Europe 2026 - England

Leipzig to London – April 13, 2026

Snagging a coffee at the Leipzig train station

Easter week is finished in Germany and now we move on.  Today there are conveyances hired to drag us to and fro: train to Berlin Main Station, train from there to Flughafen (airport), aircraft from Berlin to London, then Underground rail from Heathrow to Russell Square.  I begin the day in a stunned, half-catatonic state and never feel the need to generate much more energy than that.  After all, most of the day is spent sitting on one’s duff or waiting in a queue.  Luckily, I am not called upon to function at a level much beyond that of a freshly baked zombie;  all appointments are met and reservations in order thanks to CK.  Not only that, but the machines designed to carry us are working as intended.  After experiencing the unreliable decrepitude of our ferryboat system back home we have become sensitive to the perverse nature of man-made devices, particularly those belonging to the transportation industry.  All goes well today, however.  No sweat.

I feel that the Belin Flughafen is of some interest in that it seems to have expanded since we were here last.  It is likely the same size as last time, we’re merely discovering a new, previously unknown vastness.  We walk at least 1 mile with our luggage from the train platform to our gate, all of it inside Terminal 5.  It is clear that one does not want to be in a hurry to get to a connecting flight here.  An electric scooter would be the only chance.  In the lounge area (we are flying business class) I meet my first deployed service bot.  It is for bussing tables.  It cruises by me once, flashing a smiley face from its screen in gratitude for my stepping aside to let it pass.  Then it parks in a corner, putting up some text to the effect of “Please clean up the dishes”.  Then it seems to pout there while the staff ignores it.  It is a little spooky.  I kinda feel like thanking it but why am I feeling that way?   Can’t tip it, either.  All the bot needs is a software update and some periodic maintenance.  No coffee breaks, no salary, no sick days.  Just a forlorn chirp every now and then, “My battery is low.  Charge me”.   Some humans, are, no doubt, now unemployed with the same complaint.

The busboy bot at Berlin Flughafen

The loading of the plane at Berlin seems a little random, something of a free-for-all but it all settles down to an orderly flight.  They serve a snack of tarted up pub food that is odd in the way that airplane food usually is.  There’s something miniaturized and processed about it, like it’s been handled too much.  And it’s messy.  The possibility of fouling oneself with a glop of greasy clotted cream kind of robs the meal of what little flavor it never had.  We’re on British Air.  The flight is only 2.25 hours.  Feels like we spend that much time on the taxiway.

London Underground

Weather in London is dry and cool.  We don’t notice it much until we emerge from our hour long slog in the Underground from Heathrow to Russell Square.  From there it’s a luggage drag and people-dodge about a quarter mile to our hotel in the Bloomsbury district, The Beauchamp, or as they pronounce it here, Beecham.  Our room in Leipzig was the bomb compared to this one.  Let us suffice to say that the updates made to this building since the late 18^th century have been a niggling few.  I may feel inclined to list the sad details but that must wait until a future post.  Our initial impression is simply this: We do not recommend.

For our evening gnosh, we find an alley slinking away off Southhampton Row which harbors a string of pubs, one of which is The Swan.  Here we polish off a shared order of fish & chips.  I had a nice Spanish lager, too.  Here, also, the modern world gives us a start.  As we sit down, a printed notice invites us to download an app and send in our order from our table.  We did this once before, in Norway last year but that was Norway.  I fully expect modernity and updated 21^st century tech from them.  But in an 18^th century pub in London?  What?!  Our experience so far is an 18^th century hotel with too few updates  and an 18^th century pub with too many.  Gah.

The Swan

We’ll be here for a few days doing this and that while making time to hit the theater district for three shows.

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London – April 14, 2026

Descending to the Underground

We don’t have jet lag to deal with but we must, however, deal with a restroom and bath with no perceptible heat source together with a noisy exterior remodeling project adjacent to us.  On the other side of our space is a room that looks to have been improvised out of a 19^th century study.  In it were 10-12 gentlemen in suit and tie having a jolly good time as if it were the semi-annual gathering of The Pudding Club, dedicated to the preservation of ancient dessert items.  We have no idea what they are up to, but we weren’t prepared to be located next to a party room or a construction zone.  After one sleep in #107 CK requests a room change. 

Lots of Iranian flags out today

We have nothing scheduled today so we elect to do something we’ve never done in London, the Hop-On Hop-Off bus.  We don’t plan to hop off, riding the whole route as if it were a scripted walking tour.  First the Underground from Russell Square to Marble Arch.  There we find a City Sightseeing double decker bus and take a perch on the upper story.  This spot is kind of a nexus between Buckingham Palace Gardens and Hyde Park.  Our bus takes us for a loop through the neighborhoods surrounding Hyde Park.  We get a running commentary through earbuds connected to their audio system.  This is a part of London we haven’t seen and probably wouldn’t unless guided there by a veteran Londoner.  We are shown the Knightsbridge district as we roll past Harrod’s, the Victoria & Albert Museum, Natural History Museum, and Royal Albert Hall.  The posh voice in my ear feeds me bits of sugary information about how Queen Victoria miraculously avoided 7 assassination attempts.  Each one seemed to lift her popularity among the Brits when it was on the downside.  Funny how that works.  Kensington Palace, Paddington Station, and The London Hilton on Park Lane a 331 feet tall tower. The posh voice seems excited to inform us that from the top one can spy on Buckingham Palace’s private gardens below.  Also, some base jumpers parachuted from it in the 80’s and got away.   

