I can see for miles and miles (London)

Well, almost, it was pretty hazy this morning, but it cleared reasonably quickly and we saw sun for the second time in two days.  Rather fitting to finish off with an English band - The Who, 1967 and we could see for miles from the attractions we climbed today.

Random sad-face fact

We discovered today why there are so many unhappy children being dragged from museum to art gallery - it is the mid-term break for schools over here this week! Excellent timing.  So the screaming and the whining continued, but I shall save the individual stories for the appropriate venue.  Watching parents struggling with their children, I can't understand why teachers aren't more revered.

As a tourist, I did wonder about all the school excursions we encountered last week, i.e. the last week of school before the break. They don't do themselves any favours. After viewing the behaviour of the students (and teachers) I am considering never approving another excursion.

Second favourite comment

Hissed from between clenched parental teeth to older of two siblings: "If you stop antagonising him, he won't do it anymore." Not confident that was going to happen.

Book porn in the top of the Tower Bridge

The Tower Bridge
Ok, for you philistines who don't know the difference between the Tower Bridge and the London Bridge, I'll explain it in this section of the post - but only after I've had Jayne check it to make sure I remembered what she told me.

It was London-grey this morning but there was a lot of haze because of the warmth. Today's top is a predicted 18°, positively balmy.  Into a tube station somewhere, a change somewhere else and up into the world again. I have no idea where I am or where I am going most of the time; Jayne has the maps and she navigates the journey.

We encountered the usual behaviour on the tube: mindless morons who stand and block platforms and passage ways as they decide which direction to propel their fruitless lives, or [insert nationality here] behaving in that stereotypical way a)pushing past you, b)not saying thank you when you step aside for them, c)walking at snail's pace and blocking the entire walkway, d)being totally oblivious to everyone else e)pushing in front of you to get onto the train ... of course, most people were well behaved and thoughtful, but that minority tend to dominate, don't they (ask any Abbott supporter)?

And so, dear reader, we ended up on the road to the Tower Bridge - that's the bridge near the Tower of London, hence the name.  See what they did there? Imaginative eh? It's that bridge that is as symbolic of London as the Harbour Bridge is of Sydney. Except in Sydney no-one impailed the head of an enemy on spikes like they did at the Tower Bridge. It is a tourist attraction and you can walk along both sides of the top deck. This was the plan for this morning.

The Tower Bridge and the HMS Belfast

After following the London signage, that meant we crossed the road and back again for no reason, we arrived at the ticket booth in the pillar of the bridge.  Skilfully dodging some tourists who were clogging the queue while they discussed what they would do, we made it to the desk to purchase our tickets. Simple? No. The woman selling the tix also offered us the wonderful opportunity of climbing The Monument for just £1.50 more, saving ... whatever. I had trouble following her at times as she had an accent, Eastern European maybe ... is there anyone left there? Between New York and London ...

Anyway, she convinced Jayne to buy the joint entry ticket that also provided access to The Monument - even though to get to the top of 'The Monument' required climbing 311 stairs.

The picturesque London skyline and The Monument

This was obviously pre-occupying Jayne's mind as we rounded the barricades to have my backpack checked before we headed up to the top of the bridge.  Pack checked (no bombs), the security man offered a choice of stairs to the walkway or the lift.  The door to the lift was open and waiting and Jayne just walked on by (there was a title for today) and went to the stairs. She paused briefly to complain as she looked upwards, I laughed and told her I was proud she had chosen the stairs and not the lift. "What?" she said. "I didn't hear him say that." "So I figured," I said over my shoulder as we took the first few stairs and put the lift behind us.

The Shard

That's our tower in the distance

It was further to the top than I thought.  The view was OK, but it was still quite hazy. The walk across the top was punctuated by audio-visual presentations from 'Charlie' who works on the Bridge and static displays of other great bridges along with their architectural details.  Then you walk back the other way on the other side - the side with the views of London everyone wants.  There were also viewing (to stand/walk on) platforms of glass looking down on the road, the pedestrians and the river.

From the glass panel

Scared of heights? Pfft.

