Adventures at Bankside House

Nestled in the fringe of Southwark, London, is a bed and breakfast accommodation called Bankside House. In reality, it is the dormitories for the London School of Economics but they let out the rooms during the summer.

Bankside House is a marvelous place to stay actually, although there are signs posted in the lobbies about fines for cleaning up vomit (ah, those college kids) and they run study groups for teenagers during the summer months. This was my home for the summer of 2007.

First of all, if you are going to live in London, you are going to learn to walk. Bankside House is conveniently located between two tube stations--Blackfriars and Waterloo. Either one gives you a brisk 20 minutes walk there and back but I generally chose Blackfiars because it was better lit at night.

I was studying at The Globe that summer, so it was just a stone's throw from the theatre and right across the street, quite literally, from the Tate Modern. The rooms are comfortable but not spacious. I loved mine. It was a single room en suite with another single and a bathroom for the two of us. There was only a shower in the facility, but there was a tub on the floor for those who wished to have a soak.

The pros of living at Bankside House, besides location, location, location, was the food. Being a B and B, they had a wonderful dining hall. With your room key as ID, you could enter and they had all manner of goodies to choose from. The first thing you came upon was a serving buffet filled with yogurt and cheeses. These being two of my favorite things on the planet, I could have feasted right there. As it was, I had brie every day for breakfast--no lie! Brie has become so expensive in the U.S. so this seemed such a luxury. The yogurt was in a huge punch bowl, which didn't look too appetizing if you are not a sharer, but I didn't care so I plopped a huge bowl of this on my tray every day as well.

Now Americans generally complain about English sausage, but I find it rather tasty myself, having grown used to it when Gram used to have it when I was a kid. I guess the blend of spices seems sort of bland. I prefer soysages anyway and to my surprise, they were part of the menu. The second and third buffet carts were for fruits, eggs and breakfast meats. There were also some home fries but, to be honest they never looked all that appealing to me. I was in my glory between the fruit, cheese and yogurt anyway.

Breads were the last cart and zap, out into the dining room. Cereals and an assortment of teas were along one wall. You had to be quick to nab one of the better teas--they didn't replenish very quickly. There was also coffee and juice.

But enough about food. In the basement there was a fully operational pub, a huge television (which never had anything interesting on it as far as I could tell) and a laundry room. It was nice to gather with my friends at the end of classes on occasion and grab a beer in the pub. I became somewhat fond of shandies--beer and lemonade.

Drawbacks? The Italians! That summer, Bankside House was home to around 200 students from Italy. Yes, all at once. There were other nationalities as well, but it was the Italians that would make their indelible mark.

My first experience with the kiddies was in the elevator. My room was on the eighth floor. The Italians used to like to jump into the elevator, push all the buttons, and then jump out just before the doors closed. They found this uproariously funny and the thing that would really tick you off is that you could hear them laughing all the way up as you stopped at every floor.

The other thing the Italians loved to do was snatch the two public computers and use your computer time. Because there were only two desktops available, finding a moment to log on was primo. You had to make a reservation and then were only on for twenty minutes at a time--which should have been enough to check your e-mail right? Not when the kids were around. They would use up their twenty minutes and then dip into yours. "One more minute," the would tell you in either fractured English or in Italian. Fortunately Italian is close enough to French and Spanish for me to have understood much of what they said. After five or ten one more minutes, they would courteously thank you and LOG OUT! This way, another five minutes of your time was eaten as you re-opened everything.

Another source of fascination for these special darlings was the laundry room. There was a machine that you could put a ten cent piece in and it would spurt detergent at you. Of course, they presumed you would have a cup to catch it. Not so with this crew. They loved the chaos created by spurting powder all over the place and then running for cover. It was also one of their pastimes to start all the washing machines and dryers so that you couldn't do your laundry. OR to beg a coin because theirs was gone (eaten by the detergent spout no doubt).

