Stardate: 22 April 2019 A Meander through St Pauls

Our last full day in London and what better way to spend the morning than exploring beautiful, baroque St Pauls Cathedral, which those of a certain age will know was created by Sir Christopher Wren to replace an earlier St Pauls destroyed by the Great Fire of London in 1666. 

It was difficult to get a pic that captures it in all its grandeur so these humble offerings will have to suffice.  (Besides, many blog readers will have visited themselves so know how lovely it is.)

Unfortunately visitors are not allowed to take pictures inside.

You can imagine my disappointment when we established that the Whispering Gallery was closed and so we would not be traversing the 257 steps to the dome to experience its remarkable auditory magic. Oh what a shame, I said, almost convincingly.  But other delights were in store. I thought it very civilised that our audio guides enabled us to sit and listen in each area of the cathedral: the nave, each transept, under the dome and the quire, so we only needed to get up and shuffle off to a new area to sit again as each commentary finished. 

The crypt underneath houses the graves of Admiral Nelson, the Duke of Wellington and Christopher Wren, among other notables.  It also has a quite serviceable cafe and a toilet, both of which are high on my priority list during any outing.

After our self-guided tour we returned upstairs and just sat for a while. Despite the tourists, it was a peaceful place to just relax and admire our surroundings. 

Next we were off to Giltspur Street, just up the road.  There is not much by way of attraction, but we were charmed by The Golden Boy on the corner of Cock Lane. 

This spot was originally known as Pye Corner and is famous as marking the furthest extent of the Great Fire of London. The inscription beneath the Golden Boy reads "This Boy is in Memmory Put up for the LATE FIRE of LONDON Occasion'd by the Sin of Gluttony."

A larger inscription underneath suggests that if not the sin of Gluttony, then "the papists" might have been responsible for the fire. Both interesting perspectives but I had always heard that the fire was accidental and started in a bakery on Pudding Lane. 

But back to Cock Lane briefly - it was, of course, a street of brothels back in the day. 





Our next stop was a little park in West Smithfield (still bang in the centre of London).

This space was originally called Smethefelde and then Smoothfield and from ancient times was used for jousts, tournaments and executions as well as a market.  It's been a park since 1872.

Now handing over to Geoffy who has some exciting news about pocket-sized chisels and stilsons for the traveller's tool bag. 

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The park was really only an opportunity for us to set a spell (Beverly Hillbillies reference), and an excellent spot for it it was too.  An unexpected highlight was the arrival of champion police dog Robbie.

Robbie had been taken to the park for a bit of R & R by his devoted handler from the Met.  He's been trained to detect drugs, guns and explosives (could almost be the title of a Warren Zevon song) and is apparently pretty damned good.  He's recently earned his spurs by sniffing out 3kg of 'Class A', most probably cocaine.  Concealed in a wardrobe, and which they would never have found but for Robbie's olfactory efforts.

He's a Springer Spaniel as you can see.  He's 5 and has been in training since he was a pup.  We were told we could pet him, but he wasn't at all interested in us.  He was convinced that his handler had some extra special reward for his discovery of the contraband.  We were told his preferred reward would be a ball, not treats.

Alright, enough police dog news, but you all know how dog-obsessed we are.

The only downside of the day then ensued, which consisted of fruitless hunting for somewhere to eat, including Ye Olde Mitre Tavern, which I'm now convinced doesn't exist.  Thanks, numerous guide book references and Google maps.  Never mind, patience is occasionally rewarded, and we eventually stumbled across The Clerk & Well.

The district is called Clerkenwell, so of course you'd call your pub the Clerk & Well.  What else?  The district is named after something called the Clerk's Well, where parish clerks performed plays based on biblical themes.  Parts of the well still exist, but ravenous hunger precluded us searching for it.

The lunch was pretty good actually, although a stale cheese sandwich would have been quite acceptable.  The Mad Goose pale ale from Warwickshire wasn't bad either.

By the way, we couldn't get a decent photo of the front door without that bloke lurking there trying to sell stolen watches.

Not too many more highlights, thanks to a wasted 15 minutes hike to St Brides church, which very helpfully was closed.  We had been there several years ago.  Its claim to fame is that following bombing damage in WWII, the basement that had been blocked off for centuries was exposed, revealing a floor featuring very well preserved Roman mosaic tiles.  I think the appropriate proverb is: it's an ill wind that blows nobody good.

Speaking of bomb damage, we did walk past this on Farringdon Road.

I hafta confess, I didn't know London was damaged by Zeppelin raids in WWI.  The bombadier would have leaned over the side and dropped the missile by hand.

It's the sort of thing I should have known, but I'm happy that today has been an educational experience.

Great Aunt Anne back again now with something I forgot about Giltspur Street. During the Peasant Revolt in the 1300s, King Richard the Second agreed to meet Wat Tyler and other rebels in this very street to discuss their demands. But treachery ensued and the then Lord Mayor of London stabbed Wat Tyler. He took refuge in nearby St Bartholemew's church but was dragged out and beheaded.  And there endeth the history lesson.  And also tonight's blog post.  Tomorrow we'll be reporting from Edinburgh.  Och mon!