Great British Rail Deals to London from the Southwest UK

It's been at least twenty years since I went sight-seeing in London. It's more stunning to me now than when I was a bored teenager visiting the War Museum :-).

The American group (me, two seventeen year old girls and my 13 year old son) and the British group (my sister's husband and their 11 year old son) caught the 7am train from Branksome near Poole, Dorset - way early for a Sunday - and arrived at Waterloo station 2.5 hrs later. The yanks and the brits split up and the brits took the tube to Greenwich to visit various museums and otherwise learn about clocks, and play at being either east or west of the line at Greenwich Meantime. A big part of me really wanted to do that instead of the usual sight-seeing.

So here's what the American group did: Left Waterloo, walked past the London Eye (big, slow-moving ferris-wheel like contraption), eyed the prices and kept walking (£35 a pop), turned left at the Eye and the Thames and oggled Big Ben, catching the 10am chimes (minus the 'News at Ten' headlines that accompany those bells in my memory), took a billion photos of the adjacent Houses of Parliament, tried not to get run over by a bus or rowdy pedestrian tour groups, took a billion photos of Westminster Abbey snuggled behind Parliament, took another photo of Big Ben from a different angle, headed towards Horse Guard Parade square where they do the Trooping of the Colour each year, saw Nelson's Column at the end of the street and headed for Trafalgar Square, which is right beneath it, took another photo of Big Ben, stopped at a small street Cafe for a Traditional English Breakfast  served by a French girl, bought souvenirs from Lambert's Souvenir shop, hopped on over to the Trafalgar Square fountains and lions, thought it looked oddly different from 20 years ago (found out later it has been changed: traffic re-routed, steps added, bird-poop majorly cleaned up from poor old Nelson's head and shoulders), took yet another alternative angled photo of Big Ben, spied Buck House (palace) from Trafalgar Square and headed down the now pedestrian-zoned Pall Mall - my kids delighting in all the English Monopoly board names they'd learned in a 4 hour game a few days earlier - witnessed a royal guard marching band in front of Queen Victoria's statue by the Palace, tried to take pics of the Palace amidst thousands of tourists, remembered what it was like when cars were allowed in Central London, saw the guards change, walked through St. James's Park to get to Piccadilly and wow what is that really ornate building - oh it's the Ritz: you mean the Ritz?! Stop to put in my 3rd memory card (800 photos later), saw Eros at Piccadilly Circus, explained to bewildered son why there are no clowns and elephants, took the tube to St. Paul's and stopped in the Cathedral for a peaceful Sunday moment, lit some candles and headed out again into a beautiful rain shower, stupidly walking towards Tower Bridge instead of taking the tube, noting the Tate Gallery and Shakespeare Globe Theater across the river on the other side of a funky-looking bridge, got to the Tower of London and listened to my 17 year old and her friend enthuse about the "Other Boleyn Girl" movie, recoiled at the heaving crowds and opted for more English junkfood of Thai Curry and Coriander potato chips plus jelly babies in a cafe under Tower Bridge (the blue and gold one they run across during the London Marathon), sat and people-watched for 45 mins and climbed steps up onto Tower Bridge, which incidentally is made up partly of Portland Stone from Dorset's Jurassic Coast, saw the bridge and road drawn up very quickly to let a tall yet sparsely built ship pass through, pushed and elbowed our way through the crowds back to a tube station and tried to consider how to fill our remaining hour and a half, so squashed ourselves in sardine-style to several tube cars hoping not to either get stuck in the doors or pickpocketed, stood cramped up against sweaty strangers on the tube and watched my 17 year old companions' eyes get bigger and bigger with disgust, made it back to the Piccadilly Circus station and headed off up Regent Street (yet another Monopoly property) to find the old 1980s hippie trinket haven Carnaby Street, which has calmed down now into surfer dude stores and restaurants, and hey that shy little building says "Palladium" on it, I wonder if it's the Palladium?! Strode back off up Regent Street to the Oxford Circus underground and with remarkable ease ended up 4 stops later at Waterloo to meet up with the British team.

Phew!

What I love about London, Bournemouth and other larger UK cities is the 'anything goes' type of fashion. People wear whatever they want to and the only folk dressed remotely alike are employees in a uniform. I've seen women in bell bottoms, skinny jeans, short shorts, long skirts, dresses, shorts with black hose underneath and bright pink calf boots. If you're dressed safely you stand out like a sore thumb. I find this exciting and extremely liberating. Same goes for hairstyles and color. Now I remember why I used to walk ten miles a day in fashion boots as a young adult, draping multicolored scarves over any type of outfit. Maybe that's why I skate: it's an excuse to wear mismatched extreme clothing in the South :-)