The Poppies Blow...

Actually, I always thought that poem was "In Flanders Fields, the poppies grow..." but it's really "the poppies blow."  At any rate, it's all about the poppies here in London as we approach Armistice Day. Everyone buys poppies and wears them; haven't seen that in the US for many years. Today, we went to the Tower of London where the poppies art installation in the moat is drawing thousands of people every day. It's so crowded that when you get on the tube, an announcement tells you not to try to get off at Tower Hill but rather the stop before or after. Sometimes, they close the stop. We got off at Monument Hill, like they told us, and walked to the Tower. We did wonder what monument they were talking about but couldn't see anything.

As promised, there were thousands of people. We were afraid they were all visiting the tower today but they weren't--just getting the best views of the ceramic poppies.

Poppies in the Moat

The display is spectacular. We had both read a little about them before we left; an artist designed the molds but volunteers worked 24 hours a day in different areas of England, preparing the poppies. Each one is on a stem which is placed in the ground. We didn't get this view but on one part of the tower, poppies cascade from the wall to the ground.

We were early for the tour of the tower, so we walked right into the building where the crown jewels are housed. That turned out to be a good decision because when we finally left for the day, the wait to enter had to be over an hour. They installed a slow moving sidewalk to view the actual crowns and other jewels which ensures no crowds around each display. As the guidebook warned, the tour, conducted by a Beefeater, was a little gruesome. He described beheadings in detail, for example. However, we figured that most people are bored by just the history so they had to spice up the presentation. 

Wire animal sculptures since there aren't any real ones anymore

After the tour, we visited the White Tower which used to house almost everything...the mint, the zoo, prisoners, at various times in history. In our new tradition of always eating in the museums, we had a quick lunch and walked along the top of the wall.  Castles tend to have a lot of narrow, windy steps so it was tiring. 

After the Tower adventure, we walked to the tube, looking for that monument we kept seeing on the maps when lo and behold, we discovered it...right by the station. Had we looked to our right when we got out the first time, we would have seen it. It turns out the monument of Monument Hill was designed by Wren to commemorate the fire of 1666. You can climb the 311 stairs and get a great view of the city, but really...who would? 

THE Monument

For dinner, we found a highly recommended pub within walking distance. Their specialty is pies. Lola had the chicken pie; I had the Poachers. Mine had rabbit, pheasant, wild boar...or so they claimed; maybe it's just whatever they catch that day. The sauces were great and the pastry is very light and flaky--seriously, the flakes got all over our clothes. For dessert, we had a fruit crumble. 

Speaking of clothes, I decided to martyr myself and do a load of my clothes in the stupid washer/dryer combo so that in case the clothes were ruined, Lola could go to a laundromat. Even though the instruction book is in English, it is not any easier to understand than the French version I had in Paris which caused me to dry clothes for about  7 hours. I set the machine, as they suggested, for a wash and 40 minute dry. We walked to dinner, ate, and came back, and the machine was still running. When it stopped, the clothes were soaking wet. I have now attempted to change the dryer to high heat for 40 minutes to see if that works. Lola has taken the drying rack out of the closet just in case. It looks like I'll be up late waiting for the 40 minutes to end since I don't think these machines measure time the same way I do.