Perhaps the height of the shenanigans came when we were evacuated at three am. Of course, this was a day in which we had an early class. When we first heard the alarm, we thought maybe someone was pranking us. Then the Resident Advisors were knocking on all the doors. The building was on FIRE! In various stages of undress, five or six hundred people poured out onto the roadway in front of the building. Of course, this was exactly where the fire trucks wanted to be, so we got hustled down the road a piece. I was lucky. I had gone to bed in my sweats that night because it was chilly. Some of my friends were not so fated. A couple of the guys were in boxers and one was in his tighty whities--fortunately someone gave him a bathrobe. The ladies were in everything from hair rollers, to nighties, to pajama tops. It was crazy. As we sat shivering we heard one of the RAs say, "Those damn kids." We thought--yep, they were pranking. It turned out, however, that several of--you guessed it--the Italian kids were sneaking cigarettes in their dorm room and this is what set off the alarms. Bankside House is pre-dominantly smoke free and the children were not allowed to smoke in any case. (To this day I wouldn't put money on whether it was cigarettes or some whacky tabaccy.)

Come to find out, this was the second time they had pulled a stunt like this. The first time, I guess I was either out or just slept through it. In any case, the Italian kids were put on warning--shape up or go home! I found out later, there was a new shipment of them arriving the day I left. Ha, ha, ha.

With all of this, it might seem like I am saying don't stay at Bankside House. On the contrary, it was fun and exciting. If you want someplace to stay that is inexpensive then Bankside House is the place. (By the way, a week before I left England, a Starbuck's opened in the building next door. What more could a girl ask for?)

Train Travel in England

Many people have told me that train travel in Europe is the way to go. Having taken the train under many circumstances now, I am going to say they are right IF you are not towing a huge suitcase.

Traveling from Preston to London should have been an easy thing. Getting the tickets was simple enough. I discovered that I had to travel to Euston Station even though I wanted to go to Waterloo. That wasn't tragic, just inconvenient. I knew once I got into London proper, I could take the tube anywhere I needed to go.

The problems occurred when I didn't make a mistake with my tickets this time. I booked a second class ticket not realizing that my suitcase was bigger than the aisle. Hey, I was going to LIVE in London for the summer. I needed a lot of stuff. In any case, I couldn't freely move into the train with my huge bag. Plus, travelling on a Monday, as I did, was miserable because everyone and his brother was on the train going into London. Finally, in frustration, I just plopped my bag down in the connection between cars and sat on it. I could have reserved a seat, but I chose not to. The conductor, who was a gem, came by and by rearranging some of the other passengers' belongings, I was able to finally fit into the car. Three hours to London sitting in the connector would have been a lousy way to go.

I am not one to talk incessantly during travel, so I was pleasantly ensconsed in a seat next to a steroetypical Londoner--firmly seated behind his newspaper for the eintre journey. There was a nice little snack car and a trolley that went down the aisle. Both were a little pricey but convenient. The bathrooms were miniscule.

All in all, once the initial issues were solved, getting to London was easy as could be expected.

Kendal, A Step Back In Time to the City of Gram

Getting to Kendal from Preston was relatively easy. I took an early morning train. Thank goodness the concierge had told me I would need to change trains in Oxenholme or I could have landed in Blackpool by accident. Changing trains is really easy in England, but sometimes requires a bit of wait time. The sideline that goes to Kendal only goes every hour or so, when you miss one you have a wait in store. The larger stations have restrooms and snack machines--Oxenholme has both--but Kendal Station was closed and had neither. Set up on a hill, it overlooks the valley the runs along the Kent River and you can see the ruins of Kendal Castle in the distance.

Speaking of Kendal Castle, the one still standing was built in the 12th century and belonged in the family of Catherine Parr, one of the wives of Henry VIII. While rumors that she was born here were disproved, it is almost certain that she did spend some time here as a child.

One of the things that I had read about Kendal before arriving was that it was called "The Old Grey Man". This description is apt, for the buildings were primarily built of grey limestone and as you look down into the valley, that is pretty much all you see. I could tell immediately why my Gram was so at home in upstate New York. Kendal had the same feel of beauty and countryside and that "oldness" that makes it unique. This insight into my grandmother excited me immensely.

Another thing that I knew abut Kendal is that it was built in squares--buildings surrounding an inner courtyard. Indeed, I discovered while there that they called these divisions Yards and they were inhabited by residents of like industries--for example the Wool Yards or Baker's Yards. In fact, wool was the main product manufactured by the town for centuries and anyone seeing all the sheep grazing along the hillsides of this area of the world will understand that.

