London January 2025 #6

Fiascos, Health, London, Mobility, Personal, Travel, UK

It was Westminster Abbey day!

Hooo … am I tired! Tomorrow I’m off to the airport hotel, which sounds dreary, but it will be very nice. It’s supposed to be a quite decent hotel, and it’s attached directly to the airport. This way, I’m already there for my flight the next day, no rushing, no public transportation issues, another spa day.

A foggy, wet day; but no actual rain. Just a light wetting-you mist. Well, ya know. Fog.

“A foggy day in London Town
Had me low and had me down
I viewed the morning with alarm
The British Museum had lost its charm.”

A bit of a rant today concerning the visit. It’s an entertaining and surprising rant, but if you’d like to skip it, just scroll down to the photos.

Lots of walking and standing today, and I’d have to say unfortunately, Westminster Abbey does disabilities very poorly. I went 15 minutes before opening, and after I’d walked around the large yard to get to the main entrance line. The employee out front sort of talked in circles when I asked whether there was a disabled entrance. I was tired of asking about it (and I was already there), so I waited in the line with the normals. They opened at 9:30 on the mark, but all the folks that worked there already seemed very much “on guard.”

When I didn’t want a free tour headset, the person-wearing-a-robe kept going on and on about it. After two or three go-rounds, her last sentence to me was, “But why don’t you have an audio guide?” Um, hello? I guess they don’t like people to refuse headsets. Maybe we try to talk to them too much otherwise. That impression was further confirmed as the day progressed.

Of all of the places I’ve visited in the past week, The Abbey staff has been the least friendly/helpful by far. And I’m not even very needy or demanding. The Docklands Museum and Southwark Cathedral absolutely both destroy Westminster Abbey in this respect. (I should mention, I had a very nice conversation about Jenny Lind with the lovely young headset-collector woman in Poets’ Corner.)

Later, after saying the same thing three or four times to different docents before they “got” what I was talking about, I realized they’re programmed to parrot this and that, and prefer not to be bothered; that I couldn’t possibly have anything useful or interesting to mention. In one instance, I mentioned a fact about some burials in the Stuart aisle of the Lady Chapel. She disagreed. I told her she should really read her very own Dean Stanley’s book … he documented all the royal burials in the mid-1800s.

At one point, I really needed to sit down (or fall down) for a while. I explained to a verger/docent/person. She told me I had to walk all the way around to get the 24 inches forward to where she was standing next to the chairs, rather than just picking up the rope hook for literally two or three seconds.

I was briefly in the vicinity of one absolutely hysterical docent — every time you took a step towards him, he either exaggeratedly turned his head the other way or walked to another corner. (For real. I tried it a few times to make sure. LOL)

This kind of crap filters down through the layers, and of course, as they’ll often remind you, this is first and foremost, a place of worship. As a career churchy myself, to say I was less-than-impressed is a gross understatement. And I’m looking at you, Dean Hoyle.

That’s plenty of complaining for today! Let’s look at some awesome pictures! I took dozens and dozens, so we’ll just do the highlights here.

I guess I can now say that I was once in the quire at Westminster Abbey

Chaucer’s tomb. Interestingly, he was not interred here as a great poet, but due to his job as an upper-level government functionary.

QEI — The lady, the myth, the legend. (She’s not in the box. She’s stacked in the crypt underneath below the floor, with her sister Queen Mary. Elizabeth is on top. Poetic justice.

Remarkably preserved medieval paintings!

I’m a bit of a scholar on the subject, I’ve done my own research, I’ve read Dean Stanley’s book(s) at least two or three times, and I’ve been to the Abbey in person several times, this being my last.

Yes, sure, I felt a little unwelcome. Big deal. However, combined with feeling physically uncomfortable without any way of helping myself, I don’t need to return. There was an Evensong later in the day I’d considered, but I hopped on the boat for an afternoon cruise instead.

One of the crew came over to me (a few of them know me by now) to mention that a more comfortable window seat had just opened up on the starboard side, and I realized that I felt very much more welcome on the Uber Boat than inside Westminster Abbey.

Eh. Can’t win ’em all.

London January 2025 #5

London, Mobility, Theatre, Travel, UK

It’s Spa Day … ahhhh.

It was a big walking day yesterday, and I was out from around 10 to 4. That’s a very big day for me, and an even bigger day for my nervy feet.

Ergo, I turned my alarm off, decided I could sleep as late as I liked, and decided the single event of the day would be eating at The Anchor, which is directly downstairs.

Maybe I’ll sit by the river a bit.

