Anniversary Shenanigans......

Our 45th wedding anniversary came about on September 23rd and was followed by weeping and wailing great rejoicing throughout the land. We had a pub lunch near Carnforth with my Dad and a couple of friends, (Tom and Chris) on the day itself.

The next day we met up with Iris' nieces Maisie, Jane and her namesake Iris, in Birkenhead where we had a nice lunch and day together. It was lovely to see them and to see what a nice job they've made of their maisonette.

The following day we went up to London by train, where we met up with our two daughters Jess and J, plus Julien. The only absentee was Paul who is forgiven, as it is a long way from Hawaii.

The first day in London was notable for the fact that we couldn't find our hotel. We had the information in our computer but the wifi was "down" on the train and although we knew the nearest tube station to the hotel, we couldn't find a local wifi to get the street address. Eventually we texted J and she looked up the address on her smartphone.

The hotel was, (as it would be), very close to where we had walked around for about an hour and was bang in the middle of the Canary Wharf district.

The floating bridge across the West India Dock, (about 50 yards from the hotel), right next to where we had breakfast.

Breakfast in the sunshine. We've had weather like this for the last two weeks, can't believe it's nearly October!.

Here's a church with a difference. An old barge moored in the West India Dock. At night it's lit up with an illuminated cross. Unfortunately, it only opens for services, so we couldn't get a look inside.

Our regular walk to the tube passed through Cabot Square where we came across this small child, (again), sitting with a bronze statue of two adults!

On our first evening we went over to Southwark, (in the shadow of the Shard), for dinner.

The Shard, London's tallest building, from Southwark Road.

 

After getting lost between the tube and the pub, we eventually found the pub where we met with Jess, J, Julien, Jo (Schmo) and Liz. We had a couple of drinks in the "garden bar", that had some curious non-garden smells wafting through from time-to-time, followed by our meal in a semi-private room.

The first time I went to the bar, I was served by a young woman, who when I asked her for a pint of draught beer said "what's that"?
I said something like "er, you know, beer that comes out of a barrel via a pump".
"Oh" she said, suddenly enlightened, "Tap beer".
"Yes", said I, "I'll have a pint of that".
"Sorry, we only have bottled"! Doh!!
We then turned to the question of wine and I asked for a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. "Is that red or white" she asked?
At this point, I began banging my head on the bar but out of sheer politeness stopped when she explained that it was her first night on duty, so I decided to forgive her and drink whatever was served up.

Our meal was a somewhat raucous affair, (thanks mainly to Jo Schmo), but it was good to get together with a group of young Kiwis (and a Luxembourger) who are making a success of their careers in Europe, where only the truly talented survive.

The next day was a more subdued affair and we went for a walk around the Westminster area which was absolutely bursting at the seams with tourists.

Big Ben was of course, an unavoidable sight. We heard it strike 1 and 2 while we were there. It sounds quite similar to the one on the TV and Radio too, who'd a thought it?

Walking around the corner from Big Ben we came across another church with a sundial. Until a couple of weeks ago we'd never seen sundials on churches at all, then blow me down, here's another. This one was telling the time correct to within a half-hour or so.

The sundial indicating about a quarter to two, (I think).

We had intended to go into Westminster Abbey but it closed at 130pm. It was still open to worshippers, but not wanting to be hypocritical, we declined. The "Evensong" service was held at the un-evening time of 3pm.

 

We then walked through the alley by Westminster School, (which is usually closed) and this allowed us a glimpse into the world of expensive public school territory. There wasn't much to see except for an old fashioned school playground, (a paved square, walled in, with no grass to be seen). We continued past the school and arrived at the Houses of Parliament.

 

 

In the grounds of parliament were two statues; one of Richard the Lionheart and one of Oliver Cromwell. These two are rather contrasting figures to say the least. Richard wouldn't have recognised the concept of a parliament in its modern form if it threw him from his horse, but because of his "warrior" reputation, he is endeared to the English public. In actual fact, he was one of the worst ever monarchs, (and believe me, there have been some right royal arseholes), the kingdom has ever had to endure. Somehow his brother John, who succeeded him, managed to get an even worse reputation.

