London Bridge is Falling Down! (Day 7)

Ah, Sunday. What should be an entirely relaxing day just might end up that way. This was Marty’s last free day to roam as we pleased, so we decided to head up to Camden Town and visit the quite infamous market there.







It turned out that the entire town was like a big market, with many of the booths and stores selling the same crap for different prices. Apparently Kate Moss is a big fan of the markets here. Part of Camden Town burnt in a fire recently and so that part was shut down, but that didn’t stop the revelers from coming in droves. We wandered from the Electric Ballroom market to the Inverness market to the jam-packed together Camden Main market.





Marty was on the lookout for a specific band’s t-shirt while we were in London, and he believed that he may find it in Camden. Upon peeking around the corner into one shop, he was immediately confronted by a wiry little man in leather pants. The man invited him into the dark dungeon of a shop, through packages of plastic capes, ratty jeans, and vinyl jackets to the back of a shop where, in a box on the floor, the t-shirt might exist. A lady in a shiny vinyl coat rummaged through it and produced the t-shirt and handed it to Marty. Upon seeing the graphics on the shirt (read: dildos..yikes), he promptly tried to put it back in the box. The wiry little man immediately asked him what he was doing as it was exactly what he asked for, and it was an official band t-shirt. Marty explained he wouldn’t wear a shirt with that particular graphic and the man protested that he should buy it because it is the band he likes and it doesn’t matter what the shirt looks like. Um, right. He just thrust it back at the little man and we busted out of there as fast as we could, with the little man cursing us all the way out. Awkward. Sooo awkward.
We had a similar experience at the market with a man who was selling jacket I laid eyes on. After guessing I was Norweigan, Sweedish, Icelandic and Finnish (he insisted I was Scandinavian), I told him I was Canadian, to which he replied was much cooler (trying to make a sale, clearly.) He grabbed the jacket and immediately stuffed me into it. After telling me it was £45 ($90!) I said no way. It didn’t even come with the belt for it (he said you have to buy a belt separately!). I offered £10 ($20) and he became very displeased with me and told me to go to a mental hospital. He also said he charges that much just for looking. He then asked me, “Why are you looking if you don’t want to buy it!?” Awkward again. What is up with these people? I can’t lay my eyes on a jacket. Again, we busted away with the guy cursing behind us.

By this time, I was ready to head out of little Camden Town. We headed north, over the canal to the Underground station.




”Real” Camden punks who screamed profanities at people who tried to take their picture. That’s why I could only take one from behind them.



We headed down to London Bridge and the area we visited yesterday , the Tower of London. We decided that an actual walk over London Bridge was necessary to complete our trip. And what an unremarkable journey it was.






Tower Bridge (the bridge often mistaken for London Bridge) from London Bridge.




London Bridge better not be falling down because we are underneath it.


This bridge deserves no song. This also, is not the original bridge. London Bridge has been around for about 2,000 years in some form or another. The first bridge across the Thames in the London area was built of wood by the Romans on the present site around 50 AD. Just a bit of history for you.


Of course, Tower Bridge is cooler, and we decided to hike across that one as well.


The gurkin…again.


The Tower of London…again.










The Tower Bridge Plaza on the south bank of the bridge.


London City Hall



After wandering for a while, dinner time arrived and LIzzy and Robin had graciously invited us over to have toad-in-the-hole! (I think it is Robin’s specialty.)



After a very nice evening, we headed back to Penge. Sleep is required, of course, because tomorrow is a very full day – we take on (or over, depending how you look at it) Windsor, Stonehenge, and the Roman town of Bath. Does that sound interesting? Well, it was. See you then.

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The Bloody Tower (Day 6)

Today, we visit the tower. The tower of horror and the tower of blood. Sounds ominous, doesn’t it? What it really means is that we are visiting the Tower of London with it’s extensive history and high profile former residents. I was most excited about the crown jewels of the English empire and today, they would be mine. Oh yes, they would be mine.

Since it was Saturday (the 23rd), I wasn’t excited about battling the crowds, but since we had no choice as time was limited, we put on our brave face and forged ahead.







