In the midst of preparing for this year’s annual trip to Britain, I find myself thinking about my first one: a fabled journey that took place back in the mists of time, when the world was young, Stonehenge was rising on Salisbury Plain, and a tree-squirrel could swing from England to Scotland without touching the ground, though he’d be tuckered out by the time he got to Glasgow.
Oh, all right. It was 1973 and I was 25, whereas today I’m, well, a bit older. Anyway, let’s compare the two trips, shall we?
Dollars & pence
1973: After saving 25% of my take-home pay for two years and buying a one-way charter flight to London, I had $1800 left over. That money bought me a 1963 Mini for 95 pounds and lasted for 10 months.
2010: I’ve budgeted $3000 for one month. Should be okay as long as I stay out of the shops.
Why the big difference there?
Bed & breakfast 1973: £2.50, tops. I slept in the Mini in Cobham, Surrey, because I couldn’t find anything under £2.75.
Bed & breakfast 2010: No more than £60. Well, okay, £90 in Kirkwall, but I’ll have a view of the harbor.
Petrol 1973: About 35 p. a gallon.
Petrol 2010: I’ll find out when I get there. Say, what are “litres”?
Photos taken
1973: Fewer than 20. Too expensive to have the film developed. The photo above is not of my Mini; it’s a lookalike.
2010: Two words: cell phone. So as many as I want.
Any changes in the bed & breakfast scene since ’73?
I’m glad you asked.
1973: Strong possibility of nylon sheets. Bathroom down the hall and/or a flight of stairs. Shower? “Can’t be done, I’m afraid. Our gravity’s not strong enough.” Breakfast: cornflakes, Mother’s Pride toast, marmalade, fried egg & bacon, tea. Coffee? “Can’t be done, I’m afraid, much too dear [expensive].”
2010: Egyptian cotton sheets, “ensuite” toilet, power-shower. Breakfast: choice of fruit juice, choice of cereals, choice of egg-cookery, choice of bread, choice of tea or coffee. Choices all around, basically.
Luggage
1973: Big blue suitcase made out of what looked like denim. Everything stuffed into suitcase. No carry-on.
2010: Big expandable black suitcase and a carry-on suitcase for laptop/power supply/plug converter/thumb drive.
Clothes in the luggage
1973: Three pairs of size-6 bell-bottoms; assorted blouses and tops; two pairs of shoes (moccasins and ballet flats); a dress that ended halfway up my thighs; my grandmother’s floor-length wool bathrobe; a cape made by my Aunt Catherine; ankh; love beads. All in shades of lavender, burgundy, and blue. No raincoat, no umbrella. (What, does it rain in Britain?)
2010: Four pairs of identical never-mind-the-size jeans; three pairs of shoes; assorted T-shirts; several jackets; one cashmere turtleneck sweater; one skirt that ends halfway down my calves; raincoat; umbrella; pajamas. All black except the T-shirts.
Medicine in the luggage
1973: I was 25.
2010: Multi-vitamins, anti-allergy pills, Ibuprofen, Tylenol for Colds Daytime, Tylenol for Colds Nighttime, Tylenol for Flu ditto, cough syrup. I still don’t get ill very often, but when I do it’s usually in Britain.
Food for the plane
1973: I ate what they gave me and liked it.
2010: My own trail mix (nuts, raisins, chocolate chips). I don’t eat anything else on planes and think United should discount my tickets accordingly. On the other hand, I do drink a lot of their water.
In-flight reading material
1973: Frommer’s England on $5 and $10 a Day and an anthology of mystery stories. (Fun facts: Arthur Frommer, then a corporal in the U.S. Army, wrote his first travel guide for American GIs in Europe and then produced a civilian version called Europe on $5 a Day. Per Wikipedia, “It was the first travel guide to show Americans that they could afford to travel in Europe.” Since then, more than 75 million copies of Frommer’s guide books have been sold.)
2010: Manuscript of my own mystery novel, Fall Crush, and an editorial pen.
Preparing to get there
1973: It’s cool, man. It’ll just, like, happen, you know?
2010: Eight B&Bs researched and booked. Reservations made on four car ferries. Rental car arranged. British Rail pass purchased. Oyster card for London transit topped up before I left last time.
Damn, I am such a freaking grownup.
Getting there
1973: Red-eye from San Francisco to LA, sat up all night in LAX, charter flight to Rotterdam (with a stop in Pennsylvania), train and bus to Hook of Holland, ferry to Harwich, train to Cambridge via Manningtree and Ipswich. By the time I went to bed in Cambridge, I’d been awake for 52 hours.
2010: Nonstop from SFO to Heathrow. But I still won’t be able to sleep on the plane.
Friends to visit when I get there
1973: None.
2010: In Axminster, Wallasey, Teesside, Norwich, Cambridge, and London.
My hair color
1973: Brown with lots of red in it.
2010: White with bits of brown in it.
Anticipation
1973: Oh wow! It’s almost time! I’m finally getting to go! I can’t believe it! This is amazing! Only one week/six days/five days (etc.) to go! Oh wow!
2010: I’m tired. But I’ll have a good time when I get there.
Note to burglars
It’s risky these days to announce your travel plans online. If any burglars are reading this and have figured out where I live: builders will be working in my house while I’m gone. Also, I have vigilant neighbors and large barbed-wire dogs.
