last weekend before the fall activities start. Many Londoners escape into the countryside. In order to fill the theaters, a half-price discount was offered for several shows, many of which we had either already seen or had no desire to see.
CHICAGO was the exception.

We had a good time exploring near Covent Garden, which had street performers outside a la Fanueil Hall in Boston. I even discovered a tiny bead shop nearby while waiting for the theatre doors to open for the 3 pm matinee.

The show was fantastic and we enjoyed it from the fourth row of the stalls (orchestra), in excellent seats that I scored only two days before the performance. I think I like these Bank Holiday Weekends!

We (I) Obtain a Microwave

Well, the newness is wearing off, and it doesn't feel like a vacation anymore. Is this a good thing? Time will tell.

One thing we needed that our kitchen didn't have was a microwave oven. I turned to London's version of Craig's List, called Gumtree, for the solution. I found a listing from someone several blocks away who was moving abroad and needed to sell their 800-watter. I arranged to walk over and return by cab. Due to this individual's need to see lots of people before they left the country, (sound familiar?) our meet-up was postponed two days. No clue who I was dealing with, but sounded sincere and trustworthy on the phone.

In the interim, I went for an explore to the Maida Vale tube stop. This is one stree north and two streets west of us, about an eight minute walk, during which I noted several shops that might come in handy. I decided to pop over there to get a Tube map and talk to the Bakerloo Line station attendant about how to get to the IKEA store in Wembley, that is reachable by taking that line. He informed me that it was not possible to do that (althought the IKEA literature maintained that they ran a shuttle bus to their store from a Bakerloo Line stop). You CAN get to IKEA from a stop on the Jubilee Line (St. John's Wood station, also nearby), but you have to walk 20 minutes from the stop to the store. Who wants to do that when IKEA tells you there is a shuttle option?)

So I wandered back to A Flat On Abbey Road, somewhat disgruntled, as I had been looking forward to the IKEA run, as we need lots of small things to keep us organized.

On the night of the microwave pickup, I almost forgot to go out at 8:30 pm, and phoned "Nigel" (not his real name) to tell him I'd be a few minutes late. Hubster was already asleep, so I was going it alone. He suggested bringing a rolling suitcase with which to haul away the microwave. Brilliant!! I headed out with the rolling duffel bag from Bldg 19 over my shoulder, as night descended on Abbey Road.

This time, I got confused, thinking that the Maida Vale tube stop could be reached by a slightly different route. I miscalculated, and was nowhere near the right intersection. Hmm, should I go north on Maida Vale toward the lighted intersection, or south towards....darkness. I went North. When I spotted the London Islamic Centre next to the Marriott Maida Vale, I knew I had gone in the wrong direction. Cars and busses whizzed by me on Maida Vale, a very busy street with a divider down the middle. I hoofed it southward again, propelling myself at a pace that only a native New Yorker can achieve. It was a warm night (in the upper 60's) and I certainly got my exercise. No fear, just a dogged determination to get there before "Nige" gave up on me. I had asked him about his neighborhood and he had assured me it was very High Class, although not as nice as Abbey Road!

After about ten minutes of going in the wrong direction, then heading back, I got to the address of his flat only 20 minutes after I had left mine. There it was, just next to the Harlequin Cleaners, which I had noticed during my trip to the Maida Vale Tube Station. Odd that I walked right by the microwave's house before I knew "Nigel's" address.

He buzzed me into the creaky interior hallway, which had a push-button light that only stayed on for thirty seconds. I made my way up two flights to the tiniest landing every built. Did I want to come into his flat? No, I decided not. He looked like a perfectly respectable young professional, but I decided I would wait on the landing while he brought me the microwave. Didn't I want to make sure that it worked? The Gumtree site advised you to not hand over any money until you are sure the thing that you are buying works. I said: "Does it work?" He laughed and said yes, it works. He disappeared and returned with a fairly large microwave oven. I handed over the thirty pounds. He loaded it into my rolling duffel bag and gallantly carried down to the street level for me. I wished him well in Australia. He said did I need a toaster or a coffee maker? I said we were all set. He wished us well on Abbey Road, and off I rolled with my new appliance, reaching my flat in about ten minutes (some of it uphill). I could hear the revolving glass plate banging around inside the oven as I pulled it along over the paving stones and up "kerbs".