Doesn't Richard make a striking figure? If you remember from an earlier post, we came across his tomb in Rouen, where his heart was buried.

Cromwell on the other hand was the great Parliamentarian leader who overthrew Charles I and then tried and executed him. Although many English historians and most of the English establishment has spent the last 350 years denigrating Cromwell, he remains one of the great figures in English history. Charles Stuart was, (in my opinion), the nastiest piece of work who ever inherited the kingdom. If you don't believe me, examine his record. His trial and execution established the legal principles to the effect that a head or heads of government do not enjoy immunity from crimes against humanity whether they are their subjects or others. Charles' only defence to the charges against him, was that as a monarch, he was only answerable to the god that appointed him. Next time you are in court, try the same argument and see how far that gets you.

Cromwell, somewhat appropriately looming over the lion. Considering what the royalists did to Cromwell's grave and body, after the restoration of the monarchy, it's quite amazing that his statue was ever raised in the grounds of parliament.

After our afternoon jaunt around Westminster we returned to Canary Wharf and then after dressing for dinner we headed for a Michelin Star restaurant for our family (anniversary) dinner. The restaurant was called "Lima" and its focus was on Peruvian cuisine. (I knew Lima is the capital of Peru but I didn't know there is a distinct Peruvian cuisine). Iris and I managed of course to get lost on the way to the restaurant, when we got off at the wrong tube station and then had to navigate a mile or so on foot. We made it just as the others were on their 12th round of drinks.

The first taste we had after we arrived, was a Peruvian cocktail called "Pisco Sours".  I thought at first that Pisco was the name of the brewer, but apparently it is a kind of Peruvian whisky. The drink consists of Pisco, Lemon and whisked egg white.

Me and Iris, with Pisco in hand. You can just see the egg-white froth, if you look closely.

J, J, J, J and I, enjoying our family dinner.

We had a variety of dishes, all very cutely presented and it was usually impossible to tell exactly what you were eating. I certainly can't remember what most of them were called.
There was the odd exception, such as "4000 metre potato". This is a type of potato grown at great height (above 4000m altitude). There was also "blue potato" which apparently we ordered and ate but it definitely wasn't blue!

Here are a few examples of the offerings. It's hard to remember which was sweet and which was savoury.

 

This last one (I think) is the dish that contained the "blue potato"

At the conclusion of our dinner we headed back to the hotel on the tube. One of the things about London is the varied languages, cultures and styles that you encounter everywhere.

A couple of the more stylish young ladies that we came across.

 

The next morning we all met up again for brunch near St. Pancras station, before J and J headed back on the Eurostar to Brussels and we headed north from Euston. We had a couple of hours in hand so we stopped for a quick look around the British Library. For me, the treasures room of the library is one of the "must see" parts of the capital.

The display is changed subtly over time, so is always fresh. I was a bit disappointed that Aethelstan's will had been taken off display but I was absolutely delighted to find two books that had been mentioned in Durham Cathedral during our visit a few weeks ago.

The Lindisfarne Gospels. Unfortunately, the book was open at an unilluminated page, but is still a very special document. It is believed to be the work of a monk, Eadfrith, who died in 721AD. Eadfrith may have met St. Cuthbert, who died in about 687AD.

Saint Cuthbert's prayerbook. This little leatherbound book was removed from his coffin in about 1100AD when his coffin was opened prior to re-interment at Durham Cathedral. The book looks to be in amazing condition seeing as it is nearly 1350 years old.

And that concluded our visit to London, except that when we got to Euston and were about to board our train, Iris remembered that we had left some cash in the safe in our hotel room on the other side of London. Cue a tube-dash back to Canary Wharf, where luckily the money was still "safe".