Day 6 -- Family day in Bedford

This day turned out to be the highlight of our trip. I had not met any of Roy's relatives except his four children. With his parents long gone, this was a rare opportunity to meet some cousins, Jean Conroy and her husband, Arthur, and Doreen Hart.

The day started, however, with our last breakfast in Shangri-La, the Imperial College cafeteria where there is no food shortage. Ever. Here, Roy is (he says) not bowing to Queen Victoria, patroness of the university, but reading the inscription on the plinth. Right.

Look up as you begin to descend into South Kensington Underground Station, and you will see the medieval means used to keep pigeons and other birds from roosting on the rafters and dropping their calling cards on commuters.

A calm, morning view of the Lebanese restaurant of last night's adventure of being alternately wet by pouring rain and dried by heat lamp, while dining al fresco under these awnings.

I was shy about taking photos of the fascinating array of commuters on the undergrounds and trains, but this little guy was irresistible.

Roy found news of the famous "Hitler House" -- note the resemblance of its facade to the Fuehrer's face.

Going down into the underground in London can mean going WAY down. Roy, seen here again, explained everything London Transport.

St. Pancras Station, the original section, would appear to be everything capable and high Victorian.  But.



But wait, here is another view of the loveliness of the original part of St. Pancras.  Inside, as I showed in an earlier blog, all is "mod-con" and commercial, with train information hard to find and the trains even more obscured. We did, of course, finally make it onto what we were assured was the train to Bedford  . . . .

Only, it proved to be NOT the train to Bedford. We had been misled by contradictory signage in St. Pancras and variously  misinformed staff, each in succession kicking the can down the road. Here, a kindly trainman at a suburban stop is helping us switch to the correct train. 

 A sample view of the train compartment.

Arthur met us at the Bedford station, and the day took a dramatically upward turn. We received the warmest possible welcome from Roy's relatives. It was obvious he was much beloved by "the Bedford clan." Pictured here is Cousin Doreen with Roy in the Conroys' lovely cream-and-rose sitting room.

I should have taken this shot when we first arrived, when the table was set with pink floral graciousness for what proved to be a huge lunch of ham, new potatoes, a great salad (in a stemware bowl, with Fortnum & Mason dressing), vegetables galore, French bread, pickles, and trifle for dessert. What a loving reception.
The Conroys' garden is a series of pleasant vignettes, culminating in this retreat house, equipped with comfortable furniture, even a TV.

 Another view of the sitting room.

 And here are Jean and Arthur, cleaning up after lunch. 

The rest of the day, our Sunday, was spent checking on the morning train to Glasgow, eating the lemon cake Jean had packed for us, then packing our bags to leave the Imperial College residence hall at a very early hour, and so to bed.

I did not take photos on our final day, so Day 7 will be narrative.  A final travel blog will display an assortment of shots I can't resist sharing.