What a Drag

We see two shows while we're in London. One is Matilda, on the West End, which is fabulous. And the other is a lot less expensive -- a real British tradition: the Christmas pantomime. Not pantomime like the French guy in white face who can't get out of the imaginary box, but rather a goofy, bastardized musical version of an old classic tale, always starring a man in drag. As if there weren't too few parts for women anyway. Sigh. Completely by coincidence, the despised school matron in Matilda, Miss Trunch Bull, is also played by a man in drag.

 

 

 

Somehow, Gigi ends up onstage for a small audience-participation portion of the show, which of course she loves. The rather laaaarge woman in the bonnet to her left is the star of the show in drag. That might be pretty self-evident.

 

 

We enjoy both shows to some extent: Matilda is excellent, and the girls and I love it. Anthony doesn't love it because he doesn't see it, since his general opinion of musicals is that he'd rather have his toe-nails removed one by one (although he did get dragged to and admit really liking the musical "Wicked", so there are exceptions). The girls thoroughly enjoy the pantomime, but both Anthony and I suffer through it to some extent. I think that's one of those traditions that's really fun for children, and really nostalgic if you've grown up with it, but otherwise, it's just a pretty low-brow slapstick musical. Glad to have done it once, I suppose.

But even the pantomime shines in comparison with what we consider the biggest drag of the trip: watching the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace. I knew going in it wouldn't be my favorite, having suffered through it once before, about 15 years ago. But I did not say anything negative to cloud the opinion of the rest of my family; they just came to the same conclusion themselves. A whole lot of waiting around, jostling with crowds (and we even had a fine view in the front), and -- in our case -- stomping to keep warm, for a bit of pomp and circumstance. I think we would have prefered more pomp, and less circumstance. 

 

 

 

But the good news is that now we can all say we've been there, done that, and we don't ever need to do it again. As for the rest of London, we feel like there is still quite a lot here we haven't covered. Luckily, we have many friends here and feel sure we'll be back. Until then, ta-ta!

 

 

Double Decker Treats

Riding on the double decker buses turns out to be one of the girls' very favorite things to do. It's certainly their favorite mode of transportation. There is only one place to sit on a double decker: top, front!

 

 

 

 

And another of our favorite double decker treats -- well, triple-decker, if you look carefully -- would be afternoon tea. Crustless cucumber sandwiches, anyone? Best part for me, hands down, is the scones and clotted cream. I am in utter heaven. There are many fancy, famous places to take tea in London, but we opt for the Dean Street Townhouse Hotel, which is a cozy, candle-lit, more traditional and more casual spot. I highly recommend it, especially since it's about a quarter the price of the fancy spots and, frankly, we prefer the ambiance.

 

 

 

The thing that baffles us is a trio of Japanese women at the next table who are there when we arrive, still there when we leave, yet have three layers of uneaten treats at their table the whole time. A part of me wants to reach over and steal their scones. But upon reflection, it just doesn't seem like something the Queen would do at high tea.

 

 

 

Entry Surprise

You never know what's going to happen at the entrances in London. On one end of the spectrum, you have the Victoria & Albert, and the Museum of Natural History, and pretty much all the other fabulous art, history, and national museums. If it's the quality and grandeur of the Met, it's free. Special exhibits may cost you extra, but otherwise you just walk on in with nothing but a bag security check and a nod.

 

 

Then there are the churches: St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey, where the admission fee is approximately $45 per adult, and that's not an exaggeration.

 

 

But what bugs me most about the admission fee is that once you're inside the churches, they tell you not to take any photos out of respect for the fact that it's a "working church." When all 100 of the people I can see in the churches are walking around with the audio guides (which, thank goodness, don't cost any extra) and have just paid $45 each for admission, I can't say I feel like I'm really being culturally or religiously insensitive by taking surreptitious photos. I don't even feel guilty. Maybe I'll go to hell.

But if I do, I will take forbidden photos of it -- shooting from the hip and not getting caught (thanks Dad for these and other important life lessons). St. Paul's, with its famous dome:

 

 

 

And Westminster Abbey, even older than Notre Dame. This is where William the Conquerer (as he's called on this side of the Channel, or Guillaume le Conquerant on our side) was coronated. Coronated. Is that even a word in English? I have to look it up. I have now been speaking French long enough that coronate sounds like a real word. But I think it's coronation. Crowned. Is that what I'm looking for?

 

 

 

 

Just outside this grand room with the stained glass, which was redone in the 20th century after the original was destoryed in wartime, is this simple door -- officially Britain's oldest -- built in the 1050s for St. Edward the Confessor. $90 later (because children are mercifully free), the girls have finished their kids' quiz booklet at Westminster Abbey and earned a large chocolate coin. Frankly, for the admission fee, I was rather hoping it would be real gold...