Cold Hard Cash and Bob Cratchit’s Camden Town
We arrived safely in London and no sooner did we drop off our bags in the room, my husband said, “We have to find a bank.” Apparently, the same conversation was taking place in our friends’ room. We immediately reconvened in the lobby and armed with our Google maps, set out to find a reputable bank—never one of those suspect Exchange kiosks! The need to have hard cash in your pocket is clearly a generational thing. To those of us above 50 or even way above, there is comfort in knowing that you can successfully participate in the day-to-day commerce of the country in which you are visiting. Of course we have credit cards—how else could we pay for the hefty city prices of food and lodging? But there’s all the other things, like tipping the maids and the porters, who I have yet to see carry around a credit card machine, need to be appreciated by providing them with a pound or two. This is not the case for our children’s generation. It absolutely astounds me that our kids, who are n