Wednesday, 17 September 2025, Hampton Court, London (The Savoy)
Written 3 December 2025
On Wednesday, breakfast at the Hotel Indigo opened early so that we could have our luggage picked up at 7 am and be on the bus by 8 am. I started with the light repast you see at the left, but I still felt a bit peckish, so I went on to the "bacon butty" at the right. A butty is a buttered sandwich bun with something in it, bacon being the most popular. As you can see, British bacon is much leaner and not as crisp as American.
On the way out of town, I spotted a sign outside a bakery that read "The more you weigh, the harder you are to kidnap. Stay safe; eat more cake."
Did I mention already that the Indigo occupies 12 adjacent (and attached) townhouses, all built in 1875? It has been open for 5 years and 8 days. The items in the frames, displayed in one of the hallways, are objects found during the renovations. The ones in the right-hand frame are all empty cigarette packs.
Along the roadsides were large patches of luxuriant blackberries, heavily in fruit. First, I spotted black-faced sheep, then later, all-white sheep. Also many fields of maize stubble. Much of the countryside was just rolling green hills like these.
Our midmorning comfort stop wasn't quite as richly stocked with American fast food as the last one, but pretty close. It featured Gregg's, an up-and-coming British chain that started out with baked goods but has rapidly expanded into sandwiches, sausage rolls, pasties, pies, and whatnot. It first opened in 1926 and has gone from being aimed at the working class to being very popular with everyone.
Outside in the parking lot were these large-capacity credit-card-operated washers and dryers, so you could do your laundry over lunch. Also outside, in a separate little hut, a guy was selling traditional Cornish pasties, as well as pasties with more modern newfangle fillings. I asked what was in the traditional one: beef, potato, swede, and onion. Swede is the British name for rutabaga.
Things Stefano told us on the bus:
We passed within distant sight of Windsor Castle, where the royal standard was flying, indicating that the king was in residence. That's apparently where Trump was staying and begin fêted during his state visit. The whole group breathed a great sigh of relief when it became clear that he wouldn't be staying at the Savoy with us, which was a real possibility.
Written 4 December 2025
Eventually, we reached our major destination for the morning, Hampton Court Palace. To get to the parking area, we had to drive past it. We were met as we disembarked by Fiona, our tour guide (as opposed to tour director Stefano) for the next few days. From the bus, we then had to walk back to the pedestrian entrance. That entailed crossing this bridge over the Thames. That's the palace in the distance.
That walk led us only as far as the outer gate (which was shrouded in scaffolding), beyond which we faced this walk (right-hand photo) to the palace itself—not a huge distance as these things go, but David's foot was not happy about it. Note that the main entrance to the building is also shrouded in scaffolding.
We paused to study this map of the palace and grounds, which was established as our rendez-vous point for the walk back to the bus after lunch. Even at this scale, you can probably make out the yellow rectangular "you are here" label at the bottom left corner.
Rather than pass through the scaffolding, Fiona took us in through the door shown here at the right. In the long view of the building above, you can see it to the left of the scaffolded entrance. As you can see, the whole palace is resolutely red brick with stone trim. What you probably can't make out is the elaborate spiral, zigzag, and geometric carving of all those brick chimneys. In fact, they're all different; every single chimnney, all 241 of them, has its own unique pattern.
Fiona led us on an hour's tour of the highlights of the palace, starting (for once) with the kitchens, which happened to be handy to our entrance. At the left here is one of the small fireplaces. It's equipped with two large wrought-iron racks, each bearing numerous hooks at different heights across which spits could be hung.
At the right is one of the large fireplaces, of which there were originally six (only two survive). This one was modified, long after Henry VIII lived here, to hold a "modern" cast-iron stove. Each was of a size to burn cordwood and roast whole oxen. I could easily stand up in the unmodified one with a foot of clearance over my head!
This line of individual burners with pots suspended over them was for cooking smaller things. The arches under them alternated niches for supplies of wood or coal to feed the fires and bays to hold ashes. The ashes could could be swept out from under the burners and fell into the bays through openings at the top. Between meal services, kitchen boys could shovel the ashes out of the bays for disposal (and, of course, refill the arches with wood or coal). I have no idea whether all these pots shared a single one of the 241 chimneys. I suspect they did, as I don't see any way the fumes from each one could be collected into a single duct.
