The Abbey

I had a much more exciting weekend planned for this weekend. Unfortunately, forces conspired against me...namely, one of my arch-rivals, the alarm clock. So, I figured that I could get a couple things done that I had missed previously. A makeup weekend, if you will. No, not a make OUT weekend. There were some sights that I had missed in London that I really wanted to see. The first stop would be Westminster Abbey.

So, I get dressed and head on down to the train station. Sure enough, there's a minor train diversion. The train station I normally pull into, Fenchurch St Station, in London is closed for repairs and the train would be shifted to Liverpool Station. No biggie. I have a map, therefore I will be fine (Thank you Wilma). I arrive at Liverpool Station (a much bigger station by the way) and find my way to the underground. The Circle Line goes through here as well as it did Fenchurch and will take me right to Westminster St.

The weather was nice on Saturday which led every tourist in England to come to London for the day...bastards. I give up my seat on the train so a couple could sit together. I don't need to sit, I've already had a half hour train ride. I'll have plenty of time for sitting later. There's a huge line outside of Westminster Abbey. Go figure. It's 10# (I'm back to an American keyboard and don't have the pound sign anymore) to get in. That's not nice. But, I fork over my hard earned cash and walk into the holy establishment.

I am stopped in my tracks. The first thing I think of is that this couldn't possibly be a working church. There's no room for services. The place is filled with huge marble statues. I mean HUGE. There are statues in the entryway that are easily 20 feet high. The ceiling is forever above me. I'm not sure I could hit it with a thrown stone. The architecture in there blows me away.

I wander by the final resting places of a number of Kings, Queens, Dignitaries and the like. Eventually, the awe of that wears off. I know of many of these people. I've read of many of their histories. But, I'm looking at big stone boxes with carved effigies on them. The effigies are wow-worthy. But, after you've seen the first dozen, the rest start looking an awful lot like the first ones. Don't get me wrong. There were some amazing statues and sculptures in there that I gawked at. Almost everywhere you walk, there's a huge stone on the floor telling you of who's buried underneath your feet. I'd gone through many of the rooms there and the architecture and construction of the place never got old for me. The intricacy of some of the ceiling work was amazing.

I still find it hard to imagine that they've had every coronation here for the last couple of centuries. It looks like you could hold maybe a hindered or so people in here...not the thousands that I would have imagined.

There's a whole section of the abbey devoted to poets, playwrights, novelists and composers. Shakespeare, Chaucer, Dickens and other greats are memorialized here. There are sections devoted to the men and women who lost their lives in the various wars. Winston Churchill has a stone there as well as Franklin D Roosevelt. There's a huge stone in the middle of the Nave that talks about the unnamed soldier buried under it from battles in France. It's known as the Unknown Soldier and is dedicated to all the soldiers who died serving their country. Not far from that is the Congressional Medal of Honor that the United States awarded to the memorial.

As I was finishing up with the Abbey and preparing to leave, you would not believe what I heard. The singing and chantings of the monks' choir. Apparently, they still come into the abbey every day and perform. So, I went over and sat down in one of the seats set out and listened for a bit. Very cool way to wrap up the whole experience. Glad I came back for this.

After walking out of this incredibly holy site, I sought what I usually seek after religion...beer. I will endeavor to find The Churchill Arms pub. A fairly famous pub that I have yet to stumble into. I hop the underground and head to it's neck of the woods. I wander around...and wander. I ask a couple people (even a cop) and nobody has a clue as to what the hell I'm talking about. I'm parched and need that pint. I spot the tell tale sign of a pub; The Prince of Wales pub. It'll do. I wander in and order myself a pint of Young's. Properly fortified, I can now continue my search.

I made it a whole two blocks. Yeah, I found another pub. This one was The Goat. I decide that now would be a good time to take a load off the feet and place some solid food into the stomach. I polish off the rest of their keg of Bombardier (Cheers PatRat) and move onto the London's Pride (Cheers Trent). I then order myself a plate of fish & chips. Ordin'ry peas this time dammit! Yes, that's pronounced ordinry...there is apparently no 'a' in ordinAry over here. They skip it completely. Well, I try and choke down some of those peas. I can't help it. After all these years, I still don't really like them.

With that taken care of I head off in a likely direction. The underground took me to a part of London that I have no map for. No problems. I can always grab a taxi if I get too lost. So I wander around for another hour...maybe an hour and a half before stumbling upon an oasis in the desert. Yup, another pub. This one's called Zetland Arms. It's not the Churchill Arms, but, at least it's one of the "arms" pubs. I get myself inside there and order up a fresh pint of Abbot Ale (Cheers Shannon). I then watch almost horrified as grown men order bottles of Budweiser and Corona. I resist the urge to weep for them. All this glorious ale around them and they drink that stuff. I feel dirty even writing about it. ::shiver::

After I've had my fill again, I saunter down the street. I seem to be...er...misplaced. It's dark now and I'm not exactly sure where I am. I know I'm south of Hyde Park...I think. Which puts me roughly North East of everything on the map in my pocket. Now, which way was that park? No matter, I pick a direction and walk. It's OK. This story has a happy ending. I don't want to spoil it, but, our hero does make it out alive.

After another hour of wandering and not really seeing anything that I recognize (nor another pub...which is the most depressing thing) I throw in the towel and hop onto one of the double decker buses. What the hell, I have an all-day, all-access pass. He drives by an underground station that I recognize and I hop off. Another hour and I'm climbing into my car to head back to the hotel. ::whew:: That was a long day.