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1969 European Holiday: Day 4
Jul. 6th, 2019 10:13 pm6 July 1969
Sunday in my family meant three things: church, eating out, and going to the movies, and that's exactly what we did on our first Sabbath day in England.
For Mass, we went to the little Catholic chapel nearby the Regent Palace, which we had also attended on our previous trip.
Then, according to my diary, we returned to the hotel, packed, and dropped off our luggage at Heathrow in advance of our flight to Denmark later that night. Thence to the Oratory, which apparently thrilled me when I was there, but for which I have no recollection whatsoever. I do, however, still have this pamphlet to remind me of the place I've completely forgotten.
I do remember us going to St. Paul's afterward, though, and being turned away. That was a big disappointment to me. I really wanted to visit the Whispering Gallery, which I'd seen on television since our last trip. I had also wanted to see the steps where the old lady in Mary Poppins fed the birds, but I figured out when I saw the actual cathedral steps that the ones in the movie must just have been a stage prop. Still more disappointment.
I'm sure I enjoyed lunch at the Wimpy bar, though. Mmmm! Loved those oniony burgers and the greasy chips they served there!
After that, we went to yet another church: Westminster Cathedral (the Catholic Westminster, not the Abbey). My big thrill there was scratching my initials in the soft brick of the walls of the bell tower, where hundreds of others had left their own marks over the years. I found a small blank spot for my own initials on a brick high up on an arch facing Parliament. [I satisfied myself with the thought that they would remain there forever, however, when I visited 20 years later in 1989, my initials had, of course, been obliterated by then.]
Then we killed a couple of hours watching a movie, which I seem to recall was at the Plaza Theatre– the original "The Italian Job"– which I do remember really getting a kick out of, especially the chase scene with the Minis. It must have been the first time I'd gone to the movies in England, too, because I also remember being surprised to see quite a few actual commercials screened prior to the feature presentation.
Then it was back to the Regent Palace to check out. That's apparently when I took these photos of the lobby, but once again, if the date on the back of the snaps is correct, then it means Mother and Florence (and presumably me, too) are wearing the same clothes we were last night, and I'm still having trouble believing we'd do that. But my diary does specifically refer to me taking several pictures at the RPH, so I guess that settles that.
The final bill for our stay at the Regent Palace.
I have no memory of Heathrow Airport at all, and only a flicker of a mental image of the flight to Denmark. We must have arrived in Copenhagen in the wee hours, but again, my memory fails to record our arrival, and I have only a dim recollection of checking in at the hotel, with no idea how we got there from the airport at that hour on an early Monday morning. (It almost had to've been a cab.) Not too surprising, though. We all must have been dead tired.
![that we went to St. Pauls but a service was on and we couldn't see a thing! That was dreadful! Then to a Wimpy bar and had a hamburger. Westminister Cathedral followed and a trip to the tower where I engraved my initials on the arch facing Parliament. Then to 'The Italian Job' a hilarious comedy about a gold robbery. We went back to the Regent Palace for dinner and a few fotos. We suddenly found ourselves at the airport waiting for our plane. My seat for B.E.A was 2-A. Our [1hr. 17min] Our room at the Minerva is nice but very small and it appears that almost everyone speaks english. Our room # is 530.](https://otters.net/img/ashetlandpony/070669.jpg)
Sunday in my family meant three things: church, eating out, and going to the movies, and that's exactly what we did on our first Sabbath day in England.
For Mass, we went to the little Catholic chapel nearby the Regent Palace, which we had also attended on our previous trip.
Then, according to my diary, we returned to the hotel, packed, and dropped off our luggage at Heathrow in advance of our flight to Denmark later that night. Thence to the Oratory, which apparently thrilled me when I was there, but for which I have no recollection whatsoever. I do, however, still have this pamphlet to remind me of the place I've completely forgotten.
I do remember us going to St. Paul's afterward, though, and being turned away. That was a big disappointment to me. I really wanted to visit the Whispering Gallery, which I'd seen on television since our last trip. I had also wanted to see the steps where the old lady in Mary Poppins fed the birds, but I figured out when I saw the actual cathedral steps that the ones in the movie must just have been a stage prop. Still more disappointment.
I'm sure I enjoyed lunch at the Wimpy bar, though. Mmmm! Loved those oniony burgers and the greasy chips they served there!
After that, we went to yet another church: Westminster Cathedral (the Catholic Westminster, not the Abbey). My big thrill there was scratching my initials in the soft brick of the walls of the bell tower, where hundreds of others had left their own marks over the years. I found a small blank spot for my own initials on a brick high up on an arch facing Parliament. [I satisfied myself with the thought that they would remain there forever, however, when I visited 20 years later in 1989, my initials had, of course, been obliterated by then.]
Then we killed a couple of hours watching a movie, which I seem to recall was at the Plaza Theatre– the original "The Italian Job"– which I do remember really getting a kick out of, especially the chase scene with the Minis. It must have been the first time I'd gone to the movies in England, too, because I also remember being surprised to see quite a few actual commercials screened prior to the feature presentation.
Then it was back to the Regent Palace to check out. That's apparently when I took these photos of the lobby, but once again, if the date on the back of the snaps is correct, then it means Mother and Florence (and presumably me, too) are wearing the same clothes we were last night, and I'm still having trouble believing we'd do that. But my diary does specifically refer to me taking several pictures at the RPH, so I guess that settles that.
The final bill for our stay at the Regent Palace.
I have no memory of Heathrow Airport at all, and only a flicker of a mental image of the flight to Denmark. We must have arrived in Copenhagen in the wee hours, but again, my memory fails to record our arrival, and I have only a dim recollection of checking in at the hotel, with no idea how we got there from the airport at that hour on an early Monday morning. (It almost had to've been a cab.) Not too surprising, though. We all must have been dead tired.
