Parliament. Whoa. Okay, so I wasn’t paid, but I was an intern who did much more interesting work than a typical congressional intern. Oh, I enjoyed my internships in Congress, but walking the halls of Parliament was a couple levels of special higher to me. It is stunning in its beauty. Fascinating in its history.
After “lunch” (scones) at the Westminster Abbey café, we went back out into the brilliant sunshine (several times on the trip we were thanked for bringing sunshine with us from the States, even as the Canadian wildfires tried to blot out much of the eastern seaboard (looking forward to that big, fat environmental reparations check sent by Justin Trudeau).
First we popped over to Parliament Square to get a photo of the Nelson Mandela statue. That was so cool we didn’t notice the Abraham Lincoln statue. And, of course, I was shooting pictures of Big Ben whenever there was a good angle. Then we walked the length of Parliament outside, so I could get pictures of the House of Lords side from the small green park next to it. The park also affords stirring views of the Thames.
No tours were available by the time I thought to look while planning the tour, but I will never forget the times I sat in the gallery of the House of Commons, watching a great rip-roaring debate over issues. I try not to get too political in the blog, but it was exciting to be involved in British political life during the time when Mrs. Thatcher was turning the country around from an over-the-hill former colonial powerhouse that had gone to seed to a vibrant economy of growth and hope once again.
(Editor: Doesn’t “over-the-hill” and “gone to seed” mean the same thing? Writer: One expression wouldn’t be enough to truly communicate just how far down the toilet England had fallen in the 1970s. I had to get my point across).
We walked around the area some more, Carol putting up with listening to more of my basking in the glow of happy memories.
We went back to the hotel to shower and head off to dinner. Less than a half mile walk away, we had dinner at the very glamourous Sketch restaurant in Mayfair. The food was delicious, and I kept having to tell myself it was okay that we were there; someone wasn’t going to come up to me and say I wasn’t cool enough to be there (the point is debatable). After that, we walked back to the hotel and passed out, with joy in our jet-lagged hearts.
No such thing as too many photos of Parliament, so here's a few more:
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