Hello from Poole..and Corfe...and Bournemouth...and Swanage..and Sandbank Peninsula..and, oh yeah...London

Actually, London came first...and THEN last.  Dave and I left Horsham after having a wonderful visit; the staff there are aces, the food is spectacularly delicious; I was even able to borrow some Wellies from the South Lodge cache and clomp about the grounds.  What an extraordinary place.  I would love to go back someday.  But after a few days of rich food and magnificent lodging, I found myself perversely wanting a sandwich (how French!) and "I longed for a bungalow", as Eddie Izzard would (and did) say.

The driver showed up 10ish and drove us in style to the Rubens at the Palace Hotel just down a road a bit from Buckingham Palace, which is the palace Rubens at the Palace Hotel is at.  And here it is.

Doormen.  Concierges.  Lovely (but surprisingly small rooms) with comfy beds and all the mod cons, like high speed internet.  Of course, everything here is wired for 240 volts so unless you like fried electronics, remember to buy an adapter.  Here's our cozy little nest.

That's padded fabric on the walls, not paint or wall paper. Really beautifully done, too.  Next, our equally elegant if Lilliputian bath.

There may be diabloical reasoning behind the relative smallness of the room.  Yes, tourists and business travelers will be gone from their rooms must of the time, either touristing or businessing, but still, at the end of the day, one does want a comfortable place to spend the hours between dins and bed.  May I introduce to you the Cavalry Bar?

Ah, the happy hours we have spent in the Cavalry Bar, enjoying the art, the drums, the regimental regalia, the wine, the Pimm's Cup, the Long Island Iced tea.  Hey, we both have had hideous colds!  Alcohol kills germs.

We left our London haven to travel to Poole to visit our dear firiends Nigel and Jackie Bryant.  Nigel is an ex-Cubic high mucky-muck, a right mixer and a great guy, and Jackie is grace and poise personified.  Dave and I spent the weekend with them (at this time, only I had the cold), and we had the best time.  They deserve their own story, which will be my next posting. Sunday night we were back in London, and Dave was succumbing to the rhinovirus from hell. 

No matter.  We crammed our pockets with hankies and tissues and trekked to the British Museum. OMG!  What an indescribably incredible place.  We saw the Rosetta Stone and the Elgin Marbles.  (Lion L. was surprised by them; he'd expected them to be smaller... and round.)  None of my photos can do the British Museum justice, so check out http://www.britishmuseum.org/.  Prepare to be amazed.

Our colds and their attendant coughs and sneezes made us feel like Typhoid Mary in duplicate so we hied on back to the Rubens to partake of the most brilliant and wonderful of British inventions, afternoon tea.

Notice our view? It is the back of Buckingham Palace, an area called the Palace Mews.  We watched people and carriages come and go, and saw young palace workers hanging out the window, getting a breath of fresh air, or cooling off.  England temps are problematic.  Outside is cold and damp.  Inside is hot and damp.  It's a lot like San Francisco, where you can find yourself really cold and sweating like a pig at the same time.  Thanks to our life in Frisco, we were actually adequately dressed for London.  Here's a shot of the Palace Mews.

Not a bad view at tea-time, eh? 

I really love England.

Tomorrow, in homage to my friend Marcia Kribs, reader and Holmes enthusiast extraordinaire, we are going to 221B Baker Street.  The Sherlock Holmes Museum is there, set up exactly as described in the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  Cannot wait!  Then off to the Victoria and Albert, and the Science Museum.  We will probably miss tea-time.  Darn!  That means we will have to repair to the Cavalry Bar for solace.  Cheers!