London to Windsor

I’m now catching up from a small pub in Winchester, England, on Monday the 19th, and of course things haven’t worked out as expected. No one could say we’ve had the best of luck on this trip, unfortunately.

In the morning of Friday we had a last breakfast and Ibrahim shouldered both our packs and took us up to the Jemaa el-Fnaa (see the Moroccan diary) and to a taxi van. We gave him a 100 Dh tip and said goodbye. A 100 Dh trip to the airport and we checked our bags into EasyJet (we’d paid extra for ‘Speedy Boarding’) and went through the gates. We’d planned our remaining dirhams so well that we had nothing left on the other side for food or drinks, and just enough for a few visits to the toilets.

Luckily, the plane was on time. Waiting to board, we chatted to a Canadian guy with his young daughter who had travelled all over the world with his kids and was a friendly, positive bloke. In sharp contrast, an English guy tried to force his way to the front of the queue until I pulled him up short. He did manage to force his way in just after the Canadian guy, however. I noticed him attempting to apologise to the Canadian once we were on the plane – empty words since by that time he had got what he wanted. This strange EasyJet policy of ‘first on first seated’ seems to bring out the worst in people. Crossing the tarmac, a businessman ran out ahead, dropped his case, and foolishly floundered about gathering his scattered possessions while we watched in mingled disbelief and amusement.

On the plane, you also have to buy your food and drink, and by the time the trolley reached us the sandwiches were sold out. All this could possibly be forgiven if the flight was particularly cheap – but it wasn’t.

Anyway, it got us to London on time. We shouldered our packs through customs, got on the Gatwick Express, reached the insane chaos of Friday rush-hour Victoria station, and changed onto the District line for Baron’s Court. Eventually we found ourselves at the gates of our friends’ apartment building, and soon after we were inside and chatting about our trip. We spent the evening in a pub eating Thai food and having a couple of drinks. It was such a pleasure to be able to have some different food and a couple of beers again, and also to enjoy an evening with friends having a chat and a laugh. Really enjoyed the evening, though in retrospect C probably should have got an early night indoors…

17th October

We decided to get moving as soon as possible, and after a late breakfast with our friends at a café, we returned to the flat to struggle over the internet, trying to book a car for the afternoon so we could get on our way. Booking a car online here is a ridiculously frustrating and complex process – I was feeling quite fed up as the afternoon wore on, but eventually we set things up with National car hire for pick up from Heathrow at 3pm.

I packed up all my gear, including a ridiculous number of books, but it became obvious that lugging it on the Tube would be a nightmare, and our friends kindly offered to mind all our excess crap while we were gone, even though they’re in the middle of a house move. Shouldering on much-lighter packs, we tubed it to Heathrow and got a car hire company bus to the National/ Europecar terminal, filled out the paperwork, and picked out a car. Thankfully we’d also got a GPS system, which after an initial bit of mucking about and driving in the wrong direction, has proved to be absolutely essential – I can’t imagine us straggling with printed maps now as this piece of technology makes navigating unbelievably easy.

Carol suggested we head to Windsor and Windsor Castle, which was on our side of London and only about 20 minutes drive away. Windsor is a lovely little town but very touristy – we parked in a pay carpark and found the tourist office, and booked a B&B just out of town (£60 a night, which seems to be about the going rate), then drove there with the aid of our wonderful GPS.

True to the English B&B tradition, this was just a suburban home with a few rooms available for rent. We met Franco, our Italian host, a middle-aged fellow with a thick accent and eyeglasses repaired with masking tape. The room was OK, boasting the tiniest bathroom in the world as an ensuite, and frankly I find it a little weird staying in the upstairs bedroom of a strangers house, but that’s how bed & breakfasts often work.

It was rapidly becoming obvious, however, that Carol wasn’t at all well, and she couldn’t face going out again. I set out to find some takeaway. To my surprise the whole town seemed to have closed down after work hours and it took me ages to find a little kebab and hamburger place. I took my purchases back to the house and we ate our takeaway in our little room. It took some time to get to sleep, which seems to be happening a lot lately; also English beds seem to be uniformly uncomfortable.

18th October

Carol wasn’t feeling well at all, and I had breakfast alone, but she struggled on with me as we looked through Windsor Castle. It was a Sunday so St. George’s Chapel was closed, but the State Apartments were very impressive, especially the staircase room packed full of swords, rifles, pistols and various items of booty looted by British troops or received as royal gifts.

Back in the car, we plugged Winchester into the GPS and drove for about an hour along the M3 to get there.

Whoops, my memory has failed me – the first thing we did this morning was to go to Slough and a medical centre, but unfortunately the nurse who saw us was a complete idiot whose diagnosis was basically  “you’ll get over it”.

In Winchester we got a room in a B&B in Clifford Terrace, close to the High Street, and run by a wonderfully friendly and lovely woman called Chrissie. We walked nearby to the Great Hall, a 12th century remnant of the castle that was once on the spot back when Winchester was the capital of England. On the wall hangs the spectacular Round Table, a 12th century table probably painted with the names of the Arthurian knights in Henry VIII’s time. Great stuff.

Again, Carol was feeling terrible, and I set out to find some takeaway in the likewise deserted town. Eventually I found a kebab place a few minutes away. Carol was in terrible shape in the evening, shivering with cold and burning up at the same time. Her tonsils are a mess. Obviously she’s really upset as well.