This is me breaking the rules. St Pauls don’t let you take photos inside, which is a shame because it’s a breathtaking space. But I knew that if I didn’t take a sneaky shot up in the Whispering Gallery, after taking around 250 voluntary steps up there, no-one would ever believe that I’d done it. I hate exercise. I suppose all this walking around London has done me the world of good.
Here’s me NOT breaking the rules, after I arrived outside the MASSIVE doors of St Pauls after navigating London on my own. I’m sure Scott thought I’d disappear, never to be heard from again.
I planned my trip, then when I was on the tube, ready to get out at Victoria station, an announcement came over that someone had fallen under a train at Victoria so the train would be stopping at the station before. I got out, asked a few directions, got myself to Victoria st and then walked in the wrong direction. When I got to Westminster Abbey (oops) I admitted defeat and hailed a cab. I decided to navigate my way around London using the buses. I have to say, everyone here is so friendly and willing to give directions. A number 11 bus from bus stop S was what I needed and I was soon riding the streets at the top of a double decker like I’d been doing it all my life.
The cathedral was really impressive. (But I still like Westminster Abbey the best.) The space was huge and it shimmered with light. I took a short guided tour and he said that Sir Christopher Wren wanted it to be a cathedral of light, so there were no stained glass windows and a lot of what you initially think are paintings are actually mosaics made of beads of glass. When you look at them they glitter and shimmer. It’s absolutely fantastic.
They have a statue of John Donne that the guide said was the only statue to survive the Great Fire of London in 1666. It’s true that you can still see scorch marks on the urn beneath him. When the Blitz started in WWII the dean of the time ordered that it be removed down into the Crypt for safe keeping, surrounded by sandbags. He’d sleep beside it every night, saying that anything that could survive the Great Fire wasn’t going to be disturbed by a mere world war!
This plaque was casually on the wall just before the exit. Look at the names on it! The History!
And the clotted cream with scones and jam reared its head again. This time I tried eating it the way Deana and Scott both said to do it, with the cream underneath the jam.
They’re both barking mad. You couldn’t taste the clotted cream, it wasn’t fun and decadent… they’re crazy. It was like eating a jam sandwich. With scones.
After i took the photo of the scones, I saw this on the inside of the lid from the strawberry jam. I sat there and smiled. Yes, it certainly is. 🙂
Tomorrow I start on my 9 day tour of the middle bits of England, Wales and then up to Scotland where I’ll meet another blogging friend.