After yesterday’s late night out at the art opening and dinner, we finally caught up on our sleep. No longer pestered by the vicissitudes of jet lag we got a good 10 hours and woke up truly refreshed for the first time in a few days. After hitting up Starbucks for coffee and a blog, we headed for “The Original Tour” double decker bus stop. With only one day left to see ‘everything’ (Saturday is reserved for flea markets and the train to Paris) we had to move fast and the tube would not suffice.We began our tour around the corner from our hotel at the south side of Kensington Gardens on top of a red double decker bus and proceeded south on Gloucester Road, then west on Cromwell Rd, past the V&A, and towards the Thames and the center of London. The day was cloudy and cool but very comfortable. After changing buses to the yellow route, we flew by Buckingham Palace (we will not be seeing the changing of the guard), Westminster Abbey (the queen is out of town), Big Ben, All Hallows Church (where William Penn was baptized AND Charles Dickens’ parents were married), and finally onto Trafalgar Square where we jumped out for a gander in the National Gallery. We did a highlights-only tour of the National Gallery including Holbein’s The Ambassadors (with that funky skeleton head painted in extreme perspective) and Piero della Francesca’s The Baptism of Christ, Bellini’s The Doge, and a slew of Canaletto’s. Sadly, the galleries containing the Cezanne’s and Van Gogh’s were closed for renovation. After a brief walk about Trafalgar Square, we were off again on the bus towards St. Paul’s Cathedral, crossing the Thames between the London Bridge (the boring one) and the Tower Bridge (the fun one), until we passed the London Tower, where our guide spoke of the executions of Henry the VIII’s wives. Our favorite story was of the man who died laughing. Just before he was executed, part of the staging collapsed and killed a number of people. He laughed, saying that these people had come to see him executed but they had died themselves instead. Then, he was no more. We’re not sure who really had the last laugh.
We debarked again at the Tate Modern. Converted from an abandoned power station in the 1990s, the Tate Modern is a showcase for modern and contemporary art. The ceilings are high, the art, well, remarkable (sometimes good, sometimes not to our taste). An orchestral collection of clips by Christian Marclay edited and shown on four projection screens caught Rachel’s fancy, while Gawain stared at a Rothko, but walked away disappointed. It didn’t have the transcendental effect he was hoping for. Both Rachel and Gawain were delighted to see an exhibition of silver gelatin photographs that included works from Agtet, Alfred Steiglitz, Lewis Hine, Fred Zimmerman, and Manuel Alvarez Bravo.
The Millennium Bridge crosses the Thames at the Tate Modern with the Dome of St. Paul visible on the far bank. Since the hour was getting late and the skies cloudy, we walked north across the bridge, taking pictures and looking forward to sitting again. Forty-five minutes later we found our bus stop only to discover that the Original Bus Tour had long ceased touring for the day. So we headed for the tube, weary, and no longer minding the 3 BPs (US$6) for a single one-way ride.Dinner was Indian; a specialty of London that Kate and John had said was a must-eat for our brief stay. Thoroughly enjoyed, we walked back to the hotel ready for a night of postcards and bed.