The next stop was the Engine Room that controls the opening of the bridge bascules (learnt this new word from Charlie) when tall craft need to be allowed to pass (around 1,000 times each year).  Back down the stairs and beyond the bridge and downstairs again. Impressive and very well looked after.

The boiler

The thingy that goes round and round

Random comment #1
There is some sort of hidden synergy between London and New York.  London has sprouted food outlets that offer typical NYC food like burgers and bagels (not at the same places). We have eaten at an Hawaiian influenced establishment; the staff wear Hawaiian shirts of course - a delightful piece of sunshine in the grey.

That Monument, sorry, The Monument
OK, you've seen it in the pictures, and we could see it from the top of the Tower Bridge.  It's tall, it's slim (sorry ladies, it's taken) and it has a gold top and we were heading for it.  A short walk down the Queen's Walk along the South Bank of the Thames brought us to London Bridge (it's a real bridge that doesn't need to disrupt road traffic flow for river traffic). The closer we came to it the more Jayne doubted her fitness and the ability to climb the 311 stairs. I was just worried about the height and the slim viewing platform/balcony.

We walked across the London Bridge - it wasn't falling down at all, where did that song come from? - and turned the corner into Monument Street. You'll never guess where The Monument is? Oh, that was clever of you. Yes, in Monument Street. Standing there slim and column-like and glinting in the emerging sun. Snapped a couple of shots as we walked down to it, side-stepped the usual crowds, rounded the column to see ... a queue. Immediate conflict. I dislike queues and I dislike heights. On the other hand, Jayne hates exercise and this involves 311 stairs (have I mentioned that?). Don't mention it, join the queue and listen to the people around us.

The line contained far too many children under the age of 6.  Could they really climb all those stairs? It also contained too many whingeing, whiny pre-teens.  Maybe I could push some of them off the top, or just flip them over the handrail into the void ... hmmmmm ... a whingeing voice from behind me brought me back to reality. How dare you my dear reader, Jayne was in front of me.  It was a man's voice, "I don't want to pay for this" over and over and over. Guess who was scared of heights or was worried he was too unfit to get to the top? Not sure what happened to him - but if we'd met at that really narrow point on the platform at the top - who knows what may have happened.

The bridge from the top of the monument

It occurs to me patient reader that I haven't revealed the nature or purpose of The Monument (actually Jayne just said that). Note the typically British imperative of the definite article 'the' like there could be no other monument anywhere because this is 'the' monument. Well, I've seen bigger, I've seen brighter, I've seen better, I've ... been sidetracked again. Sorry. It was built in 1667 to commemorate the 'great fire' of London in 1666. I am uncertain as to whether there were other great fires that year, maybe just a couple of 'good' fires and a 'mediocre' fire in Blackpool, although there was an awesome fire in Australia but it didn't count because the Brits hadn't 'discovered' us by then. The great fire commenced in a bakery - "Ethyl, I burnt the bread again".

Looking up ... 311 winding stairs

So, up the tiny narrow stairs we went, pausing occasionally to allow people to descend to earth. It was similar to a lighthouse, narrow winding stairs with a window sill every so often that afforded rest for the unfit.  The most interesting performance on the way up and then down again, lay with Charlie. He screamed, he yelled, he stamped his feet, "no", "I'll go no further", "you can't make me" all the way to the top.  Once there he refused to leave the doorway for a moment and when pried off the door jamb, crept outside and hugged the wall. All of this was rather problematic because the space at the top barely permitted two adults to pass each other. His circumnavigation of the sights of London completed, he returned to the doorway. On the way down he said to every child going the other way, "it's terrifying up there" or words of that ilk. An absolute charmer.

At one point when he had paused to harangue his mother yet again, I leant over the rail and took a snap of the circle stairway winding its way to safety. "I don't know how you can do that," he said, "It's terrifying".  As I slung my camera back over my shoulder I said, "I am terrified of heights mate, but sometimes you just have to do it for the experience. Anyway, you've done really well." And off I went. Prat.

Looking down

Anyway, we made it, easily, and have certificates to prove it. The depth of each stair was shallow so there was no onerous strain on old knees (mine, dear). The view was OK, the haze was beginning to lift, but the safety wire made any decent photography near impossible. On the way back down, which was much easier than the ascent, Jayne overheard a mother say to her child: "You are making me walk up stairs. I hate stairs and I'm afraid of heights. I hate you right now." Absolute gold.

