I wanted to visit the Salisbury Cathedral before we left, so after another excellent breakfast, we checked out and stowed our bags with the staff, then took a short walk to the cathedral grounds. It’s an impressive building — the highest spire in all of England, we were told.
Unfortunately, we wouldn’t be able to spend enough time there to justify the suggested admission price, so we enjoyed exploring the exterior a bit, as well as the gift shop.
I’m sorry we didn’t have more time there. I’d like to go back someday. Still, it was a nice visit. It was perfect weather and the grounds to the front were dotted with families sunning, picnicking, and generally celebrating the springtime — a very soul-inspiring experience, though perhaps not in the way originally intended.
Then it was time to head back to London, for our flight-attendant-strike-shortened final leg of the trip. When I’d booked the travel, I had checked for trains to our destination. We realized that we didn’t need to complete the final leg by train — we were within the city limits and could get there sooner using our Oyster passes (and did). I don’t know how it would have impacted the train fare to have booked with that in foresight, but I’ll keep it in mind next time. (And we have already decided there WILL be a next time.)
Our final stay was to be at the expensive Hotel Trafalgar, right in the heart of the city, with Trafalgar Square and its many attractions on one side, and the grounds of Buckingham Palace on the other. The hotel was a disappointment in many respects. Those have already discussed with the management, so I’ll say no more of that here, other than, unless the location is all you really want, you can do better by staying elsewhere and taking the tube.
Still, the location itself was amazing. Though we were tired, Cait and I decided to venture across the square to check out the National Gallery. That, and many others, offer free admission; the catch is that they’re generally open during banker’s hours only. But we were in luck — the Gallery is open until 9 p.m. on Friday evenings, and it was a Friday.
We made our way past the human statues and some small rallies and a large audience watching a contortionist, and found the gallery itself. I was surprised to read that the Tate was created because serious museum folks didn’t think the gallery buildings did proper justice. I focused on on some galleries of particular interest to me (the Impressionists, Degas, Cezanne, Seurat, Gauguin, Van Gogh). I know there was so much more to see, but it had been a long day, and fatigue and hunger were setting in, so we took the short stroll back to our room.
Our restaurant choices had become the result of a quick Internet search to see what was in the area (i.e., walking distance) and well spoken of by other travelers. I settled on a choice not far away, described as hidden and quiet but with good food at reasonable prices. So we set off on foot, but after circling various blocks in Piccadilly a few times with no luck, settled for a Pizza Hut. It later turned out that the establishment we had sought had “ceased trading.” So beware those Google maps! Or at least call ahead.
There still being a bit of time, and Mark being rested from his nap, we encouraged him to get over to the Gallery while he could. That’s where the location really helps — he could pop right over and be back in minutes, on foot. I’m glad he at least had a chance to see what the Gallery has to offer.
And then it was time to turn in for the night.