So How Many Queens Are There in London?

The Tutti Frutti twins enjoyed their trip into the forest. However, Alfredo became a bit alarmed when Mr Piddles tried to drag him down into one of the caverns to show him a pirate’s trove he had discovered. Unfortunately, the secret trove turned out to be a large stash of uneaten Hostess Twinkies left over from World War 2. (Perfectly edible though, I’m told). 
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We departed from our beautiful Gothic Battle Station just beneath Battle Abbey (1066 Country). The fire was roaring and the waiting room warm and toasty as we waited for our train to arrive from Hastings. Right on the minute it arrived and we jumped in a carriage just in time for the snack trolley to come through. There were several children in their school uniforms, commuting to their school at the next station. This is a common sight here in the UK. Our station attendants and on-board surveillance systems ensure they are always kept an eye on. In general most of our children in the Southern Counties are well mannered and polite.
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With their heads pinned to the window we watched the rolling countryside pass by. Luigi was interested in the ancient names of the villages we passed: Stonegate, Tunbridge Wells, High Brooms, Sevenoaks, and on until we reached London Bridge; a busy station by any count as it’s the first station that’s part of London proper. The next station, as we pulled out of Waterloo Station, I told both of them to look out of the port side of the train. Slowly we began to cross the glistening River Thames. You could see the magnificent London Eye, along the South shore of the river and directly across Parliament and Big Ben. They seemed in awe just as I always am as we arrive into the midst of such history and grandeur.
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In a few seconds we were in Charing Cross station. Charing Cross is the ‘Ground Zero’ for London. It’s the centre point for measurement and it’s where all electronic map devices terminate.
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This is my absolutely favourite station of all. Not because it has any dramatic beauty to it, but it’s rather convenient to our lives. Directly across the street is St Martin in the Fields Church where I volunteer several nights each month. There’s a wonderful cafeteria down in the crypt and you can spend a quiet afternoon doing brass rubbings as well. Covent Garden is just a short distance away and its Bohemian environment is delightful!

