I'm on the verge of saying goodbye to yet another girlfriend as Beth and Rino prepare to leave the expat life and return to the real world. Therefore, Beth and I have been trying to cram in a few more days of city fun.
Last week, we hit up Dover Street Market and then the National Portrait Gallery for the Vanity Fair phototography exhibition, which was very, very good indeed.
But the mostest fun was that as we were leaving Dover Street Market, we decided to catch a bus instead of getting back on the tube, and lo and behold, look what pulled up:
One of the 1950's Route Masters! There are a couple of them still around and they run "heritage routes" in Central London. I'd seen them before but had never gotten to ride one. Despite one rather sudden brake job that resulted in my Marc Jacobs Ingrid going airborne and us nearly going through the front window on the top deck, it was super fun! Very nostalgic...
After drinks at the NPG's rooftop restaurant (Where we once again discussed the UK's vs. the US's health care systems... Why?? Why do we always do this when we drink?? Shockingly, we still haven't come up with an acceptable solution, in case you were wondering.), we set off in search of somewhere to eat dinner.
Beth suggested we give J. Sheekey a try. It's owned by the same people that own the Ivy and is apparently quite the celebrity "hotspot". We walked in to see if we could snag a table and the host totally gave us the New York once-over. Literally scanned us from head to toe, I imagine taking mental note of what (or "who") we were wearing and carrying, an estimated weight, and general attractiveness. We apparently passed the test and were shown to a table, much to our delight. P.S. - the crab bisque was nothing short of amazing. Friday, in order to further validate our self-worth, Beth checked to see how easy it is to reserve a table for two and she discovered that the first available reservation wasn't until late March.
Go ahead, call me shallow. Just don't call me late for dinner.