Since there were large herds of people in the guided tours, I decided I was going to make a dash for the jewels. We headed to the Jewel Tower and I laid my eyes on the preciouses. (I did not take the jewel pictures – no pictures allowed. Boo!)






So gaudy. My favorite was, as I like to call it, the Vivienne Westwood orb:


Still, very gaudy and fake-looking. There were tons more things in the jewel rooms, like spoons, punch bowls, chairs, serving dishes, a whack-load more crowns, a cape, and lots of other gaudy-looking gold things.

We got to watch the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II on a large screen which made the experience interesting because we saw the (gaudy) items used in the video with our very eyes. Lots of it was extremely old.

After I had enough of the jewels and thoughts of stealing the scepter, we headed back outside to take a gander on our way to the White Tower in the center of the fortress.




A Roman wall, dated the 5th or 6th century.


Paupers

On the way into the White Tower we were shown a place in the wall where the bodies of two teenage boys were found (circa 1483)…creeeepy. The White Tower was mostsly a large arsenal.








Some creepy-looking horses.




The chopping block and axe that beheaded Mary, Queen of Scots.


Through the window in the White Tower. Where are the guys with the beaver hats?


Armour of (I believe) King Henry VIII and his noble steed.


Interesting crotch protection. Quite optimistic? Maybe not…


Does this count as armour?


King Charles I’s armour…looks like he was much smaller than Mr. Prince Charles.





After having enough of old armor, we headed back outside to the scene of death and despair where the proverbial bodies were executed.






A pillow to rest their head…made of glass. How rude.





We then visited the prime real estate that is the Bloody Tower. It wasn’t all that bloody, unfortunately.






They did a little marchy, changing of the guard thing.

We then visited the living quarters or whatever they were called and they were kind of shoddy. I guess luxury is defined differently now versus the 15th century.


”How come every time you come around my London, London Bridge wanna go down like, London London London…” (though that is NOT London Bridge, it is the one Fergie used in the video. Boo Fergie.)




A King died in that spot. Right there.



By the time we had hit the three and a half hour mark, I was itching to get out of there. I had enough of the cramped spaces and was mostly peopled-out. We walked along the river before deciding we were starving and headed to Wetherspoons.




More escapees




Despite it’s visual appeal, this meal was uber-gross. The fries were okay, but that pot pie thing tasted like an Russian man’s armpit. Skanky.

We decided to head across town to the Marble Arch and do a bit of exploring in the infamous Hyde Park, near Speakers Corner.







Hyde Park was massive, not unlike Stanley Park in Vancouver. As we entered the park, we noticed signs for the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain and decided that we would head in that direction.





After walking approximately 20 miles following the signs, there was still no fountain in sight, until there was. Surely we had found it as it was quite elaborate! Sadly, it was only the Italian Fountains, dating from 1861. Believing there would be a major find at the Diana Memorial Fountain, we kept walking, seeming to be heading in a complete circle. Along the way, we met up with Peter Pan on a stack of bronze.





More walking and walking and walking, and although it was almost a hour later and completely dark, I saw a sign that mentioned the fountain. Apparently, this is it:


What a load of crap. It was closed, no water, no fountain or anything at all! What a tribute. Apparently it sprung a leak and has been shut for a while. We were quite disappointed since we had walked for about 10 hours, but that was that.



Dropping on to a bench to relax our tired feet, we managed to reflect a little bit on the week and take a bit of breathing room. We then managed to drag ourselves up and off to the grocery store and subsequent train station for the journey back to Penge. This is not to say it was our last adventure of the day...

On our ride, our first stop is in Brixton, a rather grotty stop in south London. We managed to pick a ratty he/she in a baggy parka who did a beeline for the water closet (as they call a washroom here), which we were sitting beside. The person walked into the room and said, “Hello?” and then jerked back around and asked us, “Who said ‘Hello’?” Um…no one? Then they peeked at us from around the door for about 45 seconds, eyes darting about, before slamming the door. Before locking it, they proceed to begin chopping things up and snorting things, much to my disgust and discomfort! We managed to make it our stop before the door opened and the crackhead emerged. Hectic.

Tomorrow is some additional hectic things involving a shirt with dildos on it. Why am I not surprised? London is very…different than you and I.

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