It was while reading the book, “Sisterchicks go Brit,” that I first learned of London’s Shrove Tuesday pancake races. I thought the tradition sounded like a great deal of fun, but couldn’t imagine that I would ever actually get to London. Let alone on the one day of the year that people run through the streets, flipping pancakes!
I finished the book with a sense of longing. Due to hubby’s business, I travel a lot. I have been to amazing places that I never dreamed I would have the privilege of seeing, so I have no complaints. But even in the most contented traveler’s heart there is still a dream, and London has always been mine.
In the fourth grade I had to write a paragraph about the place I would most like to travel. I wrote: “Of all the places in the world, I would most like to travel to London. I would see ladies in fancy silk dresses, and it would rain every day. Also, there would be a lot of rats.”
My concept of London was rather dismal, especially for a fourth-grade daydreamer, but I had done a great deal of historical reading on the subject. Silk dresses, rainy days, and rats seemed mysterious and wonderful.
While booking flights for the kids and myself to come home from hubby’s most recent business destination, I noticed that our long layover would be in London. On a whim, I asked my sisterchick if she could meet us there. She checked her calendar and pointed out that if we extended our short stay by one day, we would be there on Shrove Tuesday.
Our first 24 hours was a whirlwind. Our cab driver’s name was Mel, and he did a fabulous job of taking us on a driving tour of every place we might possibly want to see. We ran the gamut from Buckingham Palace to Jack the Ripper’s old neighborhood of Whitechapel. We got a glimpse of Winston Churchill’s wartime headquarters, but we lingered at Trafalgar Square. We chose to take tours of Westminster Abbey and The Tower of London. And we had a fabulous time riding the London Eye, which offers an amazing view of Parliament and Big Ben.
The next day was Tuesday, and I was going to see a pancake race! The tradition began in 1445 with a housewife who was running late for church. (Five hundred years later, I can still identify.) This particular housewife was trying to make it in time for the Shriving service, which is the day before Ash Wednesday. She needed to use up her eggs and milk before the start of Lent, so she made pancakes. As the church bells began to toll, she ran down the street, skillet in hand, flipping her final pancake. Upon arriving, she received a kiss from the Verger. Every year since, the women of Olney have donned their aprons, grabbed their skillets, and raced to the church with pancakes flying.
The tradition spread, and now there are several places in and around London, and one place in Kansas, where anyone can participate in the pancake craziness. Members of Parliament race against the Press. Folks at Great Spitalfields wear crazy costumes while running down the street with their skillets. And in Olney, the women still wear their aprons.
After a bit of research, I determined that the race best suited to our specific tourist needs would be held in historic Leadenhall Market. It was easy to get to, and they were offering free pancakes to the first 100 spectators. Initially, I expected to see big, fluffy pancakes flying through the air, and maple syrup flowing like wine. But the English “pancake” is really more like a crepe. It is thin and flat, and traditionally covered with lemon juice and granulated sugar.
We stood on the sidelines and cheered with the locals as men and women in business attire raced in relays. Our favorite team was a group of women called “Flippin’ Fabulous.” When I asked if I could take a picture, they plunked one of their pink construction paper hats on my head and pulled me into their midst for a great photo op!
I still can’t believe that of all the places in the world, and all the days of the year, I got to be in London on Shrove Tuesday! The sun was shining, and there wasn’t a rat in sight. And instead of fancy silk dresses, the ladies wore pink paper hats. It was nothing like my fourth-grade daydream, but I couldn’t have dreamed anything more perfect!
Leave a Reply