Day 4 – Tower, History, Shopping, Chatting, Siesta, Tea, Brian

Catching up from last night . . .

Leann was off to the Tower of London for the Ceremony of the Keys and fish and chips, while I updated the blog and backed up our photos. (Fish was “meh,” but the chips with malted vinegar = a HUGE win!)

The Ceremony of the Keys has taken place to secure the tower every night for 800 years. They have been right on the dot except for one night due to the bombing of London in World War II… Though they did still do it, it was just “a bit late that night.”

A snap of Leann’s Beefeater guide…

The “Queen’s gate” (they brought the queens by boat to the Tower).

Below, Anne Boleyn’s “grave marker” to the left of where she was buried – not a headstone, because she was guilty of treason which meant that she had to be buried in an “unmarked grave.” (Henry VIII’s wives’ heads were never found when the bodies were exhumed – ? Whaaaat ?)

The pillow below is the exact spot where they did the “private” executions. (The others were done on a hill outside the building.)

Leann learned that the Tower had historically emptied their sewerage into the moat area. Per the architect it had been engineered so that the Thames would wash in and clean it out. However . . . it was too deep, so the sewerage just sunk to the bottom! Suffice it to say that moat’s stench was *definitely* the biggest defense of the Tower!

Crazy story: The Tower chapel was first, of course, Catholic. When the Pope wouldn’t give King Henry VIII a divorce . . . he invented the Church of England. The below baptismal font was broken up into three pieces and “hidden” by the priests into the crypt of the builder of the chapel at the tower (above); he and his wife were supposed to be buried in that chapel, but by the time they died, Henry decided “no Catholics” would be buried in “my church.” Therefore, it was “vacant” – so the priests hid the baptismal font there. When the chapel was being renovated they open up the crypt and – surprise! – there was the font!

The next morning (this morning) we were off to meet my friend Sharyn at The British Museum.

Here’s our lovely doorman Philip! (With a few double decker busses to boot!)

Our timing couldn’t have been better! Though we had specifically-timed tickets, so did dozens and dozens and DOZENS of others on line! Sharyn queued up while we were taking our Uber to the museum, and we stepped out of the car literally right as she approached the entry gates! Well done!

The British Museum is basically a testament to Imperialism. What can I say? Although some of the items that I’d seen the last time I was in London have been repatriated (King Tut’s items for example), others have not. There are lots of arguments on both sides. The pollution in Greece would have destroyed the marble of the friezes. If you put the items back where they came from, you’d have to build such infrastructure to protect the items that it would be a hardship on the repatriated country . . . Et cetera. (My friend Sharyn offered that perhaps we should give free private visits to every Egyptian, Greek, First Nations, etc citizen…)

There’s a new (to me) entry area with a fantastic dome ceiling (see below). The entire center is the bookstore. We flicked through some amazing books, including one you could buy and “find” items in the British Museum, following a “mystery written by” Watson (of Sherlock Holmes fame). What a great way to get people to really visit galleries other than just the Rosetta Stone! ;-)

Since you asked, here is a close up of the Rosetta Stone. (Follow the links if you don’t know why it is important LOL.)

I had to visit the Japanese wing, considering my new obsession with Iaido. What’s that? Well, kinda Japanese samurai swordsmanship. HERE is a link to my notes (so far). Just a couple weeks ago I moved up to a metal sword from wood YAY ME ;-)

The Scroll of the tortoises you see below was a collaboration of artists that included, at top, a then-80 year old samurai, next his 2 sons, then 7 of his compatriots, each showing his personality in “their” tortoise.

The priceless ancient items also have more modern art interspersed with them, such as the hand-carved vase of stone “feathers” from an artist in the ‘80s (yes, *19*80s). Amazing!

From Japan to Egypt…

some Greek/Assyrian/etc. …

Then, of course, some sweet and coffee!

We left the British Museum to one of the honestly most beautiful days I have ever seen. (Sharyn must have commented on it about 50 times ;-) .)

A few wonderfully British things we saw:

Gargoyles!

Unfortunately Leann is having real issues with her knee, so we let her lead the walk, heading towards Covent Garden.