St Paul's and the caged view from The Monument

Random comment #2

The maligned Shard

The Shard is quite a contoversial building in London and I'm not sure why. They have cornered the market in avante garde/new age/modern (whatever the term is) architecture and the Shard stands out as a stunning glass tower that echoes the old school steeples that you see everywhere. The 'cucumber', which houses London's mayor, on the other hand resembles a vibrator, even moreso when lit up at night with pulsating lights of changeable colour.  Then there is another building that looks like an old style 60s transistor radio that has been turned on its side and squeezed so one end (in this case, the top) is out of shape.

The cucumber in the background and the transistor

Long shot of the transistor

Random comment #3
London is the home of franchise food.  There is no way I will remember them all but: Cafe Nero, Pret-a-Manger, Greggs, Costa, Starbucks (I know, I know, wtf), Eat, Zizzi's, Pizza Express.

The British Museum Day #2
Despite having covered two attractions, hundreds of stairs and traversing two bridges, we were obviously becoming more efficient tourists and therefore we still had time to go back to our unfinished business at the British Museum.  On the first day, we had only managed to cover the lower and ground floors, leaving the upper floor unchartered.  The map suggested a shorter period of time would suffice to complete the museum expedition and it was within walking distance of home base so we decided to go directly there by tube.

Old school book porn

A shelf of old school book porn

Obviously, we arrived much later in the day and the crowds were significantly greater than we had previously experienced but the patron profile was pretty much the same - hordes of organised tours charging along behind flag/umbrella waving guides, individuals and couples selecting the most ridiculous places to pause for a selfie with an exhibit to prove they had been there and parents trying to use the mid-term break to improve their recalcitrant children's minds. If I could offer you one piece of advice dear reader, it is, do not be polite and step aside to allow an ant-trail of tour groupies to pass - it's like being caught at a level crossing waiting for the coal train to pass. It could could cost you hours, the museum could close before you make the stairs.

Lewis chess pieces - think Harry Potter

Thankfully there were less of these patrons on the upper floor (except in the Egyptian bit - every kid loves a mummy) so we planned a route to cover the exhibit rooms and set off to find the main treasures as well as anything else that interested us.  These rooms contained far fewer exhibits and, with the exception of the Egyptian Mummies, far fewer patrons, so our progress was more rapid and we managed to cover the upper floors in 3 hours (a record for us, if only because we did it sans audio-guide).  Back out into a sunny British afternoon and home to get ready to experience the obligatory British high tea but with a difference.

Afternoon Tea
Have I mentioned how ridiculously expensive EVERYTHING is in London? That includes housing, Sydney, so get a grip on your parochial whining. I digress, but I was pondering the price paid for the Mad Hatter's Afternoon Tea at the Sanderson Hotel. If I suggested to Jayne we spend that much money at home on an afternoon tea she would give me 'that' look and continue doing whatever it was I had interrupted. Anyway, after we made allowances for the translation into Australian dollars I think we could have provided funding for 10 beds at the Children's Hospital.

We arrived at The Sanderson Hotel to be greeted in an overly cheery fashion by the man on the door. For a minute I thought we must be friends until I realised I'd never set eyes on him previously.  The Mad Hatter is an interesting theme for a tea party - but, I seem to recall it has been done before somewhere.

The menu

Firstly, we were provided with an actual 1930's book into which the menu for the high tea had been glued across two pages. Then there was a variety of teas from which to choose, all suitably named after characters from Alice. While we were contemplating this very complex choice presented on a set of playing cards, we sipped on a glass of champagne.  Jayne opted for the 'Alice' blend while I went with the 'Cheshire Cat'. Surprised? Yes, me too, I thought I'd go for the Mad Hatter, but the Cat was a mixture of orange and chocolate and other things I didn't understand.

