Where Not To Stand...

After church on Sunday, while Lyndon hived off to the rugby for 'work', the rest of us had a leisurely lunch with friends followed by a quiet cigar in the park (see right). Evening church was followed by our first attendance at 'After Eights' - a chance to socialise over good cheap food.

We had great adventures planned for Monday until Robyn realised she had a rather important interview in the morning! A rushed walk to the tube station was followed by a very time consuming purchase of a monthly travel card ensured Robyn didn't quite make it on time. However, this wasn't a problem and the interview went well despite an instance of bad arithmetic (6*6!=12) causing the interviewer to question her mathematical abilities. While this was occurring, Minnie wandered the British Museum again. After reuniting, we explored the famous bookshops of Charing Cross Road finding one that had brand new children's books for only £1, but Miriam was very distraught to find that Number 84 is no longer in existence. A stroll down to the Thames inspired us to take a short river cruise on a catamaran commentated by a man with a droll sense of humour. This was most enjoyable and we saw such things as Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, the Globe, a NZ navy ship (!), London Bridge (remarkably unremarkable) and the Tower Bridge (much more impressive) where we ended our journey.

Tuesday was started with a trip to Soho to meet Robyn's second cousin who volunteers in a lovely fair trade shop with lots of interesting and unusual gifts. We then wandered down through Soho which led us to Trafalgar Square where we ate our lunch in the sunshine next to the fountain. The National Gallery then seemed the obvious place to visit, where we found the Venetian landscapes gave us déjà vu after a while, but very much enjoyed the impressionist exhibition. A few hours of this was as much as our minds and feet could handle (although, the gallery does get brownie points for providing so many seats for resting one's feet), and we wandered up to through Leicester Square to Oxford Street where Robyn searched in vain for a nice pair of shoes. However, an email was waiting for her at home from the surprisingly efficient LSHTM which offered her a place in the Masters programme plus a handy scholarship.

Travel research the next morning was followed by a trip to Lydia's for lunch - she made us a delicious salad lunch, which we enjoyed sitting in her little courtyard behind the house as Lydia (with true South Island stubborness) insisted on wearing a t-shirt in the vain hope that it was warm. Andrew was obviously worried about this rendevous, as he texted Lydia during our meal warning her not to believe any stories told by Robyn - Robyn hadn't actually thought of this yet, and the text served more as an inspiration than a deterrent. . . We had a lovely stroll after lunch through Clapham Common - the parks here are amazing: you think you can see everything, and then you come past some trees and find a pavillion or a monument, and even more park beyond. In the evening back at home Miriam finished a little tapestry she had been working on (courtesy of Liberty) which was most satisfying. It is black, with cherries on.

The Changing of the Guard was next on our list of tourist must do's. Well, we now know where not to stand. Not where we stood. As you can see, Robyn still managed to take some arty photographs despite our limited view, and we did enjoy the band playing. However, we had no idea what was happening, or how it was taking half an hour to change a couple of little guards. After Robyn's first cornish pasty and a stroll through St James' park (bluebells!) we made our way down to Westminster Abbey. Reeling from shock at the entrance prices, we contented ourselves with having a look around St Margaret's Church out the front. It was a lovely little church with some interesting plaques - Sir Walter Raleigh is buried there. Across the road we found the Houses of Parliament, and found that they are free to look around! We queued up between the rows of policemen and officials, and went through a thorough frisking (a pat down and our bags x-rayed) before being allowed in the building. The House of Commons was our first stop - another pat down! and Miriam was required to lift her trouser leg to prove that there were no shackles (a nasty dig from the security man about her Australianism) - and we were ushered in to the spectator's gallery, separated from the House by a bulletproof window. There we were treated to a most amusing performance by Mr Boris Johnson on the subject of tertiary education. Tearing ourselves away, we wandered through to the House of Lords - no uber security here: they don't seem to mind if the nobility are heckled or threatened or shot - and the content was not nearly so entertaining. It was nice to see all the lords and ladies, though, sitting on the woolsack and nodding off in their chairs.

Disclaimer: the abovementioned cigar smoking episode was dramatised and sensationalised for publication - the actual smoking of the cigar was conducted by others.