The microwave made a grand entrance in the Edwardian-era lift. Even with the delay, I had made it back within the window of time I had given Teen before I left.

The microwave DOES work. We just don't know exactly how, as there is no instruction booklet. I have successfully set the clock, and cooked green beans. Yay, "Nigel" and Gumtree! (i.e. the underground economy with no Value Added Tax.)

Oh Look!! I've won the Lottery!!

I've only been here five days, and I've already won the Lottery!!! Yes, I've just been informed by email (see below) that all my dreams have come true! I especially love being told not to broadcast the news yet!!!

"DEAR VALUED WINNER, CONGRTULATIONS!YOU HAVE JUST WON (EIGHT HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND POUNDS)UK ONLINE LOTTERY IN WHICH YOUR E-MAIL WAS SELECTED RANDOMLY IN THISEDITION OF UK ONLINE LOTTERY HELD ON THE 21ST OF AUGUST, 2008. YOUR E-MAILATTACHED TO TICKET NUMBER 56475600545 188, SERIAL NUMBER 5368/02, DREW THELUCKY NUMBERS no.:13.16.22.43.47.49. {28}Bonus Ball. THIS IS FROM A TOTAL CASH PRIZE OF £3.6 MILLION POUNDS, SHARED AMOUNG THEFIRST FOUR(4) LUCKY WINNERS IN THIS CATEGORY. PLEASE NOTE THAT YOUR LUCKYWINNING NUMBER FALLS WITHIN OUR EUROPEAN BOOKLET

REPRESENTATIVE OFFICE INEUROPE AS INDICATED IN YOUR COUPON. IN VIEW OF THIS, YOUR £850,000 (EIGHTHUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND POUNDS) WILL BE RELEASED TO YOU BY ANY OF OUROFFICE IN EUROPE. PLEASE KEEP YOUR WINNING INFORMATION CONFIDENTIAL AT THIS MOMENT. PLEASEDO NOT BROADCAST THIS INFORMATION TO OTHERS TILL YOU RECEIVE YOUR CHEQUE,PLEASEBE WARNED!!. TO PROCESS YOUR WINNINGS, SEND DETAILS TO YOUR FIDUCIARY AGENT VIAE-MAIL.YOUR NAME, ADDRESS, PHONE NUMBER, FAX, PASSPORT HIS INFORMATION IS AS FOLLOW;NAME: MR. BRIAN ADAMSPHONE: Tel: +447045743960Email: uknlclaims_dept@live.co.uk REGARDSMR. GARY RAYMONDONLINE CORDINATOR"

Good to Know

Here are some observations gleaned from staying at A Flat on Abbey Road (s0 far)


Up is OFF and down is ON --this refers to light switches.


Right is HOT and Left is COLD, but only on some faucets, not all.


It is necessary to turn on the outlet with a switch before an appliance will run.

One machine washes AND dries your clothes, but not very quickly.


DEAD SLOW CHILDREN PLAYING is meant to instruct the driver about speed, not a commentary as to the mental capacity of any children present.

A BIOPOT does not require a haz-mat suit. It is a tub of yoghurt that contains live cultures, and comes in fruity flavours, including rhubarb/vanilla.

In Regent's Park, Dog-owners will stop right in front of the sign that says "Dogs Must be Kept On Lead" and take their dogs off the leash.

"Warning, Falling Conkers" indicates that you are standing under a chestnut tree. "Conkers" is also a game played by children (with chestnuts?) that is referenced by D.H. Lawrence in Sons and Lovers.

There truly is a Knit Shop with a licensed bar in London.

The first floor is one flight up.

"Goods Inward" means the delivery entrance.

Day Three

Day Three: We lay in some provisions

On each of the previous days, we dropped about thirty GBP at the local TESCO Express, a mini-supermarket in the style of those in Manhattan. Tiny aisles, long lines, not good selection, but enough to feed us for a few days.

