From Abbey to Alley

There is a cute bakery just around the corner from our hotel, and something we saw today was that, at 8:15, it’s a breezy-breeze to get breakfast.  At 8:30, however, half of the tourists in London are there.  We got there at 8:15 and felt pretty clever about our timing.  We had them put our ham and cheese croissant and our chocolate and cherry scone on a regular plate and our coffee in to-go cups.  We had to be next to a statue of Winston Churchill at 8:45 to meet with Lucy.  She was our guide today, and she seems like someone who may have been born at Westminster Abbey, because she knew it all so well.  She was so happy that we were a group who did as the instructions said and arrived early, because that made us the first bunch in line to get into the abbey, and that meant two things: first, it made her job easier, and second, it meant we could photograph the abbey before any other humans were there- a rare treat.  Behold: 

You know who gets this uninterrupted view?  Religious figures and custodial staff.  Not tourists.  Score one for Lucy’s tour group!  She took us all around the Abbey to the scientists’ corner, the poets’ corner and the myriad tombs of different monarchs and dignitaries.  She marched us with precision past the altars to be present just in time to see a prayer being delivered by a minister.  We were all invited to pray with the minister.  I felt like a member of the congregation.  The minister offered up a simple prayer, asking for blessings or peace or something.  I was just so taken with the moment, and I definitely agreed with whatever the sentiment was, so I amen-ed with everyone else.  I remember thinking it was a good, non-denominational prayer, but I can’t for the life of me remember the contents.  

From there, we went to St. James’s Park.  I had a question about the apostrophe after one s and before the other, and before I could draw breath to ask it, our guide mentioned a venerable British organization called The Apostrophe Preservation Society.  Aah, a group I could really get behind.  They’re very specific punctuation marks, folks, and you must employ them correctly.  

From that park, we went to the front of Buckingham Palace and saw the changing of the guard.  It was what looked like a Scottish group handing off the task of guarding to another bunch.  The departing guardsmen were in kilts, playing bagpipes while wearing thistle emblems on their uniforms.  The new guard arrived on horseback with shiny, metal armor around their torsos.  Apparently, what we think of as the “changing of the guard” is not what it actually is.  Perhaps later in this trip, we can see the red jacketed guardsmen in fluffy black hats, unflappable and standing out in front of the palace.  More on that later.  

After the tour ended, Cas and I headed toward Trafalgar Square by way of Piccadilly Circus.  We stopped at a very tall bookstore that promised to have a restaurant with a view on the fifth floor.  That meant floors -1, 0 and 1-4 were entirely populated with books.  Shiny, new books.  All in enticing displays.  I have seen more bookstores on this trip than I see in a year in Dallas, and maybe that says something about America that I don’t want to hear.  I hope Americans get better at books.  It would be nice.  Maybe I’m just being a librarian…. 

But seriously, we left there and headed back to the hotel.  It was nap time.  Cas and I kind of zonked out.  We had gone to bed late and we woke up pretty early for the tour, so it was a perfect time to have our heads hit the pillows.  We woke an embarrassing two hours later (long nap), and headed out to Leake Street, which is London’s own Graffiti Tunnel.  It’s a space in constant flux.  We walked through this amazing underground space, watching several artists in the process of transforming the wall art, on the way to dinner in a funky neighborhood on the other side.  We settled in at a pizza place, and the food was good.  Again.  Our expectations of bad food in the UK are not exactly being met, here, folks.  We hung out  in the Lower Marsh neighborhood for dinner and a post-meal glass of wine, then headed back through the tunnel.  Art we’d seen starting out while heading one way was completed as we returned.  An image of a girl we saw a few hours before had new, cartoonish lips when we walked back.  It’s a space in constant flux, and that’s pretty cool.  I don’t have an immediate equivalent I have seen anywhere.  We went to Toronto’s Graffiti Alley, but we didn't seen anyone in the act of creating, there.  Here in London, we saw several people actively changing the space we were walking through.  It smelled of aerosol paint, and I secretly worried I may get permanent stains on my clothes.  What I’m saying is- it’s cool.  So very cool.  

But, we’re back at the hotel, now.  We’re getting everything packed into a backpack so we can enjoy our day-long tour tomorrow, when we head to Stonehenge, Bath and a secret location.  I suspect it will be Sting’s house.  Cas and I went to a Sting concert last year, and he invited everyone there to stop by his house near Stonehenge for tea.  Certainly, that must be the secret location, right?  I mean, if he’s inviting a whole Irving, Texas concert venue over, he can absolutely make room for one little tour bus, can’t he?  

We shall see tomorrow.  More when I know it.

Also, here’s a great photo album: tinyurl.com/dunlap-pl