Folly. Food. Football. Fathers.
The final installment of our England trip rehash wouldn’t be finished without a story or two about fathers. Or as he’d most certainly say, “Dear ol’ Dad.” This was, of course, our first big trip with dad in spirit.
Just a few hours in, I realize I’m experiencing quite a bit of travel anxiety in the form of: It’s all on me to get us safely and economically to this particular spot by this particular time with all the stuff and when I reverse engineer the timing back to when we need to leave, we should wake-up at 1PM California time.
Then the travel director in me is like: These kids speak English. At least one is bigger than me. They love kiosks and escalators and map apps. And are certainly better at military time. Less on me. More on them.
Jacob was especially confident on the London Underground. Nate bought tube tickets like a pro. They learned train time tables and platforms. They double checked Uber license plates. They wielded key cards and navigated queues and guarded luggage like bouncers. Of course there were mistakes. Jake took us off course while following some walking directions. We talked about how I feel when we’re going off course and how to become aware of our inner compass. Nate formulated a tailgating workaround when his tube ticket demagnetized. My anxiety decreased. Their confidence increased.
The first morning Jacob and I went exploring in Manchester, we ventured to the artsy part of town called the North Quarter. It was filled with murals and graffiti. All my pictures were just more artistic that day. As we’re wandering, I see James’ jacket in a window. Like I’d know that jacket anywhere. If tested, I think I can even name the LA brand, Rogue Territory. Jacob and I go through the front door and walk right into Office Hours Manchester. All the same brands James carried. Stacks of Japanese denim. Gold lettering on the window advertising their chain-stitch hemming. I can just picture him striking up a conversation with these two British blokes and leaving him here for hours. Hey Jame, Jake and I are going to go find a place for lunch. We’ll swing back and get you this afternoon.
Later that day, Jacob and I visit the National Football Museum (thumbs down) and the Manchester Cathedral (thumbs up). During lunch, I realize I cannot go to the bathroom without bringing my phone camera. The British pubs, eateries, and cafes have the most stylish loos. Beautiful tile. Brass taps. Molton Brown hand soap. I begin capturing inspiration for my future high gloss coffee table book: The Loos of London. It will be far superior to the one currently on Amazon written by I.P. Freely.
We stop for an afternoon snack and there on the menu it says “Baby Chino.” I’ve never seen this on a menu. It’s what James calls the little espresso cups of steamed milk he makes the boys when he’s making us cappuccinos. We see various versions of Baby Ccinos in cafes all around Manchester. It makes me smile.
During the final days of our stay, I say something to Jacob about how many things remind me of dad when we’re out and about. In his precocious way he replies, “Of course Mom… his name is on every faucet!”
This is true. Every tap we touch says St. James. Also perfect for my coffee table book.
