We’re having a grand old time in London.
Except the weather has not been very kind.
‘It’s fresh Ma’am’
the hotel doormen with the black bowler hats would tell me every morning.
‘Fresh!!!! It’s friggin freezing’ this Aussie would reply.
There is just something about a man in a bowler hat
that brings out the inner Cockney mongrel in me.
‘Yes Ma’am!’ they would reply.
They are recruited for their politeness.
They win.
Yesterday Mr Wren and I found ourselves with a rare London afternoon to ourselves. We were walking along the Embankment, on our way to Westminster, to see the Prime Minister. Somehow it felt important to go and find out what on earth was going on with this Brexit EU referendum that everyone is talking about. When the heavens opened.
We were torn, one one hand we were only a hop, skip and a jump from Downing Street, on the other hand we were getting wet, real wet. Faced with the same dilemma that the population of Great Britain has on June 23rd of should we stay, or should we go? Mr Wren takes charge. ‘C’mon let’s get a coffee!‘ He spots a Costa Coffee and a Starbucks and starts making a bee-line towards them. ‘No Wait!’ I yell, as a loud clap of thunder cracks overhead.
‘Let’s do tea!’
And so, that is how we end up like drowned rats at the Savoy Hotel.
A bolt-hole from the rain.
This time we are greeted by men in top coats and tails.
Again all terribly, terribly polite.
‘Will you be joining us today Sir, Ma’am?’
Clearly there was some doubt as to whether we were in the right place…
We were lucky that they could accommodate us for our spontaneous afternoon tea for two. We’re shown to the most gorgeous table, a pianist plays in the corner. I do love London.
I can see Mr Wren thinking at that this last minute availability
is all rather unfortunate, especially when he is given the menu to find
Afternoon Tea at the Savoy is fifty quid.
Each!
‘Are you celebrating a special occasion today’ they ask?
‘Yes’, Mr Wren mutters:
‘…the fact that my wife is going to be nice to me
for the rest of my life after this!’
