Take Them to the Tower ... er, Towers!

Towers and Bridges and Monuments, Oh My!

10AM, GMT: It's a slow start this morning. Jay's Asian-English hybrid bird flu is worse and I think he may even have begun sprouting feathers. This is indeed a disturbing development, but I'm even more disturbed a moment later by a truly horrifying discovery:

I'M OUT OF CHAPSTICK!!!

There is no way that I can confront the wonders of the past with dry, parched lips. In order to avert a vacation disaster we're going to have to brave that arcade across the street and see if we can find any familiar products that will restore Jay to health and keep my lips encased in a protective wax coating.

10:30AM, GMT: We are out of our league. The few products that we do recognize don't seem to have any truly active ingredients that will provide Jay relief while the best Chapstick variant I can find is a Nutrogena Norwegian Formula lip moisturizer. All I can say about the product after using it is that the Norwegians must not need to moisturize their lips very often because this stuff is about as effective as a crayon and doesn't taste nearly as good.

11AM, GMT: Coffee and over-the-counter drugs in hand, we head for Tower Hill via the tube. It's time for some historical gawking! We emerge from beneath the city into a cold, windy area with surprisingly vibrant green grass. Jay and I consult our handy guide book and discover that we are in Trinity Square Gardens, an enclave with garden beds and lawns as well as memorials to Merchant Seamen who died in WWI and WWII and those unfortunates who met their ends on the Tower Hill scaffold.

Trinity Square Gardens


The Tower of London


Smile, that's history behind you!


11:30AM, GMT: The Tower of London ... or more appropriately The Towers of London because if memory serves there were actually something like 21 towers within the complex. We decide to take our own tour rather than joining the Yeoman tour so we can move at our own pace. The Tower is approximately 1,000 years old and is in stunningly good condition considering its age. They don't make 'em like this anymore and I'm pretty sure they never made 'em like this back in the States.

We walk the outer walls in order to get a good overview of the perimeter and this allows us to wander in and out of many towers as well as the Medieval Palace. There are all kinds of things to see and we realize very quickly that we will not be making a side trip to Greenwich today to see Auntie and Uncle Meridian and all the little Meridians. We gawk at the Crown Jewels, wander through the Fusiliers museum, and spend all of five minutes in the Bloody Tower. To quote Jay, "It could have been bloodier."

There was even an exhibit that showcased the various armor of royalty through the ages. Our favorite was Henry VIII's .... just check out his codpiece!

The White Tower


A view


Walking the walls


Health standards don't seem to have changed much


Jay even manages to look good in a metal hat


The City of London


Beefeaters


Come inside for a look at the Family Jewels


Quoth the Raven: eat my shorts!


Henry VIII's armor ... he had a high opinion of his junk!


Once Jay and I finish wandering around the fortress we decide to check out the Tower Bridge. Don't be fooled ... this bridge isn't nearly as old as the Tower of London; in fact it's only a bit more than a century old but is pretty damn awesome looking, entrance is covered by our London Passes, and it will get us out of the cold, windy weather for a while so that we can begin the thawing process.

Tower Bridge


Tower Bridge


Did I mention we saw a bridge?


Is that blue sky???


The enclosed walkway is really the best part of the entire exhibit - the views of London and the Thames are amazing ... even with gray skies. Jay and I get a big laugh out of the showcase of "specialty" bridges from around the world because it includes the Eads Bridge here in Stinktown that spans the Mississippi River between Illinois and downtown St. Louis.

Lookie there!


Hey Ma, it's London!


The Thames


London


2PM, GMT: We are hungry. There looks to be some interesting stuff lining Butler's Wharf on the opposite side of the Thames from where we started our wanderings, so we decide to poke. Jay and I are charmed by the cobblestone streets, and crooked alleyways, and vendors selling hot chestnuts.

This is what we were looking for!


We find a place named All Bar One that has a decent looking menu and a sparkling bar - we have dinner plans at Jamie Oliver's later in the evening so exercise some restraint when it comes to ordering food and drinks. Jay chooses a London Pride and a plate of bangers and mash while I opt for fish and chips with a Suffolk Cider. The food and service are quite good - we both begin to revive fairly quickly and plan one final historic attraction visit for the day: The Monument.

All Bar One ...


The Bar ... yeah baby!


