24 September 2002
Our final day. Mom and I walked from our hotel up Victoria Street to Westminster Abbey. A wander through there with a long pause at the Poet's Corner. Some writers are just honored here; some are actually buried here. Part of the fun is discovering who is and who is not.
Just at the door as we left: A tribute to "A British Warrior unknown by name or rank buried 11 November 1920 in the presence of King George V."
Then we were out on the street with the Houses of Parliament straight ahead. In front of the buildings people were chanting and protesting: Don't Attack Iraq.
I wanted to see 10 Downing Street - hoping for a glimpse of Mr. Blair. Police came up behind us and moved everyone along as there was a 'suspect package' at the base of the Cenotaph which is the site of a yearly Remembrance Service to commemorate British and Commonwealth servicemen and women who died in the two World Wars and later conflicts. The inscription reads "The Glorious Dead".
One of the city's many ironies: On every London street corner, in every church, there is a war memorial to the thousands who have died in battle. And yet the talk of war, the smell of war is still in the air. You would think we might have learned by now.
We ended the day with dinner at the Ebury Wine Bar next to our hotel. The very place we had eaten dinner our first night in London. I like a tidy ending, don't you?