The weather on my final day in London convinced me it was time to go home. For the sixth day out of seven it was raining—not a drizzle but full-out drenching rain. Because my flight wasn’t until evening, I wanted to spend it productively.
I headed over to Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery. It seemed as if every other tourist in the city also decided to go there. The National Gallery is enormous but every room, without exception, was jammed. After less than an hour I’d had enough.
Across the street is St. Martin’s church. It’s a lovely peaceful place to escape. I sat and daydreamed for nearly an hour. A few steps away from the church is the entrance to the underground crypt. Surprisingly, they have a really good canteen (cafeteria) and a gift shop. It’s a little weird eating at a table over grave markers, but surprisingly cheerful. It too was filled with people, but I quickly found a table and marveled over the strangeness of it all.
When I emerged, the rain had stopped and the sun was trying to come out. Then the wind started. It was so strong people were holding onto walls to keep from getting blown away. I had been planning to walk to Foyles, my favorite bookstore in London, but the wind was just too powerful and debris was flying about. So, I got back on a bus. As I looked out the window, I saw an enormous Christmas tree (at least twenty feet high) blow over. Fortunately, no one got hurt.
With that I decided to just go back to the hotel and wait for the Uber that was coming to take me to Heathrow Airport.
Not surprisingly given the weather, my flight was delayed. But I got home, just later than expected.