London...Again. BUT, what I wonder is - When will this trip "be good" for Micaela and I.

In addition to seeing the Pats play at Wembley on Sunday, Micaela and I had another whirlwind tour of London; but in the process it was not all that much fun - not even for me. I am wondering ... as I was told by all my friends - who understand the tumultuous relationship that defines the one I have with my daughter - that this "trip would be good for us"...when exactly is that going to be realized????

On Saturday we checked in to the hotel, grabbed a quick bite to eat in a local cafe and decided to try to secure tickets to a Saturday evening theatrical performance. From here the disagreements with my daughter ensued and her sardonic insults about how boring I am and how much she hates me being endured while deciding on a performance to attend. While we have finally found common interest in attending the theater, what we see is difficult to agree on. I of course want to see Oliver, Othello and Les Miserable's, she expresses desire to see Grease, Dirty Dancing and We Will Rock You. Never the twain shall meet - in the end, the decision was made for us based on availability of tickets - and Micaela's idea that Woman In Black would be good since students at Fairfield had attended it last year. Luckily, we went directly to the theater and got the last pair of tickets in the upper gallery. They weren't the greatest seats, but they did offer a good view of the main stage and while the story line was a bit confusing for Micaela to begin with, she eventually got a grasp on it and did enjoy the horrifying screaming by the ghostly woman in black! While killing time for the remainder of the afternoon we browsed the Covent Garden marketplace where we purchased some Lush hair shampoo products, scarves and enjoyed some dinner outside. Shopping in the marketplace being the effort to appease Micaela's seemingly lack of interest in the entire weekend trip.

Sunday morning dawned to a sunny day and prior to the football game we went to the Tate Britain where I was eager to see the Turner Galleries. I opted out of the Turner & the Master's Exhibit as the additional fee to see this exhibit was quite pricey. Admission to the museum is otherwise free, as are most of the museums in London...not, however, many of the other tourist attractions, as we were soon to find out.

I thoroughly enjoyed the Tate Britain. Many paintings such as Ophelia, Whistler's White & Gray portrait of Cecily, and a variety of sculptures, in addition to the major Turner exhibit were culturally rich. My daughter, however, sat sullen as a rock on a bench in each exhibit, taking time to only view a few pieces and stubbornly rejecting to look at any of the Turner's. She was intrigued by the modern piece of art displayed in the major foyer connecting the galleries, which was a series 26 huge interconnected triangles made of light aluminum and painted black. Quite interesting.

After an exhausting evening at the Pats game, both physically and emotionally, as this was not an overall pleasant experience with my daughter in tow, as apparently I am not "fun" to be with, and she is only happy if she is eating and spending money on herself; we returned to our budget hotel, located centrally between Victoria and Pimlico stations. While much cleaner than our stay at the LSE on our last trip, and this time we at least had an "en suite" bath - the size of a closet - we did get what we paid for at 69 pounds per night. It offered a good base of operations while we were there, however, the beds were little more than hard sets of springs.

On Monday I awoke to yet another one of Micaela's sullen moods as she was not looking forward to another day of walking and going to museums. At one point on this morning, after being told for about the 100th time on the weekend that she did not like me and I was not fun to be with, while reminding me yet again that she was missing birthday parties and sleepovers with her new friends back in Hereford, I decided that I would leave her behind and spend the day alone. I ventured to the nearest cafe for a coffee and then, having a change of heart, returned to get her. Having to engage in yet another burst of banter over her desire to be back in Hereford, I wished I had not returned. I left again, and this time she did follow.

The next stop for the day was a walk to Westminster Abbey, but not before stopping at a McDonald's in an effort to again wipe the puss off Micaela's face, who apparently is always hungry. The only problem with that is, she still does not understand my dollars are only worth 60 cents in this country and that my bank account also has to last through our Stratford and Oxford trip this weekend, where she already has her mind set on purchasing a sweatshirt from Oxford University. My heart was set on touring Westminster Abbey and seeing the Poets Corner, if nothing else. However, the admission fee for the tour of the Abbey for the two of us was about 20 pounds, so I was forced to forego this particular tour. People are not allowed inside any part of the Abbey without paying to enter, unless you are there to attend a worship service, which I gladly would have done if there had been one in session. I satisfied myself with purchasing a guide book of the Abbey and touring the small St. Mary's church on the Abbey site, free of charge, where Micaela actually expressed the desire to light a candle and say a prayer for "dead relatives." Sadly, we continued to the nearest tube stop, dejected that I had not seen one of the most desired places on my list.