I think the right-hand photo shows one of the structures we were told about in which deep kettles were set permanently into brick supports with space for fires underneath. Or it might just be an individual larger burner over which smaller things could be roasted on the spits spanning it.
Here, Stefano waits for us in an area furnished with several large wooden work tables. The gray person cutting something on one of them is painted on the wall behind.
A little table in one of the hallways provided samples of the many culinary and medicinal herbs that would have been grown (and still are) in the gardens outside.
A whole warren of corridors were stocked with kegs and barrels and sacks. Still others were dedicated to washing and storage of a great many metal plates and platters. An alleyway between blocks of rooms was shown to us as "fish street." It was open to the sky, but was chosen, or perhaps purpose built, for its north-south orientation and narrowness, which ensured that no sunlight ever penetrated it. Fish from the river and from the cultivation ponds on the other side of the palace were brought here daily for preparation, especially on fast days, when the only "meats" permitted were fish, beaver (it's aquatic, after all), and (for some reason) rabbit.
Water was piped from a spring a couple of miles away.
These were the kitchens that fed Henry VIII's retinue of 500. A smaller "privy kitchen," located elsewere, cooked for the royal family. Henry spent 6 million pounds a year feeding his court, and about 200 people worked in the kitchens.
To reach other parts of the palace, we passed through several courtyards. In this one, the beds (most of which were pretty disheveled) were marked off with low railings painted in green and white stripes. Mounted on similiarly striped poles lining the walkways were fanciful rampant animals (painted variously gold, white, red, and black) holding standards with royal symbols on them. I spotted a lion, a cow, a bull, a goat, an eagle, a dog, a dragon, and one at the far end that I can't make out but is white with red and blue polka-dots.
Some of the beds were in actual use, though. At the right here is a large patch of purple-tinged sage, a tuft of thyme, and some angelica. The low dark-green hedges with red berries (actually arils) are yew.
Written 9 December 2025
I think the court at the left here is the Fountain Court (a fountain court, anyway).
Henry VIII's apartments are off the Clock Court and up a flight of amazingly decorated stairs. The queen's ladies in waiting lived in this Clock Court on the sides flanking the kings' apartments. According to Fiona, successively one would move across the couryard to become the queen, a new lady in waiting would be brought in, and they'd repeat the cycle.
Here's a nearer view of the clock. It's numbered (clockwise) from 12 at the top (midnight?) through 12 at the bottom (noon?), then starts again at 1 and is numbered back up to 12 at the top. Next to the dial indicating month, it also gives sign of the zodiac.
Outside the gate beneath it (the Lingate, I think) was this area of strikingly trimmed trees. Not sure whether or not this qualifies as topiary.
Here are a couple of (rather glare-y) shots of the King's Staircase. The decorations date not from Henry VIII but from the time of William and Mary. They symbolize the triumph of the Protestants over the Catholics, but Hercules in in there, too. William liked Hercules a lot.
This space at the bottom of the staircase was the old guard room, hence the sepia-toned protrayals of weapons and armor around the bottom. Antonio Verio did the painting. Thirteen Caesars are portrayed, and William is in there, portrayed as Alexander the Great.
The nearby Queen's Staircase was rather less elaborate.
The apartments where Cardinal Wolsey lived are now occupied by a display called "Tudor World," which we didn't get to see. I think that's where Fiona said they show outlines on the floor of an original dwelling that was here before the palace.
Also part of the king's apartments was the Great Hall, where meals would have been served on special occasions. It's surrounded by antlers and tapestries. Cardinal Wolsey had about 600 tapestries; Henry VIII had about 2000. Each tapestry cost about 3 pounds a yard, at a time when a family could live off 5 pounds a year, so each tapestry cost as much as two war ships.
In the "horn room" is the oldest object in the palace, a huge set of fossilized elk antlers, dating back 15,000–20,000 years, given as a gift to Charles II. Fiona described it as being in a little turret, so I don't think I captured it in my photo.
So, a little history of the place. Cardinal Wolsey built it, starting in Tudor times, in the early 16th century, on the site of the earlier building mentioned above. He could have 280 guests to stay at the drop of a hat, and each had an en-suite bathroom.
