Why tests on Saturday?
After getting through the Great War Exam in sixty seconds flat (matching artists with their memorials or paintings), I sat downstairs at the table, trying to invent some plans for the Saturday. Mandy and Rachel saw that I was sitting there and asked what I was doing. Honesty was on my side; they then invited me to accompany them to Greenwich for a delightful day trip. The weather was lovely, and I'd never ridden the DLR or heard of half the places we were going.
Construction
It was me, Amanda, Mandy, and Kaitlyn who headed out the door. Still warm out, and lots of sun. The ride on the DLR meant we were accompanied by Rick Steves' brilliant day trips, a bunch of strollers, and the whole of north London. First stop was a Victorian tunnel that passed underneath the Thames altogether--the idea of a bridge built in the late 1800s underneath a river was a little disconcerting. I imagined pale yellow slabs lit by unsettling phosphorescent lighting of the tube stations. We passed a rugby pitch and sandwich stand, stopped for a few pictures on the Thames, and then realized the tunnel was closed for construction. Amanda was disgruntled.
That construction disrupted our chance to get on the Cutty Sark, but it didn't matter; that historic river boat was closed for the season as well. We reboarded the DLR and headed to Lewisham (the lamer way to get across the river) and saw a few stormclouds huddled over the Docklands. Rain started to fall on our way to the Queen's house; after seeing the Crown Jewels, Amanda was excited to see one of the places where the elite live. We were stopped at the door by a cute Japanese lady who told us the house was closed due to a wedding. Amanda really looked like she wanted to sock the bride, Kaitlyn and I were amused, but Mandy was losing her faith in her ability to plan the day trip after all. We were headed to the Prime Meridian, and she bemusedly suggested that it had probably been moved to Sweden or something.
Back on Schedule, Plus a Little Extra
But the Prime Meridian was definitely still there. It was a painted red line, with a big sign announcing the latitude and one of those mariners' compasses. We walked through a famous astronomer or sailor or something's house (paranoid about the crowds and pickpockets, we didn't stay long), oohed at a primitive telescope, and headed to the National Maritime Museum. We saw the prince's barge (even more ridiculous than the Lord Mayor's carriage), Shackleton's sailboat he took to Antarctica, paintings by Constable and Turner, miniatures of masters and slaves, more figureheads, pirate's doubloons, compasses and telescopes, old maps, and (my favorite) Lord Nelson's uniform--the one he'd been wearing when he was shot on deck the Victory. Kaitlyn thought they were lying--the bullet actually entered in through his left shoulder and exited his right side, above the hip, which punctured at least one lung and was a slow, painful death. Sailing life--what a madness. The average Briton on the street struggles to remember the Duke of Wellington (bit of a poor politician, him), but they all remember Lord Nelson and how he beat France once and for all.
Our day at Greenwich ended with a quest for dinner. We managed to find the Greenwich Market (Saturday was a craft market, rather than clothes or music or antiques or pictures), but every day there were stands for pasta, jambalaya, rice cakes, chocolate fruit kebabs, sausages, mulled wine, even horchata. We milled around looking for food; I got some African (?) rice and vegetables, which tasted like potato soup and jambalaya had a child; really delicious stuff, I couldn't quite stomach buying the same dish with goat meat, so I opted for vegetarian. Amanda got spiced cider (non-alcholic sure is hard to find), and the others got rice and pasta. It was a splendid way to end our day trip; night started to fall, and the Christmas lights twinkled all over the villages as we rode over in the DLR. I had no idea south London was so unlike the city--I sure hope I can go back.
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