Hubster decides we need to make a huge supermarket run. I have been touting the wonders of the 02 Center up on Finchley Road, which contains a giant Sainsbury's Supermarket (this is the chain that owns Shaws/Star Market) a cinema, a Ben and Jerry's ice cream store, a chinese restaurant, a Starbucks, an Indian restaurant, a furniture store, etc. We decide to hike about a mile north from here, the back way up Loudon Road to Fairfax Rd to Finchley. On the way we pass a Woolworth's and a Waitrose Grocery store, the latter of which tempts us, but taskmistress Mom urges us on. We find and enter the 02 center to find that the Supermarket has been closed for necessary renovations to bring us a new and better shopping experience, and that it will reopen on Wed. Aug. 20th. Unfortunately, it was Tues. Aug. 19th at the time. Teen and I console ourselves with Ice Cream from B & J's.

We retreat in chagrin to Waitrose, which provides us with a very satisfying although not quite complete shopping experience. For instance, they do not carry toilet-cleaning brushes or other cleaning needs that we require. We do a huge shopping, filling the cart with 8 or 9 large plastic "sacks", knowing that we will not have to lug them all back one mile, as Hubster has decreed that we are going to Splurge and take a taxi back. This costs us an additional 5 pounds, but is well worth it, as our knees and feet cannot take much more on this day.

We get home to discover that our haul just about fits into our euro-fridge, which is about half the size of what we are used to. See photo

Day Two: We Attempt the Impossible

Here in the UK, one cannot obtain anything at all without a local debit card. That’s right. Local. Debit. Card.

US Credit cards will not get allow you to : pay your “Council Tax” (schools, rubbish removal, elder services, etc.). All utilities must be paid by direct debit: British Telecom, EDF Energy (electricity), Thames Water, a TV license (yes, you have to have a license to watch TV—fortunately, no test is required). You also cannot get a cell phone plan. At all. It requires a credit check. They only check your credit in the UK. If you have just moved here, you do not have any credit history. At all. You cannot get the “free phone” that comes with the 12- or 18-month “mobile” phone plan. So you cannot get a cell phone. At all.

So, we go to the bank closest to the American School to open an account. The young man there is very very helpful, getting us set up with a new account, complete with debit card numbers and bank routing numbers.

In addition to needing phones so Teen can keep in touch regarding her movements going to and from school, we thought it would be good to have them since the “lettings agent” only provided us with one set of keys to the flat. This includes a super-secure key to the front door of the building that cannot be duplicated by any locksmith anywhere without receiving the super-secret key code which no one at the Lettings Agent can determine. There were purported to be three sets of keys on their key rack at one time, but they gave one set to the Landlord’s daughter and she does not know where they are.

So we either all have to go out together, or determine a precise time and place to rendezvous, or leave someone at home to buzz us in through the video entry system, which includes a plastic box near the door of the flat in which appears a floating head of the person ringing the buzzer. One can then either talk to them on the intercom-phone or just buzz the building’s front door open.

A trip to two mobile phone stores on the St. John’s Wood High Street produces more frustration. In addition to direct debit information, they also need proof of residency, such as a utility bill (note that one should not be able to obtain that without direct debit capabilities). Hubster goes back to the flat for the electric bill. Although we have our debit details, we do not have the actual CARDS to swipe through the machine, and the man insists that they can only do a “CHIP and PIN” transaction (all debit cards here have a microchip in them instead of or in addition to the magnetic strip, and of course we hadn’t received our PINS yet, either).

While he is out of the store, the fellow explains to Teen and I another way to get phone service. It is to BUY a phone and sign up for a plan that is pay-as-you-go; i.e. you pay cash to “load” minutes onto the phone. Meanwhile, Hubster returns and we go through the rigamarole of providing all of our details to the gentleman, who puts them into a computer and VOILA!! Credit denied!! We don’t exist yet!

