Today, I am to meet Lisa at Victoria station where she will come in from Gatwick. I slept fitfully; waking at 6:00 AM, then again at 6:30. I finally get up at 7:20 and go down to breakfast. I am uncertain what time Lisa will arrive. Her flight lands at 7:50, but by the time she goes through customs, gets her luggage, finds the train, and gets into Victoria, I think it can’t be before 10:00 AM. But as I walk into the station just after 9:00 AM, she is already there waiting. We hug. I am so excited that she is here.
We walk back to the hotel. Lisa unpacks and gets settled in, and then we are off on our London adventure.
First up is Buckingham Palace, not far from Victoria station, for the Changing of the Guard. It is a small crowd today. We have a great spot at the main gate with only a few other tourists in front of us. The new regiment of the Queen’s guard relieves the old. They go through the ceremony with much ritual. We watch for about 40 minutes. When the Queen’s band strikes up music from A Chorus Line, Lisa and I look at each in amazement. We can’t believe the Queen knows about this! Her standard is flying this morning, so she must have arrived back in London last night. It is quite cold and we leave before the band finishes.
We next walk to Westminster Abbey where a lovely choir is singing. We look at the tombs of kings and queens—Queen Elizabeth I, Mary Queen of Scots, Henry VII—and poets and novelists—Chaucer, Byron, Dickens, Austen.
Some of the tombs are quite elaborate—especially those for Royalty—marble pillars support massive arched, stone canopies that cover carved effigies of the monarchs with black iron ornamental railings enclosing them. I am surprised that Mary Queen of Scots’ tomb is grander and more ornate than that of Queen Elizabeth I until I read that King James I erected them both. Although he was Elizabeth’s heir, Mary was his mother. Deadly rivals in life, Elizabeth and Mary now rest near to each other for eternity.
Lisa tells me that Longfellow is buried here, which I did not know. I ask a group of guides where he is. “Who?” Two of them have never heard of him, but the third says, “Yes, he is buried here.” He looks up the Maine poet’s location in a big reference book only to discover that Longfellow is actually buried in Cambridge MA. But there is a memorial statue of him here at Westminster.
The engraved commemoration at the base of Longfellow’s statue says, “This bust was placed amongst the memorials of the poets of England by the English admirers of the American poet.” Apparently, the British loved Longfellow; in his day, he was second only to Tennyson in popularity. The guide takes us to his memorial—a white marble bust with his handsome beard—and kindly asks if we want a picture, even though photography is not allowed.
Lisa loves Westminster Abbey. She’s says it is very gothic and impressive.
As we walk towards Whitehall Street, I tell Lisa to prepare herself for a spectacular view—Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament light up the night and reflect a warm, watery glow on the Thames like a Monet painting. I never get tired of this view! Tonight, there is a lighted Christmas tree in front of Big Ben.
Lisa says out of the blue, “Let’s go to Chinatown for dinner.” We take the tube to Leicester Square, and just one block away from the theater district, we stroll into the maze of exotic shops and restaurants. It is fun. I have not been here before. We go into the Chinese specialty food stores and look at all the unusual products; like whole dried ducks on a stick. At random, we pick one of the many Chinese restaurants lining the streets—Kowloon—and have a tasty noodle dish and a chicken and mushroom one.
After dinner, walking back to Leicester Square, I notice a large black Rolls Royce with the Queen’s standard on top. It is a Royal car! It is parked in front of the Warner Brothers Theater where a sign announces the charity premiere of “The Iron Man” attended by HRH Duke of York. We wait for more than hour for him to come out.
Suddenly, from what seems like nowhere, the paparazzi appear and the Rolls pulls right up to the curb in front of the theater about five feet from where we stand. Prince Andrew emerges from the theater followed by his young daughters, Beatrice and Eugenie, and behind them, Sarah, their mother.
Everything becomes animated all at once as the photographers jostle for better angles and call out the children’s names to try and get them to look up. I am right in the mix. First Andrew, then the others climb into the car on the opposite side from me and, as they slide over on the seats in my direction, I snap pictures of them through the backseat windows. I snap off about seven pictures in about 45 seconds without taking time to frame them. I hope they come out. And then, the car glides away and the photographers melt into the side streets and it is as if nothing had happened. The street is quiet once again with a few tourists and late-night night diners.
I am thrilled. Even Lisa is excited. It is very cool.
Lisa is still going strong—seemingly not jetlagged at all. Just outside of Victoria station we find an internet café and Lisa sends some emails. A man, seeing how fast Lisa types, asks her to type and send a letter for him and she agrees. It is a letter to the Canadian Counsel about his being deported. He is denying charges that he abused his wife and is asking to see his kids. Lisa, a lawyer, can actually help him and she handles him like a pro. It takes nearly an hour. We finally walk back to our room. Lisa, still not tired, takes a shower and we write in our journals. It is midnight before we turn off the light.
Jody’s UK Memories 