My Once A Year Day

Today was perhaps the slowest start to any day of the week that I've ever experienced. I looked at the clock and discovered it was well past 9am - and when I got up, my feet still ached and my mother's groans had me worried that perhaps we had pushed it too far on our first day. But, trooper that she is, after a refreshing shower, she was ready to tackle this city again.

First on our list - the TKTS booth in Leichester Square for half priced theater tickets. The choice was between Billy Elliot and the just opened for a limited run - The Pajama Game. The latter being near and dear to my heart since it was the only production I ever joined my high school drama club for in my senior year. As we easily, much to my surprise, found our way there, I instructed my mother to just wait in line as I checked the board.

"I'm not going far, I will be RIGHT back," I instructed as I could see her ready to bolt with me. In a flash, I had returned and with both shows available, I made my choice. But not before I freaked out a family in front of us who were waiting to buy Matilda, the Musical.

"It's a flop," I told my mother when she pointed out the huge Grace of Monaco poster displayed above one of the theatres. "No, not your show," I told the family who were looking at me aghast. Then I silently thought, that's what you get for eavesdropping.

At the booth, we got incredible center seats and then made our way to a quick breakfast at a small French cafe. If I can't get to Paris, I'm damn sure going to get my French fix somewhere. My mom's buttery croissant was as good as any we had in the capital city and I had a light fest of granola and berries over yogurt. The rich red syrupy berries were incredibly sweet and I made Rosemarie dip the last remaining portion of her croissant into it so she could enjoy it. From the amount of sugar and milk that she puts into her coffee, I fear Europe's nectar is stronger than anything she's ever had. We left the exact amount of the bill on the table and decided to do our Tower of London Tour. It was too late to make our way to Shakespeare's home. We need to be up and well rested before we tackle an all day adventure.

Making our way to Tower Hill was easy, though the crowd in the tube station and on the roadway across from the tourist attraction had my mom gripping my arm even harder.

"Maybe I'll leave you here," I joked as the throngs of people swarmed all around us, including another dive bombing pigeon.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that," she came back quickly. "I'm holding all the money."

Touche, mother, Touche.

She tried to pay for the tickets, but I'd already bought them months ago, along with an audio tour. She was not happy that I'd thwarted her attempts at using her charge card.

"I'm right here," she announced after I picked up the tour phones, and then tapped me on the shoulder  as if I couldn't tell where she would be at any given moment. 

With a few instructions, she was off and running with her tour, something I really love to do when we go to museums and attractions that have a lot of history behind them. We toured the Bloody Tour and were amazed at how the English loved to behead their monarchs and kill people because their religion did not agree with their own. The changing of the guard was comical and interesting all at the same time, and I wondered what kind of stories those young men will have over a pint of beer.

It was getting really hot, not Italy hot, but hot enough that I opted to take us to the Crown Jewels and forgo some of the lesser parts of the tower. As we stood in line, there was a family of four being led by a tour guide, and I nudged my mom closer to the woman's history recapping so we could "borrow" the free expertise.

Inside, it was fascinating to see all the pomp and circumstance jewels. As we looked at Elizabeth II's crown, I refrained from correcting the father of a four year old girl. He mistakenly told his daughter that the pearls were the Queen Mother's when actually, two of them are said to be Elizabeth the I's. Why ruin her idea that her father knows everything?

After a quick stop in the gift shops, I decided to nix the idea of high tea as it was already well past 3 and I wanted a pub lunch of fish and chips before we made our way to the show. When we boarded our car, the baby next to us let out a wail that could shake the underground.

"Oh no," I said taking my mom off the train and moving to the next car. "This will not do."

And the sound of the lung piercing baby was barely muffled from the doors our next door cab. Of course, I decided on a different pub halfway through our tube ride back to Embankment. Switching lines to the Marble Arch to go to the Cock and Lion (hello....), I then decided again, much to wrong choice, to go closer to the West End. 

We stopped back at our hotel and then returned to the Tube. Now, Siri is, I know, smart, but she could

at LEAST tell you where a road is before telling you to start walking toward it. I was hungry, hot and quite exhasperated with her, so seeing a pub on a random corner that served what we wanted, we unfortunately went in. My first clue should have been the sparse crowd, my second the Italian bar maid and waitress upstairs in the dining room who did not get out of her seat to help us. Seemed it was her break and nothing was going to stop her from finishing it.

I ordered fish and chips for my mom and a cheeseburger for me. I asked if my burger came with fries.

"Yes, yes, they a come with a-chips," the server said. Then, a few minutes later, she returned.

"Do you ah-want to get a garliiic bread, that is a lot of fries with the fish an a chips."

Confused, I knew my burger came with fries so I said, that's okay, we like lots of chips.

 And then she was gone, replaced by the now returned from her break child server who left our meals under the heater until the cook rang the bell another ten times. And then she gave us our food, which as expected, came with fries. But then she brought out ANOTHER side of the chips.

"Urgh," I said to my mother, "No wonder she asked that about the bread."

 I was too tired to argue so we ate everything. I would have complained had the food been horrible, but surprisingly, it was all very tasty. I asked for the bill the second I requested for the third time our water, "con gas."  Since she didn't bring it when I said sparkling, I figured, I'd better revert how the Italians order it in Italy.  The bill was a little less than 39.24 pounds and I just left the 40 so we could escape what would have most certainly been another ordeal.

With some time still left, we finally had Siri take us to my favorite gay pub, Compton's for a pint of bitter. Note to self, a pint is a glass, a pint is a glass. Just order a pint. We watched the crowds go by and made our way to the Shaftesbury.

I was thrilled to hear about this revival and even more excited when it got glowing reviews in all the London rags. Corny, silly, out-dated, but wonderfully sung, acted and danced, the show transported me back to 1983 in an instant. From the opening "Hurry Ups," to the "Can't get over it" enunciation that our director screamed at the girls to constantly stop doing, to the Once a Year day ensemble number, the show was such a treat. I recited my lines along with the actor playing my part, and it surprised me, that after all this time, I could still remember the dialogue. I was even more surprised there were not playbill equivalents so I purchased a program for six pounds.

"Six?" I joked to the young girl. "Six? That's about 12 American dollars. I love your country, but it's killing me, here."

Her companion worker got my humor and laughed along with me. She, sadly, just gave me my change.

The second act was just as fun and I found myself singing along to Hernando's Hideaway - remembering every bit of choreography that we did. What was on stage, though was a far cry from what we could ever have accomplished. My apologies to my Act IV friends, don't hold that against me. Alas, I was not as hot as any of the boys in the ensemble but times have changed in more ways than one in my life.

An easy trip back to the Tube was made frustrating when Siri kept telling me turn around and go up and down the same road. How am I to know that New Oxford Road and Oxford Road are two distinct roads? They both say Oxford!

It was as if it was ten in the morning with the crowds still piling into the tube and my mom looked tired as we made it up the insane length of the escalator. Getting back to our hotel, she's now fast asleep. We need to be at our Harry Potter bus by 9:45 tomorrow morning, so I'd best finish this and get to rest as well. We've still got some magic to do on this trip and we both need our rest.