So we take the gentleman’s last suggestion and purchase three ultra-cheap phones for only 9.99 GBP each. Except those are not available. Why are they still in the display rack? Hubster would like to know. We wind up with three cheap phones for 14.99 GBP, plus three 20-pound sim cards with 20 pounds worth of minutes on each (minutes at approx 12 p per each, except if you call during peak times or out of the country, in which case they are…. Oh, forget it. AND Hubster had to provide a photo ID to be copied by the nice gentleman because they only allow two cheapo phones per customer. I had to buy the third one in my name. ?????????????????????? Remember, we’re still jet-lagged here.

Of course, these phones all look exactly alike, so I mark two of them with our initials using a Sharpie pen. Then comes the installation of the sim cards, which are the size of a thumbnail. One pokes them out of a plastic credit-card sized thingy and opens up the back of the phone, removes the battery, lifts up a little metal plate, and voila! Inserts the sim card into the phone. I had heard of the mysterious sim card, but never realized they were so tiny.

Meanwhile, Teen had taken a boxed phone and a sleeved sim card into her room to set up her new phone, except the sim card she took out of the shopping bag was not the one which “belonged” to her new phone number, according to the printout from the helpful gentleman.
So I had to revoke her phone, take out that sim card, figure out to which phone it belonged, reinstall the proper sim card, return the phone to Teen, insert the right sim card into my phone, and then work on Hubster’s. By this time, the third sim card has gone missing, AND I had already punched it out from the credit-card thingy. So you may picture me on my hands and knees looking for a thumb-nail sized piece of plastic under the rug, the sofa cushions, etc. I wound up in tears, moaning and banging my head on the floor in utter frustration.

All of this was exascerbated by the fact that Hubster was on the phone with British Telecom, trying to get them to fix our broadband signal, which was not working properly on my laptop, despite the fact that Teen was online successfully from the comfort of her room. He spent a total of 27 minutes on hold and speaking to different people in a warm country far away before I sat down at the table and noticed that the “wireless” activation switch had been turned off by someone.

Day Two’s good news is that Teen got up at 8 am (3 am body-clock time) and we all went over to the School at 9 am, where she took a Math Placement Exam and met some other new 9th graders during a tour of the school. After our marathon phone-buying session, we returned to the school for our conference about course selection. The results of the placement test indicate moving on to take Geometry, as all 9th graders do in Mass, so she’s on track there in case we return to BHS. She’s also signed up for Molecular Biology (having really enjoyed science last year, including frog dissection), World History, English, Chinese 2, Drama, Choir, and an 8th course that escapes me here at 11:39 pm. While waiting for our appointment with the advisor, I chatted with the extremely helpful 9th grade young men who were assisting with orientation. All of them had been in the choir and recommended it, but Teen didn’t want to give up Drama. The advisor said it would certainly be OK to take both and not have a “free” period in 9th grade. This means Teen will be able to go on the Choir trip in March to whatever European destination has been chosen (it’s a secret)

In addition to acheiving the impossible, which was bagging some mobile phones, we also succeeded in opening a bank account, and getting Teen registered for school. All in a day’s fun here at A Flat on Abbey Road.

A Flat on Days Zero and One

Day Zero: We fly to London

Left our neighbor Leslie and Tom’s at 5:45 am. Their friend John drove us to the airport.
Arrived at Heathrow with no problem, just a little convincing at immigration.
Collected luggage. Filled two rolling carts, which are free, with four bags each, two 50 lb. checked bags, two lighter checked bags, one computer, one bookbag, one asst things, one backpack.
Took cab directly to Abbey Road, as we would not have been able to manage all that on the train to Paddington.

Pressed bell 16 on brass placque. Hubster does not know how to work the video phone entry thingy, so he came down in the “lift” , which is an elevator with 2 sets of brass gates as doors. You can see the innards of the elevator shaft as you rise through the center of the pre-war brick building. This particular block of Abbey Road was less touched by bombing in the Blitz, within a quarter mile are whole swaths of 1950's-era boxes and taller 1960's icky modern blocks of flats.

Entered A flat on Abbey Road at long last.

