Day 4 - London

Happy Valentine’s Day to all who celebrate.

I woke up to the most romantic surprise imaginable: Anna, not in her best state and vomiting. Nothing says enduring love like a good old vomit in a boutique hotel bathroom in South Kensington. In fairness, I’m blaming the tofu from the night before. Possibly the wine also contributed but mostly the tofu…

The morning was slow. Anna and Alexander were not functioning at peak performance. While I cleaned up and got myself sorted, I also got Alexander dressed and operational. At one point I considered even leaving Anna to lie in bed as Alexander and I left for our adventure.

The original plan had been to enjoy hotel breakfast at 7am before heading for a “second breakfast” at 10am. That plan dissolved somewhere between nausea and toddler negotiations. We eventually left the hotel at 9.40am, which felt like a victory. We grabbed the Tube to Parsons Green in Fulham to meet Andrew Hemmings and his girlfriend Sophie at Megan’s, a very famous breakfast spot it seems.

They had secured a table and Alexander set about ensuring they reconsidered ever having children. He conducted what can only be described as a scientific experiment involving ice cubes migrating between glasses and developed a worrying fascination with table knives. The food was excellent, although the waiters were oddly rude and somehow brought Anna a children’s pancake, lost in translation that a parent might share something with their child.

Despite the chaos, it was lovely to catch up. The weather was glorious and in the whirlwind of conversation and toddler containment, we forgot to take a photo. Tragic.

After saying goodbye, we popped into the shop next door for emergency supplies: milk for Anna and Fanta for me. Modern medicine. Sophie suggested we take the Uber Boat instead of the Tube. “The dock’s just down the road,” she said. “Great idea,” we thought.

Down the road turned out to be significantly further than anticipated. And then over the Thames. And then further along the riverside. Still, it was a beautiful day and we saw parts of London we’d never normally explore. Alexander, however, had other plans and fell asleep.

Just as we were nearing the dock, we spotted the Uber Boat approaching at speed. “It’s definitely not stopping,” but all of a sudden it stopped and we bolted. We’ve become remarkably efficient at high-speed pram lifting. Up the stairs, down the ramp and zigzagged across the wooden dock, tapped our card and we were the last ones on board. Phew!

We knew we would pass the big sights, so we woke Alexander. Worth it. He was buzzing. Boats. Buses. The Houses of Westminster. Big Ben. The London Eye. Peak London content.

We had planned to stay on until London Bridge but decided to disembark at Embankment. Thankfully I had executed a Formula 1-level nappy change on the boat, because when we stepped off we were swallowed by thousands of tourists at Westminster. To add to the intensity, there was an Iranian march happening, roads were closed and flags everywhere. It was sensory overload, and that was just me never mind Alexander!

We eventually escaped and wandered through St. James’s Park. Ducks, swans, birds and calm was restored. We grabbed a small snack lunch but at some point in the chaos, Anna’s milk disappeared. She was not impressed.

From there we continued to Buckingham Palace to see the guards. Alexander decided he no longer required the pram and marched confidently up Constitution Hill, nearly petting a squirrel in the process.

We pushed on through Knightsbridge, briefly detoured into the labyrinth that is Harrods, and eventually made it back to the hotel.

The hotel pool allowed children between 3 and 4.30pm. Perfect. Swimming was actually lovely and Alexander adored it.

In the process of drying off afterwards, I actually managed to leave the changing rooms without our room key. We knocked to get back in but no answer. Eventually someone else entered and we found the key on the floor. Crisis averted. We returned to our room to get ready to leave again. This time we’re off to Hamleys.

A taxi driver advised that due to the Iranian march and traffic chaos, the Tube would be quicker and cheaper so we listened. We got off at Green Park because it had lifts and in theory, would be much better than Piccadilly Circus. In reality it was packed, one exit was temporarily closed, and we ended up carrying the pram in circles rather than queuing twenty minutes for a lift with thirty other people. Eventually we emerged and sprinted towards Hamleys because Anna insisted there was some sort of dance performance at 5.30pm.

We ran past The Ritz, Burlington Arcade and Savile Row and despite our speed and amazing overtaking skills, Alexander, of course, had fallen asleep.

We woke him just in time for what can only be described as the most underwhelming show of our lives. Two men danced. One seemed unclear on the choreography. The other just shouted “YEO.” That was it. Worth the sprint.

We spent an hour in Hamleys with Alexander trying every toy in the building. Miraculously, we escaped without spending a fortune.

The plan had been dinner nearby. Alexander vetoed that plan. He hadn’t napped properly and we’d woken him twice. The crankiness was building so we conceded. Back to the hotel. We opted for a black cab for simplicity. Due to traffic and partially reopened roads, it was neither simple nor cheap. The fare cost more than our flights to Edinburgh. But it was Alexander’s first black cab, and the driver was lovely, so we’ll call it cultural enrichment.

We finally made it back. Alexander went straight to bed. I was dispatched on dinner duty and returned with Chipotle burrito boxes. Anna and I had prosecco, burritos and Netflix in bed.

Happy Valentine’s Day.