The savoury component of the high tea arrived shortly after our pots of tea appeared and the quintessential British food experience had begun. No crusts anywhere in sight among the delicately cut sandwiches and savoury eclairs.  These came on flat plates but then followed the three tiered cake plate with flower pot atop growing wheat sprouts within which meringue carrots were hidden. Under this were Wonderland treats such as red velvet cake lady birds, blue caterpillars, macaroon pocketwatches, magic mushrooms (?) and butterfly cakes.  In the bottom layer of the stand were scones with jam and clotted cream and two mysterious bottles labelled 'drink me' that contained passionfruit, pannacotta and something I can't recall - it was, however, delicious. Jayne even slurped.

Then, just when we thought we were done, out came two tiny flower pots covered with chocolate 'dirt' and filled with vanilla ice cream surrounding a frozen raspberry.  Yummmm.

Dessert

These afternoon teas appear to be extremely popular and we had to book a couple of days in advance despite the fact that it is served daily with sittings from 1 till 4pm.  There were families, couples and, next to us, was a mother (clearly not on a teacher's salary) and small girl - they also caught a cab home. A hard day's shopping brought to a conclusion.

Despite all of this decadence we also went out for dinner, largely because we are flying out tomorrow and I am always worried about airline food - even in Business.

And that concludes the trip.  There will be one more post later in the week, a reflection on London and a review of Qantas v British airways Business class.  But that won't take place until I have recalibrated my body clock. As I type the last of this in the Qantas Lounge in Singapore I am running on three hours sleep.  I won't be pretty after the next leg of the trip, a 9 hour flight home, with another 3 hour time adjustment. When we get back to Sydney we will have lost (well actually gained) 11 hours.

Until next time ...

Here comes the sun (London)

The SUN CAME OUT! Wow, this is a moment. Just let me collect my thoughts for a minute. OK, I'm ready now, I was just so not prepared for blue sky and sunshine. Then we hit the street and it was, well, cold, and the sun was already fading into cloud. It was going to be that sort of day.

The sky is not as blue here in London.  It is like a water colour wash, paler than what you would see in Sydney and not from the same palette as the centre of Australia.  New York had a stronger colour, maybe it has something to do with position above or below the equator. I'll leave that to the scientists.

So, this morning we set out for the British Museum, the number one tourist attraction in England, which is is not far away from Fitzrovia and also close to where we stayed in 2003.

Not so Random statement

I believe I've already said this in a previous post, but ... why do people who are interetsed in museums bring their children to museums and allow them to destroy everyone else's enjoyment?  Examples from today, not all bad:

1. What do three year olds do when they get into a room that echoes? They shout, they scream, they test the reverberation of sound - I have no issue with this, but not in a museum. Really? What do you think they will do when they walk from a room with significant sound abatement and climate control into a cavernous space? And they did. Incessantly. And ran from their parent/carer/wrangler/whatever screaming to hear the echo.

2. One boy chasing his younger brother is collared by dad and fears for his safety. Dad realises this is a public place and releases his grip with, "You are ten years old - you should know better." I missed the next exchange because they moved away from us, but it concluded with the ten year old saying, "Well, what do you expect? I'M BORED." No surprises there, clearly dad is not Sherlock.

3. Dad and two little children moving swiftly between exhibits, talking to his children. "That looks like an axe? What do you think?" Dad engaged, kids engaged - good work to you unnamed man, but you sir, are in the minority.

Museums and galleries are not surrogate baby sitting facitilites.  If you take your children to a museum/gallery then keep them engaged, keep them reasonably quiet or keep them home.

The British Museum, not a creché

The British Museum

No idea, it was in the entrance

We were conscious that we are coming to the end of our time here, so we took a different approach to a venue that we would normally spend around 9 hours touring. Even then not see everything it has to offer. We were once again pleasantly surprised to find out that entry to the museum was predicated on a polite, quick look in the back pack and a request for a donation to support the upkeep of the place (I'm looking at you every venue in the USA, check your paranoia at the door).  No restrictions on photography either and in fact a very laid back approach to keeping people away from the antiquities - for many exhibits all that stood between them and any marauding visitors were signs requesting "Please do not touch". Of some concern given the not so random statements #1 & 2 above... then again, it's not that easy to hurt rock.

