Walked from the train station to the IYH (youth hostel, a converted choir school for St Paul’s Cathedral) dropped off my luggage and dropped off myself into a very comfy chair, snagging a solid hour of nap time. Tempted for more, I hustled up and headed to the London Museum, which is within spitting distance of the hostel, with the intent of learning about Roman and Medieval times, and in particular, the remains of the original city wall. What a dense museum that is, complete with parts of the wall that originally marked the city, and saved structures beyond it during the Great Fire of 1666. Most impressive! Took in an Evensong service at St. Paul’s , that was a bit of a challenge acoustically, as I’m not sure the choir was together combined with the organ and an enormous delay. Loved the organ.
Now, I find myself this evening in a pub that was rebuilt after that fire mentioned above, which is down a cozy lane and up the stairs. Broken into smaller rooms with rich wood paneling, a creamy Samuel Smith bitter quenches my thirst, while I wait to see if this fine establishment serves food. Water, is plentiful at the hostel now that the broken pipe has been repaired. I love that place. It’s my go-to hostel anywhere. (Gosh, I hope they serve food! There is salt and pepper on the table…) It’s the kind of place where spirited philosophical conversations echo in the storied walls and rough floor boards walls. Kind of place where I could imagine Beethoven frequenting before deafness completely overtook his essence. And the glass in the windows is original and sagging. It’s perfect.
After some time, I found the food 1.5 very low basements beneath the philosophical discussions of my highly educated floor mates upstairs. The young man down here, who seemed delighted to have an order, gave me a sensor-like thing, sorta like Alexa without the voice, that will “go mad when your food is ready”. So will I, fine chap, so will I!
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