Our time in London wasn't this ominous. Really. Makes one glad other people have gone and written British Gothic novels, though, doesn't it? Saves one the trouble.
Big Ben and the London Eye. For some reason, Mark did not want to ride on the Eye. Can't fathom it. (I didn't actually, either: not nearly enough time for things I was genuinely keen on, so that was way down the list.)
I don't even think I knew where this was at the time. I just liked the gold ladies jumping.
The London dragon! I think Minneapolis should get a dragon, too. Maybe every city should have a dragon.
Mark and me on the bus on Tower Bridge. We got off the bus shortly thereafter to poke around looking at the Tower of London.
This is a memorial to the sea dead from the Great War, across from where we went into the Tower of London. One of the things I noticed more about London this time than a decade ago was that the Great War is a good deal more important in Britain. And rightly so, but you just don't see memorials like that in the States, and I'll bet a lot of US citizens don't know what the red poppy is for.
(Rant about the teaching of history in American schools omitted here.)
My grandparents with a Tower guard.
They--my grands, I mean--can talk to anybody, and it helps when Grandpa runs into Marines everywhere he goes. (Royal Marines, in this case, though I don't remember whether this one was the Marine or the other guard they talked to.)
Here are the secrets to a good vacation with Mark: 1) Do not make him go into high places. 2) Let him have good chocolate and possibly beer. 3) Take him places where stuff fell down a long time ago.
Part of the inside of the tower had arms and armor in it, which was pretty cool.
Ravens! None of them did anything very interesting about thought and memory, though. One pays attention to these things, but one is often disappointed.
More of Monday in London....