Despite the fact that my trip was for business I did find myself with one hour for sightseeing. Before someone at work complains and questions why I wasn’t checking my email at the time, it was ten in the morning on Monday which was four in the morning in KC. There wouldn’t have been any email to check. And one hour of free time meant that I had just enough time to sprint through Westminster Abbey, which is pictured above just before I attempted to see how fast one can traverse one of the greatest historical sites in the world.
Basically, I couldn’t stay at a hotel a few minutes walk from the Abbey and not make an attempt to tour it. It’s such a strange place. It’s a combination church, cemetery, hall of fame, and cultural touchstone. Kings were crowned there and then were buried there. You can’t turn around without running into a famous grave. Or a tourist with one of those headphone wands that cause them to wander around blindly listening to a bad description of what they could see if they just opened their eyes. Sorry but it was tough having to fight through the crowds and tour groups so that I could experience the space.
And it is an amazing place. If you have any sense of history the place just knocks the breath out of you. Over there is the grave of Edward the Confessor. There is Elizabeth I. Here is Henry V, whose grave doesn’t get nearly the attention that I feel it deserves. It’s almost as if it is in a discarded corner and that doesn’t seem right for my favorite Shakespeare character. Every step you take brings you in contact with history. As well as with some lesser known people. Such as the inventor of the Penny Postage, who had a small statue in one corner. It’s nice to know that the guy who invented the stamp gets to be buried amongst kings. As was Sir Edward Earle Bulwer-Lytton who will always be remembered as the guy who started a novel with the sentence “It was a dark and stormy night.” Maybe it isn’t that tough to get into Westminster after all.
Two other sights that deserve mentioning. The Coronation Chair is one of those historical artifacts that leaves you dumbfounded. Here is the chair that the rulers of England have been crowned on for centuries and it is sitting out in the open with no one guarding it. And to be honest, it doesn’t look like that comfortable of a chair. It is sorely lacking in the area of lower back support. Plus, you can see how generations of people have carved their initials into the chair. Talk about finding your way into immortality.
The other is one of my favorite places in the world, Poets Corner. I have to love any country that dedicates a place of honor to its writers. I just seem to find myself standing there, looking down at the names, and just being blown away by who is buried around me. From Chaucer to Olivier, they are all in this one corner of the church. And they all have tourists stomping over their graves with absolutely no regard to who they are. Now I know that part of this is just the nature of the building, when you bury people in the floor people have to walk over their graves. It’s just that Poets Corner houses the last resting place of some of my idols and it’s tough to stand there and watching people not treat the place with the respect and reverence that I feel it deserves.
(While I do appreciate the fact that the tour guides were pointing out the grave of the 152 year old man. How can you go to London and not see the grave of the 152 year old man?)
Longest bar story tomorrow. Well, not longest in terms of words. More like length. It’ll make sense when I explain it.
Basically, I couldn’t stay at a hotel a few minutes walk from the Abbey and not make an attempt to tour it. It’s such a strange place. It’s a combination church, cemetery, hall of fame, and cultural touchstone. Kings were crowned there and then were buried there. You can’t turn around without running into a famous grave. Or a tourist with one of those headphone wands that cause them to wander around blindly listening to a bad description of what they could see if they just opened their eyes. Sorry but it was tough having to fight through the crowds and tour groups so that I could experience the space.
And it is an amazing place. If you have any sense of history the place just knocks the breath out of you. Over there is the grave of Edward the Confessor. There is Elizabeth I. Here is Henry V, whose grave doesn’t get nearly the attention that I feel it deserves. It’s almost as if it is in a discarded corner and that doesn’t seem right for my favorite Shakespeare character. Every step you take brings you in contact with history. As well as with some lesser known people. Such as the inventor of the Penny Postage, who had a small statue in one corner. It’s nice to know that the guy who invented the stamp gets to be buried amongst kings. As was Sir Edward Earle Bulwer-Lytton who will always be remembered as the guy who started a novel with the sentence “It was a dark and stormy night.” Maybe it isn’t that tough to get into Westminster after all.
Two other sights that deserve mentioning. The Coronation Chair is one of those historical artifacts that leaves you dumbfounded. Here is the chair that the rulers of England have been crowned on for centuries and it is sitting out in the open with no one guarding it. And to be honest, it doesn’t look like that comfortable of a chair. It is sorely lacking in the area of lower back support. Plus, you can see how generations of people have carved their initials into the chair. Talk about finding your way into immortality.
The other is one of my favorite places in the world, Poets Corner. I have to love any country that dedicates a place of honor to its writers. I just seem to find myself standing there, looking down at the names, and just being blown away by who is buried around me. From Chaucer to Olivier, they are all in this one corner of the church. And they all have tourists stomping over their graves with absolutely no regard to who they are. Now I know that part of this is just the nature of the building, when you bury people in the floor people have to walk over their graves. It’s just that Poets Corner houses the last resting place of some of my idols and it’s tough to stand there and watching people not treat the place with the respect and reverence that I feel it deserves.
(While I do appreciate the fact that the tour guides were pointing out the grave of the 152 year old man. How can you go to London and not see the grave of the 152 year old man?)
Longest bar story tomorrow. Well, not longest in terms of words. More like length. It’ll make sense when I explain it.
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