It is really nice, with hardwood floors, nice curtains, tastefull Picasso prints, contemporary furniture, new granite kitchen and two newly redone bathrooms. The kitchen and baths are actually nicer than in any home that we have owned.

Pebbled glass next to tub gives persons on fire escape or in adjacent units nice pebbly view of naked bodies. No way to hang a curtain except for a tension rod. Luckily, I brought a long swatch of tie-died silk that is supposed to be a belly dancing veil. This is the new temporary curtain, hooked over the handle used to open the window.

Windows have no screens. Does this mean there are no bugs or bats in London? What about pigeons on the windowsills?

The tree outside Teen’s window (which is visible in the old photos of the Abbey Road album cover) is most likely a London Plane tree, although it has giant gumball-looking things hanging from it, so I’m really not sure yet. It is NOT a chestnut tree, as there is also one of those nearby and it has different leaves, and has a sign on it marked "Warning: Falling Conkers".

Went to bed at 11 pm their time, 6 pm ours. It was Saturday night, so there were a few revelers nearby in the street. Melatonin plus Tylenol PM helped fuel a good night’s sleep.

A Flat Day One

Awoke at first light for a while, and then again a few times later. When I finally got up for good, I was surprised to see that it was already 10:30 am. Tried to wake up Teen, who came out to the lounge for a few minutes, then grumped back to bed.

Decided to go out for a walk to get the lay of the land.
Went North on Abbey Road and took a street that went West toward Maida Vale. My walk took me Straight to the Violet Hill Park, a tiny but lovely garden and play space with lots of Mums and Dads and toddlers and American accents. St. John’s Wood is home to many Americans due to the presence of the American School nearby.

Went to the Violet Hill Studios, which I have been researching on line for months. It is a Centre for Natural Healing and rents space to practitioners such as me. Of course, it was 11:20 am, so not many people were around, but I met one woman waiting for her Massage during Pregnancy session, and when the practitioner came out to greet her, I met her, too. She gave me all the relevant lists of practitioners and workshops and encouraged me to come back when the founder would be there.

Went around the corner to St. Mark’s C of E church, peeked in the doors. The service was just ending as they were playing the final hymn. ALMOST went to coffee hour, but decided I woundn’t have time to make it back to the flat in time if I did that.
Walked North a bit to the top of Hamilton Terrace, then took a right and went back over to Abbey Road. Everywhere there are neat townhouses behind brick walls, with a paved spot for a car park and neat little gardens and well-trimmed trees and shrubs.

Took a detour down Blenheim Terrace, which is mixed residential and business, including Natural Burger (100% Scottish Black Angus beef!!) a very pricey French restaurant (with menu in French), two coffee houses (independents, not chains) and an Italian restaurant. Also a Mental Health Trust.

Back down Abbey Road, I spotted an “arcade” located in the ground floor of a block of flats. Here, an arcade is a row of shops, including a hair salon, a grocer, a dry cleaner, etc.
Went back to the flat WITHOUT going through the famous crosswalk.
Collected Teen and Hubster, and we set out on a trial walk over to school. To the back entrance, it’s five minutes, to the main entrance, eight.

From there we walked over to the High Street, and had lunch at my choice restaurant, which was sadly disappointing. Stopped by two cell phone stores and learned that without working bank cards, we had no chance of signing up for any plan. Took brochures any way. Hubster and Teen headed back to the flat for proof of residency paperwork, whilst I.... (get out your maps)

...walked down the High Street to Prince Albert Road, which runs along the northern edge of Regents Park. Found a gate into the park, and was excited to find a HUGE patch of blackberry bushes growing near a bridge over the Regent’s Park Canal. Went down a path to the canal and walked West until I got to the next stairway up to the street level.

The Canal used to be plied by barges delivering coal to central Londoners. The barges were towed by horses or mules that walked alongside. Walking along the canal is a little like walking along the Seine in Paris, but the water is narrower, shallower, and without the smell of piss that permeates quays. Many people were walking and biking on the now-sunny afternoon.

