The Bridges of London
By Bill Gallacher, February 23, 2007



This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle

This happy breed of men, this little world

This precious stone set in the silver sea

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm

This England.

─William Shakespeare

My first brush with London was that faraway 60s summer when Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones were changing popular music forever, Julie Christie was every man’s desire and Carnaby Street ruled the fashion waves.

Like most adolescents, my thoughts then were far from bridges. I had a job as a construction labourer on Regent Street in the heart of the city, earning thirty quid (pounds) a week and feeling on top the world, having just taken Samuel Johnson’s contentious advice that “the noblest prospect a Scotsman can ever see is the high road that leads to England.” Even then, London—with its cosmopolitan culture, ‘swinging’ mores and high prices—was an intimidating place for a callow youth from north of the border. Forty years have come and gone since I last tasted the pleasures of this city, currently the most-visited, most-expensive metropolis on the planet. To be frank, I have never felt a great desire to go back; yet, here I am, in the dead of winter, like a doddering fool, battling blinding ra
in and gale force winds, struggling to cross the Millenium Bridge, barely managing to stand upright, with my umbrella a twisted mass of shredded fabric and broken wires. Why?

Why, you might reasonably ask, would anyone leave sunny San Miguel de Allende in mid-December for these dreary and sunless shores? Simple. Your daughter announces she is marrying an Englishman on his home turf. I had given her away once before, only to have her ‘returned to sender,’ as it were. But, being a generous and biddable soul, I have responded to the summons, made my speech, managed neither to stumble nor blubber, nor insult the groom’s family in any irreparable way. Now that the ceremonies are over and I have survived the Queen’s Christmas speech, the time is ripe for me to survey 21st century London and see what has and has not changed in the four decades of my absence. One thing does strike me, right off the bat. I seem to remember English being the predominant language of the United Kingdom. Now, I’m not so sure, for it seems as though half of Eastern Europe has moved here. Were it not for the Bovril, Horlicks, and Cadbury Chocolate Flakes ads, you could easily mistake the venerable London Tube for the Moscow Underground. Even England’s premier soccer club, Chelsea, has fallen into the hands of a Russian ‘gazillionaire’ who is suspected of looting his country’s treasury but has nevertheless brought his fortune into Britain, through the Byzantine workings of Whitehall. Of course, he is an exception. A great many of the Russians and Poles are working at minimum wage and have been enticed from their native countries by the high (to them) wages offered to those servicing London’s giant tourism engine. Not that we ourselves, as tourists here, have any cause to complain about the Slavic invasion. Indeed, what has made this trip almost affordable is the collusion of a distant Polish relative who works in the Kensington Hilton Hotel, and who, as a perk, has secured us accommodation at about one-third the normal rate, which, for a room that would give a Japanese dwarf severe claustrophobia, goes for around $275 per night—with a $30 per day charge for the privilege of hooking up one’s own computer to their internet. (A service that is free in almost any motel in the USA.) To pull off this ‘familial’ subterfuge, I have had to remember to respond to the name Woytanya at various ‘checkpoints’ and affect a credible Slavic intonation, but it’s amazing how a monetary incentive of this magnitude can polish the ‘brass balls'’ of a Scotsman. No more Kowalski jokes out of me—at least until we’re back in Mexico. But, even with the Hilton windfall, London has still been a wallet-busting proposition, and I am rounding out this trip, perhaps by way of protest, in the true spirit of my countrymen from north of the border. You see, in incandescent contrast to everything else in this city, crossing the bridges of London costs precisely nothing. 

The act of crossing a bridge on foot isn’t much of a challenge. That, I’ll gladly concede, because short of dropping dead in the middle or being run over by a bus or a car, one is very unlikely to fail. But what about crossing all twenty or so bridges in Metropolitan London in one uninterrupted odyssey, in a howling gale, in the dead of winter? It is precisely self-inflicted ‘challenges’ like this that get me into the kind of predicament that I find myself in now, for I am just about to be blown off the Millenium Bridge, the fourth ‘walkable’ Thames bridge, for anyone heading up-river with bridge-crossing in mind. An hour ago, I started out at the most easterly of London’s city bridges, Tower Bridge, my destination being Kew Bridge, about twelve miles away as the river flows. Naturally, I will not be flowing with the river. With all the criss-crossing and embankment deviations I’ll have to negotiate, this may easily turn out to be a fifteen-mile walk.

Tower Bridge, architecturally the most famous of all London’s bridges, is a marvel of late-Victorian engineering, and the only bridge across the Thames that can be raised for ships to pass. (A bus driver once had the unnerving experience of having the bridge open as he was crossing. However, in true British style, he stiffened his upper lip, accelerated towards the widening gap and managed to vault the bus across.) Between Tower Bridge and the Millenium, where I am now standing, I have crossed over London and Southwark Bridges, and walked under Cannon Street Railway Bridge—which does not accommodate pedestrians. London Bridge is an unremarkable concrete arch bridge built in 1973 on account of its predecessor having been disassembled block by block, shipped across the Atlantic, and then reassembled on Lake Havasu in Arizona, where it is now that state’s second most visited attraction. It was a short hop from London Bridge to Southwark Bridge, where I paused briefly at mid-span and looked down into the murky wa
ters, recalling the grim event that took place there in the early hours of August 20, 1989. The Thames is only about 800 feet wide here (John Daly could knock a golf ball across with a driver) and, although there is a huge diurnal tidal variation of perhaps twenty-five feet, there are no especially dangerous currents. It was a fine summer’s night, and the water would have been perfectly swimmable, if hardly inviting. Yet, 51 young people in their 20s and 30s died there, in one of history’s freakiest nautical disasters. A party boat of about 30 tons displacement, the Marchionness by name, was rammed in the dark by a 2000-ton barge, which, instead of side-swiping the lighter craft, ran right over the top of it, crushing it against the shallow river bed like a steam-roller flattening a sardine can. The revelers didn’t drown; they were crushed.