At some time, I think they said around the 16th century, a confectioner searching for what we would refer to as an "energy bar" developed Kendal Mint Cakes. These became the signature treat of the area and there are several companies that manufacture it still. Of course, I had to sample and they remind me a bit of the thin mint cookies that Girl Scouts sell.

As I pointed out initially, walking this town is very easy. There is one main drag called Strickland Gate and pretty much everything else branches off of it. And there is a lovely walk along the river which goes from the Kendal Parish Church (called Holy Trinity) all the way through the town. This is a marketing town and even though they have modernized it, the river walk and the main drag retain the feeling of history. There are a lot of Bed and Breakfast type places in Kendal and when I go back for more research, I will definitely stay in one of those.

Speaking of research, there is a county records office that holds all the information you can handle in a short visit. It is all indexed on microfilm or microfiche and you must have ID to enter the archives. They don't allow any pens, so if you want to take notes you'd better have a pencil handy and because so many of the records are fragile you are not allowed to photograph them, even with no flash and a digital camera. They will make copies for a fee and they will sell you a pencil for a tiny donation. They also have lockers for you to store purses, computers, cameras etc. I discovered after five hours, that I needed much more time. Because I was a good girl and followed all the rules, the archivist gave me a pass to all the archives in England! It is good for four years and there is not a fee.

I had viewed the map so many times, that I knew exactly how to get to my grandmother's house in Kendal. I stepped off the train and walked right to it. I had gotten the address from my grandmother's immigration papers. Her last residence in England had been at #13 Caroline Street. I discovered that this was a group of row houses near the county records office and the Church of St. Thomas. The thing that stood out about #13, to me anyway, was the electric blue around the door. I am surprised they didn't have the police there to check me out, I took photos from all angles and even got a peek at the backyard by walking a block over and sneaking into an alleyway that ran to the rear of the homes. Couldn't see much though and didn't want to scare the locals. I found out later that this house belonged in the Bryant family. My grandmother's grandmother was Mary Bryant and the Winskills had lived with her while waiting for their father (my great grandfather)to send them the money to come to the United States.

I actually touched the stones around the window of the house and thought...my grandmother touched these very rocks one hundred years ago. It was as chilling as it was thrilling. I felt closer to her than I had in decades.

There is a wonderful pub in Kendal that seemed to be a hub for tourists: Charlie's Cafe Bar. It has historical significance and I really loved the food. I learned something new here as well. In English pubs, they don't generally have table service. You pick a table, then queue up to order. You tell the waitress your table number with your order and then they either deliver it or call you to the bar when your meal is ready. The cheese was fresh, creamy and delicious. There were tasty cream cakes and pies and sandwiches. I had some awesome leek soup. Why does soup taste better in England than in the U.S.?

The last Harry Potter book was coming out in July, so there were advertisements in the shop windows. It amused me to see Harry so prominently displayed in the ancient town. There was also an incredible quilt which I had to photograph. A Harry quilt? Only in England!

There was a lot more to see and do in Kendal than can be done in one day. I missed several museums and the parish church was closed, despite the advertised hours on the door. I also didn't feel like trekking all the way up to the ruins, so satisfied myself with the old city gates--which might be older anyway.

Another spot that intrigued me was Beast Banks. I had one other familial address in Kendal. The Nelson side of my family lived in #2 Beast Banks. One record that I found said that one of my Nelson ancestors had been an Innkeeper. Imagine my delight to discover that #1 Beast Banks just happens to be the Black Swan Inn. Although I have never found any documentation, the coincidence is too great to be ignored. My family must have been involved in the historical Black Swan.

I left Kendal late in the evening, enjoying the shut down of the town. The journey back to Preston was uneventful and easy. The bus ride to the hotel uncomplicated. My trip to my roots was satisfying and I fell in love with Kendal!

Journeys in England: Part One

One of the best life experiences I have ever had, has been the summer I lived in London and studied at The Globe Theatre. I can't even begin to explain how amazing or how restorative this was or how it changed me both as a teacher and as a person.

