Friday 29 May 2026
We went to London for the June bank holiday to visit herself. Want to hear all about it? Possibly not but here it is, dragged out of the archive. Herself was leaving London and it seemed like a good idea to visit before she left.
We stayed in happening Spitalfields in a hotel that is part of a nice chain. We’d stayed in the sister establishment in Soho in the past and we needed somewhere a bit nearer to glamourous (ahem) Dalston where our firstborn was residing. She said, “It’s not close at all.” But it’s closer than Soho, is all I can say.
The hotel was lovely but like it’s sister establishment, not exactly dog-cheap. I went for a nap after arriving as I had a slight headache and was not delighted to see workmen on the scaffolding outside my window. I was even less delighted by the vigorous drilling right beside my head which made sleep elusive.
Once somewhat restored, we went out to dinner in a trendy London eatery with our firstborn. It was Japanese-Italian fusion and herself was keen to try it out. I think once we were finished dinner we all agreed that it was not a fusion that was wholly successful.
We went back to her house share after dinner. It was lovely to see her somewhere she was so happy. I was slightly depressed to note how much better value renting in London seems to be than renting in Dublin.
Unrelated: we saw this advertisement on the way back to the hotel. What?
Saturday 30 May 2026
Mr. Waffle and I went for breakfast on trendy Redchurch street as recommended by herself. I liked it. Then we went to Denis Sever’s house which was on the same street as our hotel. As you know, I like nothing better than a house which recreates little vignettes from another era (folk park anyone?) but for reasons I can’t explain this place didn’t do it for me. But grand, I suppose.
We met herself in Marylebone where we had a very nice lunch and then went to the Wallace collection for a wander around. It famously has Fragonard’s “The Swing” but I was surprised and rather pleased to see an old favourite – The Laughing Cavalier – which I didn’t even know was there.
You can also see Mazarin’s cutlery in the collection. I mean, why not?
By far my favourite picture though was this one of Napoleon’s tomb by Vernet. Come on, it has everything.
After our brush with the arts we went to a chemist herself is fond of – wouldn’t be my idea of thrill but each to their own.
Then we went for pizza in Islington which would have been grand except there was some Arsenal related excitement and everything was heaving with Arsenal fans. In fairness, good natured enough but loud and drunk and many.
Sunday 31 May, 2026
The room in our hotel were named after historical figures (we were in Daniel Mendoza, in case you are curious). When I went down for breakfast the next morning, the young waitress asked me, “Are you Mary Wollstonecraft?” and I must say, I rather enjoyed that.
Herself took us to the Towpath cafe for breakfast. We walked around Dalston which, away from the main street, is really pleasant and has excellent cycling infrastructure. I was pretty impressed by cycling provision all round in London. Surely, if they can do it in London, we can do it here.
We went to the Borough Market and Hackney Depot to a flea market. I felt about 102 and extremely untrendy. We bought her 1950s sandals (for a ball, she is still Oxford balling, they seem to go on forever) in the flea market and the owner of the stand ran after us with a matching bag which she pressed upon us. This was very kind of her and heartwarming. She gave the Princess a big hug. When did the English become a nation of huggers? Is it Princess Diana? I can’t see it happening here.
Mr. Waffle made it his business to buy her a lock for her bin which kept disappearing from her front garden. Someone had entered the garden and set some clothes on fire the previous night so I would have to say that the Dalston experience is an exciting urban one and it’s no surprise that jovial souls spirit bins away from front gardens. We picked up a big rock from a local strip of waste ground for her to put behind the gate to discourage further visitors. What a time to be alive.
And then it was time for us to go to the airport. The bus was pretty much stopped by a million Arsenal fans. Arsenal fans stopped the Windrush line by being on the line. I began to not love Arsenal fans, I will tell you that.
However, eventually we got on the lovely Elizabeth line and safely to the airport (full of Arsenal fans) and on to the plane home (also full of Arsenal fans).
Stay with me. Nordic charms to come. Bated breath etc. on your side, I am sure.