At the Stanhope Arms |
Zeroing in... |
Traditional Sunday lunch. The puffy looking thing is the Yorkshire pudding and it goes wonderfully well filled with beef gravy! |
Oh! There's other people here! |
The first thing was: a mandatory stop at two different show-your-passport podiums, followed by security and bag x-ray. British Air boards from the back of the plane; none of this nonsense about putting First and handicapped on first.
The seats each held: a plastic-sacked small blanket, a pillow in a sturdy fabric case, an antimacassar for the top of back of the seat (to avoid hair oil on it?) The back of the seat in front of you has a button to pull out and hang your coat! The flight attendants all wear WW2 hats -- the kind worn back then, half cap/half beret designed to ride on the side of the head and partially encase the French twist of the hair.
After take-off, the drinks cart came rolling through and when we had partaken, dinner was served. Every one got the same Starter (Brit speak for appetizer) of mixed green salad with a balsamic vinegar dressing. The Mains (we call them Entrees) were choice of:
Seared filet of British beef (after "mad cow disease" scares, am not sure just how good an idea it is to label it ...) with port wine sauce, creamed leeks, roasted pumpkin and roasted new potatoes OR Black truffle tortellini with chestnut sauce, roasted morel mushrooms (a huge portion) and dessert for all was strawberry swirl cheese cake.
For breakfast we were each given a box containing a cold croissant, no butter but strawberry jam, a small sack of dried cranberries and a "health bar" that looked and tasted as if it had been made out of particle board.
An uneventful landing, brisk trip through Immigration and on to the Tube to Earls Court, our stop. We found the Rockwell easily enough, inquired about the nearest place to get a traditional Sunday lunch, left our bags and took off for the Stanhope Arms.
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