Prada For Men?

We were off to a flying start when we arrived in London (#2 on my Bucket List), and the bumpy eight-hour plane ride was just the beginning. We made haste through the infamous fog to our hotel via one of those boxy black cabs. There was a plasma TV in the back for our commercial viewing, or to distract us from noticing the steering wheel was on the wrong side.

Our hotel was smack dab in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the city. From there, we could and did walk to Trafalgar Square, Big Ben, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace where the Queen was in residence that week, and Westminster Abbey where Lady Di's funeral was held. One rainy day, we rode on the top deck of the Big Red Bus over to Kensington Palace, once the home of Princess Diana. We went to the West End another night to see Wicked, and no, I didn't notice the actors had accents. It was lovely, as the Britons say.

Sarge made me promise not to ever mention our shopping trip to Harrods. I didn't even know Prada made shoes for men!

It was no charge, though, to walk down to Whitehall where the Houses of Parliament were. We found a cute little pub (#42 on my Bucket List) just like on TV! You know I had the beer (warm, of course) and I wanted to order the Shepherd's Pie (also #42 on my Bucket List), but I couldn't bring myself to eat the poor little lamb baked inside.

The British will slaughter a little lamb and slice it up for cooking, but they are so bloody polite when they argue. Take the couple at the table next to us, for example.
"Are you an idiot?" the wife asked her husband as she took the baby from his arms.

"I'm not really an idiot, no," he answered in a monotone.

"Brilliant," she retorted as if he'd asked her how bright she wanted her teeth. But then that's another thing, the British in general don't see the value of a dentist, and it shows.

"Wanker," he said.

"Tosser," she threw back. "Bullocks. I shall put the baby in the pram, and leave your arse."

"Oh, no, you shant," he cried as he rose from the table. "Not the perambulator."

Now, I had no idea what a perambulator was, but the name evoked pictures of some type of machinery that chops wood or eats little children, so that was the point at which I turned and gave them my full attention, only to find her placing the baby in a stroller.
Oh, bloody hell, I thought and laughed at myself. Tally ho, you cheeky dodgers!

And that was how we spent our 30th anniversary, doing what we love to do, traveling. I thank Great Britain for their hospitality, and I thank God He blessed the world with vinegar to give their fish and chips some flavor.