more of my parents in london

If you’ve just tuned in, my parents are visiting me from the states. It has been most enjoyable. They are easy to get along with and great vacationing companions. They are also really, really funny.

{Taking a photo of taking a photo at the Tower of London. Photo taking is a serious art that must be documented thoroughly with more photo taking.}

We’ve been to London twice and they loved it like kids love candy. Everything was the greatest thing ever. They managed to fit in with the locals pretty well, too. (Except maybe the backpacks.  And the cameras.  And the neon signs around their necks that said "TOURIST.")

{My dad LOVED Picadilly Circus.  More about that later.}

Anyone who’s been on the London Underground knows there are those people who will push you out of the way to get a seat. My parents are apparently those people. They always managed to find a spot to sit even at rush hour. Once I looked up and my dad had found a spot near where I was standing and my mom was halfway down the car in a seat next to strangers. I only looked away for a minute. They have a rare talent. And people didn’t mind. If I had done it, I’d have gotten told off. Or I never would have found a seat. I suppose some people are natural Londoners and some people are me.

{On the tube.  They whisper and giggle all of the time.  Like the children they are.}

While we were there, I saw a Starbucks and asked them if they’d like some coffee. My mom, being addicted to coffee (see this post from a few months ago about their coffee addiction) screamed, “COFFEE!” as loud as she possibly could while also waving her arms around. In the crowded street. In the middle of London. And not a single person looked at her. I love this city.

{At the Starbucks beside Tower Bridge.}

On the way home from London I gave my dad a mint flavored licorice all sort to try. He hated it. He made a face that resembled that of the best W.C. Fields impression. Yet he continued to eat it. And much to the amusement of our fellow train travelers, complain about it. Loudly. Like a four-year-old. I had to give him a cookie to get him to quiet down. Who needs kids, is all I have to say.

{Very tired and about to exit the Underground.} 

I have several of their finest quotes ready for a blog post, too, but that will have to wait for another day.