Friday's Flashback: The Close of Day

Can you believe it?  In my recording of all that we saw and did in England, we are at the end of the first day.  I could drag this out all the way through 2012.  I've already shared several pictures of sunset over the Thames, and it truly was the perfect way to end our day.  We were tired, we hadn't seen it all or made it to every place, but there was only one more thing I was insistent on experiencing.  I really wanted pictures of Parliament and Big Ben from across the water at night.  There was supposed to be a nearly full moon, and getting a picture of THAT would be amazing, but I would settle for the sunset.

We arrived at Waterloo Station, which KJ reminded me was the place where it was proven once more that you should always listen to Jason Bourne.  The after-work foot traffic was pretty intense at this time, and we were in a hurry not to miss the sunset, so this is the only shot I got there.

KJ was a wonderful navigator through the London streets and making sure we made it to the right station, but alas, we did take a wrong turn leaving Waterloo.  We were walking down a road that didn't seem to be leading to a very good part of the city.  A helpful man on his way home from work redirected us, and we made it safely to the Golden Jubilee Bridge, which wasn't the exact angle I had envisioned but ended up being the perfect place.  

My tripod was packed away in a suitcase that we were hoping would be waiting for us at our BandB.  I took the best shots I could using KJ's shoulder, and next time around, I hope to learn how to pan more slowly with the video camera.  Despite my poor skills, I'm glad I shot video, because I love the sight of the boats slipping quietly through the water.

We then gave the passing man out of work a few pence from KJ's pocket 

and continued with our do-it-yourself photo session.

And then, being so very, very tired, we decided to say farewell to London.

Oh, wait, KJ, one more picture.

I can't get enough of Ben.

[Sigh]

We moved our weary feet (that according to my pedometer traveled about 24,000 steps) back in the direction of Victoria Station where we paid 30 pence to go to the bathroom and paid extra poundage to take the fastest train back to Gatwick Airport.  There we huddled close in the cold and waited for a cab.  I just realized that my one and only experience with a taxi was in London.  Yes. 

We arrived at The Manor House where our luggage awaited.  We were so thankful as went up the two flights of stairs and up a little step on the landing and down the hall to our room.  Locking the door with a big skeleton key we surveyed our room with the twin beds and pink coverlets with great relief.  A hot shower never felt so good as the one that washed off the 31- hour grime.  After figuring out how to turn on the telly (power button, then one push up of the channel button) I found Agatha Christie's Poirot playing.  I looked out the window to the darkness of a British pasture and felt so happy and expectant about what was to come.