Stop number two: The Tower of London, Tower Bridge and the HMS Belfast. Making our way to these places and touring them were also atop the "bucket list"- but once again the pricey admission fees prevented us from being able to engage in the full experience of London and the historical and literary importance of these places for me. Trying to impress upon Micaela the value of this journey is next to impossible, as the priority of a 14 year old continues to be birthday parties and Hay on Fire, the other event her ogre mother is preventing her from attending in order to take her to Stratford Upon Avon to attend a performance of Twelfth Night by the Royal Shakespeare Theater Company - something everyone gets to do - the mother sardonically thinks to herself. Capturing a moment on film includes the side of her head as she eats a much sought after ice cream with flake chocolate while staring at the Thames.

Next stop on Monday: The Spitalfield Marketplace and Petticoat Lane. Again, the Petticoat Lane stop was passed over, as Micaela showed no interest in shopping along one of London's most fashionable and famous markets in London - "what's the point if you can't afford anything." We made our way to the Liverpool station, walked to Spitalfields...which was closing for the day - where she bought a ring in the cheap street market stalls and we had a hot chocolate in Starbucks before deciding on the next stop. Having unsuccessfully attempted to purchase tickets to Oliver earlier in the day, we decided to walk the streets of Leicester Square and try to purchase last minute tickets at any theater for any show - easier said than done, as we once again found our way walking the streets of London from Covent Garden to Picadilly Circus where we finally gave up and decided to just have dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe - another item on the "to do" list -as we made this pact in New York this summer - that we would go to as many UK Hard Rock Cafe's as we could get to while here - so far we have done half of them (Cardiff and London) - there are two more to go, only one of which may be reasonable to get to. A simple dinner, at a place one would expect to be fun can be trying also, as I seemingly did not hear Micaela request desert before I told the server to bring the bill; this of course became another reason to "hate me."

Tuesday dawned to yet another day - and yet another puss face as I announced that the Charles Dickens museum, St. Paul's Cathedral, The Old Bailey, The Old Curiosity Shoppe and the Globe were all on the list of things "to do". In an effort to appease the "museum" itinerary I also included a trip to the Portobello market place, despite the fact that this would take us from one side of the city to the other over the course of the day, before having to catch our bus at 5:30 p.m. In an effort to impress upon Micaela the value of this trip, who was none too pleased, I tried to explain to her how important these places were to me, as I have waited my entire life to make this journey and discover the location of the places in my books - alas, this just serves to spark ridicule and more insults from the mouth of my daughter.

By the end of the day, after walking the full length of the marketplace and riding the tube to St. Paul's (which also required an admission fee), walking to the Globe (also requiring an admission fee) foregoing the walk to the Old Bailey and another stop and walk to find The Old Curiosity Shoppe, I determinedly set my teeth to grit on finding Charles Dickens' home and museum. Micaela or no Micaela, I was not giving up on this pilgrimage. Steeling myself against insults, complaints of hunger and tired feet from walking, I did find my way to this location and felt satisfied at last. Thankfully the admission fee was reasonable for the two of us to venture inside, but quite honestly, I would happily have left Micaela sitting on the doorstep and waiting for me if it hadn't been. It did not disappoint, at least not for me, I am sure Micaela just saw it as an old house with old books, furniture and portraits. To me, I was a guest in Mr. Dickens' home where he wrote Pickwick Papers and saw the desk upon which he crafted Oliver Twist, Great Expectations and A Tale of Two Cities.

Through this entire weekend there is not one mother/daughter photograph as Micaela stubbornly refuses to have one taken, and she also purposely messed up any photos I asked her to take of me - an effort on her part to further prove that she was not having a good time with me and wanted to return "home." I have had to have her retake numerous photos in order to have acceptable ones of myself, but it is hurtful just the same that she is not embracing the opportunity of seeing this wonderful city that I have grown to love in this short time here. I pleaded with her to take one photo, trying to tell her that some day she would regret not having any pictures as memories; to which I am met with snickers and shrugs. The same thing happened with Zach while we were in Europe, as he stubbornly acquiesced to photographs through the pressure of his friends on the trip. Somewhere along the way I have miserably failed as a mother to have raised these disinterested children who have not appreciated the trips and culture laid out before them, the trips and culture I did not have when their age...and thus we get to the reason behind the essay post. Perhaps, having shared that essay, if they are reading this blog, they will finally come to understand some part of their mother's soul.