London Calling

Well, I was in London last week for a World Council of Churches meeting. I would have blogged if I had had a reliable wireless, but that was not to be. So here's my week in London, bloggy-style.

First off, it was spring, with no teasing like we've had here. This wisteria bloomed outside my bedroom window in the Limehouse area of the East End:

Blackbirds hung out here every morning. At first it was charming but pretty quickly I had to resort to earplugs in order to sleep past 4:00 am.

A little further east, in Greenwich, the cherry trees were in full and fragrant bloom:

And I crossed the divide between East and West. Here I am stepping over the Greenwich Meridian.

One day I took the bus into The City. The top of a double-decker is a great way to sightsee. We rode past London Bridge and the Tower of London, where we saw a raven (so the kingdom is still safe), then up Fleet Street and past this nice little church:

Yup, that's St. Paul's.

But then we hit London traffic and as this row of bus after bus after bus tells you, it was easier (and quicker) to get out and walk.

Even the taxis think so:

By the way, in the background you can see an outlet of the sandwich shop chain Pret A Manger, which makes absolutely wicked sandwiches. I ate there as much as possible. Their apple juice is tart and sweet at the same time, and nothing goes better with one of their sarnies than a bag of parsnip crisps!

This part of London if full of history and art, often both in the same moment. Right now outside the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square there is Marc Quinn's marble statue of the artist Alison Lapper, who was born with no arms and shortened legs, and who was pregnant with her son when she modelled for the piece.

It caused quite a stir, this image of a different kind of strength and bravery in a very traditional square that is a monument of military strength and heroism.

A little further, walking up Whitehall towards Parliament and Westminster Abbey, there is a bronze monument erected in 2005 in honour of the women of World War Two.

I particularly like it from this vantage point, dwarfing the statue of Field Marshall Montgomery on the other side of the road.

It's a wall with women's clothing hanging from pegs: nurses', ambulance drivers', air raid wardens' and military uniforms, factory overalls and aprons.

This monument is one of my favourite things in London. It stops people dead in their tracks, which is actually a dangerous thing, because if you stop too dead in your tracks in the middle of Whitehall, you'll really be dead in your tracks.

Further up the street, Parliament and Big Ben. I got here at about noon, and called Kelly from a red phone booth. She could faintly hear when Big Ben started to chime, so I pulled open the door and stuck the receiver outside. Most of the people walking by looked like they thought I was crazy, but I also got a few appreciative grins.

Naively, I suppose, I was shocked by the level of security at Number 10 Downing Street and the Houses of Parliament: legacies of the IRA years, 9-11, and 7-7.

Downing Street is not even indicated on maps, and when you go past it as you walk up Whitehall, this is what you are greeted with:

This policeman outside Parliament was quite cheerful and pleasant with all the tourists, but had his finger on the trigger the whole time.

Last stop in this area was Westminster Abbey.

The shared tomb of Mary I and Elizabeth I and the the tomb of Mary Queen of Scots were surprisingly moving. So were the sculptures of twentieth century martyrs above the west entrance. Here are Martin Luther King Jr and Oscar Romero:

A group of us from the meeting went back on Sunday for evensong. It was kind of eery, sitting and listening to the choir in that ancient church. Then came the sermon, which was even more eery: Prince William and Kate Middleton, torn apart and hearts broken (or not) are like the apostles on the Road to Emmaus. I think my mouth actually hung open. No wonder the Church of England is in trouble.

I also took a spin around Notting Hill, where I discovered that the charming little film of the same name must have been filmed on entirely one side of the street, which was filled with charming and slightly hippyish houses such as these:

The other side of the street appeared pretty much to be council housing. Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts were nowhere to be found.

This place made me think of home:

And what would a trip to London be without food? I didn't have too much opportunity to eat out this time, given that most of my time was spent in the meeting, but I did get some good international grocery shopping done. Tea, of course, and chocolate, as well as cheese and an interesting assortment of crackers. Charcoal biscuits for cheese, anyone? I kid you not.

I took a happy spin through the Harrods Food Hall.

Next time I might become a barfly:

This is my favourite counter at Harrod's -- the bacon counter. This is only half of it. And you should see the sausages.

Breaks my heart that I couldn't bring any of it home.