Wednesday 25th September 2013

We woke at half six and just lay in bed. Outside it was dull and grey, the top of The Shard was hidden in low clouds. Jools made a cuppa and I lay in bed some more watching Match of the Day. As you do. However, just before that started, the BBC new announced that the final leg of the Tour of Britain was due to finish on Whitehall that afternoon. And where were we heading? Oh yeah, Whitehall. I could see the day having unexpectedly high level of lycra. That might prove to be interesting.



Ahem.

At half eight we went down for breakfast, and after taking some fruit for the healthy option, I then undid that by having fried egg, bread, sausage and has browns. Mmmmmm, fried.

Feeling full, I went to check if we could leave the case in the club whilst we went to carry on the Open House thing. The receptionist was happy that we asked, as we explained we were part of Open House as another guest was asking; could we explain to her the details? We said yes and were introduced to a lady. Turns out she was a war widow staying here and meeting a friend. We ran over the details, gave her a spare brochure and tips for places to go.



But I guess what I took away from the meeting was that there were such things still as war widows, and as each month in theatres such as Afghanistan swells the number of war widows. And the horror that some of them are just 20 years old. The world is a crazy place indeed.



We headed over to Westminster, emerging from the tube into the shadow of Big Ben, or St Stephen’s Tower to give it it’s official name. We walked over to Whitehall, and all along the middle of it, a trailer park had been set up, flags were flying advertising, well, the advertisers. As we walked along, women were completing one circuit after another, and indeed they would still be doing this when we came out of the FCO.



We rounded the corner to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) expecting there to be huge crowds. And there were none. It was only the banners on the walls giving it away that the building was open. We went through security, and I was briefed photos only in staterooms and on stairways. OK.



So we went in to the quadrangle (no photos here either) and then into the building. Round and round we went, up and up grander and grander stairs. Into one grand room after another. We finally came to the grandest staircase of all, and were indeed dazzled by it. We all stopped to snap it, and I hope my shots do it justice, chiz, chiz…..



Outside once again, we walk up to Horseguards, only to find a queue, although not long was not moving either. I tried to some up some enthusiasm, but it was gone. We chatted and Jools said she would find somewhere to sit down if I wanted to do some more visiting. Inside I really wanted to, but my feet had had enough, and it was easy to say, let’s go back to the club, have a coffee and head home.



We stopped to look at more cycling, and I also wish we could have stayed to see the end of the Tour of Britain, but I know that would not end until about five-ish. So, we headed back to the tube, and along to Waterloo. We had a coffee then the choice was to either tube to St Pancras or Stratford, taxi to St Pancras or catch the ‘classic’ service from Waterloo East. In the end it was easier to walk up the stairs opposite the club and along the bridge and onto the platform as the train to Ashford arrived. We got a sea and so slumped down as the London suburbs slipped away and we headed into Kent.



We had a half hour wait at Ashford, but that was fine as we could just sit and watch the trains running past us on other platforms. It was with some relief we got off the train at Dover and walked to the car and drove up the cliff to St Margaret’s. Time then to put the kettle on for a very large and strong cuppa and then review the shots I had taken.

As we were to be catless until the morning, it was quiet without constant feline demands being meowed at us. Dusk settled around the house and we headed off to bed.