APRIL FOOLS DAY

What is the best (worst) April Fools joke? Well, to cut to the chase: Sunday in London was a lovely, sunny, sort of warm (for Judy: it is COLD) day. We had nothing planned except a dinner with Richard in the evening. We decided to wake up slowly (got going about 11) and then go somewhere for a real English breakfast (you know: greasy eggs and soggy bacon and beans and sausage) in the neighborhood. We hit the street (Old Compton Street) at noon and found a place, (I think called Paul's, but with a restaurant in Miami if you can believe it). The menu was ENGLISH BREAKFAST. How about that? Judy got the two egg breakfast and I got a single egg Benedict with toast AND, because the waiter suggested it: a Bloody Mary! What a good way to start the day!
After breakfast we continued down Old Compton Street to Charing Cross road and turned toward Oxford Street. We had decided to buy some warm clothes because, of course, we we not prepared for the cold windy weather.
Around the corner of Oxford Street and Berners Street we saw a store called Kathmandu, a sort of hikers' and campers' and rough vacations outfitters. They were having a sale, so Judy said, "Let's try it, even though we are not camping or hiking." In the back of the store was the Really Reduced section and we found a zippered fleece liner for a fancy mountain climbers jacket. The liner was reduced to 22.99 EngPds and it was called a Wakefield Jacket v2, silver/medium color. Perfect for me. Light and with a neck that zipped up to my chin. Considering the use I got of it, it was the best clothing buy in the century. I wore it even in restaurant, after all, it looked so chic. Judy even found a white turtleneck that was perfect, but being the World's Best Shopper, she decided to look further down Oxford Street in the big stores like Marks and Spencers.
So, on we traveled. On the sunny side of the street, stopping in (and going out) of several stores. We must have spent a couple of hours relaxing and strolling. When we reached Holle Street, we turned toward the BBC building on Cavendish Square. I had remembered that there was a BBC shop there and wanted to see if they had any CDs for sale. But, we were tired, so, luckily, we found a table secluded from the wind and in a sunny spot in a little Italian cafe. We had tea and a snack and sat there for almost one hour, enjoying people watching. Afterwards, we went to the BBC building to find out that the shop had been closed for "at least 20 years" the guard told us. So back on the hoof and back to Kathmandu for Judy to buy the turtleneck.
We took a long walk back to Rupert Street via the lovely shopping area around Monmouth Square and went into several shops. We got back to the apartment and immediately hit the sack for a nap.
And here is when the "tragedy" began. When I woke up, my wedding ring was GONE. Disappeared. Off my finger where it had been constantly since our wedding. We looked all over the floor next to the bed. I hadn't heard a "click" so I didn't think it had fallen on the floor. We shook out the duvet and it wasn't there. It was a horrible feeling. A sort of April Fools joke at the worst. Nothing to do, not even retrace our steps. It would be impossible to find the ring if it had fallen on the street or in a shop. The only thing to do was to wait and buy one when we got back to Florida.
Richard told us that dinner at Rules was for seven o'clock and to wait for him to come to the apartment to go all together there. We dressed fancy (I wore a bow tie and a jacket and Judy wore her flowery jacket). At seven, there was no Richard, so we waited. At 7:30 there was no Richard, so we waited. "Something must have happened," Judy said. At 7:45 there was a loud ringing of the doorbell. We answered. It was Richard downstairs, shouting, "What the hell is going on? Where are you? Why didn't you answer my text messages? Come downstairs RIGHT NOW." We ran downstairs. He was frantic. "Where have you been? I've been telephoning and texting." We never got any messages for some reason. "Hurry up!" he shouted. "They are holding the table for us." We ran to Shaftsbury Ave and he decided that it was impossible to take a cab because the streets were all going in the wrong direction. "We'll have to walk. Hurry." We started to walk, but in one block it was obvious that HIS walking (he is close to 7 feet tall) is much, much faster than our walking. He hailed a cab and off we went.
When we got into Rules, everyone was happy to see us. The manager said, "I guess you found them. Don't worry, we held the table for you." Okay, peace at last. Our waiter was from Greece and the waitress was Brazilian. Hmmmm: and this the oldest restaurant in London. It was started by Thomas Rules in 1798 and has been in operation ever since. There are 90 employees and about 120 guests a sitting. Rules is THE ENGLISH RESTAURANT: the menu has classic game specialities as well as puddings and oysters.

The cocktails menu is exotic to say the least. Here are some samples: QUEEN OF AUSTRALIA (Southern Comfort Black with Orgeat and Shiraz.) Orgeat is a syrup made from almonds, sugar and rose water. QUEEN OF THE BAHAMAS (Bicardi Carta Blanca, Grenadine & Citrus). QUEEN OF BARBADOS (Mount Gay Rum, Passionfruit, Velvet Falernum & Ginger).
Altogether, we enjoyed the meal and even had a good laugh at the end. We left Rules at about 10:00 and Richard headed home because he was expecting an important Skype call at 10:30. We had a pleasant walk back to Rupert Street and ended up watching BBC go off the air because it had turned all digital, and the TV in the apartment was not set up correctly. Ah well, ITV will do until we fell asleep, a wedding ring poorer.