To day I checked out of the Amba in London and took the bus Cambridge and are now checked in at the Lensfield Hotel. A cold day, worse than yesterday, and with rain. Luckily the bus stop M in Portland Street where I picked up the bus was just around the corner less than 100 metres away.
As my ticket instructed me I got tot he bus stop 10 mins before the bus was due. I checked the National Express Android App and saw the bus was on time. Ten minutes later and no bus. Then five minutes later when the bus still hadn't arrive I checked the App again--the expected time was in red and the bus was running fifteen minutes late.
Eventually it arrive, the driver put my case on, I climbed in, and we were of the Stanstead Airport where I was to pick up a connecting bus to Cambridge. The trip to Stanstead took one and three quarter hours. For the fist hour and half from London we were travelling through built up residential area. Hampstead Heath, Golders Green and then non stop to Stanstead. Still raining I change buses I was off to Cambridge.
The first bus had WiFi but I had problems connecting my mobile. When I got on the second bus and having about ten minutes to wait I had another go and eventually got it working. The bus pulled out and a little way down the road I got my mobile out and found out this bus didn't have WiFi. I had set up the mobile with the WiFi from the airport where the bus was parked.
By three I was in Cambridge and it had stopped raining. I walk the kilometre to my hotel and checked in. The hotel, a B&B, is in an old listed building and my room on the first floor (for those North Americans, the first floor above the ground floor) is up a very steep and narrow set of stairs. I got someone to carry my case for me. The room is small but has everything except a decent chair for the writing desk. I am currently typing this blog sitting in an antique style low chair such that when my fingers are on the keyboard my hands are at shoulder high. House keeping going to replace it for me tomorrow.
Before starting this Blog I waled down to the corner and had a Chinese meal. A real Chinese restraint. I sat opposite the front of house cook and was impressed at the way he could cut up on of those hanging ducks-- you know those cooked ones you see with their heads under their wing. a few deft strokes with his cleaver and the duck was in pieces and crisp skin for Peking Duck was ready to serve.
No pictures this time but tomorrow I may show you the bus's on board TV screens.
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