Walked up Park Road, past Lord’s Cricket Ground, took a left on Wellington Place and a right on Cavendish Avenue, also known as the street on which Sir Paul McCartney lives.
Breezed by his house, which is small and backs onto the grounds of the Wellington Hospital. Lots of security signs, cameras, etc. so I walked briskly by without looking like a tourist gawking. No one else was on the street at all.

Took a left onto Circus Road, then doubled back, crossed Wellington Rd. on Circus, and wound up back at St. John’s wood High St. at the appointed time to meet the Hubster and Teen. Gave up on the phone buying for the day.

Walked back to the flat, this time using the FAMOUS CROSSWALK on Abbey Road. I realized that I am no longer an Abbey Road Zebra Crossing Virgin.

Spent the evening watching Olympic coverage as well as a strange programme about weird British sports like Cheese Rolling, Snail Racing, Tiddley Wink Tournaments, and throwing a beer-soaked towel at a moving circle of people. Hubster cooked us up some spaghetti and corn-on-the-cob, and we perused the mobile phone brochures. Still no closer to making a choice, as there are too many details to comprehend.

Ta Da!! To-Do List Ta-Done ToDay

I am thrilled to report that all of the things on my to-do list are done !
This list was started in May. As of today, the following items are finished:

Completely clear out breezeway. (Kudos to Hubster on this one)
Paint walls of breezeway white.
Paint floors of breezeway barn red
Get stove replaced (Sears) --oven broke in April, just in time!
Get range hood/light/fan from Home Depot
Get electrician to install range hood
Call Master Chimney to replace flue on furnace chimney
Powerwash deck
Stain deck
Replace locks on back door
Talk about front door situation (repair/replace?)
Make decision regarding front door
Call Renewal by Anderson to replace front door and two sidelights
Completely clear out "finished" half of basement
Paint basement walls (see previous post re: crew)
Remove punky panelling in corner of basement
Tile wall where panelling was
Lay floor tiles in basement
Replace carpet in family room (Home Depot)
Get sink and tub caulked by professional
Call plumber to repair running toilet
Spackle, sand, paint wall/ceiling in downstairs bath
Re-line kitchen cabinets with contact paper (Devon)
Get mini-van repaired for transfer to Douglas
Install curtain rods in various places
Replace mirrored doors in upstairs medicine cabinet


Looking this over, even I am impressed!

How's the painting going?

To quote Frances McDormand's character Margie in the film "Fargo": "How's the painting going?"

Fine, thank you. Saturday, Aug 9th, Devon, Kim C. and her husband Laye came to paint the basement. I made three visits to the local True Value hardware store, and one to Home Depot with Devon to pick out wall tiles for the section of the basement that needed them. We painted all day, or at least it felt like it. While they took a break I laid the sticky floor tiles.

Last night, Marilee, John B. and his wife Maryna came to visit and we all feasted on Chinese food from Your's restaurant. We sat out on the deck and enjoyed some wine until the mosquitos forced us inside. Then we watched the recording of the Olympic Opening Ceremony. Laye wanted to see the team from his nation, Senegal. Kim and Laye took off to their home 1/2 a mile away, while John and Maryna opted not to return to Gloucester. We had an old-fashioned "sleepover", putting them in the double bedroom, and Marilee used the trundle bed in Teen's room with Devon.

This morning I got up at 6:30 am and starting glueing the wall tiles to the wall. Laye had used hydraulic cement on the part of the wall that needed tiling, so the wall was prepped and ready for its close-up. Missed church at 9:30, which I regret, as my friend Heather was preaching the sermon. Went back for a nap at 10 am when the company went out for breakfast, and slept until 1 pm. Slept right through the doorbell ringing twice, both times with neighbors who came to say goodbye to us before they left on vacation. Hubster wisely let me sleep.

M. and D. came back after lunch and we did some beading. M left at 5, and D. went out to dinner with her old pal Robert. I descended into the basement again and worked until 10 pm, finishing the floor tile job, and grouting the wall tiles. I think it's done now, all except the clean-up. Phew. Good night!