The National Gallery is across from the church. There’s no entrance fee and we have been known to spend the entire day there. From the station turn left and walk downhill and you’re at Trafalgar Square. As you stand at Nelson’s column you can see all the way down the Mall to Buckingham Palace. 
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Head up Charing Cross Road and you’re at Leicester Square. Truthfully it’s a mess this week. They’re (again) ripping up the courtyard and reordering the layout. But they’ve promised it will be finished by the time all the visitors come for Her Majesty’s Jubilee. (and I believe our mayor Boris Johnson. He’s as eccentric as they come – the epitome of the Public School (which means private here) pratt and as eccentric as they come. But he means business and he has done everything he said he’d do for London. 
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Walk a few steps north and you’re at Piccadilly Circus. It’s the Times Square of London. Everyone wants to go there and once they get there, just as with Times Square, they can’t figure out why they bothered! You’ll see signs that say ‘Subway.’ That’s where you walk down steps to get to the other side. And you’ll see signs that say ‘Underground.’ That’s where you ride down steps to get on a train!’ (called The Tube). Our Underground is safe and economical. And our underground map has been heralded as one of the finest in the world (and the hundreds of cities that have tried to duplicate it are proof!). 
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I had a special treat for the Tutti Twins. Rather than trekking all that distance I decided to do things in a bit of a reverse route. What does the sensible Londoner do when you need to get somewhere and you don’t want to inhale the breath of someone who has just eaten kippers and garlic bread? You hop in a cab of course.
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The word queue is an essential part of the English vocabulary. Germans should learn a little bit about this word, just as they should learn about beach towels. We queue for everything! And we do it in an orderly fashion. No one ever dares jump the queue either. Every native Englishman possesses a secret weapon that is issued with our birth certificates. It’s a device that allows us to pierce burning holes into the back of your head if you’re ever so crass as to jump the queue. And if any of you have ever watched Eastenders, just keep in mind, Walford is only about 15 miles away from London and you might just experience East End protocol instead! 
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One of the greatest elements of our national pride is our taxis. Originally known as ‘Hackney’s’ comes from the Norman French word ‘hacquenée’ meaning a type of horse suitable for hire. Hackney coaches first appeared in London during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, when the wealthy who owned coaches, sought to recoup some of the spiralling expense of maintaining their horses and carriages in central London, began to hire them out. The first official taxi rank in the world was on the Strand, just outside Charing Cross, when a veteran of Sir Walter Raleigh’s expeditions put four coaches to work.
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Just at the onset of World War I, London’s motor cabs came onto the scene. They were electrically powered and named ‘Hummingbirds’ because of the sound they made. It was a bad time for something so innovative to occur. Virtually all of the young able bodied men were being dragged into the dark cauldron of war. It had a profound impact upon London both practically and psychologically.
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Some of the laws governing London’s taxi’s trade go back nearly four centuries. The most notable is the compulsory metal badge each driver much wear showing their license number. Contrary to what many tourists believe, there has never been any law that says a London taxi should be black. It was just a matter of economics over the years. Today you’ll find a vast array of ‘sponsored’ taxis decorated in a myriad of colours and styles promoting commercial interests.
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My children and I often talk about ‘Daddy’s Law’ when it came to safety when the children were small. On many occasions I deliberately would assign the children with a small task to perform for me. We’d have tea either upstairs at the Charing Cross Hotel, or in the Savoy and then I’d ask them to go collect a book I had ordered from one of the Charing Cross book stores or sometimes I’d ask them to drop something off at one of the churches. They always went together. What they didn’t know at the time was that I was always a short distance behind them watching and I had always let the merchant or church secretary I was sending them to know they were coming in on their own. My father did the same thing to me as a child. However, I’m certain he never followed me. It was a far gentler time then and he trusted my intuition and chattiness to get back to our hotel from wherever he sent me.
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But the ‘Daddy Law’ was that should the children ever become lost or had any emergency, whatsoever, in the first instance they were not to go to the police (although they knew where the constabulary was at Charing Cross). The ‘Daddy Law’ was that they were to approach a London taxi driver. This is reflective of how revered and trusted our London cabs are. It is virtually impossible for anyone to walk up to a taxi garage and say they’d like a job. I think the rule in New York is ‘are you breathing? Are you afraid of the East River?, then you can drive a taxi!’
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In London the first step is THE KNOWLEDGE! All-London drivers - also known as Green Badge drivers – are required to have an exhaustive and pedantic knowledge of London within a six mile radius of Charing Cross.
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The Knowledge is based on learning 320 routes (also called runs). This requires learning 25,000 streets and 20,000 landmarks and places of interest in the six mile radius of Charing Cross! The Knowledge course takes on average three years to pass just the London knowledge, where the aspiring driver spends his or her days on bicycles and foot, memorising roadway directions, intersections, mews and short-cuts. Once they pass their exams (and many don’t) they then go through a comprehensive Criminal Records search and interview. At that point, once all documentation is verified, they may then, and only then, make application for the right to drive a London cab. (and again some don’t pass!) Should a London Cab driver find something in the back of their vehicle, you may rest in confidence they will hold on to it through their shift, then deliver it to the constabulary. If your child is lost or in distress, not only will they immediately phone the police to let them know the child is with them, they will deliver your children to wherever you may be. While I’ve never been faced with such a nightmare, I do know several families who have. It’s one of the things that make us so proud of our city.
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Now, I don’t want what I’m about to say to make you anxious, but London is the most heavily surveilled city in the world. You cannot walk anywhere within twelve miles of Charing Cross without having your image being captured by literally thousands of cameras recording your steps. Police can often tell you where you left your mobile phone and they can even, in many cases, read the text of a book you may be reading! We do not see this as an invasion of our privacy but more so protection of our freedoms from individuals who may wish to cause us and our city harm. 
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Okay, enough. Back to the Tutti Twins. We queued up at the Charing Cross rank for a few seconds and hopped into our cab. Before getting in I greeted the driver through his lowered window and said ‘The Palace’ please. ‘Righteo Guv,’ was his cockney response. Tutti One and Tutti Two were wide eyed as they climbed in.
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Luigi got into the seat next to me but Al (That’s what I’m beginning to call him), began playing with the folding seat attached to the back of the driver. Unfortunately Al was so light that the seat sprang upward propelling him across the cab interior into my lap. ‘Scusa amico,’ Alfredo exclaimed as he tried to climb off my lap in a dignified manner. Down to the roundabout where Lord Nelson looks down upon his four great lions acting as sentinels, through Admiralty Arch, past the mysterious ‘proboscis’ that’s implanted in the concrete at eye level for anyone on a horse will see and on down the Mall (rhymes with owl), to Buckingham Palace.
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We climbed out of the cab and the twins clambered up one of the low walls that detail the great roundabout and the Victoria Memorial in the centre of Queen’s Gardens.
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Jumping up and down the boys vied to have their photos taken. Unfortunately I got dragged into a couple of frames. ‘I wanna see the Queen,’ Luigi begged. Al began jumping up trying to see if he could catch a glimpse. I told the boys to look up at the flag pole atop the palace and explained to them about Her Majesty’s Sovereign. If her flag is not flying she’s not in residence.They both looked crestfallen. ‘You mean we travelled all this way to see the Queen and she’s not even here!’ Alfredo lamented. They both really did appear crestfallen. 
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I had an idea. ‘Well,’ I drew out,’ the ‘other’ queen is in residence and she’s just a few short metres from here. They were wide eyed. You mean there are two queens in England?’ Luigi breathlessly asked? (He was breathless because Al had just climbed atop the poor little guy. ‘Indeed, we do,’ I responded. Shall we take a walk through the park?
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Up through Green Park we walked towards Piccadilly. I pointed out the Ritz Hotel on our right where you can still see the holes left from shrapnel during the bombing of London during the war. As we reached Piccadilly we turned right and walked a short distance, until I discovered that Alfredo was lagging behind. In fact, he had ducked into one of our famous red phone boxes. 
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I was wondering who was Alfredo planning to call! Then I discovered he was perusing some of the rather salacious advertising that adorns the inside of the box. If anyone ever decides to do an anthropological study on the idiosyncrasies of the British I think they should first look inside one of our phone boxes.
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Each and every day teams clean out the phone boxes of any nefarious solicitations, but just as quickly as they’re removed, teams of little critters come by to replace them. Indeed, it can be educational. I thought I was going to have to take a stick to Al to peel him away from the place! 
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Finally, we arrived at the location where the boys will meet the ‘other’ queen. And I've not told them yet that she's Italian! (can you guess where we're going?!)
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It has been a challenging past few days. My pastoral duties have precluded my ability to write. However I hope to have part deux prepared by morning. Please accept my unreserved apologies for my delay.
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We’re near the end of the Best of British experience for the Tutti Frutti twins and I plan to stop by the British Airways office to reconfirm Luigi’s flight and insure he’s happy with his seat selection, meals, etc. Of course he doesn’t need to go to an office for this, it can all be done online. But the boys seem desperate to meet more of the British Airways crew. Can’t say I blame them!
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I look forward to sharing more of their London experience with you. And again, my humble apologies.
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May all your journeys be ones of discovery!

Fr Bill+