While We Have The Sun

The view from the window of our hotel room.

So, like I said. We got in at 6 in the morning.
Everything was just coming to life, but I felt wilted and greasy.

Someone suggested, before we left for the UK, that we should just get to it the moment we arrived and go to bed at a normal time for London.
This idea, upon arriving, sounded like utter madness.

Still, we stepped out into the streets from our Charing Cross hotel and were met by the Strand.
This is the heart of central London.
The pulse, historically, of the city fluttered to life right here.
You could feel that.

The Tube.


Trafalgar Square and Nelson's Column.

Our plan was to walk to the London Eye to get a critical bird's eye view of the vast city around us.

The walk was pleasant and the cool air and spitting of intermittent rain was refreshing on our road weary faces.


It's amazing, and cliche I suppose, to bring up the mix of old and new in the city of London.
But it's so strange to imagine your footsteps following the footsteps of contemporaries of Victorian aristocracy and Shakespeare's peers.





There's a ton of cool graffiti...more about that later.


Westminster Abbey.

The London Eye.


This is the face of a trooper.
Momma is totally horrified of heights.
But she persevered because she knew we all wanted to try this insane and monstrous contraption out.
At one point, she asked me for my guidebook and carefully directed her eyes from the expanding landscape and researched a plan for brunch.







It's really quite breathtaking. Both literally and figuratively.
You contemplate your pod somehow breaking free and you plummeting with your pod-mates into the Thames.
And then you realize that the city is covered in the most mysterious fog and that you are worlds away from everything that makes you comfortable and you start to get down with it.



If you have a chance, spend the dough and share a pod with some other tourists.
It's awe inducing.


Later, we went to Village East and had brunch.
I had some pancakes and bacon and the rest of the travelers jumped right in and had fish 'n chips.
No one ate the mushy peas, but we did have some cocktails! Peach Bellini for me!


We cabbed it back to the hotel after brekkie because we all started to think we were dying.

At this point in the trip, I have to disclose, I started to feel like someone had stripped me of my skin and left every nerve ending exposed to the new world around me.
It also felt as if I had been given a lobotomy.

There were naps all around and then we hit this place!


The Sherlock Holmes Pub!

I had the Bangers & Mash...
Which, as you can see, is a dreamy combination of sausages, mashed potatoes, and brown gravy.


Mom had the shepherd's pie - she'd been talking about having it since we arrived.
She was reluctant when the waitress said it was made with lamb, but she was pleasantly surprised with the results!

Mom had some local ale and we tried to sort out what it was that we all intended to do on our trip.
I had no idea what would happen to me the next day...

BUT what happened was I fucking fell apart.
Jet lag kicked me square in the ass. It was unrelenting!
I slept through the night until about 2 in the morning - and then...WIDE AWAKE.
I listened to my iPod, watched TV, stared out the window at the glittering London Eye, and prayed to every higher power known to man that I fall back to sleep. Didn't happen.

When mom finally woke up for her day off to a local London hospital, I simply got up with her, had breakfast, and attempted to make the most of the day.
My body felt floaty and broken - my brain was racing like I was on some strange amphetamine.
I made a brief, but interesting, trip to the National Gallery in the morning.
It started with a shot of espresso, which was probably a terrible idea, and as I started to browse through their variety of gorgeous art pieces...I felt totally mad.
I was sweating profusely, mildly hallucinating, and a sort of half tired rationale crept over me.
Making a quick escape, I slipped back into our hotel room and slept most of the day away. A total waste!

I cursed my bad luck, but it was all made right by this:




Prior to having a total mental breakdown, we purchased tickets to see Billy Elliot.
And I can't begin to tell you what an absolutely fascinating affair this was.
The theater was gorgeous and the show was heart breaking and soulful.
We laughed and passed around a packet of tissues to dry our tears...and were wowed by the talent of the young actors!
I know there are a ton of amazing shows to see in London, but our timing couldn't have been more impeccable in seeing this show.

We read in the paper that it was the 25th anniversary of the miners' strike!
So appropriate to see a musical about England while in England.


The Victoria Palace Theatre was lovely which made attending even more of an experience.

And thankfully, I was able to sleep through the night...
Adventures!