The Tate Modern (a notable contemporary art museum) is less than a five minute walk; but unsurprisingly, I couldn’t be less interested. It’s interesting that it’s built in a former power plant, but for me, it ends there.

(That chunk in the front is the new part.)

I stayed in bed until 11 AM, and then ran myself a hot bath in the big bathtub. Wonderful!

The Anchor is an Elizabethan Era tavern and inn. Lotso famous people did lotso famous things there. It’s the sole survivor of the riverside inns that existed in Shakespeare’s day, when this area was the heart of theatreland. It was frequented by Shakespeare, Hemings, Burbage, surely almost all the actors from the Globe, the Swan and the Rose, and probably my 14th great grandfather.

All three theaters were literally within shouting distance of the tavern. It’s where Samuel Pepys (one of the greatest diarists of his own or any other era) observed the Great Fire of London in 1666. He took a quick boat ride across the river to “a little alehouse on bankside … and there watched the fire grow.”

Artist *Lieve Verschier*, via *The Museum of Budapest*

After the area faded from popularity as the theatrical center, it became very handy for smugglers and pirates. During the 19th century, a large beam fell and was replaced, revealing hidden rooms, fairly obviously created as hiding places for stolen goods.

I’m now back after an early dinner at The Anchor and a run by the café to grab an afternoon latte. Dinner was fine.

Don’t get me wrong, it was beautifully prepared and very nicely done, but I really wanted shepherds or cottage pie, and they didn’t have that. Which struck me as a bit weird for a major tourist pub. I had a steak and ale pie with mash. It was excellently prepared, but I wasn’t crazy about it. I ate half of it, and brought the rest back to the room. Might eat it, might not. I stole a fork on purpose. I put it in my takeout container. I’ll give it back tomorrow. That’s what they get for not having shepherds pie.

My leg and feet feel pretty good for this time of day. Awesome, since tomorrow will be a big walking day — I’ve already got entry tickets to Westminster Abbey and the additional exhibition with the centuries-old funeral effigies of the monarchs.

If anyone finds themself planning a London visit, I very much recommend this hotel if you’re into moderates. (Few amenities, rooms only cleaned if you ask, that sort of thing.) The staff is especially lovely — they got me ice. That’s a big deal. Trying to find ice in a London hotel is like trying to find a Yorkshire pudding in an American one. They took me back into the little restaurant kitchen, and sent me off with three glasses of big ice cubes from the freezer. Yay, ice!

Amusing Misadventure — I didn’t wear a headband today since it was warmer, and two people yesterday and one the day before said to me, “I have a wig/hat just like that.” This irritated me extremely. I’ve washed my hair vigorously twice, and it’s still pretty bright, so I haven’t purpled it yet. Maybe I won’t have to.

Anchor No-Headband Selfie! It’s my own hair!

London January 2025 #4

London, Mobility, Travel, UK

Today was Docklands Day!

I took a favorite boat ride, and visited a museum that I’ve wanted to see for quite a while — the Museum of London Docklands. Afterwards, I rode the boat a bit further and stopped off at Westminster for a little while. Thought I might be able to get a few decent photos.

Strangely enough, Uber (as in, the car service) runs the river taxis. They used to be called the Thames Clippers. Because most of the sights are within shouting distance of The Thames, I pretty much take these things all over the place up and down the river, rather than using the tube or buses. They’re very comfortable.

It’s about a 30 minute ride to Canary Wharf, the boat docking twice to pick up and drop off people along the way. Much more pleasant than a city bus, nicely heated, a snack bar, and the view is certainly nice. (Plus, I don’t have to climb and/or descend a teeny-tiny steep staircase on a bumpy, moving city bus.)

Canary Wharf/Docklands is only about 30 years old, all told. The entire area was originally warehouses, docks, and maritime businesses back in the age when London was the largest port in the world. Now, a brand new city sits where those docks and warehouses were. It’s all like, HSBC, Barclays, Santander, Rupert Murdoch’s stuff, blah blah. It strikes me as a very new, spotless version of Midtown Manhattan, minus the congestion and pee smell.

The museo was about a ten minute walk from the wharf, so that wasn’t too bad. The museum was especially prepared for people with mobility challenges.

Generous elevators, little chairs that convert to canes you can carry around, great signage, very helpful docents … really very well done. I noticed more than one group made up of carers and folks with serious mobility issues. But then, London does disabled access very well.

It’s mostly dioramas and period recreations, with exhibits of artifacts alongside each area. The aim is for us to see and feel what it was like in the docklands back in their docklandical heyday. They do a great job, so I’ll let the photos speak for themselves.

