Covent Garden is not a garden. The Churchill Arms are not arms.

Hope you enjoyed the photos! Here's what we did on our second day (yesterday) out and about in London.

We all bought three day Travelcards to ride on the Tube to Covent Garden. (I had wanted to get an Oystercard, because they sound fun and delicious, until John pointed out to me that not only do you need to be a London resident to use one to its fullest potential, it does in fact have nothing to do with oysters or indeed any sort of shellfish at all. Confusing!) Now, if you know a thing or two about me and John, you know we both love the London Underground. It's fun and easy to use and best of all much more clean than the new York City subway, especially the F train. Why, I would go as far as to say I would eat off the floor of the Underground. (Note: this is not an actual offer to eat off the ground in the Tube).

I got out my little tube-spottting notebook and carefully marked down the color of the Tube lines we took (yellow for the Circle Line, change at Gloucester Road to blue for the Piccadilly Line). Remember the following if you ever step on the London Underground:

• Mind the doors.
• Mind the gap.
• Remember you need to put your ticket in the slot at the end of your ride, not just the beginning!

Covent Garden is a very lovely and busy shopping center (or, as they say over here, centre). It was especially busy because everyone was doing their Christmas shopping! I did some myself (shh! Don't tell Camilla!) at the London Transport Museum Gift Shop and the fabulous Thornton's Toffee Store. There were many exciting events going on: there were jugglers, buskers, a crafts show, a carousel (which Olivia went on twice!, and Father Christmas was there! I stood in line for quite some time to sit on his lap. When I finally climbed up onto his lap he said "Ho ho ho!" and I said "Hi hi hi!" Then he asked me: "What's your name, little boy?" I fixed him with a very stern stare and lifted up his whiskers a little bit. "I think you would know, Father Christmas!" I told him. So I guess that was not the real Father Christmas but one of his helpers, and not an exceptional one at that. I bet the real Father Christmas, working vigorously in his elf-laden underground lair in an abandoned London Tube station, would remember my name. I just hope he remembers that I am in London in a hotel for Christmas and not in Brooklyn. PS: I would like some British cereal to add to my collection, please, Father Christmas.

Laden down with shopping bags full of lovely Christmas items, we went to the Stock Pot on Old Compton Street, home of the 70p Coke and a pretty good omelette. Our waitress was very kind and helpful although she looked overworked. I hope someone like Colin Firth comes and rescues her from her daily waitress life! Maybe on Christmas Eve. I think I saw a movie about that once.

Then we walked up Charing Cross Road, home of many famous bookstores, including possibly the most famous of them all, Foyles Bookshop. It's not the largest bookshop in London (anymore!) but it is certainly one of the best. I could spend hours in here, and luckily we did spend quite a bit of time (and pounds and pence!) in Foyles. Here is a pretty accurate representation of how excited I was during my time in Foyles:

ME: (running through the aisles excitedly, arms above my head, squealing happily) WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
STORE CLERK: Excuse me, little stuffed sir. May I be of any assistance?
ME: (looking up) Yes, thank you very much. Where are your books on trains and buses?
STORE CLERK: First floor, sir. Right up the staircase or into the lift.
ME: Thank you. (running for the staircase) WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Needless to say, I got a bit overexcited and had to go back to the hotel to have a quiet lie down for a while before we went to dinner.

Which was at the beautiful Churchill Arms on Kensington Church Street. This is one of my favorite (or, p'raps I should say, "favourite") pubs in London. It is very busy and loud and fun in the main bar but step in the back and you are in a lovely little resturant that serves good inexpensive Thai food. The entire place is decorated with butterflies as the owner is quite a famous butterfly collector. Bully recommends this highly; two hooves up! Next time you're in London, stop by, have a pint and a pad thai, and tell them I sent you. They will say, "The little stuffed bloke? Hey's a right old chap, that one is."

Later we went to the theatre to see a fascinating and occasionally bewildering play about Mary, Queen of Scots. I'll tell you more about that later.