London: Day Two
On day two we took the tour bus to Westminster Abbey. It was so cold–I mean, brutally cold. We went on a guided tour of the abbey. Our guide was a verger in a long black cassock–a rather prissy, persnickety fellow who didn’t put up with dawdling or other nonsense. He was white-haired and his skirts swished about. He sort of fussed at us (the tour group) the whole while, hurrying us, telling us to “come along.” He showed us the special gold stick he uses to lead processions through the church during services. “Traditionally this stick was used to get people out of the way,” he explained, waving it about. “And you see it does work. You are moving.”
The verger talked very quickly and assumed a lot of prior knowledge of British history. So most of the time on the tour I was totally lost, daydreaming as usual. In the Lady Chapel I gazed at the intricately carved stone ceiling and thought about how it looked like it was made of frosting piped through a star tip.
With over 3,000 people buried there, Westminster Abbey is wonderfully creepy and gothic–although I don’t really like saying that because I think it trivializes the place (the abbey is still a functioning, living church, and our tour was frequently interrupted by calls to prayer). But I’ve got to admit I was fascinated by all the elaborate sarcophagi with their ghostly marble effigies–because I am silly and morbid and don’t have a serious mind. My favorite effigies were in the Chapel of Queen Elizabeth I. Next to her tomb, in what is known as “Innocents’ Corner,” there are the small tombs of two daughters of King James I, Sophia and Mary. Mary was two when she died, and her effigy rests on one elbow on a stone bed; it’s a sort of playful pose that’s quite moving and poignant. The statue really does look like a frozen little girl. Sophia was only three days old when she died, so her sarcophagus is shaped like a cradle, and the effigy is very lifelike, a “sleeping” infant lying on a pillow, her blankets pulled up to her chin. The cradle is turned away, toward a wall, so a mirror hanging above the tomb shows you the effigy’s face, the chubby baby cheeks. (I kept tearing up in Innocents’ Corner.)
At night we walked down Oxford Street, which is lined with big department stores and fancy boutiques. It’s a total shopping hub. I didn’t get to go into any stores, but I took pictures of the elaborate window displays and all the Christmas lights. Suspended high above the street were floating lighted umbrellas and presents–festive shapes fashioned out of fairy lights. It was so magical. And there were carts on the sidewalks selling hot Belgian waffles topped with your choice of hot chocolate sauce, whipped cream, or hot cherries. Yum!
I was cold and hungry. That day I’d only eaten french fries and a “veggie burger” that was really just soft mashed sweet potatoes served on a bun. Being a vegan is so hard when you’re traveling, but I’m always really stubborn about sticking with it.
That night on Oxford Street, I wished my little niece, Sophie, was with me so we could marvel together at the extravagant window displays at Hamleys, the famous London toy store. I imagined us exclaiming over the human-size animatronic teddy bears as they took sparkling plum puddings out of the oven and handed one another fabulous glittering presents–very slowly, over and over again. There was just so much sparkle and cuteness to behold–too much for just one person. (Yes, Rob was with me, but he’s a boy, and sometimes boys just do not count.)
