A mid afternoon flight got us to Stansted, where we purchased exorbitantly expensive return train tickets, got on a delapidated 'express' and reached Liverpool St in time to experience the joys of the London Underground as rush hour approached. Met up with La Strat at Waterloo, eventually boarded a rush hour train and stood for most of the hour-long journey to Ascot, suffering a nasal assault along the way due to a mishap with a toilet. Well, they shouldn't make doors with open/close buttons which function in the former sense when you lean on them but refuse to shut unless brute force is applied, should they?
Get the impression we might have been spoilt by the subsidised and efficient public transport in France? You might be right. Apart of course from the strikes...
Anyway, our destination eventually attained, we spent an evening enjoying the cooking and wine-plying talents of Le Rugbyfan. Enjoying rather too much in my case, because several bottles and hours later I woke up with a real gueule de bois. The morning & afternoon were thus spent doing as little as possible. A Thai lunch in Windsor was followed by another train trip back into London (even more exorbitant, though we have only ourselves to blame for that because we both forgot we had return tickets. I blame the hangover, not sure what la bienheureuse's excuse was), and a gentle stroll along the South Bank.
We then endured another rush hour Tube trip out to Ealing, where another UKC alumni reunion took place chez C&N. Another lovely meal, cooked by Monsieur B, and a distinctly more circumspect consumption of vin ensured a rather more healthy awakening on Saturday morning.
La bienheureuse maintained the healthy living theme with a morning in the gym (or swimming pool, sauna and spa thereof to be more accurate) while I wandered off to catch the Tube into town again and maintain the personal theme of UK public transport operational inefficiency. Spent a frustrating 20 minutes at Ealing Broadway going nowhere except from one train to another while a points failure was sorted out and a decision made on which train would be the lucky one to test it out.
At last however, I managed to reach hallowed ground, meet up with J&C and get to the home of football in time to enjoy (in certain senses) the game between the best two teams in English football. Afterwards la bienheureuse eventually found us, with a bit of guidance by phone, and we all made it back to Cambridge. The evening was spent enjoying yet another lovely meal cooked by the man of the house, a somewhat less moderate consumption of alcohol and a consequently rather drunken impromptu fireworks party.
Fortunately, improved levels of tolerance meant only a minor gueule de bois the following day, a typical lazy Sunday punctuated by a delicious late lunch and a lift to the airport, where a 7am Monday morning flight had persuaded us to choose the expensive option of a hotel room to ensure an extra couple of hours in bed.A slightly delayed flight, the unusual necessity of a bus from plane to terminal in Lyon, only one open immigration booth, and an overfull navette from airport to town centre meant we didn't get home till late morning. An enjoyable trip overall. If only they would get on with inventing teleporting...
