Ah. The day Kelli had been waiting for had finally arrived.
Today was the day we would hit the main shopping districts,
where Kelli would search for clothes and shoes that could
not be found in the States. It was also the day my wallet
took its biggest hit.
Not many pictures were taken today, mainly because who
wants to see hundreds of photos of the inside of clothing
stores? We started our journey by riding the underground
to the Knightsbridge district, home of many upscale
designer stores and the world famous
Harrods department
store. Sadly, Harrods was getting a facelift while we
were there, so the entire building was covered with a
canvas facade painted to look like the actual store.
Somehow, a canvas Harrods just doesn't
inspire me with awe
Stores and stores, as far as the eye can see
This store had an abbreviated name
worthy of a second glance
Kelli found a lot of cool items to buy at a store called
Topshop. As expected,
over 90% of the stores were devoted to women's wear. I
occasionally would find a men's store, and would duck in
to see if anything looked intriguing. Sadly, everytime I
found something that looked promising, I would check the
price tag only to discover that there must be people in
the world who actually would buy a simple men's dress shirt
for £95 (that's US $190 for those keeping score at home).
I found at least three or four items I would have loved to
have purchased, but I just couldn't justify the cost.
Especially when having to multiply whatever price I saw by two.
Funny story -- I'm searching through the clearance rack
in a men's store (where "clearance" means you might
find something for around £50), when a off-white men's
dress shirt catches my eye. It appears to have a pleasing
black paisley pattern scattered throughout its fabric. I move
closer for a look at both its price and pattern. Lo! What do
my eyes behold but not a paisley pattern, but rather a whole
variety of subtle stylized male/female bodies engaged in various
acts of... pleasure. If you know what I mean.
Nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more! After a bit of a chuckle,
I gave the price a glance, hoping it would be reasonable for
such a gag shirt. £75. One-fifty American. Back into
the rack it went. Sadness.
Eventually, we ran out of stores in Knightsbridge (well, not
really) and took one of London's famous red double-decker
buses to Oxford Circus, another large shopping district.
We spent quite a long time at a large department store,
but neither Kelli nor I can remember its name. I eventually
wound up sitting on a bench while I waited for Kelli. I
found it amusing that the entire bench was full of
about fifteen men of varying age, all probably waiting (like
me) for their female companions to complete their respective
shopping quests. As it turns out, I was seated next to an
older gentlemen whom I struck up a conversation with. He
was from Ireland, had a delightful accent,
and talking with him certainly passed the
time. He told me interesting things about his country, and
I told him about the States. He was most curious about our
upcoming presidential election. Apparently they find our
democratic election process most intriguing. After about
two hours, Kelli finally had chosen her items to purchase,
so we hit the very long cashier line to wait yet some more.
"No, Kelli, your Oyster card is
not a credit card."
Heading to Oxford Circus for more shopping
This looks like a job for... Shopping Man!!
We were both whipped, so we took the tube back to our hotel,
unloaded all our packages, and decided to eat dinner in a
bona fide English pub -- St. George's, just up
the street; and even though I'm not much of a drinker,
I had to try some genuine English ale. After ordering
our meals, I walked up to the bar, and explained to the young
lady working there that I was a complete ale neophite and
needed some assistance in choosing one I might like.
They had five ales on tap to select from, so rather than just
picking one at random, she actually poured a small amount into
five tiny glasses and let me sample each one! I think she
was expecting me to be able to distinguish between them, but
alas! they pretty much all tasted the same to me -- bitter and
nasty :) Oh well, I chose one that was drinkable, and got
a half-pint of old-school brew with the undescriptive yet
appropriate name of "London Ale". After that, it
was back to the hotel room to start packing, since we'd be
checking out of Cherry Court tomorrow morning.
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