At the Cumberland Hotel

By the time we complete the loop, I’m needful of a loo.  Public loos are not a thing in London, not in the zone we’re in.  There’s a hotel just ahead.  We plan to crash it for access to its necessary facilities but first I’m distracted by a plaque just above my head.  It declares that this is the last official residence of Jimi Hendrix.  Right. My curiosity is now lit.  We walk right through the front door like a hobo sailor does, a liveried gentleman doesn’t ask me who I was but holds the door, making no questions.  We encounter a huge space encompassing an enormous bar and restaurant adorned with a rock & roll theme obviously echoing the ghost of Hendrix.  We are in the Cumberland Hotel.  The restaurant is a Hell’s Kitchen, a Gordon Ramsay establishment, just freshly opened.  It isn’t the only one.  There are a dozen or so others around the world.  This is the first one in the UK, curiously enough, he being a Brit and all.  This joint is a slick operation with some TV show vibes bouncing around.  We’re tempted to make a rez but don’t. 

One of the bars at the Cumberland

One bar is not enough at The Cumberland

It just opened days ago

Loo managed, we feel the need for a spot of lunch.  Any pub will do, so we poke into a likely spot, The Allsop Arms.  This is a sports pub and pro tennis is on the screen.  We like it.  We split a BLT and a couple of pints.

We’re out again and hiking to the legendary address of Sherlock Holmes, 221B Baker Street to see what’s there.  It isn’t far.  It stands pretty much next to The London Beatle’s Store which CK must investigate for sure.  This place is about as fictional as an address can be.  In the 19^th century when Doyle invented this address, the house numbers only ran in the 100s.  He intentionally created an impossible address to deter readers from bothering someone at their home.  In 1990 the City of Westminster approved the address to be attached to the museum. Before that, The Abbey House, a sprawling art deco building built in the 1930’s, occupied the spot that spanned the 221B address.  Fans came looking for Holmes’ flat but ran into this building instead.  Abbey House was also flooded with fan mail.  Anyhow, outside the entrance to the Sherlock Holmes Museum is a friendly lad in a Bobbie kit whose job it is to direct people to the ticket sales if they don’t have one already.  We have no plan to inspect this place, as it is the stuff Victorian novels are made of.

221B Baker Street

We decide to take a different loop on the Sightseeing Bus but first a stop for cake and coffee at a nearby Café Concerto shop of which there are several in London. These are a bit glitzy for a café space.  The pastry case is perfection itself.  The wait staff are liveried with distinctive caps.  Very tré. I must mention the loo here. All is tidy, of course, but the odd thing is the pop Christmas music being spammed in them at all times. I have an idea about this that I like even though it may be incorrect: this is done to present a mild annoyance. It made me want to linger there no more than was absolutely necessary and it had the same effect on CK. Curiouser and curiouser.

Café Concerto

Something is cooking for the swells at Westminster Abbey today

On the bus again, this time on a route that takes us past places we’ve visited before: Picadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square, St Paul’s Cathedral, The Monument to the Great Fire, Tower of London, Tower Bridge, The Shard, Houses of Parliament.  The weather, which began the day in a sunny, warm mode has turned gray and breezy.  We’re getting chilled on the roofless bus top.  Luckily, the tour ends just as we’re about to holler uncle and bail out.  We’re ready to find the Underground and get back to the hotel.  I need the loo but I can hold out until we get to the Beauchamp.  

The train is waiting as we arrive on the platform and I count myself lucky.  We’ll get there all the quicker because we get off in three stops.  Luck drains away immediately.  The train is held at the next stop because of whatever, we don’t know.  Something is happening at the Holborn station that prevents this train from moving.  I gotta go, so off the train and up to the street to hunt another facility to accommodate my failing bladder.  We think about the Cumberland again, but a quick check reveals that it is ¾ mile away.  CK spots a busy pub on the next corner, The Argyll, and it accommodates us nicely.  This is rush hour / meal time and the pub is packed. We’re impressed with this pub.  It isn’t very big, but it has some class, some worthy atmosphere.  The walls and ceiling are Georgian filigree in plaster, painted a dark scarlet. There's plenty of glass to reflect light and make the space look larger.  We could use a bite, so we wait until a table opens and park our bums.  Here we must order from an app because we cannot spot servers in action other than one person who clears tables.  We split a beef pie and wash it down with lager.  Good stuff.  We recommend!  And we did it 21^st century style on our cell phones and everything!

The walk home is 1 mile including a side trip for gelato at Amarino, the world’s best gelato and I’m not kidding.  There are shops all over Europe.  I am known to hunt them.  This particular shop has also gone 21^st century: one must order from a kiosk screen; no interaction with staff.  And I can’t pay with cash because that would be beyond the pale.  A candy machine can do it but such pedestrian activity is beneath the dignity of an Amarino bot.

Ice cream treat sorted, we must find our new room at the Beauchamp. We are directed to #006 (one promotion short of secret agent?)  We have a much better location but conveniences and lack of them remain identical.  It is what it is.

Tomorrow, more London.  This time we plan an encounter with the London Stage.

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