In the summer of 2007, my beloved sister Robin passed away from lung cancer. It was unexpected and I was shaken to the core. I almost declined the ESU scholarship to study at the Globe, and then I decided that maybe getting away from everything was exactly what I needed.

Rather than go directly to London, I flew into Manchester. I had a few free days at a Marriott hotel saved up and decided to cash in at the Marriott Preston. This gorgeous hotel is an old English manor house that was converted to a hotel. The grounds are beautiful and the hotel is a vacation in itself.

It was quite easy to get to Preston from the Manchester Airport. There is a train terminal right there. My only suggestion is that you be extra careful when purchasing a train ticket if you do so by the automatic machines. I accidentally pushed the button for first class and cost myself an extra 10 pounds. At this time, that was approximately $20. Traveling first class on the train means you get a muffin (pre-packaged), a short bottled water, extra luggage space and the chance to sit relatively alone.

It was more difficult to get to the hotel. There wasn't such a thing as a shuttle and the bus, although close to the station, was difficult to understand for a newcomer. I ended up taking a pretty expensive taxi ride. I was a bit early for check-in, but this didn't faze the wonderful desk clerk. Within minutes I was in one of their lovely king rooms, unpacking, and sipping some delicious complimentary cocoa. There were also ginger biscuits (cookies)that fast became a favorite.

Having mentioned that I wanted to travel to Kendal the next morning, to do some genealogical research, the concierge knocked on my door about fifteen minutes after arriving. He had a train schedule and some local interest information for me to peruse. He chatted for a few minutes, explaining that it would be less expensive to travel after peak hours and random advice such as this. It was the warmest welcome I have had in any hotel, anywhere.

I found the deep but short tub fascinating. I could easily have drowned in there! I decided to soak away the grime of travel and was pleasantly surprised to find a selection of soaps and lotions--all of which could be purchased in the spa and salon, I found out later. Another pleasurable discovery was that the towel rack was heated. I usually like thin towels that are more absorbent, but wrapped in this big fluffy bath sheet, all warm and cozy was wonderful after an all night flight. I took a quick nap, deciding to explore the hotel grounds and have a leisurely dinner.

The corridors themselves were long and winding and led to small gardens and a courtyard. As I passed by the exit into this area, I saw a wedding in progress. It was one of three that I "crashed" over the weekend.

The corridors led to the aforementioned spa/salon and a heated pool. My one embarrassing incident was that I walked into the men's locker room by mistake. It wasn't well labeled (that's my story and I'm sticking to it). I didn't want to go for a swim, but there was an enclosed snack bar that had a window from which you could watch the swimmer while sipping a drink or munching on some crisps (chips).

For dinner, I opted for the Lounge Bar and found myself a poorly dressed guest at my second wedding. This was a jovial crowd, so I didn't feel awkward although I sat alone. They had wonderful soups and sandwiches in combinations which were unusual for an American. I chose a beef with horseradish and cucumber on a hard roll and a lovely soup. The prices were reasonable and the food was delicious. I actually ate there three or four more times during my short stay.

Their main dining room was a bit pricey but elegant. You may recall that I said that this was an old manor house? Well, they had preserved the atmosphere completely in the restaurant, Broughton's. Now this was a little awkward for a solo traveler as this was not only for guests, but s quantity of locals were fine-dining here. Reservations were required and there was a business dinner going on next to me. Not much good for a people-watcher like me as it is an intimate, rather romantic spot. I went back to the Lounge after that and enjoyed it immensely.

I must say, that given the opportunity, I would go back to this hotel in a heartbeat. Transportation difficulties notwithstanding, it was a terrific experience. I actually spent an additional day relaxing on chairs strategically placed in pretty places on the grounds and just walking around. My third wedding was held in one of the banquet rooms towards the back. They were a lovely bunch, blasting old Beatles tunes and trying to get passersby to come in and dance. Of course, the cash bar might have had a little to do with that!

They had a dinky little TV, and this was my first experience with "real" British television. There were three accessible channels and nothing interesting was on. I ended up watching "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone", munching another sandwich via room service, figuring out the bus line (which stops right outside the hotel by the way). The whole visit was a wonderful experience and it gave me a chance to begin the grieving process.

Now...Preston managed. On to Kendal and an exploration of my Britisth roots.