We had the most wonderful time in London. We got to the Aged Parent’s gloriously warm house late morning, and headed into town for lunch and an afternoon of cruising round the shops. The day was finished nicely with fish and chips and the DVD of ‘Nativity’ – I sobbed throughout, as usual.
We got up relatively early for a Saturday and headed into town on the tube. The Boys get very excited about going on the tube, particularly Boy the Younger who oohs and aahs at every bit of dark tunnel and every bit of decorative tiling at the stations.
Our first stop was St Paul’s Cathedral. I last went there in 1982 so it was a glorious revelation for all of us. The first revelation was the entrance fee: £12.50 for me and £4.50 each for the boys. As I was standing, swearing vilely at the information board, a very kind Guide pointed out that if we nipped across the road to the Tourist Information kiosk, they would give us a tourist map which had a 20% discount voucher. Therefore, entrance for we three plus a guide book came to just over £21. It had better be good, we thought.
It was. We were given ipod thingies which had the most extraordinary guide, including film footage and choices of information so you could tailor your visit completely to your own interests. Boy the Younger had to show me how to work it, of course. It’s really hard to describe the wonderfulness of it, particularly as you aren’t allowed to take photographs but one of the highlights for me was seeing William Holman Hunt’s painting ‘The Light of the World’ which I find unutterably beautiful.
St Paul himself
Naturally we trudged up the stairs to The Whispering Gallery and whispered frantically to each other – thankfully wheezing works just as well. There was also a Eucharist Service performed while we were there which was lovely and what was even nicer was that virtually every hour, the clergy asked for a moment’s peace for prayer and contemplation which made me somewhat less inclined to order the merchants from the temple.
Boy the Elder then decided that he wanted to go up to the next level, The Stone Gallery. This involved another hundred or so stairs, so he and BTY skipped up with the camera with instructions to photograph London. They came down with some smashing pictures and demanded that we make an unaided attempt on the summit, aka The Golden Gallery.
Taken by Boy the Elder
Now, I went up there in 1982 and came down every step on my bottom, pausing periodically to change my underwear, and I only did it then because I was trying to impress a boy. I had forgotten just how hideous it actually is. The dome of St Pauls is actually in three parts. There is the inner dome which is above The Whispering Gallery. There is then a conical structure on the top of that, around which is built the outer dome which is the familiar and iconic image of St Paul’s.
Also taken by Boy the Elder
In order to ascend to The Golden Gallery at the top, you have to climb a narrow, open fretwork, iron spiral staircase which winds its way between the cone and the outer dome. On either side and below, it just drops away into darkness. There are narrow platforms which serve as passing places, but otherwise you just go up and up and round and round in a way of which Dante would thoroughly have approved.
We got about a quarter of the way up when BTY did what I was desperate to do, but couldn’t because this time I was trying to impress MY boys. He burst into tears and wouldn’t go any further. I can’t tell you how relieved I was. We scuttled down and ran straight into the crypt for some refreshment.
And that is where the horror started.
I jest – but can I just tell you that a mug of tea, a plain scone, two tiny tubs of fruit salad and two Fantas came to £14.95. Another change of underwear please.
I will tell you about The West End and our arrival at home tomorrow.
Wartime Housewife 