And welcome to part two of my very first two part blog post!
Yup, it’s time to pick up from where we left off last time, as we revisit my recent, um, visit, to the Big Smoke, that is Old London Town. There were thrills, there were spills, there were unexpected flights of stairs, and that was just on day one out of three.
Now it’s time for days two and three.
Splitting The Difference
So, to set the scene, there we were. Myself, My wife Tina, and my step-daughter, Sarah. We were comfortably ensconced in a basic but generously proportioned room that consisted of two double beds, one small but serviceable en suite bathroom, and even a TV slightly bigger than a postage stamp. We had just woken on the second day of our trip, having slept like the particularly tired dead. We were refreshed, we were enthused. We were ready to head off in completely different directions.
That’s right, we were splitting up. It was, after all, a Sunday morning. Time for all good Christians (i.e. the two ladies), to head off to church. As I am neither Christian, nor for that matter particularly good (depends entirely on your definition), and as I had just about survived my slightly less than sober encounter with the Salvation Army commissioning ceremony the night before, I opted out of this and, in the words of the legendary U.K. kids program 'Why Don’t You?', decided to ‘switch off the television set and do something less boring instead’.
This turned out to not be all that exciting if I’m honest.
What Goes On Tour
So it was that after a struggle down two flights of stairs, and a filling continental breakfast, I took the bus, and then the train back up to Victoria Station, a spot we’d designated as a meeting place due to a) knowing where it is and b) being pretty sure how to get there. Getting first class assistance and accessibility every step of the way, I then set off on a little tour.
Not that I went that far, mind you, I was conscious of how easy it is to get turned around in the big city, and possibly even more conscious of how quickly the sat-nav on my phone eats the batteries. It simply wasn’t worth taking the risk.
I did however want to revisit a few of the points that I had seen the previous day whilst hurrying to my main two appointments (football and then other religious stuff). The first of these was a building I’d spotted on the walk from Victoria to Westminster. A lovely red brick building with white stripes, an imposing entrance and a tower on it’s left hand side. On investigation I found out this was Westminster Cathedral.
Bloody Sunday
It truly is a beautiful building, slightly reminiscent of some that I’ve seen in Florence. It was open too, however, being a Sunday, it was also in the middle of a service. I therefore limited myself to a cursory investigation, refused the order of service leaflet from the kindly but rather insistent woman by the door, and left... Quickly.
The next port of call was Westminster Abbey, a place I’d been within yards of for most of the previous day but one I hadn’t actually visited. It’s a place that is obviously steeped in history but, maybe because of that, my first thought was that it was smaller than I was expecting. The outside is still stunning, although again, with services in full swing, the inside was restricted to gaping sightseers. I guess Sunday is a bad to day to examine churches, who would have thought?
Time was getting short though so I headed back up to meet the girls and we had a bite of lunch before setting plans for the afternoon. This included heading back to Westminster, for another look at the abbey, and then crossing the road to take a look at The Houses Of Parliament (again access restricted). We really hit all the touristy buttons for that part of London, and at one point might even have slightly joined up with a group of slightly bewildered looking Japanese.
The Small Things
It was a pleasant enough afternoon though. We spent some time on a bench by The Palace of Westminster, watching the Thames flow and the world rush by, we even met an extraordinarily friendly little finch that was happy to sit within a foot of us without a chirp. It really was quite idyllic.
Then we headed back.
We all had our wish lists you see. Things we wanted to do or see in London. I wanted to visit The British Museum. Something that I’ll cover in the next post. Sarah wanted to work out a little more of the city ahead of moving there for University. Tina though… Well my wife had three wish list items. She wanted to revisit her Salvation Army training college and slay a few demons (not literally, she’s not Buffy), which she’d done, she wanted to sit by the banks of the Thames, which she’d done… and then she wanted to use the fact that We were staying at a Toby Carvery to, well, have a Toby Carvery.
The Proof Of The Pudding
You might know Toby, you might not. It’s typical English fare. Roast meat (beef, lamb, pork, and/or turkey). Two types of potato, enough veg to sink a medium sized battleship and of course good dark gravy made with the roasting juices from the meat. There’s even those little extras like chipolata sausages, crackling, stuffing, and of course Yorkshire puddings. If you read last week’s offering you might remember I had a little issue with that last item.
Toby say that their Yorkshires are real Yorkshires. They say they are crisp and tasty, and to ensure this, at least 5cm high. Toby did not live up their word on this occasion. The Yorkies on offer were flat as the proverbial and chewy rather than crisp. As a proud Yorkshireman I was immensely disappointed, almost to the point of being offended, and one shush away from making that disappointment known. I might still write a letter.
However this was the only blemish on what was otherwise a lovely day. Next week I’ll tell you about day three.
Until next time...
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