WE SLEPT LATE on Saturday morning, luxuriating in the comfortable bed with fancy linens and daytime view of East London and Canary Wharf through the floor-to-ceiling windows.  Both Mary Elizabeth and Charlotte tend to be late sleepers, so I was the first one up. I’ve learned the hard way that Day One of a vacation with Mary Elizabeth will start off much, much better if she is allowed to wake up gradually on her own terms.  Early on I remember several uncomfortable moments arising from my eagerness to get started and her total commitment to sleeping late.  I quickly disabused myself of the idea that we had to spend every waking (or sleeping) moment together and used her sleeping time to go for a walk or read.

Once everybody was up, we plunged into the goody basket and found cereal for breakfast – along with thoughtfully provided milk and orange juice in the refrigerator.  Showered, shaved and ready to face the world, we headed for the London Eye via Waterloo Station.

The weather was unfortunately not completely cooperative, but this was London in December, so it was unreasonable to expect more than cold and damp.  We wandered slowly towards the Eye – hard to miss – to see about going up. Judging from the stanchions and other instruments of crowd control, it seemed like they were used to big crowds.  There was not much of a line on this gray December day, but it was long and slow-moving enough to make us choose the “fast pass” option and pay a lot more to jump the line.  I think it turned out to be about $130 all together, but it did seem like a once-in-a-lifetime experience so we went for it.

The Eye continuously moves, so getting on is a little nerve-wracking and I was thinking about the corporate functions which use the Eye, and what it would be like to have had a few cocktails and stepping off or on the moving cabins.  At any rate, we made it into the cabin successfully and were transfixed by the view.  As we rose higher and higher, more of the surrounding cityscape was revealed.  It was wonderful to see Charlotte so thrilled at the sights unfolding before her.  Even though the weather was a little misty, we could see quite a bit and I knew enough of the basic geography of London to be able to point out the major landmarks.  Interestingly, there was a pro-earth demonstration on Westminster Bridge dominated by people wearing blue clothes (and we would later find out had blue-painted faces) and carrying a large inflatable planet earth on their shoulders.  The entire ride lasted over 30 minutes, so by the time we got back down, we had had enough and were ready to disembark.

Our plan for the rest of the day was to head over to Harrods and check out the school uniforms section and maybe make Charlotte try on some of the blazers, kilts and straw hats – something she wasn’t necessarily looking forward to but that we definitely were.  We went back to Waterloo and decided to have something to eat before setting off.  There was a second floor restaurant with a balcony looking over the main concourse and we settled there and got a variety of lunches and a cheese plate.  I remember thinking that of all the great places in London to eat, we wound up in Waterloo Station looking at travelers passing by.  However, I had to admit that there was something very restful – even mesmerizing – in being seated with no particular rush, watching all the others rushing about, catching trains.

Seated with us were some of the demonstrators from the event we saw from the top of the London Eye.  Their faces had indeed been painted blue and green and many had rolled up banners which had no doubt been used in the march.  We couldn’t see any sign of the giant inflatable planet earth however.  We lingered for quite some time, enjoying the view and the food.  After a quick call to Mary Elizabeth’s mother, we headed for the tube and began our trip towards Knightsbridge, and the schoolgirl clothes of Harrod’s.

When we got to Green Park, where we planned on changing to the Picadilly line, it became immediately clear that this wasn’t going to happen.  None of us is comfortable in large crowds, and the crush of people on the platform would have made even the most stalwart individual a little queasy.  We watched several trains come and go, packed with passengers and no room for us or any of the literally hundreds of people on the platform.  The thought of getting separated in a crowd like this was terrifying, so we decided to abandon the tube, and came up on Picadilly where we hoped to get a taxi to Harrods instead.  There were however no cabs to be had, and as it got later and later, we realized that we wouldn’t be able to go to Knightsbridge and make it back to the hotel in time to dress for the concert.  So we continued our search for a taxi – this time bound for Canary Wharf and wandered east on Picadilly towards the Ritz.

Several years earlier, we had spent a summer week in the UK, and split our time between Buckland Manor and the Ritz in London.  Several years earlier, Mary Elizabeth had won a pair of round-trip first class tickets anywhere American Airlines flew and naturally we chose London.  Since our airfare had been comped, we felt like we could splurge a little bit on hotels and we chose the Ritz, which truly lived up to its reputation for comfort, luxury and service.  On this trip however, we were staying much farther away and needed to get back to the hotel in time to change and get to the concert.  The problem of course was that in the rain at 5pm, there wasn’t a cab in sight.  So when we got to the Ritz, we consulted the doorman about where we might get a taxi.  He wasn’t very hopeful, commenting that with Christmas celebrations building up – and the inclement weather – a taxi would be very hard to come by.  I discreetly asked if he could help us, but he pointed out that there were several guests of the hotel waiting inside for taxis.  He said we could wait if we wanted to, but it didn’t look good.  So we took his advice and waited under the marquee, sheltering from the rain for a few minutes while we decided what to do.

Suddenly a taxi pulled in front of the hotel and the doorman quickly told us to get in – saying that the guests probably weren’t quite ready to leave.  We thanked him profusely and I slipped him a pound and off we went.  I suspect that our good fortune was a result of our being polite and humble – two things which most Brits don’t expect from Americans.

We got to the hotel, passing again the Tower of London, looking dramatic in the misty rain, and headed up to our rooms for a quick change.  The concert, featuring our friend Melanie was at a church at the tip of the Isle of Dogs, directly across the Thames from Greenwich.  The Docklands Light Railway (DLR) ran right next to the hotel, so it was literally steps away.  We only needed to go a few stops south to Island Gardens, and then walk about 4 blocks to the church, so it wasn’t too big a deal to get there.

We relaxed in the room for a few minutes, having a snack from the basket and watching TV.  Eventually we got dressed for a night out, emailed Michael to let him know we were on our way and left for the concert.  We walked along the water a few feet to the DLR station and walked up two flights of stairs to the platform, where a train was waiting.  Charlotte and I were up ahead and when Mary Elizabeth got to the top of the stairs, I took her umbrella.  She turned to me and said she was feeling off-balance.  I thought it might have been that she had quickly ascended the stairs, and then I noticed that one of her eyes was crossed.  She started to keel over and I rushed to her side, just as she started to fall to the platform.

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Go to Chapter Two