04/11/25 Church-Spotting on The Last Day In London

Warning: photo spam incoming.

On my last day in London I walked up to the old stables beside the Crane river, retracing my steps from my first day in London, way back at the beginning of September.

Beyond the stables I turned left, following the Grand Union Canal in to Hayes & Harlington. Houseboats lined the canal near its intersection with the shopping street, and two white swans came to say hello.

Excuse me, are you feeding swans today?

 

The last day in London stretched before me, uncluttered by commitments.  Roger and Steve fended for themselves back at the hotel watching planes and completing previously neglected paperwork. I caught the Tube to Bond St and wandered south through Rich London Land,

Toy shops for rich people.

Bright orange buildings with matching bright orange street workers.

Berkeley Square was lined with benches of lunch-time Londoners under a thinning canopy of autumn leaves,

and further down the hill tourists congealed outside the gates of  Buckingham Palace, taking selfies and watching regular stomp-and-strut perambulations by the guards.

Australia!

I sat on a park bench in the sun, watching autumn leaves flutter to the ground while I rested my feet, watched squirrels, and ate chocolate.

From Buckingham Palace I wandered down through the Westminster precinct for a quick peek at the Government buildings,

Lots of them.

took a turn past Big Ben,

and washed up against Westminster Abbey.

I hadn't bought tickets to tour Westminster Abbey and couldn't bring my cheapskate self to do so, last day or no. Instead I visited St Margarets, which stood in the grounds of the Abbey and allowed me to enter and wander around for free.

Remembrance day installation in front of St Margarets, which was built as a parish church for the locals while the Abbey served the religious community.

St Marys boasted gracious white arches, shiny chandeliers, and an interesting history which included several rebuilds due to fire or war, and defense of the building by armed parishoners against the then Duke of Somerset who sought to knock the church down and use the material to build himself a new house.  As you do, if you're a Duke with delusions of grandeur.

Quite a modest organ, all things considered,

and an elaborately carved and painted pulpit.

Just across the road from St Margaret's and Westminster Abbey stood the Methodist Central Hall , a mere baby of a building at barely 120 years old.  The volunteer who showed me around almost burst with pride as she recounted the many notable people and events that had taken place there including the first meeting of the United Nations General Assembly in 1946.  Oh, and the odd visit from Queen Elizabeth for whom a royal box was especially built.  Oh, and the organist for many years was a Mr Lloyd-Weber senior whose son Andrew wrote a few little musicals one of which (Joseph and the Technicolour Dream Coat) debuted in the very Hall in which we were standing.

The central hall from the balcony.

My volunteer was also very proud of the dome ceiling, insisting that it was the same as that of the State Library in Melbourne only bigger.  She couldn't elaborate if that was same as in self-supporting design, or same as in decorations, but she was very clear that her ceiling was bigger.  I'm going to have to go to the State Library in Melbourne and look for myself now.

There was a fine view of the front door of Westminster Abbey from the outside terrace at the Methodist Central Hall.  Apparently TV crews liked to set up here when Royal events were on at the Abbey.  I suspected that although everything seemed free and easy on the surface there were a few strong undercurrents of security running through and around the Central Hall.

I was on a church-spotting roll!  On the way to Westminster Cathedral I popped in to visit St Matthews where the lovely caretaker graciously showed me round despite being on her way out the door when I walked in.

St Matthews was quite modest in comparison to its large and showy neighbours.  It too had a history of fire, ruin, and rebuild.

Not too shabby though.

And finally I ended up at Westminster Cathedral.  To be honest, I was actually little over the whole traipsing around churches by then: I was tired, my feet were sore, the streets were full of people just wanting to go home and I was one of them. But this was my last day in London so I girded my Tourist loins and soldiered on.

Entry.

John Francis Bentley, who designed the cathedral, died suddenly in 1902 without leaving any details on how he intended to finish the ceiling other than that it would be finished in mosaics.  While some mosaics have been completed the unfinished ceiling has become black with candle soot and awaits generous benefactors to fund more mosaics.

One of the finished mosaics.

Baldacchino over the high altar, with lavish use of multiple types of marble.

More mosaics,

The pulpit did not escape mosaics.

Well, that was enough churches for a day that was nearly over. I hopped on the Tube and landed at Bond St, hoping that the Christmas lights had been turned on.  Alas, the 'big' decorations wouldn't be turned on until 12 November but no matter, the little ones were still pretty anyway and the Hare Krishnas provided a backing track as I wandered along taking photos and eating waffles for tea.

Rain began to fall. As a final salute to London I climbed to the top deck of a red London bus and watched suburban London's cafes, kebabs, curry shops, and car washes trundle past in the night outside.

Oh all right.  Here's what kept Roger and Steve entertained all day while I was gone.