Ireland 2010
 
 

Day 12

June 21

 
  The VFR has managed to survive the night and for that I am glad. I do one more check of the bags and trunk to be sure I have everything of mine out of them.  
   
  Since I have my route down, it takes just a few minutes to get around the roundabout and over to AboutTown. Mike is waiting at the door when he sees me pull in.  
   
 

We do the usual walk around, and I detail what I've found as the damaged parts from the tip-over. He tells me -

"No problem, I'll just have the shop go over it and give me a detailed estimate. I really appreciate you calling me and letting me know that you had a problem."

"Well Mike, I knew if you had it rented shortly after I got back, that you would at least need to get a pannier lid. I'll just wait to hear back from you on the damage."

"Well, how did you like the VFR?" he asks.

"It's really a lot of fun. Definitely not a two-up bike but for one person it is great. Wind protection really sucks and I could use a little more luggage space."

"Someone will probably come out with a double bubble windshield for them before long which would really help" he adds.

We tend to business, and I also give him the parking ticket to sort out. Over in the UK as I understand it, the registered owner of the bike gets the grief, so I figure it's better for him to settle up and just bill me. He asks me how Sharyn is doing, and I tell him about the delayed surgery. He winces and wished us both the best outcome. We go upstairs where I collect our suitcases from storage. Before I leave, he tells me -

"I'll just email you a quote when I get it."

"That will be fine. Take care til I see you again, my friend."

I've done business with Mike many times, so I am not worried at all about him trying to rip me off. He's reliable and honest and has always been very fair to work with. I'm a big boy and I know that this is not going to be a cheap repair, but sometimes that's just the price of admission. I take a final look at the VFR, wave goodbye to Mike and head back to the hotel with my assorted bags in tow.

 
   
  Fortunately, by sending most of Sharyn's stuff back when I was in Scotland, I can combine two of the bags into one and will be able to get the rest of my stuff in the other two bags. So at least I will only be dealing with three bags at the airport. It will be a bit cumbersome, but not impossible. I get practice while I am making my way back to the Holiday Inn.  
   
  Once back in the room, I've got to decide what I am going to do with myself. I think about taking the Tube into London proper to see the Tower of London again, which was one of my planned stops with Sharyn. But the more I think about it, the more I decide just to sort of walk around the local area and see what I can find. I just wander down streets that look interesting, making mental notes of landmarks so I can find my way back to the hotel.  
   
  I notice this plaque for the Surrey Iron Railway, the first public one in England. It was actually horse drawn wagons along the tracks, not a railway as we have now. I can only imagine how far out in the 'country' this location was back in the 1800s.  
   
  At another junction, I recognize a familiar landmark brewery that I have seen on my previous walks in the area.  
   
  And I am thankful that London planners put these reminders at most street crossings for us poor confused colonials. It seems pretty simple, but if you step off the curb looking the wrong way by force of habit, you could end up as a hood ornament for an automobile proceeding rapidly on the proper side of the road, not the right side of the road.  
   
  There are not too many tourist sites in Wandsworth that I can discover and my right knee is reminding me of its unhappiness, so I make my way back toward the hotel pretty soon.  
   
 

As I pass by a real estate broker's office, I check out some offerings of local properties. I remember what a local lady once told me and Guy when we were out walking in the neighborhood -

"You hope that you inherit a place. They are quite expensive in this area."

And her assessment still stands in my opinion this day also.

 
   
  Finding nothing of interest for lunch, I remember the street vendor just the other side of the roundabout. Fortunately for me, they are still cooking and the smell is just wonderful. I decide I will have a sausage sandwich with lots of mayo and she fixes me right up.  
   
  There's a convenience store right across the street, so I pick up some fruit, drinks, and some crisps (potato chips for you colonials and barbarians) and have a nice little feast in the peace and quiet of my hotel room. Since the hotel has wi-fi, I pay the toll and get on to catch up with what is happening in the world.  
   
  I take a short nap and before I know it, it's time to feed the beast again. Looking for something more substantial I notice a sign for an Outback Steakhouse across the street. Since I have eaten at them in the States, I think this will be very interesting for a comparison.  
   
  But to my dismay and the dismay of my stomach, it has been long shut. Alas, the joyous expectations of a steak have been crashed against the rocks of reality. I decide I'll wander a bit further and see what else is available.  
   
  There's a lovely walk along the river with gardens and fountains, but no restaurants. I gather that this area is primarily residential in nature.  
   
  Far out in the river, I notice a gentleman paddling some sort of stand up boat, and making very good time at it. I've got to figure he has a pretty good sense of balance or else he would be on the bottom and the boat would be on top.  
   
  Further down the river, I can see what looks like some pretty heavy duty industrial areas but it is hard to tell for sure.  
   
  Having lived in the country most of my life, I would feel like a duck in a pen if I had to live like they do in these flats. But I guess if you've never know the freedom of looking out your window and seeing nothing but trees and grass, you don't mind it as much. At least it appears that most of these flats have a balcony so their occupants can get some fresh air and a little sun.  
   
  As I continue my walk, I can't be help be amused at the forthright signs - especially the 'Clean it up!' one. There should be no doubt in anyone's mind what to do should necessity strike their puppy dog - at least if they can read English.  
   
  As the sun slowly sits over the Thames, a lone kayaker makes his way along. I admire the poetry of his motion as he rapidly knifes his way through the water.  
   
  Being curious sort of animal, I make my way toward what I thought earlier was an industrial site. As it turns out, it is a major recycling facility - which now makes perfect sense in this location.  
   
  A little further long, I see that someone must not have not quite figured out that those blue posts were there for a reason.  
   
  Overhead, I see another silver bird carrying its precious cargo to destinations beyond. It makes me just a little more homesick to be in beloved Holler with my beloved wife.  
   
  I have given up on finding a sit down restaurant in the area, so once again I go the convenience store route. A little fruit, some crisps, and a sandwich and I have supper once more back in my room.  
   
 

Moff gives me a ring and graciously offers to set me up with cab to Heathrow. He tells me -

"Mate, it will not be that expensive and will make dealing with your luggage a lot easier. Let me ring them up and see what I can do."

I thank him and wait for his return call. Soon he's back -

"Got one for 7AM for 30 quid. Cheers!"

"Moff, thanks a bunch my friend. I'll be looking for him in the morning then" I tell him.

With that bit of business settled, I finish up my grub then start the packing process. It does not take me long to get things to a manageable state. As I pillow my head for the final night in the UK, I can't help but think of the words of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz -

"There's no place like home, there's no place like home ...."