The Ballad of M sung to the tune of Yellow Submarine

Several weeks ago I was honored to be feted by my church sisters. We had a time of worship and prayer together, and then I was treated to a wonderful hour of funny songs and skits.

Knowing that I would shortly be moving to a flat on Abbey Road, these wonderful women took some tunes by the Beatles and updated the words. My sincerest apologies to Ringo Starr regarding this opus by Eileen C.:

In the town of _________ Mass. lived a woman who yearned to be
Where Big Ben chimes out the time and folks watch telly when they eat Tea

So she gathered up her brood, cleaned and packed and purged and stowed
Bid farewell to all her friends, and let a flat on Abbey Road

(chorus)
M____ has let a flat on Abbey Road, a flat on Abbey Road, a flat on Abbey Road
M____ has let a flat on Abbey Road, flat on Abbey Road, flat on Abbey Road

As she goes about her days she will love the London scene
Purchase Marmite at the shops, and do Reiki on the Queen

M____ has let a flat on Abbey Road, flat on Abbey Road, flat on Abbey Road
M____ has let a flat on Abbey Road, flat on Abbey Road, flat on Abbey Road

(spoken)
Full speed ahead, Mrs. H, full speed ahead!

Pounds to spend and stones to weigh, honor's list and Albert Hall
BBC and ITV, Glastonbury Tour with Sir Paul (ha-ha-ha)

(repeat chorus)

Basement has had its "A-flat" kicked

Hurrah! The fabulous team of Barbara B. and Marilyn Y., two of the Knittin' Kittens' finest women, arrived today and helped me do a major purge of the basement. The poor basement had never quite recovered from the great Seussical costume-sewing incident of 2007. Also, the yarn stash had mysteriously grown and was threatening to block egress to the laundry area.
Thanks to these miracle-workers, the basement is now ready for it's close-up!

Devon arrives tomorrow to help me with the rest...

Shipper has picked up boxes

With only eleven days to go before launch, our trans-Atlantic shipment of boxes has left the building.
We started this process by going to the local well-known shipper (rhymes with "cups"). A 35 pound box, with dimensions of 18 x 18 x 17 inches, would cost $300 to ship. So much for my plan of sending things this way.
At Hubster's suggestion, we visited the shipping services run by Uncle Sam. The same box would cost $120 there.
The web provided a way to obtain quotes from international shippers. Of the five companies from whom I requested a quote, one replied. I think our shipment of 10-20 boxes was too small for most companies, who are used to moving whole houseloads of furniture.
The quote we wound up with was for $1,100 for 15-20 boxes. I booked them with a 1/3 deposit.
They are out of Pompano Beach, FL. Their proposal included picking up the boxes at our home, putting them on a pallet, shrink-wrapping the pallet, putting it on a boxcar, sending the boxcar to New York, putting the container on a ship, and shipping the cargo to the UK, where it will be delivered to A Flat on Abbey Road, brought up in the "lift", and placed in our rooms.

I worked hard last week to load Teen's room into boxes and seal them up. (She is at camp, it probably was easier to just do it myself...) Friends came over this morning to help clear out my basement. I hadn't thought of bringing my sewing machine, but BB said they can be converted to run on different power sources, so we packed it up and surrounded it with a clever packaging device called "skeins of yarn". A little like sending coals to Newcastle, but now I have most of my stash with me in London and I won't have to buy a thing for a while (hah hah). This became the 21st box. A few of the smaller boxes were books that Teen and I could not live without, or thought would come in handy, like the museum guides for places like the British Museum, the Tate Gallery, and the Louvre.

At the appointed hour and day, a cargo van with another company's name pulled up and a nice young man got out. He was very pleasant as he loaded our boxes in his van. "Wait a minute!" I thought. "How do we know this is the right guy?" He could have been anyone in a van, driving off with our lives in 21 boxes. He gave me his boss' business card, and a tracking number for our shipment.

'Bye things. See you on the flip side in four to six weeks.

We have each packed up several weeks' worth of clothes in our suitcases, and have carefully alotted space in our carry-ons for our absolute necessities.