Last day in the UK, so Ralph and I enjoyed a treat, a pub meal in “the Nellie,” a favorite pub of theirs in Farnham, dedicated to Admiral Nelson. They had a favorite quaff of mine on tap, Landlord’s. For the second pint, I tried all the other good ales they featured, but came back to Landlord’s. And to eat, oh, joy – a steak, Stilton and ale pie with delightfully flaky crust, one of the best I’ve ever tasted. I didn’t think I could finish it all, but somehow I did. I’ll diet tomorrow, to paraphrase Lillian Ross. (I think.)
From there Ralph drove me to the hotel we’d picked for me to stay in so that I wouldn’t have the anxiety of Heathrow traffic in the morning when I’m to fly home. It was extremely frustrating for him; the GPS kept putting us into a parking lot. We could see the hotel, but it took at least a half-hour to figure out how to get to it. No signage until we were actually there. But anyhow, we finally made it and all was well.
The hotel, called the Thistle Inn, was run by Indian people but was quite clean and perfectly serviceable. Curry was on offer in the dining room of course, but I didn’t need another meal after that big lunch. I settled for a pint of John Smith’s and a bag of salt and vinegar chips (or rather crisps, as they’re called here). I sat out on a rooftop lounge overlooking the runway; some of the planes taking off came quite close.
The bed was comfortable, but I slept lightly as I sometimes do when I have an urgent time that I need to be up. I woke early, in fact. There was a bus service to take me to Terminal 3 where I checked in at the Premium lounge. No hassle, even though Cunard had booked me in Economy. I needn’t have worried about my luggage being a few pounds overweight; they don’t give Premium passengers a hard time. I also zipped through the Fast security lane and settled into the Admiral’s Club to have breakfast while waiting for the flight to board. “Easy peasy,” as a dear Kiwi friend used to say.
Bye-bye, Britain, ‘til next time.