London

From York to London on the train and to a neighborhood full of character–Seven Dials, where the only hotel on the street awaited us.  They are renovating and putting in an elevator, so I won’t bother to talk about the murderous Victorian staircase.  The price was right, and my friend was very forgiving–even when the dust from the comforter nearly took her out.  Mostly, it was clean and the bathroom was almost large enough to navigate.  It did inspire a lighter diet.  And we always knew when it was one a.m. because that’s when the bottles are recycled on Monmouth Street.

Fortunately, we were within walking distance of The Crypt at St. Martin of the Fields, where the food was lovely and quite a bargain.  It sustained us while we walked the streets of London.