We bought a map and realised immediately that the place was a convoluted collection of rooms that spilled from one to another, making an orderly approach to covering everything impossible.  How unusual, in total contrast to every other museum we've been to in the last month - not. On the ground and lower floors, presumably the original floors, there are no less than 40 rooms of varying sizes and shapes covering privately donated priceless collections of jewellery, glass, gold and silverware, antiquities from cultures like Egypt, Greece, Rome, Africa, China, the Celts, India, the Americas, Polynesia and Oceania; religious traditions including Islam and Buddhism.  

The map contains 'must see' lists and we checked off all of the items on the Ground and Lower floor, the highlight for me in this category was the Rosetta Stone.  It was almost like visiting Mona Lisa at The Louvre - it was where the crowd was gathering.

You know, I thought it would be bigger and have more security.

We managed to navigate our way around all of these exhibits as well as the circular shop in the Great Court in about four hours.  Even though we felt abit hungry, we passed by the crowded museum cafe which curiously laid out all sorts of delectable sweet treats like scones, slices, pastries and cakes on serve yourself benches around which people could wander and help themselves and then go to a counter to pay.  Or their grubby, snotty uncontrolled children could test the wares, or someone could sneeze on the offerings.  Australian health department officials would have a coronary about the potential for food contamination this system offered!

Hello. My name is Mr Ed.

The important thing is that this place is amazing, masses of exhibits from Egypt to Rome to Greece and I'm talking empires from years gone by.  Not just small pieces to examine, massive reconstructions, in some areas, to admire all with a written explanation.

Tomorrow, we will be back to tackle the top floor and I promise not to complain about unrestrained children or their ignorant parents, or that other peril, bus tour groups from Asia. Never, ever, ever step in front of the person with the flag, you could be swept, unwittingly, onto to their bus and back to their hotel never to see your loved ones again.

Australians all let us rejoice (London)

I hate daylight saving, no surprise there, but I had a win last night.  Daylight saving ended in England, so I scored an extra hour of sleep.  A little while back daylight saving commenced in Australia - but I wasn't home, so I didn't lose the hour. Therefore I win when I return home.  Do not burst my bubble and mention jetlag or date lines or such.

After the darkest and drizzliest of days yesterday today dawned with a pale blue sky smeared with cloud.  It was still chilly, but showed promise.  It is a special day, the Wallabies are playing the Pumas for a place in Rugby World Cup final.  But, it is Sunday and so, off to mass.  In our quest to visit as many Cathedrals as possible we walked to the tube and down under the ground to emerge somewhere near Westminster Cathedral.

Westminster Cathedral

A short walk from the tube was the Cathedral.  The directions in the Lonely Planet Guide are accurate as far as a street address, but in reality are wrong.  The entrance to the Cathedral is not on Francis Street; in fact you can gain access from Victoria Street and walk across the plaza.

Interesting architecture

We chose to follow the directions in the book and walked around the block to get to the entrance, just as the previous mass was coming out.  In comparison it is an interesting place, especially after spending yesterday at the Abbey.  The difference between the Catholics and Anglicans?  No charge for the entry to Westminster Cathedral, no tour guides, no audio-guides and no exclusion periods during services.

A very large spire with the sun in the wrong place

It is not gothic, so the dome structure is very different to that of the Abbey - and then it is different again.  It is unpainted brick.  In fact it looks like smoke fired brick, I thought perhaps it had been affected by fire during the second world war.  Good thinking, but no.  The painting has been left unfinished to allow future generations to complete the painting.

Like other Europeans Cathedrals we have visited, they don't have pews but favour individual seats. The floor is timber and needs attention.  We sat (what we thought) was close to the front, in the second third of the chairs, but the depth of the altar makes everyone seem remote. At least the sound system worked, unlike St Pat's in New York.

There are some special aspects to the Cathedral and it is well worth a visit.

Buckingham Palace and Hyde Park

Nanna Lizzie's coat of arms

Post mass we walked to Buckingham Palace just to re-acquaint ourselves with the fountain, the black and gold gates and the throngs of people.  It hasn't changed, as you would expect, since we were there in 2003 with the annoying exception of the presence of temporary barricades that seem to proliferate everywhere in London for no apparent reason.  There are no parades, no demonstrations, no visiting dignitaries that we can see yet these barricades are frequently left to hinder the foot traffic in areas where it is already a tight squeeze.  The barricades are not hooked up so as to form any meaningful barrier - they simply create another hazard to negotiate.  And what's more they are an eyesore for tourist areas, spoiling photo opportunities.

