6. Cambridge and Saffron Walden; Tea at the Savoy

Wednesday.  This is the day of big plans.  Using my Thomas Cook European train schedule (purchased in Las Vegas) I have plotted our day.  We are dressed and out the door at 6:40 a.m., in coats and ties and dresses.  We walk to the Tube, which we take to King's Cross, then make the 7:20 Cambridge train by two minutes.  We arrive at 8:42.  Our appointment at St. John's (the girl's side of the school) is for 9:20, so we have a snack at the station, then hire one of the few taxis big enough to hold the six of us (a London taxi, of course). 

Cambridge.  Mrs. Hayward, the deputy head, meets us and shows us around the girl's classrooms.  We poke our heads in a few classes.  Mrs. Hayward is very pleasant.  She has a full head of short gray hair and reminds me of a friendlier version of the headmistress at my own English school in 1958-59.  When our visit is over, we walk the half block to the main school, where we are once again given a tour of the premises (including swimming pool), this time by a couple of the 6th formers (7th graders).  When we are through, we meet Mr. Kevin Jones, the headmaster (the "head") in his office and discuss schooling over coffee, tea, biscuits (cookies) and Leggos.  Mr. Jones is also charming.  Although he is a young man and soft spoken, Kevin Jones is obviously a man who knows the score.  We learn that Prince Charles has been known to land by helicopter in the St. John's College playing field across the street.  Robert doesn't even flinch when he learns for the first time that his year has school half days on Saturdays.  Mr. Jones pushes the parents choir on me, but I resist his gentle persuasion and soon we are off, back to the train station, for the 12:45 London train which stops at Audley End.  During the twelve minute train ride to Audley End we have a moment to feel pleased at our choice of a school.

Saffron Walden.  At Audley End Station we hire a cab to take us the two miles or so into Saffron Walden.  Feeling it unwise to introduce Mrs. Dodds to the entire gang (particularly Thomas), Robert, Thomas and I leave Cathy, Mara and Jeffrey at Westfields House to meet Lynn Dodds.  At first sight, the house looks small, but I take away no lasting bad impressions.  Robert and I walk around Saffron Walden with Thomas in the push chair.  It is a nice little town, lots of shops and a nice market square with a tourist agency.  Cathy and her two meet us at the town center at 2:30, and we take a very short taxi to Dame Bradbury's, the local private school.

 Dame Bradbury had been our first choice for a school, because of its location in Saffron Walden.  At the time we inquired, however, there were only two openings and we needed three.  The same thing had proved true at other nearby schools, including Waterside and the local public (in the American sense) school, right around the corner from our new home and, surprisingly, also the local Catholic parochial school.  The only school which had been able to accommodate all three school age children was St. John's. 

We are warmly welcomed by the deputy head.  She will be the new head in autumn, replacing the current head mistress who is retiring after many years.  She is pleased to inform us, as she shows us around the school, that Dame Bradbury is now able to accommodate all three of our school age children.  In contrast to St. John's, which is mostly a boys' school with girls, Dame B's is mostly a girls' school with boys.  Again the people we meet are friendly and it seems to me we face a difficult decision: Dame B or St. John's, Saffron Walden or Cambridge, save a little money nearby or pay for the prestige of Cambridge. 

On the train back to London, I learn it is not a difficult decision at all: the children unanimously choose St. John's, Saturday classes and all.

London.  We are back in London by six o'clock.  Cathy and I see that the children are fed and content, then take a taxi to the nearest French restaurant we can find: Le Muscadet.  It isn't worth the price, but it's nice to get out on our own, if even for a few hours.  (The restaurant is just off of Marylebone, which Cathy later names our car.)

