This is not a guide to London.
I’ve concluded that in my travels, at least, I can either see people or I can see things – but usually not both. On my last trip to London I went to the Old Operating Museum and the Tower of London and roamed all around the city, but I missed out on seeing nearly every person I knew there. This time I managed to see a lot of the people I love across the pond, but I didn’t so much get a chance to visit any of the places I had hoped to see.
I had wanted to get back to the Tate Modern, where I haven’t been in years. I had wanted to see a play or a show, and head back to the British Portrait Gallery. And I was ready, with a passionate vengeance and a freshly dry-cleaned glittered bodysuit, to spend a better part of a week at the newly-opened ABBA museum.
But none of that happened.
Because this entry is not a guide to London. And yet it includes some of the best reasons I can think of for visiting.
Like lunch with family.
I tear myself away from my meal long enough to take a quick photo. Then, more eating.
And in an attempt to provide some useful information in this post, I will tell you that if you are in Islington, you must stop by the Turkish Cafe, Gallipoli, and eating EVERYTHING YOU POSSIBLY can. Also, get a cup of the apple tea, which is essentially cider. Amazing.
Oh, and if you can get those four to join, I’d highly recommend it.
And we got to spend time with Doig, who is awesome, and tells stories about living in Kenya and England and keeps reminding us to travel now as much as we can. And we do, we do.
This photo is full of awesome.
And while I’m sure the ABBA museum would have been fantastic, an afternoon with Doig et al was better. I have no doubts.
Oh, and then there were more people. People who make visiting London worth the flight, even if you are crammed in economy.
Rand induces laughing and possibly spitting.
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Jane recovers.
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If you are English, you are charming enough to get away with elbows on the table.
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I continue to verbally abuse Stephen, even though he's sort of growing on me. Don't tell him, though.
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I don't even remember what the point was, but that's okay.
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And I suspect that I am more excited to see Ciaran than he is to see me.
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Rand gets some hair-styling tips.
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And I don't need to remind anyone to smile for the camera.
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And suddenly home doesn't seem that far away.
Sorry. I’m sure this is a bunch of nonsense for anyone actually looking for a guide to London. But really, I can’t think of anything better to see.
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