After saying goodbye to Steve, we packed up our little car and headed back into London. We dropped off the rental at the airport and took the tube into the city. I was quickly homesick for the quiet little villages we had recently left behind. I'm not a huge fan of big cities and found nothing in London to compare to the picturesque views of the countryside. Sigh.
We checked into our hotel. This was quite a different experience from my last visit 11 years ago. Ian's brother, Rich, hooked us up with a deal at the Hilton Metropale. It was clean. There was a bed with real blankets. There was a TV, a phone, and a mirror. There was also a bathroom! All of this a considerable step up from our stay at O'Callaghan's in '98.
And see...I actually did go to England, Marci. Here I am in our executive suite.
We had a couple hours to spare in the afternoon. We decided to drop in on our dear friend, Her Majesty, the Queen at Buckingham Palace.
We took a stroll through Hyde Park. We found a bunch of French teenagers showing disrespect for the Canadian monument (notice the sign). I couldn't remember enough of my french to come up with something witty to say to them...so I just snapped an ironic picture.
And found a statue that bore a eerie resemblance to my brother.
After grabbing a quick bite to eat we finally reached our Monday night destination: WICKED.
It was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! The theatre was fabulous and the music was phenomenal. Worth every penny. Or, in this case, pence. What a great day.
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