It is a city that never forgets and, in some cases, never forgives. Ask Ringo.

We stayed at the Hard Days Night Hotel (Oh yes, we did) and loved it. The John Lennon suite is all white with a wrap-around balcony and a white, baby grand piano. I never wished I could play the piano so much in my life. It's a thoroughly modern hotel, having opened less than a year ago. While we were there, Astrid Kirchherr dropped off some photos she had taken of the Beatles in Hamburg in, I believe, 1961.

We did the full geek tour: childhood homes, local watering holes, the Cavern, Eleanor Rigby's grave, the place where John and Paul met, the whole nine. I realize how this might sound to some but there is an unusual dynamic in my little family. While I grew up listening to the Beatles (I knew the songs they sang on the Ed Sullivan show in 1964 by the time they sang them) my daughter and a few of her friends are obsessed with this band that broke up 30 years before she was born.

Since I was going to be in Birmingham to do the Wolf Events Memorabilia show, we were already halfway to Liverpool. So, onward we went. Around "the shelter in the middle of the roundabout," and to the shop that sells "fish and finger pies in summer, meanwhile back..."

... in Paris for three days which is a tease, but a delightful one. We stayed at the Hotel Lancaster, where Adrian, Milo, Hayden and I stayed on the Heroes world tour in 2007. I love this hotel. Quiet and discreet, the staff is warm and friendly, qualities the French are, of course, famous for. It's small and cozy. And tres Parisien. Marlene Dietrich lived there for three years. We had a gorgeous suite with a balcony and a distant view of Sacre-Coeur on the top of Montmartre.

One day we walked all day, to the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and all around; one day we took a tour of the city. But the undisputed highlight was the dinner cruise on the Seine. Elegant dress was required. It was a beautiful night, cool but not bitter. We had a five-course meal drifting past Notre Dame all lit up, arriving at the Eiffel Tower at exactly 10 o'clock, just as the light show began. The entire Tower sparkles like the most sophisticated Christmas tree you've ever seen. It only goes for five minutes so the timing has to be perfect. And it was.

We took the train back to London. There we stayed at the Berkeley Hotel for eight days. By this time you're probably sensing that this was a blow-out-the-budget vacation. And it was, though mixed, legitimately, I might add for legal reasons, with some real business interests as well. I did a couple of talk shows, and met with a big casting agent, so if you have any big ideas of reporting my London trip to the IRS as some kind of tax cheat, I feel obligated to tell you that I have a well-documented paper trail of receipts and emails confirming my perfectly justifiable meetings and appearances, and thus: my write-offs. Audit me if you dare! Wait, wasn't it bogus bravado that got W into so much trouble?

The Berkeley (pronounced Barkeley, of course) is a gem. We got to know the staff well enough that when we left we took pictures with them and got little lumps in our throats that our stay was over. They came from Germany, Lithuania, Spain, Sardinia, and a few even hailed from the UK. And they all spoke the international language: Heroes. I ain't gonna lie, that's a good icebreaker. But if folks are overly impressed or solicitous, it quickly becomes a nightmare. No such problem.

It's a beautiful, understated hotel with impeccable service. You want breakfast at 2 PM? "Not a problem. Have a seat." Need a toothbrush at 2 AM? "Of course, sir." How about a pair of slippers at midnight? "Be right up, young Miss." What?! You asked for a pair of slippers at midnight?! TESS!!

Sendhil was in London doing a movie and Jimmy Jean-Louis came into town just as we were arriving so we all conspired to have dinner at the Berkeley at the wonderful Marcus Wareing restaurant. But first, Jimmy arranged tickets for Tess and me for the Liverpool v Fulham match at Craven Cottage earlier in the evening. I owe Jimmy. And he knows it. This match had been sold out for weeks but Jimmy knows everyone and got me tickets through one of the Fulham players.

It was a spectacular afternoon, sunny and warm (In London! In April!) Tess and I sat in the player's box and soaked it all up: the singing and chanting. Probably a good thing we couldn't catch all the words. I am one of the few American males who loves soccer and my daughter plays it, so we were in heaven. Big highlight for me. (Liverpool won in extra time.)

