Last weekend, Husband and I escaped the snow and ice of southeast Norway (yes, it’s still snowing here) for three glorious days in London. I adore London; it’s a city I never tire of. I know lots of people who say they don’t like it, that it’s too crowded, dirty, and noisy, it’s expensive, the food isn’t good, and the weather is crap.

Okay, so all of those things are true, to a point. For instance, excepting accommodation---which is outrageously expensive and generally substandard---London really isn’t more expensive than any city in Norway or most European capitals. Admittedly, the food isn’t much to brag about, and that is a problem, but you can find a decent meal if you look hard and have some luck. And, yes, it does rain a lot in England, but when the sun shines on London, it couldn’t be more beautiful or appreciated. As for the crowds, the dirt, and the noise, sometimes I NEED that! I miss a big, dirty, noisy city! I miss getting lost in an anonymous crowd. I love that part about being in London.

I also love the architecture, the museums, the pubs, the river, the parks, the shopping, and the theater. All of which Husband and I indulged in while we were there. We walked for miles, visited the Museum of London for the first time, did some shopping on Kensington High Street, and saw “The Children’s Hour,” a West End play starring Keira Knightley, Elisabeth Moss (Peggy Olsen of “Mad Men”), Ellen Burstyn, and Carol Kane. It was fabulous and well worth the ridiculous price I paid for advance tickets on the internet.

On Sunday, we popped into a pub in the Smithfield Market area to watch the Liverpool - Man. United game. The place was packed with men and peppered with large TV screens, only one of which was tuned to our game. The rest were showing a Scottish league game, Glasgow Rangers vs. somebody, obviously the game of interest with this crowd. We must have looked a bit confused, standing under the smallest TV, because a fellow pointed to the big screen and said, “Your game will come on there in 15 minutes.” We smiled, got drinks, and settled on a sofa.

Soon enough, the Rangers triumphantly ended their game, the men in the pub started singing Scottish songs, and the barkeep switched all the sets over to the Liverpool game, which Liverpool was winning 2-0. Yeah! Except, uh, the singing kept going. And going. And going. Something about King Richard on a wall? I sipped my whiskey and watched Wayne Rooney make a masterful pass.

A man walked over and asked Husband, “Which is your team?”

“Liverpool.”

The man smiled, shook Husband’s hand, and sat down next to us. We had a new Scottish friend. He seemed nice enough as he chatted away about the Rangers and Scotland, and then---wait a minute---did he just say he hated the Pope? And that he was proud to be British and how Celtic fans knew better than to come into this pub because if they did, they’d get a right bollocking before ending up out on the street? He did! My smile sort of froze on my face.

I admit to being completely ignorant of the infamous--and extremely aggressive--rivalry between the two Glasgow football teams, the Rangers and Celtics. I didn’t even realize how split the city of Glasgow is---apparently there are areas where a Ranger supporter (traditionally a Protestant Scot) won’t step foot, and vice-versa for a Celtic fan (traditionally a Catholic of Irish descent). I don’t think it’s like that in Edinburgh, the only Scottish city I’ve visited; there, they seem only to dislike English people.

The Rangers/Celtic rivalry is still a hot topic in the British press since their last game two weeks ago. That game ended with the Celtic manager and a Rangers trainer almost punching each other on the sidelines and then ballooned into near riots amongst fans on the streets, resulting in a record number of arrests and a level of violence later deemed wholly unacceptable by Glasgow officials. Since that night, police have intercepted two suspicious packages en route to the Celtic manager’s house; one contained live ammunition and the other, fake bomb materials. The manager, Neil Lennon, has also received ominous nighttime phone calls, a death threat, and has to have security to take his kid to school. Glasgow police were demanding the football clubs take responsibility for the torrents of violence unleashed every game day, and city officials were talking about forcing the clubs to play Rangers vs. Celtic ("Old Firm") games during the week, instead of on weekends, and maybe even behind closed doors. Many articles in the newspapers decried the huge increase (of between 113 and 96%!) in domestic violence after these games.

I didn’t know any of this when I was listening to the Rangers fan in the pub railing against the Pope and holding his hand over his heart (on top of his Rangers jersey, of course) while stating his allegiance to Scotland. But I know hardened hate speech when I hear it, and I was glad when Liverpool finally won their game and Husband and I could exit the pub with a cheery, “Goodbye!” to this fellow. As we walked away, Husband said, “Wow, imagine trying to change that guy’s mind. It would be impossible.”

We ended the day with a pleasant walk through Hyde Park and a stroll along the Thames. London is a great and beautiful and incredibly interesting city. I can’t wait to go back!