The question of what to do in London that couldn’t be done in New Zealand, whilst also taking in a touch of luxury, and celebrating Christmas without the crowds required a little thought. perhaps the answer was to see the Changing of the Guard, and then a canal boat dinner? I’ve always wanted to cruise on a canal boat; no idea why, though maybe the adventures of Prunella Scales and Timothy West on their Great canal journeys added to the existing desire.
First, the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace. Just getting there was an adventure. The walk from the railway station included glimpses of modern meeting tradition, with a ‘green’ building….
… right around the corner from the amazingly stereotypical doormen of a deeply posh hotel, who seemed to be able to call up a taxi, organise guest’s luggage, and remember guest’s names with astonishingly multitasking ease, whilst looking absolutely regal in their red coats and black top hats. I’d love to experience being a guest one day, just to have that service!
On the same streets, royal buildings housing stables, and other ancillary services. The closer to Buckingham Palace you get, the deeper into another world, where gateways are designed for carriages, and roads are progressively cleared in readiness for parades.
Getting to the Palace early ensures a good posse, but only worth it if you can stand the wait. There are no seats, and always someone who thinks they are more important than you when it comes to hanging onto that front-line space. But the fun part is listening to the conversations! One lady seemed to think we were all there to see Queen Elizabeth 11, despite that amazing woman having died some months earlier. Then there was the party who were struggling to choose which takeaway they were going to have that evening, and the Italian man trying to do a business deal on the phone while waiting.
Television does no credit to the distance between the Palace building and the crowd-stopping fences. The photo below was taken from between the wrought iron bars. I imagined young royals gazing out and wondering why all the people were staring at their home. Such a regal building, demanding attention, but there’ll never be children playing in the front yard. Do the Royals ever manage to feel that they are not fenced in?
Police horses give their riders an overarching view of the crowd.
One of the side gates opens to let specially-selected guests into the courtyard. The guests carry letters which they show to heavily-armed police security, before they are led to where they must stand for the ceremony. What had these folk done to be so honoured? How did they feel, waiting patiently whilst being ogled by an envious crowd? They were soon followed by what looked like an apprentice group of sentry-like young adults, uncomfortably dressed in semi-formal civvies yet marching in time with their leader. Perhaps this second group were there to observe and learn?
At last, a ripple through the crowd. Someone’s coming! Fanfare as the parade arrives, and the big iron gates swing open to receive them. Tourists strain to see over their neighbors, and cameras are held aloft in the hope of getting the magic snap. Trumpets blast, police watch with rifles ready, and sentry’s march up, down, left, right, and round about.
I wanted to be enthralled. But maybe television, with it’s edited imagery and well-practised commentary, had ruined any chance of seeing this ceremony as anything other than a show for the tourists? Certainly I’m pleased there was no fee. Polished boots and well-loved tunes do not a worthy attraction make. Leaving the ceremony early meant avoiding the crowd surge.
Finding the canal boat took me through an underpass that looked like the back entrance to a service area, or where the homeless might hang out at night, so it was startling to suddenly find myself on the edge of a beautiful canal, with several floating eateries and permanent boat homes. Stepping down into ‘our’ boat… ‘mind your head’… crossed us into another world. Decorated dining tables lined each side of the aisle, with a tiny kitchen in behind, and a covered deck in front. How three chefs manage to cook such divine food in that kitchen space defies logic.
Before setting off, the captain regaled us with his version of a safety briefing; if the boat begins to sink we’re welcome to take our drinks up onto the roof to await rescue, but in the case of fire he suggests wading to the river bank might be a better option!
The seven-course Christmas dinner menu is set, though I’d pre-ordered caviar as an extra; another not-at-home item ticked off the bucket list. Not that I’d bother again. Fish roe isn’t a taste worthy of highlighting; perhaps it’s the idea which excites we innocents, similar to the appeal of the changing of the guard?
The menu however….
And the views….
Marvelous how the sultan of somewhere couldn’t prevent local artists having their say!
An Asian restaurant popped into view…
… and we found ourselves floating through London Zoo!
But all is not well on London’s canals.
Some rich landlubbers don’t like canal boats at the end of their gardens, and, to be fair, the canal boat community are not all intent on gentle picturesque living. Every society has their hoarders, and here is no exception. Our serenity was to be broken by an astonishing display of waterway violence. Two boats lashed together, carrying the most extraordinary collection of ‘stuff,’ took a dislike to our captain’s use of the waterway, and tried to force a collision! Our captain has been piloting these canals since he was a boy, and despite the other boats best efforts, our boat successfully out maneuvered them. Oh, the excitement! Trouble and strife on the high seas! The opposition were determined and angry. Not exactly the show (or language) expected on a serene internal river canal, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
The rest of the trip glided on, excitement soon replaced by a deep sense of peace. All too soon we were returned to the original boarding place, fully replete and feeling utterly spoiled.
A walk was in order. The Tower of London in the early evening, with Tower Bridge in behind (second photo).
A fabulous end to a memorable day.
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