(Post #29) London Buses, Oven Disasters, and Life's New Directions

Arriving at Mary and Tom’s felt like stepping into a museum, minus the velvet ropes and "Do Not Touch" signs. Their home, an antique-lover’s paradise, was brimming with relics from their globetrotting escapades. Victorian charm oozed from every corner—giant floor-to-ceiling windows, chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a royal ball, and those baseboards you only see in period dramas. The whole scene screamed fancy, and I, in my nomadic haze, was tiptoeing around trying not to leave smudge marks.

With them away, I thought I’d take a walk on the wild side—sans rental car, thank you very much. Walking to the grocery store? A brisk 20-minute jaunt. To the gym? Oh, just 30 minutes. Downtown? Another 30 minutes. I told myself it was a "fitness regime," but really, I was just enjoying the people-watching. Walking past all the century homes, spectacular architecture of government buildings and cathedrals. Not something you can observe as closely when driving.

But then, in a moment of utter genius (or madness), I decided it was time to level up. “Why not take the bus?” I thought. After all, I hadn’t been on one since my teenage years, and hey, how hard could it be?

Turns out, navigating London’s public transit is like stepping into a new world. Did you know there’s bus etiquette? When did this happen? Everyone says "thank you" to the driver as they leave, like it’s some sort of unspoken ritual. And those wires along the windows to ring for your stop? Still there, bless them. But then came my rookie mistake—I thought the bus stopped and opened the doors automatically. Cue the awkward moment when I stood there, starring at the door to open, until some kind soul showed me how to wave my hand across a light to open the door. I felt like I’d just unlocked the secret code to Narnia.

Ah, the sweet adventures of public transit.

But wait, then a thought came to me. I decided to "give back" to my dear hosts. You know how I love doing something special for the homeowners I house-sit for, so, "Why not clean their oven?" I mean, Tom’s a whiz in the kitchen, and Mary does the cleanup, so surely they’d appreciate the gesture. Armed with a full can of cleaner, I sprayed it like I was auditioning for a detergent commercial.

Fast forward to me coming back from a short walk, ready to reveal my shining handiwork, and... disaster. The cleaner had seeped down from the oven onto the cupboards, burning through the varnish like acid and, oh joy, leaving burn marks on the floor. Instant panic. My first thought: Maybe they won’t notice if I distract them with wine? But no, honesty is the best policy, right? At least the results were amazing, and maybe they would be caught up in the glory of it all.

So, there I was, wiping floors, polishing countertops, making everything sparkle in the hope that the glowing cleanliness would somehow offset the horror story that was now their cupboards and floor. When they returned, I braced for impact. Spoiler alert: they took it with the grace of people who’ve seen worse things in life—thank goodness for good-natured friends!

I was so relieved and happy to have them back. We had so much to catch up on, including my change of plans to not stay with them for the full month of September as planned, since I managed to line up more house/pet-sitting gigs back in BC. This meant I could squeeze in a road trip to my cousin’s lake house in Huntsville and see a few more friends before I head back to BC. It was a better plan and made more sense for me to be available to help my daughter pack for her new adventure. 

Knowing Mary and Tom, they’d want to soak up as much time with me as possible before I ventured out. But before that, I was eager to make the most of these next two weeks with my wonderful friends, cooking dinners, watching movies, and loving every minute of their company. Being around Mary and Tom is always entertaining.

The time spent in their home passed quickly, and soon they were ready to head back to their cottage while I geared up for my road trip. They kindly dropped me off at the train station, and I headed to Hamilton to pick up my rental car and begin the journey to Huntsville. I will miss our before-dinner drinks in the living room, where we shared great conversations. Taking our meals on trays and watching TV shows, and most of all, the laughter and fun they always seem to bring to my life.

After the goodbyes at the station, it was time to be on the move once again. My cousin Chuck had promised something special, excited to show me the changes he’d made to his remote lake house. I couldn’t wait to see what surprises were in store for me there.

Just Like New!

Disaster

Next: Post 30 Spa Night, the Lake, and the Cousin Who Has It All Figured Out