[LONDON LIGHTS 1984] DAY 8

August 7, 1984

Today we collected our Eurobout paraphernalia at the hotel lobby. We've got travel bags, brochures, luggage tags, and travel maps. These were stowed in our room. While we were doing last-minute primping, I got a call from my pen-friend Nigel, saying he was in the lobby.

Nigel and I had been exchanging letters through a penpal service, and though we'd sent each other pictures, I was approaching this meeting with butterflies in my stomach. I felt awkward, meeting him with Ma present; but the idea of being on my own to meet him was even more daunting.

In any case, before my imagination could go off the deep end, he was there; a nice solid kind of person, quiet in manner and with excellent manners. He was a bit shy, but that was to be expected. He would make a good friend, definitely. He had us wait out front while he got the car out of its parking slot; it's a cute little thing, though he managed to squeeze himself in without any discomfort whatsoever.

Nigel had us out of the city limits in good time, and he said that he would be taking us through a drive in the country, with a visit to Hampton Court. It was a bit unsettling to be in the front seat, given the way Nigel drives, which is swiftly but with care. Still, the views were worth it. It was beautiful to rest one's eyes on the countryside, looking at the facades of any number of old homes, many of them are "antique" in every sense of the word.

We made Hampton Court in good time, and as I set my feet on the gravel sweep, I could hardly believe I was actually walking on the same grounds as Henry VIII and his immediate family. It is a magnificent estate, and kudos to the British for preserving it through war and economic crises. It's easy to imagine the royal ghosts that might be watching from behind the portraits!

The gardens are vast. We passed the oldest living grape vine in Britain, if not the entire world — apparently the thing still produces fruit and the resulting wine is still drinkable. Amazing. We passed The Maze, and I was tempted to go in, except that the sight of the tall hedgerows marking the maze walls and boundaries was intimidating in the extreme. Instead we turned our attention to the little souvenir shop and came away with lots of souvenirs. Nigel asked if he could take us out for another country drive, and we accepted with pleasure.

We had our dinner at "The City of London" Tavern, a place that is described as specializing in authentic pub food. It's across the road from Blackfriars station, and the trip down was a delight — all those clean-cut young businessmen in their conservative pinstripes, reading the evening paper! It would have been very rude indeed to start taking pictures in the Tube car, but then again, it's the pictures one doesn't take that one remembers the most.

Unfortunately, we arrived too early at the Tavern, just after the rush hour. So we just had time for dinner and because Ma was afraid of being out in a strange city after dark, we had to skip the festivities which were supposed to start at nine in the evening. We took another one of those lovely London cabs back to the hotel, and never did I feel so safe while traveling. Even at night, and in a city unfamiliar to me.