If you let me, I will sit on my ass for twelve hours a day, playing video games and eating delivery pizza. However, since both of those options are out for now (misery and despair await my waistline, as soon as I get back to the land of Gumby’s), I’ve taken to filling my days with street strolls and scenic hikes. Keith, my first couch-surfing host, suggested I start at St. Paul’s Cathedral, and that sounded brilliant to me, as it’s just north of both the Tate Gallery and Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. So I hopped on a metro and had myself a wander. Here are some pics.

Starting with a lovely shot of St. Paul’s:

Yep. That’s a cathedral, all right. Has all the symptoms of cathedrality. Lots of columns, impressive detailing, an irresistible air of elitism. Hot damn, I want one. Moving across to the Millennium Bridge:

After the bridge was the Tate Gallery. But I haven’t finished with the Tate yet, so you don’t get any pictures. Just remember that it’s a modern art gallery, inside a gutted-out warehouse. It looks awesome from the inside. But more importantly, here is a reconstructed Globe Theatre:

I plan on going back for a tour either this week or next. And they have standing tickets to all their shows for FIVE POUNDS. That’s MADNESS. And if you’re gonna go to the Globe, you’re gonna stand to watch a show. You can sit your ass down anywhere else, you watch Shakespeare’s plays like his audiences, goddammit.

However, Shakespeare’s plays were, unfortunately, sold out for the entire month (as was Doctor Faustus; double dammit!), but I did get a ticket to a more modern play called The God of Soho, scheduled for the end of the month. I’ll take what I can get, still super-stoked.

Moving on then. Funny thing about the Thames, apparently it’s more or less a constant carnival in certain stretches. Even on a Monday afternoon, I found a market, clusters of screaming children, more street performers than I’ve seen on my entire trip, lots of interesting art displays, and even a small skate park.

And then Westminster happened. Holy hell.

And then…

Westminster Abbey.

Now I had every intention of going in, until I saw this sign.

That’s right. Sixteen pounds for adult, thirteen for student. But I bit the bullet, knowing full well that I couldn’t come all this way and not see Westminster Abbey. And I still had my student ID on me anyway (we’re glossing over whether it’s actually valid). So I strolled in, and I saw this. And this is a funny shot, because I had to take several pictures and cram them together, all while bending for a better view of the ceiling. So when I say that I literally bend over backwards for pictures on this blog, you can take me at my word.

And you’re doubly lucky to have that shot, because two seconds later someone tapped me on the shoulder and informed me that, apparently, photography isn’t permitted in the Abbey. Which would have been lovely to know beforehand. So of course I stopped taking pictures and just enjoyed my walk.

Haha nope. I just took them where there weren’t abbey staff, like the cloisters and gardens.

Lovely stuff. And while I couldn’t snap pics of any of the plaques or statues, I was thrilled to find the markers for Robert Browning, Charles Dickens and Alfred, Lord Tennyson, as well as the memorials for William Shakespeare and John Milton. Those were great for helping me assess my own sense of sacrament; I couldn’t care less about any number of greasy kid-hands all over the holy shrines, but for my entire walk through the Poet’s Corner, I was screaming in my head, GET YOUR FAT ASS OFF OF TENNYSON’S GRAVE WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING. Which was a good exercise in personal reservation.

That was more or less my day, except for some park pictures I’ll dump in a more appropriate place. I’m rushed now, but I’ll be updating with the secret ‘real’ aim of my pilgrimage, the one thing I was heading toward the entire time. Exactly none of you will guess it. Back shortly!