I could totally live in that cottage in the center photo. In fact, if I squint a little, I do. It looks exactly like our house, lathe and all. (I’m not kidding.) I wonder whose fault that is!

I sat down on benches and chairs aplenty, but it was still a big walking day. After a sausage roll and a can of (Original) Coke, I was ready to get back to the boat — bye, bye Docklands!

I was feeling a bit better after sitting on the comfortable boat for a while. Exactly what I needed, especially after the walk back to the pier. My leg nerve thing was actually not bothering me. That shows up as an overtired sort of thing. Today was more of a tingly, numb feet thing. That’s what happens when I’ve been walking and standing a great deal.

After the 30 minute ride back, I decided to stay on the boat another few stops and then turn back around to Bankside. It seemed like a good time of day for some photos of Westminster. I’m visiting Westminster Cathedral later in the week, but I’ll be right in the middle of where it’s rammed with people. I got a few nice shots today (although that big, stupid wheel shows up behind everything).

After hopping the other-way boat back home to Bankside, I went a few blocks over to the drugstore to get some purple hair color. (Two or three aggressive washes takes the brightness out quite a bit, so I decided to have a much needed, happy, aggressive wash tonight; and purple it up tomorrow morning.) Swung by to see the friendly folks at the Red Bus Shop to grab some evening provisions, and then I got my favorite burger and fries to take-out. My tingly feet told me that they wanted to eat in the hotel room, rather than landing me on my face and imprinting souvenir cobblestones on my forehead.

Whew! That had to have been a good few miles today. However, I’m back in by 5 o’clock and looking forward to a hot bath, some British television, and a great deal of rest.

See you tomorrow!

London January 2025 #3

London, Mobility, Musician

It’s Music Day! Completely unplanned, but not surprising at all. (And it’s going to be a long one!)

I started my Sunday like most of my Sundays — at church!

I stopped at a great café on Clink Street and had a chat with the friendly barista, and then headed over to the cathedral a bit early so I could hear the (live) bell ringing.

Full boys2men choir and a terrific organ, and some rather modern music. I was pleased to hear that rather than a blasty voluntary/prelude, James the organist played a quiet meditation that led into the service. (I do the same. For sure, it’s entirely possible that I absorbed this idea without noticing it, rather than coming up with it by myself.) At any rate, I like it. A bit more modern and sensible than trumpets blasting while people are trying to get in the frame of mind for a church service.

After taking in the service, I proceeded to be their ideal customer in the cathedral gift shop.

There was a ceremony on London Bridge after the service today, so the place was lousy with bishops. Bishops here, bishops there, bishops everywhere. I forget what they were blessing, but the head of the Watermen‘s Guild was there wearing a big red cape with fur and shiny things on it.

I got back to the hotel about 1:30 and rested a bit, then headed back out at 3pm to visit and play Henry, the little pipe organ at London Bridge Station. (We’re old friends.) Henry is inside, but also kind of outside. So please forgive the clinks and clanks in my performance — it was probably about 40°F, my hands were freezing, Henry was feeling the cold (way out of tune), and I was wearing winter clonky shoes playing the pedals. I was shocked when I looked over at the phone and realized I’d been playing for 25 minutes! Here’s just a minute of it. Apologies to the folks who have heard me play this JC Bach thing 1000 times before.

Finished the day around 4:30 at my favorite burger place (for the third time), directly across from the hotel.

The burger joint, featuring a pink grapefruit spritz, and my collar.

When I was feeling so poorly that first day and a half, I’d completely forgotten about jet lag. I’m used to feeling poorly if I’ve done much of anything at all, so it didn’t strike me as particularly odd. So I get a half-credit back. We’ll attribute 50% of it to jet lag. =)

That said, by the end of the second day, I was really feeling pretty good. Today, I feel great and have done quite a bit. I’d go so far as to say I haven’t felt this well in months, if not a few years. Of course, I’m in an ideal situation. I can rest as much as I like, go to bed at 8 o’clock, and sleep for 12 hours. All this on top of being in an atmosphere I love and having no responsibilities whatsoever.

Here’s a picture of the super corny/gory The Clink Prison Museum. (“Free ‘behind bars’ photo with every admission!”) As I said, I’m not going in. But it makes for a decent photo.

London January 2025 #2

London, Mobility, Travel

I’m feeling much better, so I decided that I’d take the short walk down to spend some time at the Cathedral and environs.

Being less than a five minute walk from “home” seemed attractive with the temp around 32°F. I wore corduroy pants, a long sleeve thermal shirt, two giant scarves, a jacket, my heated shoes, and once I got outside, I went back up into the hotel to get my headband! Icy too — there was a little bit of slipping and sliding on those cobblestones.