The welcome home station in the front yard

Anyway, we took photos for ourselves and other tourists who asked and watched the guards stomp purposelessly around their posts for a while but there was no formal changing of the guard happening on Sunday so we decided to make the most of the relatively sunny day and head for Hyde Park. Why? Why not?  We hadn't been there before.  I was expecting some massively old trees, but didn't see any.  There were squirrels, but not as many as New York. The scenery was pleasant and there were lots of dogs taking their owners for a walk as well as horse riders trotting along the paths (street lights in this area actually have pictures of horses as well as pedestrian traffic - very British).  There were plenty of flash bikes to view because a club was just wrapping up its Sunday morning competition.

It's like a Turner painting

A coffee or hot chocolate and toasted sandwich was all I was after, and a place to watch the bikes, if possible.  Not possible.  How hard is it to find a cafe in this country that is not part of a chain (Costas, Café Nero, Starbucks)?  Starbucks - someone should teach them how to make coffee. We could choose something plastic plastic wrapped and they'd make a coffee - nope.  Walk on.

Across the lake we spied the Lido.  A brief walk revealed it was still counter service, but they had a great range of pastries, muffins and scones plus tables and chairs available outside.  Time for a rest in the sun - yes, dear reader I said, in the sun.

Pretty as a picture

Random comment:

Poppies (the paper variety) are being worn on lapels.  We asked the question yesterday, thinking we had missed a date of significance. No, it is in preparation for Rememberance Day in November.  I get wearing the poppy, I don't get wearing them for a month before the day of rememberance.

The Victoria and Albert Museum

The Albert Memorial

This should be marked: unfinished business, for obvious reasons.  It was a difficult time of day. We had a few hours to spare, but not too many because the RWC semi-final was on this afternoon. And there were many choices.  As we were deciding which museum we would turn up at, we wandered past this very impressive statue/rotunda, I'm not sure what to call it.

There are a number of entrances to the V & A museum; we chose the quietest one quite by accident to discover once again that there is no entry fee - they simply ask politely for you to make a donation which we did. The lower level was sculpture - a Rodin exhibition, amongst others.

The other areas we walked through were to do with the history of Islam, Britain from 1500 - 1610, and some amazing religious paintings by Raphael.  In keeping with the museum being a showcase of the decorative arts, there were also exhibitions of clothing through the eras from the 1700's through to the late 20th century and a shoe exhibition that was at extra charge.

Wedding dress - Cait?

Wedding shoes

Wedding veil

The King's wedding outfit - Luke?

Sadly, it was Sunday and the museum, sensibly, provided things for children to do - in a museum like this there shouldn't be any little children, so distractions should not be necessary.  All it did was collect the screaming into one area. Memo to those who think that taking a three year old to a museum is going to bring them culture or intelligence - it won't. Get a baby sitter so we can ALL enjoy Sunday.

We will return to complete our tour, maybe not this time, but we will be back.

RWC

The time had come to head home, drop the pack and find a pub to watch the rugby.  Yes, we could have watched it at home, but a pub provides some atmosphere.  Off to the One Tun where we spent last Sunday - couldn't get in, too many people watching soccer.  Down the road to the Fitzrovia, again no room.  The Hope was ONLY showing soccer.  Three other pubs didn't even have TVs!  OMG! They expected their patrons to talk to each other.

I was happy to return home and watch on the small screen when Jayne remembered that pub that Dylan Thomas and George Orwell drank at, the Wheat Sheaf, the one that caused Fitzroy to be renamed Fitzrovia in honour of their behaviour.  It was small, it was quiet, it had the TV on the rugby channel and it had a table!  In and settled.

There were some other rugby supporters there, some drifted in, some lasted the distance, some didn't, most supported Argentina - we did not.  Great game, good outcome, enjoyable afternoon amd we drank at the same pub as Thomas and Orwell. It was this moment that inspired (too strong?) the title for today.

A quick dinner at a Thai restaurant and it was home to tap away on the keys.