Tess and I came straight from the game, Sendhil came from the set, Jimmy came from the airport, and Beth came from Harrod's (who do you think had the best time of all?) We all met at the restaurant. Sendhil was wearing "trainers" (tennis shoes) which are not allowed in the restaurant so I had to lend him a pair of my size 13s. He wears a size 10. There was much merriment as he tried to negotiate the hotel stairs in my water skis. It was especially amusing after dinner and a few drinks. It was like watching a newborn take his first steps.

Jimmy told a hilarious story of shooting a film recently in Paris. They were shooting at night on a dock overlooking the Seine. Jimmy was supposed to have emerged from the river but they couldn't decide whether he should be wet or dry. The director kept backing him up until, inevitably, he tumbled 10 feet into the Seine. It took several burly dudes to fish him out. As he got to his feet on the dock, everyone looked at him with trepidation, unsure just how angry he was going to be. "I guess we do it wet," Jimmy says, to everyone's relief. That is Jimmy. No one is cooler. And I'm not just saying that because he scored me tickets to the football match. :)

In London for eight days, we slowed down. It took me a few days to surrender to the slower pace and accept that we were not going to see every museum and historical landmark. We went to the Tower of London, saw the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, visited the Victoria and Albert Museum and Westminster Abbey as well as the Westminster School, which my friend's son attends. It's one of the finest school in England.

We also enjoyed the hotel. It has a small, beautiful pool on the top floor with a retractable roof. There's a spa and gym. We walked in Hyde Park, and took out a paddle boat. We went to see Billy Elliott, which we all loved. I also did my business things: casting meetings, and appeared on BBC's Breakfast and ITV's This Morning. This Morning very thoughtfully presented me with a Beatles backpack and lunch box for Tess, knowing that we had done the Beatles' pilgrimage. Tess jumped up and down on the bed in the hotel room watching this.

We visited Hamley's toy store, one of the largest in the world. There, a young employee sidled up to me and whispered in my ear, "Dude, 'Turn and Face the Strange' was amazing." I wasn't sure which was more jarring; the fact that this young man had seen an episode I hadn't seen yet and that wouldn't officially appear in the UK for two more weeks, or being called Dude by a Brit. I have a general rule of thumb: Americans shouldn't do Shakespeare and Brits shouldn't say dude. Exceptions can be made, but used as a guideline, it holds up pretty well.

Another highlight of our UK trip was a couple of visits down to Croyden to visit the Foleys. The Foleys were Beth's family in England when she lived there as a model in the 1980s. She had met Andy in California before embarking on her UK tour of fashion. They insisted that she live with them rather than the drug haven she was about to move into. She did so for what she remembers as six months but the Foleys claim was a year. I think she realizes it was a year. She hadn't seen them in ten years, since the day, in fact, when she discovered she was pregnant with Tess.

They are a large, salt-of-the-Earth group, loving and unrelentingly chop-busting, my favorite combination. We had a great time with them. Beth lost her father when she was six. John Foley, the patriarch, was the closest thing she ever had to a father. He is now in his 70s with some health issues and though he seemed not only hale and hearty but still a physical presence (he was in the Scot's Guards), it was a meaningful reunion.

We went out to a country pub that goes back to the 1600s. In LA, restaurants brag about "Serving Fine Food since 1982!" I love LA, as the song goes, but I could go the rest of my life without laying eyes on a mini-mall. Reentry to the states, even after only two weeks, took some doing.

I am American. This is where I want to live. But there is much to admire and learn from in Europe. Old as it is, it is ahead of us technologically, it is much greener, and man, is the food good. Still, I was happy to get home, see our little poodle and rat (sometimes I'm not sure which is which) and to sleep in my own bed. Now if I can just get my daughter to stop trying to dial room service...

Next time: Back to Heroes. Season Finale!!! It's good. It's really good. Until then...

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