Friday morning on the way to Wales
It was with a tinge of sadness and a lot of anxious excitement I left Sameena and Mikes this morning. After hugs and breakfast and more hugs, Mike dropped me at the tube stations and I got to Vic Central and then walked to the coach station to catch the Megabus coach to Liverpool. A light shower had dampened the streets and freshened the air, but that blew over and blue sky again greeted my journeying. I was worried I'd make it in time but I did. I'm sitting on the bus writing this! Bit worried about lugging my suitcase around too, but I managed. Condensing both into the one rolly bag was an ok idea but I'll go back to two for the rest of the travelling.
The bus... well... I'm going to have to really look after myself from Glasgow to Paris. I thought the coach would be similar to the Henge tour bus but its not. Its cramped. Uncomfortable. Painfully restrictive in fact. And it doesn't stop!!! You can't get up and stretch or move around OR get off and get coffee, food or anything else. I have to admit that the thought of spending 24 plus hours like this is really stressing me out. But I'm sure I'll manage... Its not like I have a choice...
My last day (and night) in London was simply amazing. I got up early, took the #48 double decker bus (up top of course!) to London Bridge and the Tower of London. Used my VISA debit card for the first time and went sightseeing! It was fabulous! AND I got to see a tower raven LOL! Only the one but that was ok :D Then I walked the length of the beautiful Thames river until I veered off to reach St Pauls Cathedral.
There have been these threads running through the tapestry of this journey. One of them is the number of deep spiritual connections I have been making. Stonehenge, Glastonbury... They blew my mind but not half as much as how I felt when I sat under the basilica of St Pauls. When my eyes could no longer drink in the astounding majesty surrounding me, when my senses could no longer cope, I sat down, raised my eyes to the heavens and cried. I didn't really care who saw. That place FILLED me with joy and reverence and peace. I'm not religious. I don't care for organised religion at all. But in that hallowed and majestic space, I felt connected to all that is... It was one of the most deeply moving experiences of my life.
Later, I climbed narrow circular stairs to the Whispering gallery under the dome where I sat and cried again, awed by ancient splendour and the incredible vision of one mans tribute to his God. Magnificent. Powerful. Majestic. Amazing. I ran out of superlatives. No words can describe how I felt in that place.
After St Pauls I headed back to the Thames, stopping to get a takeaway salad and coffee. One thing I can't seem to find in London is good coffee. Believe me, Ive tried them all LOL! Lunch over, I walked to Westminster, taking pics along the way. My feet were SO sore, my legs so tired, but there were miles to go :D
Big Ben, Westminster, St Margarets Church, Trafalgar Square, The National Gallery, Regents Park - on to Buckingham Palace where a free garden party with the Queen saw a couple of miles of frocked up and fancy people queueing for hours for the opportunity to get in. I snapped off some candid images over my shoulder so no-one would freak out too much lol.
By this time I was totally fucked, so I made my way back 'home' via the tube and downloaded a few hundred photos, editing a few for facebook and my website and also catching up with people online to organise the next part of my trip and make sure everything was ok at home. Then we headed off to Sameenas gig where I met more of their lovely friends before coming back exhausted at midnight to sleep a short sleep until 5.30 am this morning.