[Mind the gap. Mind your head. It’s all so very British. Photo is mine.]

In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take and the love we didn’t give.

~~Anon. (From TikTok).

Here I am, sitting in the same seat, at the same table in a corner of The White Star Tavern and typing like a gatling gun to finish my last blog post from England. The taxi is due to arrive here in about an hour to take us to the terminal where, hopefully, the Queen Mary 2 is berthed and waiting to take us across the North Atlantic to Red Hook, Brooklyn.

That’s almost home.

The final few days in London and Shaftsbury passed, for me, like a strange mix of a beautiful dream and a disorienting and unsettling nightmare.

London~~

We stayed at our usual hotel just off Trafalgar Square. This summer, June 20 & 21, there was a free rock concert. So? Well, it slowed me down when I was trying to get to the Pall Mall Barbers for a much needed beard trim. I love this little shop, just steps away from Piccadilly Circus. A gentleman could sit and have his sideburns sculptured and trimmed whilst sipping a Woodsmen Whiskey.

You can’t find that in Times Square.

[Above and to the left of the Barbicide. Photo is mine.]

Back to the hotel (CQ Trafalgar Square.) to tidy up for our long-anticipated tour of Parliament. The traffic was snarled. The rock concert music blasted out from Trafalgar…and we had to meet a lady, who was supposed to be standing by the statue of George V, across the street from the Parliament building.

There was a demonstration in the large park near where George V statue stood, but I was across the street and couldn’t read statue captions.

It was chaos. I spotted a guard near the gate where visitors were to enter for their tour. We thought we needed to meet with this woman beside George V.

It ended nicely and with civility. We were given Visitors Passes and went in and were set up with an audio guide.

We spent two hours walking and listening to the history of the British Empire. I saw statues of my enemy, Oliver Cromwell. Many likenesses of Queen Victoria and statesmen I never heard of.

[The Great Hall where we began our tour. There was a wedding just concluding. Photo is mine.]

[The Great Hall is undergoing renovation. The ceiling vaulting is unique, but I don’t remember the name that our audio guide mentioned. Photo is mine.]

Later that evening~~

After all that activity, it was time to slow down. We had tickets to the theater (at a much reduced price than Broadway, I may say. We were headed just a few block away to the Royal Haymarket Theater to see

[The play we saw. Grace Pervades, which starred Ralph Fiennes and Miranda Raison. It’s a beautiful theater…too bad it was covered in scaffolding for a face-life. Photo is mine.]

The play was all about actors talking about being in a play. We unfortunately had seats in the upper levels. The view was fine though. And if my attention wandered from the plot, I could ponder the intricate artistry of the theater design and construction.

[Awaiting the opening scene of the play. Photo is mine.]

The Next Day~~

Yes, we did the most touristy activity on the planet. We took the Hop On/Hop Off bus. For those of you keeping track at home, it was The Original Tour and we chose the BLUE LINE which took us to a few places we had never had the time to visit…like Kensington Palace.

[London school children hurry to safely get out of the way of the on coming Hop On/Hop Off Double Decker. Video is mine.]

[From the dizzying height of the double-decker tour bus, Mariam braves the brutal heat to give a wave. She certainly does not look like a tourist…like the two woman on the right. Photo is mine.]

After a day in the rocking bus and the record breaking heat wave, we retreated to our hotel. A quick shower and several glasses of Fever Tree Tonic, it was time to think about dinner. The previous day, after my haircut and beard trim, I had taken notice of a place near Piccadilly Circus called Steak and Company. So, out of the thousands of places to choose from in that part London, we choose Steak and Company.

I was in for a surprise and a rather unique experience so read the following carefully and slowly. Try to imagine my puzzlement…

When we are in steak houses I almost always choose a Petite Fillet Mignon, preferably an 8 oz portion. I was about to tell them that I wanted it Medium-Well (I don’t like red in my meat, or blood for that matter.) when the server began to explain that I would be controlling the extent of the cooking because the steak would be cooked, by me, on a block of volcanic lava heated to 350° F !!

[There it is. Sizzling and cooking to exactly the Medium-Well that I prefer. Video is mine.]

I slept well that night. I had to because the next day we were going to pick up our Avis Rental car and drive into the countryside and visit our good friends. We had a hotel ready for us in Shaftsbury. Unfortunately, the hotel had no AC. But why would they, it’s England. We’ve stayed there many times and posted plenty of photos of Gold Hill, the famous and uber-photographed scene of the cobblestone lane that gently slopes downhill and is lined with quaint thatched cottages. But I couldn’t make the short walk to the photo spot because of on ongoing issue with my left knee…it hurts 25 hours a day. Instead I will share only one photo taken on our last evening:

Onto Shaftsbury and our friends~~

[There was a slight breeze that eased the brutal heat. A kind stranger took the photo but the photo is mine.]

Our English Friends~~

A little back story: As many of you know, I lived in Dorset for a year (1984-85) as an exchange teacher. I met many teachers and students. Part of the arrangement for the teacher exchange was that I was to have a house-mate during the year. Tim was just out of University…a rookie teacher. I already had ten years of experience teaching Earth Science and other related subjects. It was a great experience. Needless to say, it changed my life. Now that was forty-two years ago. I am still friends with Tim, his wife Jo, who is also a teacher. Tim had two sons by another marriage. They are grown and have their own lives. But Tim and Jo had a daughter, Anna.

We’ve known her for over a decade. She is an awesome ballerina. She has trained for years and had performed in many classic ballets. We’ve seen her dance on several occasions. She is a true artist.

I’m going to end this series of travel blogs with a brief introduction to Tim and his family.

As I wrote a paragraph or two above, I met Tim in 1984. He was a rookie teacher then and we shared space in the Humanities Department faculty room. I would often finish my school work early (I learned that the fastest way to teacher burn-out was to take a lot of work home.) Early on in my teaching years I learned to spread out my take home tasks.

I would stand at the bottom of the stairs and yell up to him:

“Tim, want to go out to the pub for a pint?”

“No thanks, Pat. I have loooads of work to marking to do.”

That was the extent of our social life.

Here’s Tim:

[Just after a fantastic dinner. Photo is mine.]

His wife, Jo:

[Jo. A woman of many talents. And a active player of field hockey and soccer. And a skilled teacher as well.]

And then there’s Anna. She trained at the Royal Ballet in London. She is planning to go into Psychology at University.

[Anna at home in June, 2026. Photo is mine.]

Several years ago I photographed her when she needed some for a portfolio. I took the liberty to run the photo through my Carbon Black and White filter.

[Anna in Black & White. Photo is mine.]

The End~~

So, here we are. At the end of our 2026 trip. A journey along the Danube, Goulash on my birthday…under a Blue Moon. I’ve made no secret of the pain and discomfort I have been dealing with. Does that mean my days of travel are coming to a close? Will I ever walk the gentle footpaths of England, that I’ve fallen in love with?

The thatched roofs. The narrow boats of the canals. The bookshops, pubs and restaurants where you can cook your own steak. The quiet lifestyle, BBC Radio 4 and the funky name of the funky pubs.

I think of these things as I look over the hundreds of photos I’ve taken. The fields of rape, the copses of trees where spooky things have been known to happen, standing in the crypt of a cathedral and put ting your hand on the effigy of a king who died 950 years ago.

I want them to be a part of my life for years to come.

And perhaps the day will come when I will have seen enough of the UK and the 19% of my DNA that is Irish will kick in and I will return to Dublin and discover more magical places.