April 12, 2005

Excesses

CP and I were on a train to London. Hauling our luggage (mostly mine) up and down station steps and crosswalks at the transfers was a constant reminder that I’d not needed to empty and pack the most of the contents of my closet and chest of drawers. She had warned me several times before we left and reminded me again and often enough with her firm stares.

En route, a sort of textbook, fifty-ish English country gentlemen got on the train and sat across from us. He almost instantly started talking, mostly about himself. He raises horses and loses £5,000 on each of them. He was on his way to London for a Wagnerian opus at the Royal Opera House where he is a patron and has front row orchestra seats (right behind the conductor). He travels all over the world wherever Wagner is being performed.

Opera, especially Wagner, was all it took to get CP’s mind off the suitcases and on one heldentenor after another. Finally, when we got to London and started fighting all our baggage again, our friendly squire jumped right in and helped.

In the midst of it all, rolling up and down stairs and chasing connections, he got a call on his cell phone. We could easily overhear him talking to someone, quite likely his wife. At one point, probably responding to her asking what was going on, he said, “Oh, I’m helping a couple of elderly Americans with their things.”

Footnote: There’s actually a shipping service called “Excess Baggage” in London. I sent the most of mine home at some considerable cost. Got along just fine with what I kept, comforted that I was a supporting British entrepreneurship.

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