Thursday.  Nothing is quite as easy as it seems.  Today is the day we are supposed to pick up our car.  Dover Court motors calls, however, to say they are having trouble with the British Customs declaration I filled out, saying I would use the car for a year.  I will need to make some further clarifications or avoid the fuss and get a six month exemption.  I am told that after six months I can request an extension, which is most often granted.  I sign the six month form, but inform them we are leaving London in two days, on Saturday, and I must have the car by then.  They agree to do their best, and I agree to pick up the Vanagon in Dover instead of Milton Keynes (north of Cambridge), which is the usual location for deliveries.  After the car dealership, I walk toward Piccadilly Circus, stopping to fill in more spots in my British wardrobe at Fortunam & Masons (plaid shirt) and Cordings of Piccadilly (tattersall shirt and twills).  I contact Hertz and make back up arrangements for a car.  In the evening we all go to Flanagan's on Baker Street, which is not quite as much fun as I remember, but they still have the sing-a-long and it is a companionable place to eat.  The mushy peas are very green and fresh.

Friday.  Today is another big dose of English: tea at the Savoy.  In the morning, I take Robert shopping at Selfridge's so he will have a coat and tie to wear at tea.  I mail some letters and buy my all-important writing paper.  I order our expensive stationery from Smythson's with the Westfields address on it.  We all meet at 3:20 at the Savoy, looking better than our Sunday finest.  As promised by Sara, there is lots to eat: salmon sandwiches (not a hit), delicious scones, tuna sandwiches, tomato sandwiches; the tea itself is also very good, but the price is the best surprise of all.  Because of our youthful group we are only charged for three teas.  During tea I call Dover Court and am happy to learn that the car is confirmed for Dover on Saturday. 

Robert (in his new coat), Thomas and me at the Savoy

After tea we all return to the flat.  I walk back down to the Chinese restaurant we ate at on Saturday and find Mara's lost purse.  At the Marks and Spencer at Whitely's I buy a cooked, cold chicken and a bottle of Fortunam & Mason white wine for dinner.  I also purchase train tickets for Robert and Cathy.  Tomorrow, they will leave from Paddington for Tetbury, our next stop.  Mara, Jeffrey and I will take the train to Dover, pick up the car, drive back to London to pick up the luggage and then head West on the M-4 to Folly Farm.  We eat dinner at the flat and pack up again. 

The week has passed by very quickly and it seems as if we haven't done a thing but shop and make phone calls.

Saturday.  We finish packing and are finally off at 11:30 or so (we must be out by noon).  Once again, there is the long, heavy trek with the luggage, although this time it is down the stairs and everyone is a bit more helpful.  Our landlady, Ines, is very accommodating and agrees to store the luggage in her basement flat and hide her key so I can pick everything up later on, when we return with the car.  We agree that Ines can deduct from our security deposit the cost of the glass panel in the front door that Robert broke, when the peach pit he was throwing at Mara went off target.  Mara as usual makes herself at home in Ines' flat and Ines types Mara a letter on the office machine.  Ines gives me directions back to London and out again.

We split up before noon.  Cathy's group takes the 12:15 train to Swindon, where they will transfer to Kemble.  Mara, Jeffrey and I set out for some last minute shopping on Oxford Street before we have to leave for Dover around two.  I have two missions: buy a converter (240 AC to DC) and buy the portable compact disc/stereo we need for all the music we are shipping over.  It is a mistake from the beginning:  Saturday is a very busy shopping day, especially on Oxford Street.  I turn the wrong way coming out of the Tube station at Oxford Circus.  I try Dixon's and am unsuccessful.  At John Lewis, I am educated (and corrected) about converters in basement housewares and electronics; upstairs in audio/video I have to wait in line to buy the last JVC portable.  We spend another half hour waiting for delivery downstairs, only to learn they haven't got the machine they sold me.  We go upstairs to wait in line for the refund, now seriously behind schedule. 

Having finished my wasted efforts, I ask my two companions whether we should walk to our train station, Charing Cross, or take the Tube.  Jeffrey and Mara are tired of walking; Mara is afraid of a fire in the Underground.  I give in and we take a taxi.  It is another mistake.  The traffic around Trafalgar Square is horrendous.  What would have been a twenty minute walk or a five minute tube ride is an expensive, half hour cab ride in slowly creeping traffic.  We just miss the 2 o'clock train and have to wait for the 3 o'clock train which will get us into Dover Priory at 4:45 p.m.