Henry VIII liked the look of it, and Wolsey technically gave it to him, hoping to regain his favor after failing to get his marriage annulled. Actually, Henry pretty much took it from him and proceeded to expand it. It currently has 1300 rooms.
So Henry VIII was the first royal to occupy it, and it served as a royal palace for 250 or 300 years. Henry was followed by Edward VI (briefly), Mary I, Elizabeth I, James I, Charles I, [Cromwell,] Charles II, James II, William and Mary, Anne, George I, and George II, who was the last royal to live there.
Written 15 December 2025
On the white tablecloths that covered the tables in the Great Hall were stenciled outlines of plates and spoons at each place setting (you brought your own knife), and they were decorated with little messages—on one table about table manners (loosen your belt before going into the hall, as doing it during the mean is impolite; don't wipe your fingers on your clothes, use the napkin or tablecloth), on others Henry VIII's quirks (at a masked ball when he had to wear slippers because of a foot injury, he decreed that everyone had to wear slippers so that they wouldn't give away his digsuise) or statistics (in a year, the court could eat 1340 oxen, 8200 sheep, 2330 deer, 60 calves, 1870 pigs, and 53 wild boar).
The tour ended in the Great Hall, and we were turned loose to explore the gardens and forage for lunch before meeting back at the map of the castle at 1:45 pm.
We had lunch at the tiltyard café, so called it was built guess where, and on the way there got a quick look at some of the gardens. They were a little overgrown, but I was still taken by with big patch of Cleome and this smaller but dense patch of what my phone says is "orpine" (Hylotelephium telephium, in the Crassulaceae).
Among the borders were scattered more or less life-size wicker figures, like this man with a hoe (left) and donkey with rider(right).
In places, the view widened out into longer vistas.
The café worked cafeteria style, with several different lines. David went for the sandwich bar and chose a wrap of some kind, a can of lemon iced tea, and a fat slice of iced lemon pound cake.
I walked down to the other end to try the hot choices. The days special was "fish cake" with tartar sauce (like a crab cake, but with flakes of cooked fish rather than crabmeat). From the array of sides, I chose fries and Greek salad—the kind with no lettuce, just tomato, cucumber, feta, and olives.
For dessert, I got a slice of Victoria sponge, a cake I'd often heard of but never had the chance to try—two layers of dryish fluffy cake separated by a thick layer of sugary whipped cream and a thin layer of red jam.
We learned many other things from Fiona during the tour, not all of which I could fit into a coherent narrative:
Back in the bus on the way to London, Fiona told us a system for keeping rough track of the various English dynasties, which she says line up pretty well with the centuries.
She also mentioned that there's a rhyme about James and Charles and Charles and James, and how the first one was ugly and icky and the last combined the vices of all the other three, but I haven't been able to track it down.
As we drove into town, Fiona pointed out landmarks. At the left here is the famous Art Deco four-chimney'd Battersea Power Station (now housing shops, restaurants, apartments, and offices, like Apple's UK headquarters). I assume the two-toned zig-zaggy buildings in front of it are apartments. The street-level banner advertises the glass elevator that will take you to the top of one of the chimneys for the view.
At the right is the bus station, which Fiona called "the ski jump." Next to it is the old MI5 building; they're not keeping it secret any more. Somewhere nearby, she pointed out the building with Jeffrey Archer's flat.
Written 16 December 2025
But as usual, the hardest part of writing these diaries is matching my photos of buildings to the proper part of the guide's narrative. The hansome building shown here at the left was something we passed while Fiona was telling us about the three branches of the British National Gallery (National Gallery, Tate Britain, and Tate Modern), the International Maritime Organization (the only branch of the UN headquartered in Britain), the Sovereign's Entrance to Parliament, and Lambeth Palace (seat of the Archbishop of Centerbury), but this building is clearly none of the above. It took study of my notes and a lot of Googling up images, but I finally identified it as the UK Supreme Court building.
But even I recognized the huge Ferris wheel shown at the right: the London Eye. Fiona says it was erected for the millenium and was supposed to be there for just a year, but they started extending it three years at a time and have now accepted it as permanent.
Also around in here somewhere Fiona told us that "Lambeth" is a corruption of "lamb hythe," the dock on the south bank where sheep destined for London markets were loaded.
The tidal range is 3 to 7 m at this point on the Thames.
