January 5-9, 1998: On the first Monday of 1998 I flew to England, where Claire Paul had arranged for me to conduct a seminar for several BBC local stations and then to participate in a panel session for The Radio Academy.
It’s a 10 – 11 hour flight from Los Angeles to London, and this time (I had made the same trip just two weeks earlier) I decided to try sleeping through most of it; perhaps that would enable me to arrive feeling completely refreshed.
After the in-flight dinner, I took a sleeping pill and slept until just before we landed — even missing breakfast. Claire picked me up at Heathrow Airport and drove me to the Langham Hilton, across the street from the BBC. But when I reached my room in mid-afternoon (Tuesday), I still was tired…and hungry.
I ordered a sandwich from room service, unpacked, ate the sandwich, collapsed on the bed…and woke up 3 – 4 hours later.
I had thought about seeing a play that evening, but now I wouldn’t have time. So I just sat around and vegetated all evening, eating another room service meal for dinner and channel surfing the television.
(I don’t know why, after checking every channel and finding nothing worth watching, I cling to the unfounded hope that if I go through them all again I’ll stumble upon something great.)
Yeah, I Watched It. We've All Done Things We Regret.
How zombie-like was I? Well, I watched much of the Sylvester Stallone movie, LOCK UP. Enough said.
Finally I went to bed at 3:00AM and awoke feeling remarkably refreshed at 5:00.
For 45 minutes I lazily enjoyed lying in bed and looking out the window at the empty London streets below. Then I got up, showered, collected and replied to my e-mail, and did some writing.
After a leisurely (but, for me, moderate) breakfast downstairs, I embarked on a stroll through London at 9:00.
The weather was remarkably mild for London in January, perhaps 50 degrees or so…perfect walking weather. From a couple of blocks away, I noticed two very large signs, on either side of the street, that said “GOLF SALE” and pointed toward a store.
As I got closer, I realized each of the signs rested atop an eight-foot wooden pole…and each pole was being held in place by some poor bloke whose job it was to stand there and hug the pole to keep it upright.
Although 50 degrees is very comfortable for me to walk in, wearing an open jacket, for most people that’ s a bit chilly. These two guys had to stand there for hours, motionless, absorbing the wind & cold. That can’t be a very enjoyable job.
Soon, however, I stopped thinking about them as I continued walking. I really felt terrific: fully rested & fed, with a very nice hotel as my base, in a place where (for a change) I understood the language, wandering aimlessly about one of the world’s busiest cities.
Walking up Oxford Street, the sidewalks were crowded with people rushing to work.
I, on the other hand, had absolutely no commitments to meet that day. It was a great feeling.
In fact, I had to restrain myself from approaching strangers and saying, “Pardon me, but I don’t have to be anywhere today.” Or, “Can you tell me the time? Oh, never mind, it really doesn’t matter.”
Next: Taking a chance on a crime novel in Selfridges’ basement.
