London 1969

There is something enchanting about our persistent fascination with the British royal family. I just watched bits and pieces of the four day celebrations in honor of Queen Elizabeth II 's Diamond Jubilee of her ascension to the throne. I watched the images of Buckingham palace, Trafalgar Square, the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, St. Patrick's Cathedral, and it took me back to 1969. I was twelve, and my brother and I had been invited to spend a week in London with good friends of our parents and their twenty year old only daughter. These friends had traveled all over the world, and they had this big, old jeep they drove everywhere, a souvenir from their safari days. They decided to take the old jeep to London, just put it on the old boat that would take it across the Channel to Dover. The ride on the big old mail boat was exciting, we went up on the deck,and I loved the fresh wind in my face, as we left Oostende and headed for the famous white Dover cliffs. Once we got there, we got the rambling, loud jeep off the boat and started driving for what seemed endless hours by miles and miles of row houses leading into London. We ended up staying at the posh Carlton Towers. It was the first time for my brother, who was eleven,and I to be abroad, without our parents. It was thrilling. I still remember the luxurious feeling of waking up in the spacious room, of eating breakfast in the elegant dining area, the lush feel of the bathrooms, the carpeting everywhere. The fun part was exploring London, from Picadilly Circus to yes, believe it or not, Soho and its seedier sights at night. I still recall how I was slightly scared when we walked by a very loud all nude dancing strip club. I remember seeing the naked picture of a very pretty woman, and how worried I was about her having such a dangerous job, from the looks of the nasty looking men hanging around the entrance. We were there during a garbage strike, and in Soho and elsewhere, away from the fancy boutiques and prominent tourist places, there was enough garbage to feel it hitting above your ankles. In with the super short mini skirts and cutting edge hairdos and footwear, it was an almost surreal experience, especially for an eleven and twelve year old who had grown up in a very quiet small town. I bought my first mini skirt ever at Harrods of London. It was so short, my father refused to let me wear it once I brought it home, unless I wore long pants with it. It was one of those mini skirts they sold with matching panties, because it was so short. I am surprised my parents let my brother and I go to Paris with the same friends the next year! I remember having my picture taken outside Buckingham Palace with one of the Queens' famous horse guards in the shiny helmets. I remember the thrill of being at Trafalgar Square and being fascinated at all the different cultures and ethnicities : Sikhs in their impressive turbans wearing smart western suits, women in sari, black men and women from various African countries, very rich people, and very poor. I remember one mad homeless guy, dressed like Napoleon. He got around walking on skis he had painted gold. He would do a song and dance for money. It left quite an impression on me. I remember being in the Tower of London, and what a creepy place I thought it was. I loved the peace and quiet of the beautiful St. Patrick's Cathedral, a respite from the hustle and bustle out side. It was summer when we were there, very hot. The week long trip to London left a vivid impression of how a big city can be both absolutely wonderful and absolutely terrifying. I loved the experience and already looked forward to our trip to Paris the next year.