High Tea, done right, is a peculiar British affectation. To be sure, I’ve been served “high tea” in a couple of places outside the British Isles, but I don’t think it was near as good. San Francisco may have its charms, but I’m not sure that proper high tea was one of them. Although, there is a place a little south of downtown San Antonio that boasts of high tea. Still, I doubt it can compare with proper British overkill-opulence.
It’s the little sandwiches, and I’ll confide, as a child, not that I’m an adult now, but as a wee lad, I always wanted sandwiches with the crust cut off. That’s what is served at high tea. Then there are the biscuits and clotted cream. And jam. Or jelly, I would be hard-pressed to tell – however – it was marketed, at least once, as “preserves.” Good stuff. On a raisin biscuit (scone).
A hot tip from the girl working the top floor of Foyles Bookstore, I asked for a tea tip. She suggested The Wallace Collection. Good tip. Excellent choice. About two blocks from the Bond Street tube stop, about half a world away from reality as I know it.
Think about it, as I checked my phone, I looked around, the courtyard was glassed over, like a greenhouse, and that’s where the restaurant was, the garden room. High tea was cheaper, by half, than most of the other places I’ve had it recently. I looked at the WiFi connection on the phone. Dead spot. I looked around. Numerous continentals were having high tea – or late lunch – 2 girls from America, by baggage and accents, had their cell phones out, checking messages.
If the Wallace Collection was in the States, there would be WiFi advertised and available, and everyone would be chatting on a phone, or pecking away at a laptop. In London, on a sunny summer afternoon? Yeah, not so much.
I tried it. The flight over, while timely and efficient, the seating sucked, the service was barely adequate, and if I’m going to be treated like cattle, I’d like it to be a lot cheaper. The deal is, family has raved, absolutely raved about how nice Virgin is.
Maybe if I wasn’t flying “cheapest available” it is nice. But the cheap seats suck. Pure and simple. Ask me about providing service to hundreds of people – it can be done. By sign if not by name. Yeah, for Virgin? Unless you don’t mind ungodly high prices, then yeah, the tourist section of the plane sucks.
When I fly, I know I have a choice. I think I’ll skip Virgin Atlantic – next time. If there is a next time, travel is so uncertain these days.
Basketball is over, but the central Texas favorites, the Spurs? I’ve got a new hat, says “Spurs” on the back, like it should. The front? Tottenham Hotspurs. New way to say, “Go Spurs Go.” Yee _something_ ha!
American girls, I suppose, they would collect, I suppose, Barbie Dolls. In the basement of one church, in the gift shop? I can’t make this stuff up:
“The Monarch’s wives, collect the whole set!”
Henry VIII’s wives. Plus one. Mistress, maybe? Or that bottom, does she have her head in her hands?
On to books and covers:
Not to be confused with the currently reading list, but I was confused for a moment, I thought Britain was claiming a mythical Jack-O-lope.