Epilogue

London Eye (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We went on telly every morning for a week. People in the street recognised us. We had a huge cooked breakfast each day and VIP treatment at Madame Tussaud’s, the Planetarium, Planet Hollywood, the London Eye (bumped to the top of the  long queue and given a semi-private capsule – just one other couple in it) and somewhere else which I can’t now remember.

We met famous British people and the World’s Smallest Dog (they bumped our green segment for that one).  We met a man who did something interesting with Lego (so interesting, I can’t remember what it was) (they bumped our green segment again for that one).

The production staff were lovely.  They told us that our boys were the best-behaved children they’d ever had on the show.  Stuff was always coming in to the office, to be featured on TV.  One morning, a member of the production team who I don’t think we had met, came up to us with two expensive remote-controlled cars and told me they were for the boys; she had received them and thought, ‘I know just who I want to give these to.’  Wasn’t that kind?

We had a fantastic week, though the Hub was looking rather lyard in hair and face by the time we were dropped at Euston Station.  His M.E. wasn’t as bad then but it had been a hard five days for him and the kids were propping him up at that point.      Our train was in and we were about to board when we were suddenly stopped by a station guard.  She politely asked us to wait a moment, and then led us into First Class.  Apparently, the train was standing room only and she turfed four people out of their seats and gave them to us.

Euston station, London, UK (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Nothing to do with The Big Breakfast – we were a family with two young children, looking exhausted (the boys and I) or about to collapse (Hub), and the four people were all young and travelling alone and only allowed those seats because there was no space in steerage. We still had the bulk of our cash wad but we discovered you don’t pay for snacks  in First Class, even if you haven’t paid for a First Class seat.

All in all, a fabulous week.

Now, the teabags:

When Tory Boy was eleven, he didn’t like a strong cup of tea and he liked half milk-half water.  I made two cups of tea from one tea bag, leaving the bag ready in another cup after making the first brew.  Lots of people do it; there’s nothing peculiar about it – but for some reason, it was all the council, Bella, the Newspaper Which Must Not Be Named and The Big Breakfast could fixate on.

Tea Bag Firestarters (Photo credit: Earthworm)

I made two cups of tea from one tea bag and as a result there is a photograph floating around the ether of me hanging used tea bags on a washing line; and I and my family got to be in a magazine, a newspaper, a local council event and on telly for a week.  We were given free gifts and food and money and treated like we were something special.  We met kind people and nice people and friendly people and a couple of jerks (not discussed in these posts because if you can’t say anything nice about someone then don’t blog about them).  We lived a charmed and somewhat pampered existence for a week and came out normal at the end of it.

Ain’t life weird?

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I hope you’ve enjoyed my saga.  It was supposed to be one post; two at the most. It stirred so many memories, however, it stretched to a week.  With all the fun things that happened to us, it’s no wonder we felt kef on the train home, or in a state of drowsy contentment.

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