1) I brought my coffee and sausage roll back up to bed with me, and then commenced with the Great Repacking, which took less time than I thought. Thankfully I can stash one suitcase at the hotel while I travel with the other.
2) Deliberately taking my time about getting to lunch gave me the opportunity for a relaxing stroll through and around Russell Square. During the noon hour it was actively used by Londoners spread out of the grass in circles eating lunch, sunbathing solo, sitting on the benches talking.
Observe the bee of Russell Square.
2a) The little garden beds were both delightful and a bit ragged. But I loved most the beds of roses at one corner, pink and orange-yellow, smelling as a rose ought.
2b) I noticed the “Please do not feed the birds” sign, and the evidence why: pigeons actively using the statue of the Duke of Bedford as a roost.
Pigeons perched and in flight!
3) I continued to the outside of the British Museum, a very active spot, including on one corner a shop of Scottish woolen goods. The last thing I need on this journey is a wool hat, but there were some garishly tempting ones . . .
4) I found the restaurant early, but then I found the Road to Temptation . . . a bookstore. The London Review Bookshop, to be exact. And it wasn’t too long in there before I found something in the extensive history section (they’ve been making history for so long over here already, it was organized by century): Queen James: The Life and Loves of Britain’s First King by Gareth Russell. We read so much about the six wives of Henry VIII, the author suggests, why not the six lovers of James VI and I as well? This seems entirely sensible.
4a) The only problem with this is that I literally do not have one cubic inch to spare in my bags.
5) How lovely to spend lunch with my friends Ernie and Kevin, who landed in London the day before, but are leaving Friday. This turned out to be the perfect time and place to catch up again, and a little Italian restaurant steps from the British Museum, equidistant between our hotels. Tomato sauce and seersucker don’t make a good combination, but since gnocchi are less a risk than spaghetti or tagliatelle, I took a gamble, and won.
5a) If you feel like you need “a bitter herb in your bouquet,” try a Campari spritz instead of an Aperol spritz.
6) Then I managed to worm my way into the British Museum. (Protip: don’t bring anything, especially anything in a bag; travel light to travel quickly.) Frankly, it overwhelmed me — so much so I forgot to look for the Elgin Marbles. But there were still things to delight at almost every point: the Waddesden collection, an African cape, cameos. beetle jewelry, and amazing statuary of all kinds.
7) When I felt myself flagging, I walked back to my hotel to catch up on my laptop before ankling over to King’s Cross Station. If you’re approaching from St. Pancras, keep walking until you see the big arches. The station interior is enormous.
8) Gail and her stepson Henry were in London for the day, and we were all taking the same train back to Scrivelsby. When Gail texted, I found them in a nearby pub and we sat and chatted until train time. Henry guided me through the turnstiles (I was putting my QR code on the wrong sensor), but he was not in the same car Gail and I were — and then she and I were not seated together anyway, alas.
9) The ride up was uneventful, England looking very English in the sunset (as it is wont to do). I was offered a chicken brioche and rosé by the Nice Attendant. And before we knew it, we were disembarking in Grantham.
10) “It’s about an hour’s drive, Robert,” Gail told me, and Henry deftly sped us through Lincolnshire through the twilight, with some good catch-up chatter.
11) At the Grange, Gail showed me to what the 19th-century novelists would have called a “large white-painted front chamber,” decorated with 12"x12" portraits of kings and queens painted by schoolchildren in bright colors, hung in careful rows. And so began a stay at Scrivelsby, Home of the Champions.