More than anything, this is a day of transition between London and Brussels, Belgium, and I discover that the leak in the ceiling outside my room has stopped, or been stopped, and if by magic I now have decent water pressure in my shower. Then, not only washed but properly rinsed, I skip breakfast at the B&B and instead grab something at the small bakery I have become familiar with over the past near-week. I do not much relish Cornflakes (though was once a great fan of Sugar Frosted Flakes), and I could not face a bowl of them again. Later, I head to Camden Town, which I've heard is (and turns out to be) a throwback to the 1960s: tie-died clothing; bongs and assorted paraphernalia; tattoo and piercing parlors, along with current or previous clientele. It is an active place, but I do not linger long before returning to London for lunch at Covent Garden, where I also buy 2 nice, heavy bath towels and a bathrobe to send home to my wife. The transaction is sealed with a handshake and my providing my credit card number to a man who writes it on a piece of paper and assures me that the items will be shipped in just a couple of days. Afterward I take the Tube to St. Pancras Station, from where I will depart on the Eurostar tomorrow. The station is as large as many airports I have been in, and I am amazed at its size. I visit mostly to see if I can leave part of my luggage here while I am in Brussels, which turns out to be possible if fairly pricey.
After St. Pancras I visit the British Library, just a short walk from both the station and the hotel I stayed in after returning from Edinburgh a couple years ago. On that visit, I discovered the Library purely by accident after purposefully visiting the Charles Dickens Museum. The Library is a cool, softly lighted place that proves a good counter to the commotion on the streets outside. I once more enjoy looking at the Magna Carta and other, assorted original manuscripts before finding my way back to the Tube and the Windsor House, where I pack and begin thinking about Brussels, about how tomorrow my age will bump up another digit.
Next time: Changing Channels
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