As if responding to my morbid mood, the sky darkened, and the wind strengthened. It had been gale-force to start with and now was complemented by a viciously stinging rain, a rain that accompanied me all the way to the Millenium Bridge, the site of my present cold, wet, and miserable predicament.

The Millenium is the first absolutely new bridge across the Thames to be constructed in a hundred years and has been sited to connect St Paul’s Cathedral on the north bank with the Tate Modern Gallery on the south. From a distance, it appears as a fragile ribbon of steel, atop two slender pillars of concrete. It is, in fact, a rather cleverly engineered mini-suspension bridge of the Golden Gate or Brooklyn variety, but without their soaring piers. After a literally ‘shaky’ opening in 2000 (It had to close for two years to solve a swaying problem), the Millenium has been given a clean bill of health and is now a major tourist attraction. Not today, however. The few hardy souls who have ventured onto it m
ost likely wish they hadn’t and are more into survival than sight-seeing. With its minimal railing system affording unobstructed views up and down the river, the Millenium is no place to ride out this near-hurricane, and I’ll be very relieved to get off it, head for Blackfriars, find a place to dry out, have a pint—or maybe two—and make some ‘bridge’ notes to send to that great British institution made famous by Monty Python’s John Cleese—the Ministry of Silly Walks.

Things are looking decidedly up. After negotiating Blackfriars Bridge, I have staggered into Doggety's tavern on the southern embankment, an establishment I can unreservedly recommend for that great English delicacy known as ‘fish and chips with mushy peas,’ although the $20 a plate tab has been enough to give me a serious case of heartburn, only made tolerable by the downing of a cool pint of soothing Guinness. If that celebrated English detective, Sherlock Homes, could somehow be reincarnated in present-day London, he would surely be perplexed by The Strange Case of the Overvalued Pound. Let me explain. If, as a dollar-conscious traveler you were to simply go by the posted numbers and the decimal point, London might seem like a moderately expensive city in the United States. The problem is that a British pound at the moment exchanges for two American dollars, not one, as logic would dictate. Exactly why this exchange rate persists is one of the enduring mysteries of modern economics—yet a mystery that has cost a great many currency traders (including yours truly) a great deal of money on the short side in recent years.

Lose Some Weight before You Travel! Higher Rates for Excess Baggage
By Judy Newell

British Airways (BA) announced a new baggage policy that went into effect across the airline’s global network on February 13. It’s a tough change for those of us who tend to over pack or buy too many souvenirs. The airline will not accept any piece of luggage over 51 pounds (23 kg) for coach class passengers and will check in only one bag free of charge.

Don’t even think about carrying an extra bag. As a coach passenger, you’ll be charged an excess baggage fee of US$233 at the airport. 

The old Spanish saying “los ricos vive bien” applies to the new policies. First and Club World customers can check three bags free of charge, while Club Europe and World Traveller Plus customers are able to check in two bags free of charge.

To familiarize customers with the new baggage policy, BA will continue to accept bags at check-in weighing up to 70 pounds (32 kgs) for travel completed by September 30, 2007. Excess baggage will be charged at a fixed fee depending on the length of the journey. British Airways will make exceptions for electric wheelchairs, some sporting items and musical instruments.

The airline’s website states: “Currently, more than 98% of customers travel within their free luggage allowance. The majority of these customers check in no more than one item of luggage per person. For these customers, there is no change.” 

“This includes all travelers to the USA, the Caribbean, Nigeria, Mexico and Brazil. Customers for these destinations will still be able to check in two pieces of luggage free of charge. The free 51 pound allowance for economy-class customers to other destinations will be limited to a single item of luggage.”

So that gives some relief to passengers traveling from Cancún or Mexico City to the USA, the Caribbean, Nigeria or Brazil on British Airlines. But be careful if you plan to continue on to Europe, Asia or beyond. 

For domestic USA and Cancún flights, Spirit Airlines announced that after December 15, 2006 ticketed passengers can check in only one piece of luggage at no charge. The fee for additional bags is US$10 per bag but the airline does not guarantee that space will be available. For first and second checked-in bags the excess weight fees are US$25 for 51 to 70 pounds and US$100 for 71 to 99 pounds.

Ouch! We hope these unfriendly policies don’t catch on. For more information, visit www.ba.com  and www.spiritair.com.  


Sources: British Airways, Newsweek Budget Travel and Modern Agent’s Travel Pulse Daily

Shower your April Birthday Girl in Diamonds

The all-inclusive Grand Velas All Suites & Spa Resort in Nuevo Vallarta, Mexico is offering a complimentary two-hour Diamond Spa Experience and Grand Velas Ritual for travelers celebrating their birthday in April. The only AAA 5-Diamond All Inclusive Resort in Puerto and Nuevo Vallarta, the hotel is also the winner of the Conde Nast “Most Excellent Spa Hotel” Award.

Representing a savings of 40 per cent, the April Diamond Birthday Package includes accommodations in a master or parlor suite with ocean view; a la carte dining at five restaurants; 24-hour in-suite room service; unlimited premium liquor brands; fully-stocked mini bar; work-out programs, nightly entertainment, taxes and gratuities and more. The package costs US$588 per person, per night, based on double occupancy and is valid April 1–30, 2007. For more information visit www.grandvelas.com 

Sources: Grand Velas and Modern Agent’s Travel Pulse Daily


Judy Newell, a new San Miguel resident, is an international travel writer. She will periodically contribute travel articles to Atención.