Guards, Pipes & Towers

We began the day at Buckingham Palace with the throngs of people trying to get a spot to be able to watch the changing of the guard. Luckily it is not easily missed, and lasts for more than half an hour. Those brass players had to play for quite a while! The flag flying above the palace told us that Her Majesty was in fact there that day, but no--we did not see her.

After walking and watching, and walking and watching, and taking pictures of tourists for them with the guards, we went out in search of a pipe shop. Andrew was told that during his studies, he may find need for an occasional pipe smoke with his colleagues, and London seemed the place to find one. The shop had copies of documents showing that Oscar Wilde shopped there, but also that he owed them money when he went bankrupt. It didn't look like they suffered from it!

And thus we wandered some more, and came across a department store that looked interesting... for good reason. I heard after the fact that they are the royal grocers, and apparently that's a big deal. So first we wandered around looking at all the chocolate truffles, but little did we know what we would find downstairs. The actual grocery section was beautiful--cheeses in beautifully painted canisters, pastries, canned foie gras, dry aged iberico ham (we were even offered a sample--the deliciousness lasted at least ten minutes in my mouth!), all sorts of spices, and some really expensive scotch (10,000 GBP?)

Upstairs, we found the hat shop. These were far more works of art to us than hats. We also were not allowed to try them on--a pity.

The grand stairway for the 5 floors

We laboriously chose which truffles to buy just to eat as we exited Fortnum & Mason's, but when we asked the lady at the counter which were her favourite, she handed us two more of the gin-lime truffles. Oh delicious! We wandered further down Picadilly and encountered a market at St. James Anglican, where we gladly took the chance to sit and rest a bit.

At this point, we realized that we needed to hurry over to Somerset House so as not to miss seeing Andrew's favourite artist's paintings--here he is with the card players by Cezanne.

And because it seemed right, here are two men with pipes.

My favourite at this exhibit was 'Woman tying her shoes' here by Renoir.

The stairwell at Somerset House

One more rest on the grounds before we continued. The fountains were not running this time because they were setting up for a concert series in the courtyard. Too bad!

Right next door, we came across King's College, and thought--hey--John goes there--and walked through the buildings a bit. While trying to find a way out, we found a completely blocked staircase, and then a midget door.

Just a little north down the river, we found Temple Church. To quote the historical notes in the square:

"The Temple began as an outpost of the Knights Templars, an Order founded to protect pilgrims to the Holy Land. Soon after the Templars' spectacular downfall early in the 14th century, lawyers started moving into the premises. Today, the Temple comprises two of the four Inns of Court, providing barristers' officesm training and dining facilities, a few residential flats, gardens, and a church."

No wonder we felt underdressed! We were also witness to a private garden party of the World Gold Council. Thankfully when we sat down at the park for dinner, the pigeons did not judge us. They were concerned with fighting over some hard cookies someone had left, but they need to bash at them with their beaks to be able to eat any. It was quite the sight.

We left in search of London Bridge, which we found out was different from the Tower of London, and different yet from Tower Bridge. I won't expound much about how we felt by the end of this adventure, but we managed to smile for the photo, and drag our sore feet to the nearest tube stop for the ride home.

From the last place we stayed in London, I show you our host's little friend, Tudor. Such a small dog! Our host was a Brazilian who moved to London, and worked as a hairdresser. Tudor hung our while we watched the sad sad World Cup soccer games.