There’s a ton of history in this five minute walk, so I fear this is going to read like a textbook. Fortunately/unfortunately I know a lot about the history of this area. My ancestors owned land here and had an interest in Shakespeare’s Globe. So, if this post reads like a textbook, I hope it’s an interesting one.

Out the front door, and through the Clink Street Tunnel! It’s called Clink Street because the local lock-up was here. There’s a corny/gory “museum” on the site now. I’ve been there before, but I couldn’t bring myself to go another time. And this is where we get the slang term “the clink.” This was the local jail belonging to the Bishop of Winchester. More on him later.

The “museum” is underground, right in the center at the end of the tunnel. Those four lights on the sign are right above the entrance.

Just past The Clink, you’ll find remains of the Bishop’s Palace. All we’re really seeing here are the remains of the Great Hall, where said Bishop would have his big bishopy feasts and such. “Look how rich and Bishopy I am!” The rest of the remains were yanked down. Thanks, Victorians.

At this point in history, the Bishop was the ruler of this area, which was called The Liberty of the Clink. A “liberty” was an area outside the jurisdiction of the City of London, and therefore, it did not have to abide by the same laws.

The theaters (considered dicey in the Elizabethan era), the animal-baiting arenas, and the brothels were located here. The bishops were totally in on it. They licensed the brothels and were often landlord of their premesis. (I’m not kidding.)

The Clink existed to lock up unruly customers or disagreeable licensees. The Queen & Council’s attitude was, “We’re going to have brothels anyway. Might as well keep them all in one place over there on the other side of the river; along with Shakespeare, Burbage, and the rest of those reprobates.” (BTW — Queen Elizabeth I actually loved theatre!) More about all this on Globe day.

You’ll pass the replica of Sir Francis Drake’s The Golden Hinde on your left. Choose your own admission price and go on board to look around, but it’s shockingly small. Not much to see. How they fit a crew plus that stolen Spanish treasure on this thing, I have no idea. I believe the replica has sailed around the world and stuff, just like the original. It was a lot easier to take a photo of it before that thing was being built behind it.

Take a super quick right and a super quick left, and you’re on Winchester Walk, facing Southwark Cathedral, formerly the Church of St Mary Overie (overie meaning “over the river”). My ancestors’ parish, once upon a time.

Today ended up being one of those days in the life of a church when a thing is going on, and they had all the gates locked. The signs said there was a door open … somewhere. I walked around the entire thing up and down the hill and icy steps twice before I saw somebody on the other side of a window and finally figured it out. It was through the gift shop, which was odd, because I tried that door the first time around and it was locked at 10am (and the people on the other side of the door just stared at me).

And now, a bunch of cathedral photos. I’ll explain in each caption.

I’m going to the service at the cathedral tomorrow morning at 11, and we’ll see if I feel like doing much else afterwards, especially if I end up being there a while. Of course, I have absolutely no problem sneaking a video so you can hear the organ during a hymn or prelude. LOL

The Shakespeare Memorial. I’m assuming he’s pictured here lounging on the ground (weird) over by *The Globe*, pondering a new plot or something. Since you can see the cathedral over his shoulder.

If you’re not familiar, there are dead people under the floor. Very common. You walk on them and the chairs and are sitting on top of them. (Cathedrals almost never-ever have pews. I’ve never seen one with pews, anyway.)

Their grave markers are the paving stones. Now. They are under their somewhere, probably near-ish the stone; in the crypt. Or they could’ve been moved a few feet this way or that to fit more people. (Also very common.) Shakespeare’s brother Edmund (also an actor) is under there. I’d seen his marker before — I think it’s in the choir. I didn’t go looking because all it says is “Edmund Shakespeare.” Will paid for it, of course. Parting thought — If you were allowed and you knew how to get down into the crypt, there are indeed a bunch of centuries-old dead people down there in disintegrating coffins.

Or if you’re really important, you can have a big, fancy, canopied tomb. Sometimes they’re in the box, sometimes not. This is Bishop Lancelot Andrewes, who I like to call “Bishop of Everything.” Queen Elizabeth I must’ve loved him (or owed him several favors) — she just kept appointing and appointing him higher and higher.

A photo sitting in the choir. There’s a whole lot of church behind me as well. Gives you an idea of the scale.

I was going to play the pipe organ at London Bridge Station today (I was right there), but my hands were just way too cold even with gloves on, and it’s only sort of indoors. (Hard to explain.)

We’ll see what tomorrow brings!

Sit Still Phill

Incidents involving antiquity, travel, renovation, and music.

Author: Phill