Whimsical Windsor

"The 9:44 train was cancelled due to a staff shortage, so I’ve hopped on the 9:59 to Waterloo and should still have enough time to switch to the appropriate train at Clapham Junction. Another beautiful day in dear England, on my way to Windsor Castle; I suppose it’s because Windsor makes me think of the word whimsical, but I feel like I’m headed to some enchanted palace."

"Made it with 4 minutes to spare. When you arrive at an unfamiliar station that boasts "The busiest in England" with 8 minutes and 13 platforms to choose from, all separated by overpasses and underpasses, it can be a slight bit daunting. I’m actually really lucky to have found it in time. Random note: I overheard a lady talking on her cell phone earlier about how the London Eye was shut down last weekend because a man decided to climb up it; way to go, genius."

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"I’m sitting on the banks of the Thames River just down stream from the bustling part of the city, having just finished my tuna sandwich. I’ve got a little time to kill before I need to get to the train station. This city is spectacular and the castle will long be considered one of the highlights of this trip. I went straight there upon arrival (unfortunately, just behind the changing of the guard) and after queuing for about 30 minutes, I gained access to the grounds. Just inside, I picked up the complimentary audio guide in the form of what could best be described as a remote control that you place up to your ear, and started off. This commentary (done as dialogue between a young boy and an all-knowing ghost-like character who had "worked in the castle since the day it was built" and had "seen everything", with added input along the way from gargoyles, lions and past royals) proved very helpful and was a much appreciated companion as I made my way through room after extraordinary room. The wind is seriously picking up and the clouds are converging; time to head to the station."

"Fabulous, this is the last stop on the track so the train is here even though it doesn’t leave for another 20 minutes. Where was I? After entering the grounds, I stopped in on St. Georges Chapel; one of the most incredible buildings I could ever hope to feast my eyes on. There is something special about that place. First, though, I stopped to observe a guard that was standing, armed, outside the historic guard’s quarters. At first he was alone and I know he saw me watching him from a distance, but then a wave of tourists came over to take pictures of and with the poor gentleman. Part of me wanted to as well, so I moved closer under the pretense that I was interested in the little souvenir shop near by, and stood behind a small group of people. Any thoughts of taking his picture very quickly went running when his gaze shifted and came into contact with my own. For that moment, what I felt could easily be related to the feeling of being naked in public; I moved on directly following that minor interaction. I skipped out on Queen Mary’s Dolls’ House, as the line had reached past the 45 minute mark, and went straight on to the State Apartments (the inside of the castle). The gallery held drawings from Di Vinci and old photos of the royal family, which was neat, but the tour included drawing rooms, dining halls, bedrooms, and ballrooms; some of which are still used for important functions today by the queen herself. Everything about these rooms was incredible; from the furniture and detailing to the authentic portraits and painted ceilings. Cardiff is a distant memory. I think the fact that it’s still used by and is one of the official residences of the queen (who was there, by the way) and the lineage of its occupants and its history are much more tangible and familiar then any other castle I’ll see, made the experience that much more amazing. After leaving the castle, I wandered through the cobblestone, shop lined streets for a while before heading down to the river for some much needed nourishment. Again, it would have been nice to have someone to share it with, but I’m so glad I went."

"I finally, for the first time, took my mp3 player out on the ride up this morning; all movie scores of course. The other times I traveled alone, I was too afraid I’d get distracted and miss my stop. I feel so comfortable with these trains now that there is no longer any concern, but that doesn’t mean that the music is any less effective at pulling me from the grips and gabbles of reality. In fact, with the strong breeze coming in through the open windows, I can almost make believe I’m flying."

So, technically, I did take the wrong train home, but it just meant I had to be picked up at a station that’s the same distance from the house, just in another direction. I realized my mistake minutes before the train arrived, but I wasn’t about to start running to other platforms when I knew I’d get home just fine staying exactly where I was; silly me.