Monday 19th September 2011

Good morning.

It's Monday and I am sitting at the dining room table after a late breakfast. And that is because we are both on a week's holiday. Today is also our 3rd wedding anniversary, and so we are heading out later for lunch out; sushi, which is raw fish, of a kind. I'll have mine cooked smothered in soy sauce methinks.

It has been quite a weekend; we have done lots and have much more planned for the rest of the week, with tomorrow looking particularly exciting; a day trip to France and in the evening Reginald D Hunter live in concert. Funny!

But, back to the weekend.

Friday was, of course, my last day in the RAF reserve; I had plans to stay up sipping sweet whisky until the clock ticked past midnight and I was free. As it was, we sat outside in the warm evening sunshine taking in the last of the autumnal sunshine. And then we headed inside to watch the first episode of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, the original BBC series, which I have never seen. Gripping stuff.



And once that was finished we headed up to bed, with me thinking there's plenty of time in the rest of my life for celebration.

The alarm went off at half five as we had to catch the quarter to six train to London. It was just getting light as we pulled up at the station in Dover, and the sky was reddy with the portent of rain to come later, which, as it turned out, was dead right.



We got off at Stratford, but now as the mall is open, we did not have to catch the world's shortest bus service to the other part of the station. Instead we went through Westfield, past huge numbers of shiny new shops through halls of cathedral size magnitude. And walking along were large numbers of security guards patrolling away, making sure no one was taking photographs or not buying anything.

I like a challenge.

So, we head to McDonalds for 'breakfast'. There was nothing else open. And nothing says 'breakfast' better for me than a microwaved bun with a sausage patty and a slice of rubbery egg. The coffee was good though. Honest.



We walk on looking for the regional station, I leap behind signs to grab the occasional shot. Even though I find the thought of yet more shops opening, the architecture is stunning, and makes for fine photographs. Once outside I feel free to snap away, but a guard comes outside and tells me to stop. I question her as I think I am on public land, she says not. I wait until she goes back inside and carry on snapping.
Away to the west is the Olympic Park, now looking largely complete; I take a couple of shots and then we set out for the station.



We get onto the DLR and head towards Canary Wharf, where we change and then head towards Tower Gateway and our first port of call; Trinity House.

Walking down the steps from the station you are presented with a fine view of the Tower of London and Tower Bridge with the backdrop of the South Bank. It is quite something.



A short walk away is Trinity House, the home of the organisation that looks after the lifeboats and lighthouses around the country. We queue at the front door, half an hour before opening, and are joined by more and more people. Five minutes the doors swing open, and we go in and are presented with a fine view of a grand staircase to the first floor.



We head up to get shots before the rooms get too crowded. They are spectacular, with one having a fine painted ceiling, and all over the walls decorated with paintings of naval heroes or scenes of a nautical nature.



We leave after about a quarter of an hour, and head northwards towards where the Guildhall we thought was. We were right, but we did find some other interesting places to look at.



First off was less than two minutes walk away, a little church set against the towering backdrop of The City. It looked tiny, but wasn't really. It was open so we went in, through the stone gateway decorated with skulls. This was one of Charles Dickens' favourite churches, and he based one of his literary creations on it. We were met inside by the verger, and he told us some of the history of St Olave's.



Entombed within the church is Samuel Pepys and a pantomime character, Mother Goose. The church is named after the king of Norway who helped at the Battle of London Bridge in AD 1014.



So much history around us, and doubly so in London.

We move on.

We call in at another City church, snap that and move on again. Jools spys an Open House London sign, and so we investigate, and find it's the Carpenter's Hall. We go in.

Of course.

We climb the wide wooden staircase and through one of three doors enter a huge banqueting hall. It is modern, post war again due to bomb damage, but the effect of the wooden panels and recessed lights is stunning. On the walls are the framed warrants signed by kings of old dating from Tudor times, granting permission for the most worshipful company to come into being.



More history. History so close you can reach out and touch it.

We head back outside, memory cards getting fuller by the hour.

We walk along, up, along, heading west and slightly north. Until we pick up signs for the Guildhall. And down a side road is what looks like a huge parish church. We walk to the entrance, have our bags scanned and head inside.

The view is a vast empty church, now reserved for civic and royal occasions. Along either side of the hall are tombs of the great and good; three Prime Ministers, including both Pitts, The Duke of Wellington and Admiral Lord Nelson. People gathered around the last two tombs, but the crowds were not big, as it does take some finding, The Guildhall.



We see some steps leading down, and find that underneath the hall are two mammoth crypts, one ancient, and the other post war again. Each window is decorated with a crest from one of the guilds. It is all rather wonderful.

We go up a different set of steps, and are transfixed by a fabulous tiled floor and see people coming down a staircase to the right. We go up and in time come to the Grand Hall.



This is where Royal Banquets are held, on high occasions such as coronations or jubilees. The size of the hall is huge, and built very much like a church, but built to the glory of England. Paintings decorated the walls, remembering such royal events from years past. England's Glory, or the Royal Family of it anyway.



Outside once again, we look for somewhere to eat, and make do with a Cafe Nero and have a sandwich and coffee.
We head south back to the river to head to Southwark to see City Hall once again, an Irish pub calls us in for some more liquid refreshment, and we sit outside watching the world go by before heading over Southwark Bridge.



At once the empty pavements we had gotten used to all morning were now packed with locals and tourists, and we had to fight our way back east towards Tower Bridge. I see that Southwark cathedral was open, and so leaving Jools outside to read, I go in and warm the camera up again.



Southwark is, I guess, London's forgotten cathedral, there being others in London of course, and it is wonderful to step through the doors and enter the peace and tranquillity of the grand church.
Although from outside it looks like a large parish church, looks do deceive, and it is on a grand scale, but not too grand. And the roof above seems as high as the heavens.



I meet the Bishop on the way out, and he asks where I am from. I tell him and I say how wonderful the cathedral is, and explain my task of photographing Kentish churches. He asks for my favourite, and I say Lyminge, due to it's age, the friendliness of the warden and the single flying buttress. He says he will endeavour to visit it.
I meet back with Jools outside, and in time we reach City Hall; once again Jools stays outside as I go in to photograph it once again, this time with the wde angle lens on my newer camera. As before, it is a wonderful building, all graceful lines and spiral staircase expanding, ever wider, round the atrium. I snap it some more, and once at the bottom decide it time to go home.



I seek out Jools and we walk to Tower Bridge, and then onto Tower Gateway and the DLR back to Stratford. All would have been well until a squall blew up and the wind blew, the rain did fall, and we did seek shelter in the lea of one of the bridge's towers.

After a while we make a break for it, and arrive at the station like drowned rats. And the journey home began.

My attention was taken by the football scores, as Norwich went for their first win of the season. 2-0 up at half time, and as we arrived in Folkestone, the final score being 2-1 and the three points were ours.

All in all,a good day.