Keep Calm and Make Bank on Slogans

Everywhere you go in the U.K. now, you see the World War II era “Keep Calm and Carry On” slogan.  It’s seen in its original form and also in cheeky iterations “Now Panic and Freak Out,” “Keep Calm and Boogie Down,” etc..

This poster was, uh, posted, outside the tube stop closest to our hotel.  I really like it.  It’s never occurred to me that the queen might have a nickname.  I can’t imagine anyone calling her Lizzie.

But now I hope someone does.

Chipotle! Uh, Whoops.

Two weeks ago, while on a bus tour of London, we passed a Chipotle.  The kids were beside themselves with excitement, as was I.  We’ve had so many expensive, mediocre meals (of necessity) on this trip.  I was looking forward to an expensive, mediocre meal that would be familiar and pleasant for the girls and I.

Long story short.  It’s not the same as at home.  The tortillas are dry.  The beans are too soupy.  The barbacoa is different and the mild salsa isn’t chunky, it’s blended—for shame, for shame.

The chicken, however, is the same.  But that means it's dry and not worth eating (sorry, Chipotle, I really think you miss the boat on chicken).

The girls did eat dinner without much complaint, which was a nice surprise.  However, my dreams of a few nights of Chipotle/easy dinners were shattered.  We didn’t go back a second time.

Frozen in Time

As we passed the entrance to the Oxford Circus tube line, I thought I was caught in my first-ever flash mob experience.  The steps were clogged with unmoving commuters.  Everyone was frozen in place.

A photo doesn't do it justice, but these people were all standing, silently, for at least three minutes.  They were a zombie mob of commuters (without the Romero-esque groaning).

Then I remembered seeing a posting about there being huge delays at Oxford Circus tube station.  I’m not sure what the cause of the delays was, but everyone was quietly patient, waiting for their turn to walk down the steps.  After a minute, the people on the stairs shuffled down, layer by layer, step by step.  After 20 seconds of movement and the freeze began again.  Such a weird slice of urban London life.

I snapped a photo and headed to the bus.

Liberty of London--I Tried to Love You

I’d never ridden a bus down Oxford Street to gawk at all the flagship stores.

Frankly, with our recent de-accession of stuff, the thought of all that buying made me queasy.  But the streets were decorated so lovingly with flags and bunting that I got in the mood.

I took the girls into the venerable Liberty store—hoping to find a souvenir printed with one of their iconic flower prints.  As with the Galleries Lafayette in Paris, you feel the age of the place right when you walk in.

Even the elevator feels ancient.

We spent a good half-hour walking through the displays and looking at some wonderful merchandise.

But nothing caught my eye.  I did contemplate buying a pair of Nike’s printed with a gorgeous flower print, but Nike’s pinch my toes too much.

I left, as poor as I arrived, surprised to be without a tangible souvenir.

Ah, well, it’s good to not jump too quickly back onto the merry-go-round of consumer spending, methinks.

Ah, the Irony...

I took this photo because the actor is a character in "Snatch," one of my favorite movies.

Seeing Bullet Tooth Tony plastered on a side of a London bus cracks me up.

I tried for about 20 minutes to explain the meaning of the slogan to the girls, but they couldn’t get it.  From then on, though, they thought they did.  Anytime they saw a bus with the ad, they’d point it out and read the slogan, completely misinterpreting it.

Ah, well, at least they’re reading.

Time

I kept asking the kids to stop posing in front of Big Ben.

But they wouldn’t. 

The traffic was too loud for me to hear what they were saying, so I snapped a few photos, then walked up to them to ask why they were being so silly.  It turns out they were trying to make their arms into clock arms.  They were being Big Ben.

I should have guessed.

Horsing Around

Helena’s very “into” horses right now.  When we last visited our family, we stayed with a family member who has horses, donkeys, cats and dogs.  Helena was thrilled.  So anytime I can get her near horses, or even point them out on the street, I do.  Ironically, she didn’t want to get as close to them as her older sister did.

 

The horse guards are the queen’s personal body guards.  Their role is more ceremonial now and the ceremony was a bit bumpy (more on that later).  I felt sorry for this guy who had to sit on this horse for a few hours at a time, constantly reining it in so the tourists could pet the horse and take their photos.

Behind the guard posts is a small building leading to an immense courtyard.  The kids enjoyed playing horses in here for a few minutes before we went into the expensive and tiny museum.

As always, putting on costumes was a hit.

I never thought they’d try these helmets, but they loved them.

While perusing the gift shop and thinking up reasons why I wasn’t going to buy yet another cheap plastic toy for the girls, the attendant said that the daily inspection ceremony was taking place in four minutes.  Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth (sorry, that one even hurt to type), I swept the kids out of the shop and into the smaller courtyard.

In a terrifically “me” type of situation, I figured out where the ceremony would take place and chose the exact perfect spot to watch it from the back.  Grrrr.  “Oh well.  As long as the horse doesn’t poo,” I figured, “the kids won’t know what they’re missing.”

First, the two mounted guards barely missed mowing down a few tourists en route to their spots lined up outside the guard posts.  Then this group of impressively dressed guards came out and formed a line.  Their commander shouted a few commands and, like something out of a Simpson’s cartoon, everyone but the second guy in line shuffled forward.  His look of abject terror was either comically horrifying or horrifically comical.  I can’t decide which.  He shuffled into line as unobtrusively as the one dork that is out of line during a giant public ceremony can—which is to say ridiculously obtrusively.  Poor kid.

Then the dude in charge (Commander?--I dunno, I'm not a military girl) did the inspection.  He took his time, looking at each soldier and muttering comments to a second in command.

The men had to do a little walking maneuver that I’m sure was meant to impress with a sort of clicking-of-the-heels stomp at the end.  However, you’ll notice that their boots come up above their knees, so walking in general is pretty awkward and amusing to watch.  Add a contrived step to this and it just looks beyond graceless.

After the two guards on horses dismounted, they did a strange sword exercise that was clearly an “Okay, whoever gets their sword into the scabbard first waits until the other guy catches up” move.  It was again, somewhat stilted and uncoordinated.  But, being limited by their gear (including the boots and horses), I figure their ceremonies can’t be as coordinated and impressive as the changing of the guard.

But, hey, my kids got to see horses, so I’m calling it a win.