The beer taps that Andrew told us about ... it makes yummy pints!


Double dipping again!


Bangers and Mash


Fish and Chips


4PM, GMT: It's not just a monument; it's The Monument. A stone column topped by gilded flames that was designed by Christopher Wren to commemorate the Great Fire of London, it's 202 feet tall and in order to reach the top insane tourists must climb 300 circular stairs ... without passing out or having a coronary event. The place is busier than we expect but now here, Jay and I have no choice but to start climbing. It's a tough slog but worth the effort. We definitely earn our dinner and drinks tonight!

The Monument


I think I see the fires of hell ...


Could someone get me a drink?


Best not to look, really ...


Hard work made me quit


I need my smelling salts!


The very tip top with a golden flame


London


And London


Why not deploy the super happy fun slide for those of us on the way down?


Certificate of historic stair climbing achievement


We were just there!


5PM, GMT: Stair master workout complete for the day, Jay and I head over to Jamie Oliver's Fifteen Restaurant a little early in order to quench our thirst. Here's the link to our dinner at Fifteen for anyone who'd like to take a look. It was a terrific meal!

http://oybolshoi-gastropodtravels.blogspot.com/2012/02/fifteen-london-yes-i-said-london.html

It's Our First Day, Part II ...

Carriage Rides at Midnight ... I Do Not Think This Means What You Think It Means.

12:30PM, GMT: Our clothes for the wedding are hopelessly wrinkled, even after spending the night hanging free and easy in the wardrobe. There is no iron to be found in the room and quite frankly, I don't care. Jay and I decide to embrace the role of crumpy, frumpy, Midwest bumpkins; besides, no one will be looking at us so it really makes no difference as long we're not throwing off stink lines a la Pigpen.

Pigpen ... not us


Our local English sources informed us months in advance that wedding receptions in Britain vary somewhat from those that we are accustomed to in the States. We've been disabused of the notion that there will be an open bar and have been alerted to the fact that words and phrases will be in play that do not mean what we, or Merriam-Webster, think they mean.

For example, the reception is not always referred to as a reception. Instead, the term wedding breakfast may be used. But don't be fooled - a wedding breakfast is a dinner given to the bride, groom, and their guests after the wedding. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, oatmeal, and orange juice do not make an appearance. This is indeed a puzzlement.

Turns out the wedding breakfast is a nod to tradition. Who doesn't like tradition? I do; it always makes me think of Fiddler on the Roof.

So what's the tradition here? Back in the pre-Reformation days the wedding service was always a Mass; therefore, the bride and groom would fast before the wedding and would then break their fast upon the ceremony's completion, hence the term wedding breakfast. Yes, Virginia, back in the old days you weren't allowed to take communion if you ate after daybreak.

Another interesting morsel of knowledge ... invitations often have a phrase printed on them that reads: carriages at midnight. When Jay and I first read that on our invite, the joint Stinktown response was, "A carriage ride at midnight in London ... how cool is that?"

It probably would have been quite cool, both literally and figuratively, if "carriages at midnight" meant what we thought it did. But as you've probably guessed by now, it did not. It's a polite, traditional way of saying, "The party's over at midnight and we're releasing the hounds, so get the hell out!"

Our essential takeaway, reinforced by a friend from Northern England, is: best just keep your mouths shut (especially you, Brenda) and enjoy a drink or two. With this sage advice in mind, we load up the special occasion flask with strong American bourbon and make our way back to the Tube for the next leg of our adventure.

A necessary provision


2PM, GMT: The wedding is being held at the Church of Saint Anselm and Saint Cecilia in Kingsway. We find it easily thanks to clearly written directions provided by the bride and groom and it's a charming, early 20th Century church - the building dates back to 1909 but there has been a Roman Catholic Church on this site for something like 300 years.

Jay and I have a quick family reunion with the small US contingent that has made the journey across the sea back to the Mother Country and then it's time for the ceremony. It's a lovely, thoughtful, and moving wedding with a choir that provides wonderful, uplifting music that even the most cynical and non-religious guests can enjoy.

Lauren, the lovely bride, being escorted down the aisle by her dad


4PM, GMT: Wonderful, warm, luxurious coaches (AKA charter buses in America) provide transport for guests from the church to the private club where the reception / wedding breakfast is being held. This is a kind, thoughtful gesture on someone's part and we truly appreciate it. The drive from Kingsway to Pall Mall also serves as a kind of of city tour for Jason and me and we oooooohh and ahhhhhhhhhh as we pass Trafalgar Square and various museums and the Eleanor Cross outside of Charing Cross Station.

