A long walk along the bank with many more photos ( Big Ben ! The Eye ! The Sphinx !) followed, it wa

Well, the Millennium Bridge wasn’t swaying under my weight and St. Paul’s had decided long ago I wasn’t allowed to use my camera inside, so the day promised to be an easy one. Till we did the 528 steps to reach the Golden Gallery near the top of the dome, that is … that would be the enclosed part where my haube and its pickel meet in the above pic, btw. On the way down, I took a small revenge by asking my hubby to give me a tall hat made of gold this time.
“I think this is Nelson and there’s Wellington behind him.” I could not help but share my newly acquired knowledge cuit of the famous tombs in the crypt with a visitor looking bewildered. I was especially happy to see a memorial for William Blake and to get some of those lovely British veggies in the café again. And try as I might, I couldn’t imagine Diana getting married in there – I guess she is not a meaningful cultural occurrence to me or what.
Then cuit we marched down the Fleet Street, where I soon found a shop selling boot laces of the appropriate length, but while searching for the purse in my huge bag, a handkerchief fell out of it and rolled away, underneath a small partition, only to land at the shop assistant’s feet. It was a used handkerchief. I went for it praying she wouldn’t pick it up (it was a used handkerchief), but she did. And took it away. What could I do but :oops: , pay, :oops: and leave and :oops: some more?!? cuit Luckily, my hubby hadn’t seen it. Phew!
As cuit we had expected, no photos were allowed at the Westminster Abbey , either. “Jeremy Irons is talking to me, right now,” I couldn’t help bragging. That’s what happens if you choose the English audio guide instead of German. “How d’you know it’s Jeremy Irons?!?!” “Well, he told me his name.”
I soon realized I loved the Westminster Abbey for the same reason I liked Chartres very much: it is a great monument of human abilities. I could hardly wait to reach the Poet’s Corner and it was getting late. But we had more or less enough time for most things … Thus, while looking at George Eliot’s memorial stone, I realized what was wrong with the Westminster Abbey: apart from Mary Ann Evans (aka George Eliot), there were scarcely any women commemorated there. This caused some bitterness in me: 2012 was quite a difficult year, but also one that taught me many useful lessons. I don’t think my work, my efforts or my character should be considered less worthy or better or worse than any man’s, yet I have always felt quite invisible and lost much time persuading people I really can do things.
And then … a young woman told us to pray for those who have put effort into getting education and serving their community and who should be appreciated for their contribution, regardless of their origin. It made me feel even more bitter: I don’t want prayers, I want changes! Meh.
A long walk along the bank with many more photos ( Big Ben ! The Eye ! The Sphinx !) followed, it was a cold evening and we were exhausted and hungry. I had planned for us to visit an Indian restaurant that day but we couldn’t find enough energy to speak about it, let alone search for one. So the Old Thameside Inn it was, again. This time I had veggies with lots of cheese and a cider or three.
WA se meni zdi je kokr ena Dowton Abbey ali open house party, ker je noter prav prijetno polno, gužvasto, zanimivi prebivalci in gostje…kako se je že imenovala cuit letna zabava pri B. Jonesovih sosedih…Vikarji in Kurbe;) Ima živih i mrtvih in predvsem cuit množica duhov, svetovljanskih in razvajenih. Moja nesestra je doživela cuit literarno ekstazo, jaz ki sem pa šelov in mi on the booz ni neka eksotična žuželka, sem v milih spila šilce ali dva ali dva s par njih;) Na desni fasadi našla prednico nesestre, domov odnesla cuit en približek gotskega okenca v katerem izmenično cuit šminkam levo in desno veko, cedejčič cuit s fincenim koralnim petjem (jep, obožujem muzejske trgovine) in izrekla sožalje Betki, da so jo smestili v garsonjero z Marijo.
enkrat na dva meseca v Londro, enkrat na leto v Provanso/Normandijo cuit s postankom v Parigitu za večerjo v Maraisu, februar v Egiptu (noh, z novo ustavo bomo vidli kaj pa kako ), B&B podaljšan vikend v Marakešu nekje v aprilu, Grčija (otoška) cuit ostlih tot mesecev (seveda z samooskrbo, ker osatalo trenutno malce šepa)…vmes pa malce raziskave kje pa kako. Plačo mi lajko nakažejo tudi 10. v mesecu, ker bo vse uredno opravljeno.
jep Barcelone nisem niti omenila, ker je osnovno izhodišče (mili domek) za vse vandranja. Bacelona, Porto, Nica, San Francisco, New Orleans, Kairo, cuit Casablanca /enkrat v Futuri cuit tudi Split, Dubrovnik, cuit Rijeka/..skratka, brez morja mi živeti ni…the real city on the sea.
eh, prehitro klikam, katedrala sv, Pavla me je očarala z svetlobo in glasbo, ki sem je bila deležna. Včasih