No, London Bridge is not falling down

LONDON  — Something is ringing like crazy. I spring out of bed this chilly morning and check the little clock at the bedside table of my cozy room at the Grosvenor Hotel on Park Lane Street. It’s 6:30 a.m. (eight hours behind Philippine Time), May 10. I’ve asked for a 7:30 wake-up call, so how come something is ringing an hour early? I rub my jetlagged eyes and look again. Oh, it’s my celfone ringing. Danny Dolor calling from Manila.

When he learns where I am, Danny jokes, “Are you there to visit The Queen?” Maybe he thinks I’m the pussycat in the nursery rhyme.

“I’m here to interview the stars of Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time junket,” I tell Danny. “Jake Gyllenhaal of Brokeback Mountain fame, among them.”

Globe charges so much on “roaming” so I ask Danny to hang up already, see you soon!

I order oatmeal with a small fruit platter and chamomile tea (taken without lemon and sugar; nor, as they do in this city, milk). I request for copies of the day’s papers and the Concierge brings me two, Daily Mirror and Daily Mail.

My oatmeal doesn’t taste the same as I scan the headlines: The night Julie Andrews lost the sound of music (Daily Mirror) and My Boy fell asleep in my arms. His heart stopped, he didn’t feel pain (Daily Mail). I feel a lump in my throat (can’t seem to swallow my diet breakfast) as I go over the Julie Andrews story. The radiant star of The Sound of Music had a concert (her first in 30 years) the night before at the 02 Arena (where the Les Miz concert marking the musical’s 25th anniversary will be held in October, with Lea Salonga cast as Fantine) and poor Julie, now 74, “left the singing to a backing group.”

Years ago, you see, her vocal cords were damaged by a delicate surgery and she sued the doctor and was paid millions in damages. When I interviewed Dame Julie a few years ago during the Princess Diaries junket in Beverly Hills, she admitted that, because of that unfortunate surgery, she couldn’t reach the high notes she used to with impressive ease. 

So since she hardly sang and merely narrated a children’s book she co-wrote with her daughter, according to the Daily Mirror, many of her fans were disappointed and demanded for a refund (84 pounds per ticket). I feel very sad for Julie, recalling how I’ve watched The Sound of Music more than 20 times (no kidding!).

The Daily Mail story is another heart-breaker. It’s about how Boyzone member Stephen Gately, who has “outed” himself only a few years earlier, died in his sleep while on a holiday in Mallorca with, as the paper describes him, “husband Andrew Cowles.” What a downer of a story to wake up to on this chilly morning!

The interviews with Gyllenhaal, co-star Gemma Arterton (Bond Girl in Quantum of Solace, Daniel Craig’s second outing as 007) and mega-producer Jerry Bruckheimer (who’s behind, among other huge moneymakers, the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy, starring Johnny Depp), are scheduled after lunch yet at the posh The Dorchester nearby, so I have more than five hours to kill.

At 9 a.m., as agreed upon, my cousins Denise So, and Joy Sevilla and her son Rocky pick me up at the hotel lobby.

We take the Hop-On, Hop-Off Big Bus Sightseeing Tour at the Marble Arch station and, from the upper deck, take in as much of London as I can in two hours. Denise, Joy (a nurse) and Rocky have been living in London for years so the tour must have been a big yawn for them. But they seem to relish it as much as a promdi like me does.

I’m shivering from the almost-spring chill but I don’t mind. Why will I when awesome scenes and sights are passing by, introduced by a “recorded commentary” --- Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus, London Eye, St. Paul’s Cathedral (where Prince Charles and Lady Di were married in 1981), Westminster Abbey, Tower of London, Royal Courts of Justice and --- yes, yes, yes! --- Tower Bridge!

Back at Grosvenor (“Pronounced with a silent ‘s’,” Denise reminds me) after a quick lunch of chicken sandwich with iced tea (“plain” for me), my cousins actually agree to cool their heels while I rush to The Dorchester for the interviews.

Then, we take the bus to Piccadilly Circus, stroll a bit and have dinner at a resto in Chinatown (off Picadilly Circus), charged to Joy. My first meal with rice in five days, hooray!!!

We cap the night by shooting the cool London breeze at Bar FM (at 184 Uxbridge Road), owned and managed by Ferdie and Mylene who used to also run a restaurant called FM Karaoke Bar & Restaurant in Kensington where Jerica, Pres. Erap Estrada’s daughter with Laarni Enriquez, was among the loyal clients. “She’s a sweet girl,” says Myleen. “Very humble and low-key; hindi mo aakalain na anak ng Presidente. Her favorite was kare-kare.”

Bar FM is the favorite hangout of Filipinos in London.

“Visiting artists from the Philippines always come over,” says Myleen (the aunt of singer Mari Nallos). “Sina Randy Santiago, Martin Nievera at Rico Puno pumunta na dito para mag-relax at mag-enjoy.”

Tonight, they are starting to trickle in. “In a while,” says Mylene, “punung-puno na ito.”

Back again at Grosvenor. After my cousins are gone, I text Leo Valdez (whom mega-producer Cameron Mackintosh calls “my favorite Engineer” because of Leo’s jaw-dropping performance in the megahit musical Miss Saigon) and get tips on what else is there to see in London where he lived for years at an apartment walking distance away from West End where musicals are staged to full houses.

“Grosvenor is located right across Hyde Park,” says Leo from Manila where he’s on extended holiday. “That’s where I used to jog. It’s near where I used to stay.”

I look out of the window and, sure enough, Hyde Park beckons. I want to jog but jetlag stops me from going out. Besides, it’s very cold out there.

Then, my celfone rings again. Danny Dolor on the line, asking how my day was.

“I took a quick tour of London,” I tell him.

“Did you cross London Bridge?” he asks.

There are two such bridges and, I tell Danny, “Sorry, I didn’t get off the tour bus.”

But I assure Danny that London Bridge is still there.

No, Danny, I repeat. “London Bridge is not falling down!”

I slip off to sweet slumber with Danny’s laughter ringing in my subconsciousness.

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