Sunday, July 19, 2009
London

It being Sunday, Llew and I decided to go for Service to the Church of St. Peter in Chains which is one of the royal chapels of her Majesty the Queen located inside the precincts of the Tower of London on Tower Hill. We ate a cereal breakfast at home, then showered and left at leisure. Llew was jet lagged and was finding it difficult to focus, so hats off to him for making it on time for the 11 am service which we reached by the Number 15 bus which we caught from Fleet Street. Smithfield is quiet and very deserted on a Sunday morning and Llew enjoyed soaking in its unique ambiance.

We were able to get past the hordes of tourists and the long line snaking into the Tower of London. I led Llew to the Church which was opened up for us by one of the Yeoman Guards (Beefeaters). It was a very small gathering (not more than 15 members in the congregation) that were in the historic church built during the reign of Henry VIII. It is filled with memories of the many figures who spent their last days in prayer here including Katherine of Aragon for whom this was a private chapel. As in all Anglican churches, there are memorials lining the walls honoring those who died bravely and several funerary monuments all over the church. Its age is easily proclaimed by its interior.

Right after the service which was conducted by Chaplain Roger Hall (whose vestments were decorated with the various medals he has received while serving his country in war times–like the Chelsea Pensioners), we began our tour of The Tower of London with a look at the fascinating Crown Jewels. I had been there only two months ago with Chriselle but Llew was returning there after more than 30 years and could not remember anything, so it was primarily for his sake that I had planned this morning’s excursion to the Tower.

Needless to say, we were entranced by the jewels, their history and significance as we stood on the mechanical walkway that runs alongside the glass cases that hold these priceless treasures. In fact, we stood on the walkway twice as well as walked slowly by each plaque that gives details about each piece. I really adore the little diamond crown that was especially made for Queen Victoria to wear after she became widowed. It is a darling little crown (like a child’s) but exquisitely designed and executed and twinkles brightly. Of course, the Koh-in-noor diamond on the Queen Mother’s Crown and the Cullinan (Star of Africa) diamond on the sceptre always earn a few gasps.

Next, we were out in the Tudor courtyard taking a look at the scaffolding upon which had once lain the heads of Anne Boleyn and a host of other unfortunate sods who had the temerity to say “Boo” to Henry. We walked reverentially around what used to be the chopping block (with grizzly axe included) but which now holds a quartz crystal “cushion”, a sculpture by Brian Catling–a far less startling reminder of the blood and gore that encompassed that phase in English history. We followed a guided tour group back into the church where we were treated to the delightful commentary of one of the Beefeaters (so-named because they did not receive any money as payment but were provided with meals in days gone by–a fact that singled them out from the local populace most of whom could not afford meat).

We took a bus back home where we had lunch (still trying to finish things in my fridge and freezer) and then took a short nap (as poor Llew is still jetlagged). When we awoke, I suggested that we relax quietly at home until dinner time. I called Jack who gave me the address of the most excellent authentic Pakistani restaurant in the East End called Lahore Kebab House just off Commercial Road. Llew and I rode the bus there (Number 15) and then walked to the spot where the aroma of grilled meats reached us long before we arrived at the door.

We were shown upstairs to a very spacious hall by the waiter who, looking at Llew, switched straight away into choice Urdu–it was great that we both speak it fluently, so that the rest of our conversation with the waiter was in the tongue of our native land! On his recommendation, we ordered mixed kebabs as appetizers (seekh, chicken tikka and lamb chops–absolutely fabulous!) and the Special of the Day, the Tiger Prawn Curry with Rotis and Naans. The curry was to die for but a trifle spicier than both Llew and I can handle. With our noses running, we relished our meal and decided to have the Pista Kulfi for dessert as our mouths were on fire by the end of it–much as it was memorable and a very reasonably priced meal. We left the restaurant paying less than thirty pounds for the two of us which, given London’s prices, was a steal.

Stuffed and chastising ourselves for over-eating, we took the bus back home. It was almost midnight when we turned in, delighted at having spent such a great day together in London.