22/10/24 Part Two: After The Tower

Barely had I walked two steps from the Tower of London when I came across All Hallows Barking, which claimed to be the oldest church in London City with fascinating crypts and layers of foundations suggesting that the site had been used for worship consistently since before the Romans founded the settlement of Londinium.

Roman mosaic tile floor uncovered during renovation/rebuilds.

The tiny museum/crypt. There was another slightly bigger one next door.

Creepy cherub.

Barely had I walked two steps from All Hallows Barking when I stumbled across St Mary at Hill, which was entered via a little laneway and a secret garden and had a lovely double-faced clock on its exterior.

An enthusiastic member of the Friends of London Churches told me that they try to have all of the churches open to visitors at least a couple of days each week. He sniffed when he found that I'd come from All Hallows. "Oh yes," he said. "They claim they're the oldest church in London City." This strongly implied that there was dispute about the oldest church rankings, but I didn't take the bait and steered him on to talk more about St Mary's instead.

St Mary's was one of the 85 churches burned during the Great Fire, and lucky enough to be one of the 51 churches rebuilt. The Commissioner for rebuilding, Christopher Wren, was responsible for much of the design and rebuild hence the moniker "Wren church" being applied to St Marys and other buildings throughout the city. Our friend Christopher liked domes and the Wren buildings were characterised by domes wherever he could put them.

Barely two steps from St Mary's was St Dunstan in the East, which was what I had been looking for when I stumbled across All Hallows and St Mary's.

St Dunstans was was also burned down by the Great Fire, rebuilt by Wren & Co, and then ruined by bombs in WWII. It was left ruined, preserved as a place to contemplate the destruction of which mankind was capable. It was also, as it turned out, a green and leafy place for both Londoners and squirrels to eat their lunches on a cold Wednesday in October.  I sat and contemplated, watching squirrels do squirrelly things in a way that was soothing to the soul.

Back at St Marys the volunteer and I had discussed the Great Fire of London monument that stood nearby, erected in 1677 only 202 yards (these measurements!) from where the fire started. 

It was considered Christopher Wrens greatest achievement after (or perhaps before?) St Paul's Cathedral. I had thought it was just a monument to photograph but the volunteer assured me that I could, should I be willing to pay the princely admission of £6, walk up the 311 steps of the spiral staircase and contemplate London from the platform at the top.

So I did.

Dizzying heights in more ways than one.

Half way up I stepped over a child who was clinging to the handrail with a death grip, wailing "Daddy I don't want to do it!"  Daddy attempted reason whilst apologising profusely to stepper-overers like me. Big brother bounced up and down the staircase, proclaiming loudly in his cute British accent: "If you go up you can tell everyone at school you climbed the highest tower in London and you'll get a certifitick!" He hung out over the handrail and the long drop in order to let me pass, causing palpitations in his increasingly stressed and out of-arms-reach father. "She's afraid of the height," he confided in me, in case I hadn't guessed the cause of his sister's trauma.

I continued to the top to which Dad, big brother, and the wailing one never arrived. Instead I dealt with French teenagers patiently rolling their eyes while Mum and Dad got excited about history.

Back at ground level I walked across London Bridge and it didn't fall down. To be honest it was just another Bridge in the shadow of the show stopping Tower Bridge just upriver. The most exciting thing about it was the £3 hot chocolate at the other end. Now that was something that gave me thrills!

Barely two steps from the Bridge I spotted the Southwark Cathedral and decided that it would be a fitting finale to my afternoon of spontaneous church-spotting.

Getting there was a bit of a maze though, and on the way my friend Google took me through the Borough Markets which was another delightful surprise.

In the Cathedral there were the usual soaring arches and elaborate fittings,

a grand pipe organ,

more ancient Roman mosaic floors,

and flooring made from repurposed headstones where Roman mosaics weren't to hand.

I was especially privileged to see Hodge, the current Cathedral Cat who is even mentioned in the Cathedral's Wikipedia page.

Not Hodge. Sadly, I deleted his photo before I found out he was famous.

There were a whole heap of burial crypts many of which tended to bright colours and lavish decoration.  

From the Cathedral I walked along the Thames, past the remnants of Winchester Palace,

and past the Clink Prison museum with its macabre caged skeleton,

and Shakespeare's Globe Theatre too.

I had planned to visit the Westminster precinct but by now it was getting late and I was tired.  I crossed the river again on the Millenium Bridge, easily the ugliest of all the bridges over the Thames and not even graced with a pretty coat of paint.

On the way to Blackfriars station I swung past St Paul's Cathedral where I briefly contemplated attending Evensong in a gambit to see the interior without coughing up £25, but that would have meant a late ride/walk home and I was tired. Instead I just did a spot of walk-by shooting (strictly photographic).

And then I went home to rescue Roger and Steve from the spiral of catastrophic thought into which, alone all day with only themselves for company, they had sunk.