We gawk even more upon entering the Club, which looks like a museum in its own right and is a male domain limited to graduates of certain prestigious English universities. They don't make 'em like this in Stinktown; and even if they did, we certainly don't travel in those social circles. Now that I think about it, we don't even have a social circle ... what Jay and I have is more like a wide reaching, insidious fog.

There are strict rules to be followed in the Club, among them no photography other than in the Coffee Room, Smoking Room, and Reception Room. I now feel like we are in the midst of a live game of Clue, turn to Jay and say, "Colonel Mustard did it in the Library with a first edition of Thackery's Vanity Fair."

Although we're not supposed to wander about, I do seize an opportunity to slip into the Library and ogle the books for a few moments. I breathe in the slightly musty scent of old volumes and wander around the shelves before I remember that I'm not supposed to be in here fondling centuries of accumulated knowledge. I beat a hasty retreat so that Jay and I can join the rest of the guests for the clinking of champagne glasses.

Congrats to Lauren & Matthew!


Impromptu family portrait


Hoovers Doovers!


The reception room


I don't know who this was but he looks better in tights than I do


5PM, GMT: The call for family pictures pulls us back downstairs and by the time we're finished we've missed the champagne refill. Jay offers to share his bourbon but since there are four of us who thirst for a drink we decide to go find the bar. On the way downstairs I spot a saucy statue wearing a hat and leaning on a sword with his junk hanging out for all the world to admire and pose for what may be the most immature and inappropriate photo ever taken on the Club's main staircase. So much for being on my good behavior.

Have I shown you this ...?


Some people are sooooo immature!


6PM, GMT: The surliest Eastern European bartender known to man works at the Club and he is not happy when we wander in to place a drink order, even though we're the only people in the bar. First he tells us that our bar will open at 11PM that evening ... then he lectures us on the decline of the American nation ... and then he makes me the best damn Pimm's Cup I've ever had.

Jay snaps a picture at my request only to have Surly Joe bark that photography is not allowed. We then receive a lecture on how inadequate the protection is on our credit cards ... what with the lack of an embedded chip, and no photo ID requirement, and not even a pin number to verify the authenticity of a transaction. We've been in London for less than 48 hours and we're already sick and tired of this song. As we take our drinks and head back to the dining room Jay leans down and whispers to me, "The city of London has been around for two thousand years and he wants to lecture us about credit card security when they can't even figure out how to utilize technology that combines hot and cold water into one faucet?"

I giggle and snort Pimm's simultaneously.

Beautiful bride Lauren and her handsome, distracted groom


9PM, GMT: Dinner was a tasty three-course affair with wine, followed by wedding cake and other sweets served in an upstairs reception room. Jay and I don't linger long, however, because a ceilidh is starting in the main room where we had dinner. Not only are we curious as to what this is, but we'd like to know how to pronounce it, too.

It ends up being the forefather of American square dancing! And it's pronounced kay-lee (at least that's how it sounded to us). And there is a lovely young lady walking everyone through the steps. Jay and I watch the first dance and then decide to take the plunge before the dances get any more difficult ... which they do. We choose what looks to be a safe spot among the circle of dancers and find ourselves next to the groom's parents. I warn them that I'm not particularly graceful and they might want to give us some extra room.

They laugh politely, "Don't you worry ... it will be fine."

Five minutes into the dance yours truly gets turned around, steps the wrong way, and accidentally elbows the groom's mother right in the side of her head. I feel terrible, and judging by the way my elbow is smarting, so does she. I apologize repeatedly and once the song is over, let Jay lead me from the floor. Now I remember why we don't usually dance ... I'm a menace.

Graceful young people having fun with a Ceilidh


10PM, GMT: Jay and I make our exit, bidding goodbye to Lauren and other members of our family that we will likely not see again until we get back to the US. We hail a cab outside the club and it must be the cleanest vehicle known to man. There's not a spec of dust or dried goo to be found and it doesn't reek of smoke; in fact, it doesn't reek of anything. Our driver is so polite that when we try to tip him he says we're being too generous.

Too generous?

We love London.