BOY did I want a “swordstick” or a “dagger cane”! So so sadly, store was closed…

Every now and again Sharyn would wind up back in front, and I now know how Leann feels when she walks with me . . . I kept having to comment, “Slow down, Turbo . . . “ (to her laughter).

Another Harry Potter store. A Nimbus 2000, already wrapped to ship? Or, a niffler, anyone?

We discussed when Sharyn had been a city planner, and how she remembered London saying that they were going to “clean up” the awful Covent Garden area and turn it into . . . What it is now. We talked a lot about how visionary folks like that have to be!

We moseyed back to The Strand Palace, and had a “chatting siesta” – Leann had a siesta, Sharyn and I chatted :-)

After changing into our appropriate tea outfits, Leann and I were off to Champagne High Tea at the Palm Court at Langham. As soon as you enter the hotel, you breathe in their exclusive ginger lily perfume. We were 20 minutes early for our reservation, but they happened to have a *fantastic* table in a corner “niche,” so we were able to, well, basically begin early and stay late! :-)

We had a lovely tea, trading Darjeeling 2nd flush for Assam for a Chinese tea that I *promised* to remember the name of and, of course, do not (it sounded like Assam…) – Ali Shan! (Gorgeous, floral tea. Wow. Leann had 2 pots! :-) )

Their version of a “Ploughmans” was actually my favorite of *both* high teas we had enjoyed – a pear and date chutney, a super beautiful Pitchfork white cheddar, and a cheese scone – YUM! HERE is the menu!

Ultimately, we picked our purses up off the “purse footstools” and headed back to the concierge area.

We had had a bit of a tease with the doormen before heading in. We’d asked one about the amazing, spicy ginger lily scent wafting through the atrium. He told us that the other doorman was “even using it as an aftershave,” but he wasn’t “quite sure” that he was “ready for that.” I quipped “didn’t he know” that the “most handsome ones” don’t need to “do things like that…?”

Well, upon leaving the tea, the doorman I had “kidded” actually presented. Leann with a bottle of the ginger lily cologne! (L30!) We were so surprised and truly, ridiculously, gobsmack-ed-ly thankful! :-)

The day was just too lovely not to take a bit of a walk through the area. Ultimately, however, I hailed a black cab to save Leann’s poor knee for tomorrow’s tours (a 3 hour Harry Potter one, followed by a visit to Harrod’s but then back to the hotel for some work, and finally a Jack the Ripper tour that evening).

On Leann’s “bucket list” had been riding in a black cab with suicide doors.

We don’t think that people really realize how big of a deal it is to get your London black cab “medallion.” The cabbie must pass an exceptionally difficult test, called “The Knowledge.” They sit in a chair and the examiner tells them their starting and ending point, and the nascent cabbie must list every street and stop light passed on the way. Cabbies also need to know landmarks for the customers, and pass a written test that includes a map of London with “fake streets” you must suss out.

Though we’ll admit to taking Uber the bulk of the time (it’s cheaper and hey, has an app) – well – it’s just a drive “from place to place.” The Uber drivers don’t know the landmarks; they generally just follow their GPS/don’t really know how to get “around situations,” etc. (We’ve asked our Uber drivers a few times about a landmark, etc and unfortunately, we’re just lucky if they speak English.) Black cab cabbies drive until they’re done with it, but then have a pension for life.

(As an aside, the black cabs now have a glass ceiling, so you can see out both the windows and the top! :-) )

Cue our cabbie on the way home, Brian. He was lovely, chatty, knew the landmarks, and even gave us some admonishments for our trip to Paris. (“Don’t accept anyone at the train station that asks if you need a cab – they are scabs! There, cabbies are like us, licensed ones can’t solicit you, you can only hail them. They also have to wait in a specific stand. So just ignore anyone who approaches you. You promise me, right? Right?!”)

Another bit of knowledge – Did you know why the black cab is shaped the way it is? So that a six foot tall man with a bowler hat could get in without removing his hat (truth!)

At the end, though he “could git in tru’ble for dis!,” Brian set up these photos for us once we reached the hotel. Bravo, Brian! The perfect end to the perfect day!!!