On our first trip into London this vacation, my eyes were opened by the appalling dress sense of the people around me. On the underground I thought "Have they no shame?" as I tried to "judge not lest I be judged". Large women stuffed into small clothes with bizarre hair styles and harsh make-up squished themselves into the limited seating around me and my little family. At the time it really did not occur to me that they were also tourists. This became apparent on the return trip when we saw business people in office attire on their way home.
Strange neighbors not-withstanding, we had a lovely touristy day admiring the vistas afforded by the "London Eye" followed by a visit to the London Aquarium. The icing on the cake was bungie jumping for our two little wild things. There was, however, one incident that left us with an unpleasant taste in our mouths. It happened while we were having sandwiches in an outdoor cafe. There were large flocks of very fat, very cheeky pigeons milling around begging between the tables, and our small daughter was encouraging them with potato chips when a foul tempered, non-English-speaking waiter made a footballer's lunge and kicked at the center of the flock. One bird hit my husband square in the chest, while three more nearly missed the girls and me. Small daughter's drink was upended, soaking her clothes with cola, and the surly waiter barely grunted an apology.
No, we didn't complain to the management of the cafe, as no one there appeared to really understand English. We're told that it's very difficult to find English people in these sorts of jobs now. Nevermind. We're on holiday, and a little cola on a kid's clothes need not spoil the day.
Strange neighbors not-withstanding, we had a lovely touristy day admiring the vistas afforded by the "London Eye" followed by a visit to the London Aquarium. The icing on the cake was bungie jumping for our two little wild things. There was, however, one incident that left us with an unpleasant taste in our mouths. It happened while we were having sandwiches in an outdoor cafe. There were large flocks of very fat, very cheeky pigeons milling around begging between the tables, and our small daughter was encouraging them with potato chips when a foul tempered, non-English-speaking waiter made a footballer's lunge and kicked at the center of the flock. One bird hit my husband square in the chest, while three more nearly missed the girls and me. Small daughter's drink was upended, soaking her clothes with cola, and the surly waiter barely grunted an apology.
No, we didn't complain to the management of the cafe, as no one there appeared to really understand English. We're told that it's very difficult to find English people in these sorts of jobs now. Nevermind. We're on holiday, and a little cola on a kid's clothes need not spoil the day.