England swings (London)

England swings by Petula Clark, 1967 for today's title.  You don't reacall?  Let me help: 

   "England swings like a pendulum do 

    Bobbies on bicycles, two by two 

    Westminster Abbey, the tower of Big Ben 

    The rosy red cheeks of the little children" 

And so another day dawns grey and cold - as my daughter once said, 'like a fat, dead pigeon'.  Today we also have rain.  It's only light, but it's rain nonetheless.  A brisk walk to the tube and a change of trains and out we pop at the Houses of Parliament.  Between us and our destination were a flock of people afflicted with that disease, puffy-jacketitis.  It is common in Australia during winter too, although it does get cold here, unlike Australia.  The complication now is that they are also tourists with camera in hand - this combination reduces IQ by two standard deviations.  They block the pavement, they stop without warning, they turn and walk into you, they veer sideways for no apparent reason.  If I make it through the day dear reader without killing anyone, or pushing someone under a bus, it will be a miracle.

Westminster Abbey

We navigated our way through the hordes of people and could see the queue for Westminster Abbey before we got there.  Not a good sign.  We've walked past before but were deterred by the length of the lines.  It looked like it would be the same today.  We joined the line to see how quickly it moved and it wasn't too bad. There were the usual queue jumpers trying to get to the front, "I've got a London pass." No. "What about disabled access?". Really? Disabled access for being lazy and obese? "Do you have a disability notice?" No.  Bad luck buddy.

Unlike the States, we have not been subjected to electronic or x-ray screening, frisking or anything. It certainly helps the lines move quickly.  It is £20 each to get into the Abbey.  No photography. And then next was the offer of a personalised tour for £5 each - we took it and hoped we wouldn't be in a group of 50 like yesterday.  We weren't, we were in a group of 2 - awesome, our own personal guide that took us into places other people couldn't go.  Worth the extra money.

The tour provided a potted history of the Abbey and the famous people that are buried within it, from kings and queens to scientists, politicians and poets.  It was all quite fascinating and in parts, quite crowded.  We were able to walk up onto the altar area near where the coronation chair is placed and into King Henry VII's private Chapel.

There is no crypt inside the Abbey itself, so anyone buried there is actually in the ground with the burial stone above them.  There have been so many burials through the years that many of the older stones are illegible.  I assume that they have a record of who is buried where.  Cromwell and his cronies did some damage when they were in power - graffiti was the least of it, but it is sadly still evident.

Outside the Abbey the rain had eased so we went for a walk across the bridge toward the London Eye to get a better view. That is when the rain commenced again.  Enough, time to find the shelter of another attraction, so we found a protected corner and consuted the map.

Churchill's War Room

The war rooms were just around the corner from the Abbey and the Houses of Parliament and the rain was just easing as we joined that line.  They allowed 10 people at a time inside where they checked bags and sent you down the stairs to pay (£18 per person) before you were set free in the War Rooms and Churchill Museum - with audio guide.  Please take photos - I would have taken more but the light didn't really encourage it.  The crowd inside was significantly higher in number than 10.

It was like a number of museums we have seen in the last month; the space doesn't necessarily permit a logical approach to viewing the exhibits. It covers Churchill's life in periods with plenty of interactive exhibits, audio-visual displays, the usual collection of photographs and paraphernalia. There were uniforms, pistols, letters, even his school reports.

The war rooms were fascinating and the audio-guide commentary and displays in the rooms really brought them to life.  Many rooms are literally as they were left in 1945 and provide a real insight into the machinations of war at a very different level to what we would usually see.  No battlefield photos here, only giant maps, telephones and space for people to plan, re-plan and re-act.

We emerged once again to rain at 5:30 and zig-zagged our way back to the tube station and home to the news that the All Blacks beat the Springboks by 2 points.  Tomorrow, the Wallabies and Argentina.

Random question: Can anyone tell me, why, in a country where it rains a lot, they do not have awnings out the front of shops?  You can walk a long way down any street and not find one.  What gives?  Why wouldn't you provide shelter that encourages people to come out in the rain, rather than having them get soaked as the negotiatey the umbrellas and foot traffic.

And I think that's where I came in.

Goodnight.