That there London
Yesterday’s trip up to the smoke allowed for a flying visit to St Paul’s Cathedral, which happened to lie on a direct line between the Underground station and the rather plush offices of Ofcom.
Coincidentally, both St Paul’s and Scary Towers are built from Portland Stone. Wren got the top quality stuff, while we ended up with the floor sweepings mixed up into concrete blocks. Luckily, I managed to wangle the lift most of the way to the top on account of my shonky bollocks, though I politely refused the offer of a “laying on of hands”, the manky old devil.
It was indeed a short visit – escorted from the premises for starting a Mexican wave in the Whispering Gallery, just going to disprove that Depeche Mode song completely – He has no sense of humour.
Another one to add to my list, then, of essential advice for tourists, a gag that I’ve been gently refining for the last five years for the day I finally onto I’m Sorry, I Haven’t A Clue.
Pictures! Flickr-me-arse.
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