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    Mind the Gap in Zip-it Socks
    Mind the Gap in Zip-it Socks
    Mind the Gap in Zip-it Socks
    Ebook133 pages1 hour

    Mind the Gap in Zip-it Socks

    By Patricia Steele

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Two friends caper across England after leaving their husbands behind in Virginia for two weeks to fend for themselves. Humor carries them past a few frustrations as they learn the train system, walk over cobblestones, sap up Brit's history and laugh their way through it all.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPlumeria Press
    Release dateSep 27, 2015
    ISBN9781516335671
    Mind the Gap in Zip-it Socks

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      Book preview

      Mind the Gap in Zip-it Socks - Patricia Steele

      Published by Plumeria Press

      Casa Grande, Arizona

      United States of America

      ––––––––

      ISBN 978-0-9966063-1-8

      Cover created by Patricia Steele

      First Printing, 2015

      Visit the author website: www.patriciabbsteele.com

      Mind the Gap

      In Zip-It Socks

      A Travel Memoir

      Two ladies turned loose in England

      Patricia Steele

      DEDICATION

      When my good friend, Caroline Mabry, framed the invitation to accompany her to England, I didn’t hesitate.  We went.  Sharing this wonderful journey with Caroline was such a kick that every time I visualize this tiny woman and the laughter we shared, I smile.  Without her hopeful invitation, I would not have had the pleasure of this time in my life nor written about it here with a smile.

      So, here’s to you, CAROLINE MABRY.  You rock!

      A PASSAGE TO ENGLAND

      After a lifetime of pent-up dreams, Caroline Mabry wanted to see England, the land of her Dorset ancestors.  Her husband, Oscar, didn’t want to go.  She turned to me... Would you go with me?

      Hello? Being a traveling-gypsy at heart through both maternal and paternal blood lines, my mind was already there and I nodded, YES...Absolutely crazy yes, I’ll go to England with you.... ~

      Airline tickets We filled the next year researching the places we wanted to visit and the day of departure magically arrived.  We’d flipped through a gaggle of magazines and travel brochures and our airline tickets were stowed in our bags with our passports.  I slipped money into my new zip-it socks and we were ready to roll.  The credit-card sized zipper was just above the ankle.

      Excitement mounted.  Today was the day!  We smiled as we read the words, ‘world traveler’ under our names!  Caroline was nervous about riding underground trains, so I suggested buses.  We purchased our 15-day National Railway BritRail passes online for our day trips but London would be seen from bus windows.  That settled; she relaxed.

      Packing my bags became a fluid movement; packed and re-packed...one mid-sized bag, back pack, no purse.  I removed items short-sleeve item shirts and my robe; I’d lounge in pajamas and snuggle in bed if I got cold.  I borrowed warm, long silk underwear from another friend.

      Excitement fought for a place beside the butterflies in my belly; typical for me before flying into the wild blue yonder, my stomach clenched.  I also became melancholy and sent love notes to special people in case the plane went down.  I slipped a card onto my hubby’s pillow and emailed all the others.

      JD and Oscar.JPG Now, we were ready!  So many guidebooks for London and the England countryside!  My backpack was too heavy, so I removed all but two books and the maps.  For security, I put my pound notes in three different places and added my Visa card to my zip-it socks.

      My husband, J.D. (left), and Oscar (right) drove us three hours north to the Dulles International Airport and bought us lunch.  The guys drank beer.  I had Champagne, Caroline had White Zinfandel and then they kissed us good-bye.

      Caroline and P.JPG

      We toasted to London, the Underground, Patrick Stewart in Stratford-upon-Avon, Stonehenge and seeing the London Eye.  We had no idea what the London Eye was and had never set eyes on Stonehenge except in photos...but we were ready.  The reality compared to the toast we shared at Dulles Airport was so much more than we could have ever imagined.  And we laughed all the way there and back.

      We should have been a bundle of nerves, but we were very calm.  Both of us carried new cameras and long silk underwear as we knew spring in London would be nippy.  We each had $1000 dollars in English pounds plus some English coins from Jake.  He and his English wife, Lucie, were both anxious to share England (especially Rye) with us.  It looked like play money embellished with Queen Elizabeth’s face.

      Even slimming down our backpacks, they still bulged because we’d stuffed in new, squishy neck pillows we couldn’t fly without.

      And we had done our research.

      The flyer read, The sights of London embrace 2,000 years of history and invoke royalty, the tramp of Roman legions, strolling players in the age of Shakespeare, plagues, the Great Fire, the architectural heritage of the Georgian era, the squalid alleyways of Dickens, Victoria's great age of railways and trade, and the Blitz of World War II. In a city of more than 600 art galleries, 150 museums and countless places of interest, considerable planning is needed for sightseeing.  

      And so we did.

      Hours later spiked and exhausted, as our plane neared London’s Heathrow Airport, the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee woke us as the sun slid through the slit in the window shade.  I was surprised we’d slept even a moment given the tiny space with our elbows squeezed against wooden armrests, but we did.  After inviting the sun inside with a flip of the shade, we bit into fresh, warm croissants and sipped steaming coffee. It was approximately 1:30 a.m. our time, but 7:30 a.m. their time. 

      An English lady, named Kinga, was our companion flying across the Atlantic who kept us company, happily sharing bits and pieces of her native land along the way. Now, as our plane rolled along the tarmac, she yanked out her cell phone and started chatting.  We grinned when she told her listener to call her back on her MO-bile, pronounced with a long i.

      Like most crazy tourists, we wanted to see everything in three days, the amount of time we’d allotted before taking a train to a vacation resort near Canterbury.  Once we touched English soil and quite proud of ourselves for purchasing Eurorail Passes and a train ticket from Heathrow to Paddington Station, we followed the signs toward Customs, passports in hand. 

      What a jolt to see hundreds of people lined up ahead of us as we exited the departure gates. In the customs area, we saw waiting lines for visitors and another for locals.  After an exhausting wait, we were motioned to separate desks where unsmiling custom’s men waited. 

      Where did you originate, madam?  He sounded even more severe than he looked and his eyes seemed flat.

      Uh, America.  Good god, I expected handcuffs any second.

      Yes, madam, he responded with disdain.  Where in America did you debark from?

      Oh.  Virginia.  Why was my mind frozen?  If he’d just given me a twitch of a smile...  You mean the airport?  I took a deep breath and glanced around for Caroline, who stood at the next official’s desk.  Dulles, I blurted.

      He stared at me

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