London, Again

London. I know people who really don’t like the grand dame. The weather can be beastly, the hotels mediocre, and the food dodgy. The people that serve you in the hotels, restaurants, and taxis have unpronounceable surnames and barely speak English. They drive on the wrong side of the road. Large buildings are referred to as “houses,” apartments are flats, and houses in the suburbs are called “estates.”

The hotel I’ve staid in these past years is just across from the Victoria and Albert on the edge of Chelsea and Knightsbridge near Harrod’s. It sports a fine location, has a nifty sounding name, and serves a “full English breakfast” (Denny’s Grand Slam breakfast just doesn’t seem to measure up). It also has tiny elevators (lifts) that don’t always work, indifferent beds and pillows (noticeable given the standards now being set by many of the Starwood hotels), tiny rooms, smaller televisions, very tall bathtubs, and difficult to use heating controls. Only this year did they get high speed internet access . . . wifi in the public