Excuse Me, Madame. Will You Come with Me, Please?

This is only funny because I didn't end up in jail.

So, in the late 80's, a friend of mine called me on a Sunday morning to say, "Round trip London from Seattle ~ $300. Let's go see the Phantom." It's wonderful when decisions are so easy. She, my sister and I bought tickets on Monday and traveled on Wednesday (Margaret Thatcher resigned on Thursday but, I don't think that had anything to do with our trip.)

We went without any lodging accommodations but, a friend said, "Don't worry. Tell the cabbie to take you to Russell Square and go from house to house until you find a B&B you like." And, so, we did. As we got into the cab, the driver said, "Russell Square, eh? You yanks really like it. It's cheap and cheery."

So, I have this romantic idea of travel. Pack light! I had my Ghurka Express No. 2 that I bought at Nordstrom for many, many hundreds less than it's selling for now. I packed a couple of black Danskin long sleeved scoop necked tops, a couple pair of black cotton cargo pants, black ballet flats, a pashmina shawl, some undies, mascara (hey, I grew up in the 60's. I believe it is impossible to wear too much mascara.) and, my Calvin Klein trenchcoat. Room to spare in my little Ghurka.

I'd never been to London before. My friend, Barb, said, "You must go to the silver vaults."

The first night we were there, we went immediately to buy tickets to the Phantom. Wow, should we go tonight? But, of course! That's why we're here, isn't it?

OK, OK, I admit it. I'm one of those people who is really affected by jetlag. I think I saw the Phantom. There was this little pole in exactly the center of my vision. Not very big, mind you, but, it did bisect the stage perfectly. What I do know is that my friend, Audrey, kept jabbing me in the ribs with her very bony elbow every time my head dipped an inch out of plumb.

A good time was had by all. We went to the theater nearly every night. We museumed, galleried, fished and chipped. And, silver vaulted.

Oh, The Silver Vaults! Be still my heart.

Three or four floors down in the basement of a building on Chancery Lane. It really is vaults. One right after the other of the most amazing antique shops filled with just about every kind of sterling silver, silverplate imaginable. Punch bowls large enough to bathe your six year old. Goblets. Plates. Chandeliers. Letter openers. Desk accessories. Service for 24 with every single possible implement. And, on and on. Wonderful. A feast for the eyes, but, oh, the prices. Too much for this cowgirl. So, I started thinking small. Very small. Butter knives. Certainly silverplate ~ sterling was out of the question. And, I did find the most darling butter knife with a pearl handle carved in a spiral. Sold. Then, I found a really well-priced fish knife and fork set. Oooh, not expensive and very pretty. Sold.

Finally, our wonderful trip was over and we headed to Heathrow and home. As we were standing in line, a lovely man tapped me on the arm and said, "Excuse me, madame. Will you come with me, please? Here, I'll take your bag." How nice, I thought. It was sort of like when the checker at QFC pulls you out of the slow line and you breeze through while everyone else hangs out in the slow lane.

But, wait! I really don't like this line. I turned to see my sister and Audrey. They shrugged their shoulders. They didn't know either. As I got closer to my new line, one thing was perfectly clear. All the terrorists at Heathrow were in this line. It looked like a central casting call. Terrorists of all nationalities, races, colours and creeds. The only thing missing was one with an eye patch and maybe a parrot on his shoulder or perhaps a dueling scar. Merde! What the hell? I don't belong here, I thought, I'm wearing an eight hundred dollar Calvin Klein trenchcoat! The line began to move. As I approached the agent, I noticed the man in front of me was standing impassively as the agent took out a razor blade and slit the lining of his carry-on to shreds. Jesus! He's wearing a trenchcoat, too! He didn't move a muscle or clench a jaw. He just watched the customs agent reduce his once really beautiful satchel to ruin.

Oh God! Nightmare! Finally, the man with the formerly beautiful attaché gathered up all the pieces, tucked them under his arm and, not looking back, walked off to get on his plane.

Oh, dear! Oh, dear! My beautiful Ghurka bag!

The agent signaled me to come forward. I guess he could tell I swung between terrified and deeply puzzled. He reached down, picked up my bag and placed it on the table. "Is this your bag?" Yes, I said. "Would you mind opening it for me?" Of course, I said. I unzipped my bag and there on top of all my clothes? My 9" long fish knife! Oh, Christ! I thought. I'm going to throw up ~ and, then I'm going to jail! We locked eyes. And, he smiled. "I don't think you are going to hijack the plane with a fish knife, but, how about if I wrap it and the butter knife back up, give it to the steward and you can pick it up in Seattle?"

Oh, yes. Thank you. That would be lovely, I said. And, with a deep sigh of relief, I gathered up my beautiful Ghurka and went off to get on my plane.

There's a lesson here, but, you know what it is . . .

http://www.thesilvervaults.com/

http://www.ghurka.com/EXPRESS%7C%7CKhaki%20Twill

Day 18 Everyday Grateful ~ Sunny!

Walked around the newly planted pots. Heaven!
Planted basil from Trader Joe's in my little kitchen garden.
Happy!