We had a nice view of the Houses of Parliament from across the river. The House of Lords has red leather seats and a red terrace; the House of Commons has green leather eats, and the canopies on its terrace are green. The Sovereign's Entrance is right at the end of the House of Peers. For tours, you tend to enter through the oldest part, Westminster Hall, which dates to the 1090's and has a hammer beam system under the roof.
In Parliament Square (next to Parliament and opposite the Supreme Court) is a large collection of statues, including one of Abraham Lincoln and one of George Canning (a 19th-century prime minister who died in office and was the shortest-serving in the office until Liz Truss in 2022; the accomplishments that made him a great statesman took place before, while he held lesser offices). For Nelson Mandela, an exception was made to the 25-years-dead rule; he actually attended the unveiling of his own statue there. Below the statues are the Churchill war rooms.
Along the river bank we passed St. Thomas' Teaching Hospital, where Florence Nightingale worked and apparently, in addition to her other accomplishments, popularized the use of the pie chart.
Fiona says the South Bank Lion used to be part of a brewery but is now just a landmark. I think the building behind him is a hotel, but behind that is the London Aquarium, currently advertising "The Paddington Bear Experience" on a blue banner. Behind that is an edge-on view of the Eye across the river.
Finally, here's a photo, from the bus as we crossed the Waterloo Bridge to the north bank, of the river side of our hotel, The Savoy. It's the one with the dark-colored roof and the tall flagpole. On our right as we left the bridge was Somerset House, once the home of the British National Archives. Miss Marple and other British detectives were always dashing off there to check who was secretly married to whom, who might have changed his name, who previously owned some estate, or the terms of somebody's will. Before that, I think Queen Victoria lived there before taking the throne.
Nice rooms at the Savoy, spacious and well appointed, as well they might be for the prices they charge. It's rated the best hotel in London. My room had three chairs, a desk, a bench, limited drawer space but capacious closet, two big windows, and a big bathroom. The coasters under the tooth glasses were not the usual paper doilies but little neatly hemmed squares of linen. Lots of electrical outlets.
To reach them, we rode in the hotel's historic red-velvet lined "rising room," the first electric elevator in London.
David and I studied the list of recommendations Stefano had given us and asked the concièrge made reservations for us at the Delaunay, a few minutes' walk away. Once we were seated and studying the menu, we were served flutes of champaigne, compliments of the concièrge!
David started, of course, with another plate of smoked salmon, which he pronounced excellent.
I chose "dressed Dorset crab," which arrived as a quenelle of crab salad served with, are you ready?, real, old fashioned Melba toast. That's thin slices of bread toasted, then split edgewise and toasted again until shatteringly crisp. Hardly anyone goes to the trouble any more . . .
You can tell the restaurant has been in business for a while—the "D" (for Delaunay) in the middle of the plate is half worn away.
I've forgotten what David ordered for the main course, but studying the photo and the menu sort of narrows it down to beef rib-eye or roast rump of lamb. Both sounded terrific.
Although not especially photogenic, my devilled lambs' kidneys on mashed potatoes with buttery crouton were delicious!
For dessert, David ordered the cheese plate (Comté, Cabri d'Ici, Bleu d'Auvergne), which came garnished with butter, grapes, fruit paste, and slices of bread.
I ordered ice cream, pistachio and caramel, I think, which came festooned with whipped cream and topped with an almond tuile cookie.
And here, at the right, is perhaps the Savoy's most amazing feature—its driveway. Right in the middle of a city block on the Strand, on what must be some of London's most expensive real estate, the Savoy has a driveway that cuts right between two buildings (not part of the hotel, I think) to end in a circle at its front door. Now the Tauck bus can't negotiate that circle, of course—it's too long—but ordinarily, it pulls past the driveway, then backs into it (around a right angle!) so that passengers can get off near the door, then pulls forward back onto the Strand. Unfortunately, when we arrived, some sort of protest was expected, so a few barricades and a couple of police cars were in place that prevented the usual maneuver. We had to get out and walk the entire half block to the door while Savoy bellmen unloaded our luggage and brought it in after us.
At the street end, the driveway is guarded by two of these "topiary" cats, one on each side. Actually vines on wire frames rather than real topiary.
In the morning, we meet in the lobby at 9:15 am for our tour of Westminster Abbey.
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