London in a day
We used our final day in London to split up. I went for breakfast in a small cafe down the road. Coffee in England is stronger in taste than in Canada. They add all the sugar and milk behind the bar. I met up with Megan and we climber to the top of the 30 story walkie-talkie, to the Sky Gardens. Which them selves where less impressive tan the assisted elevator ride indicated they wold be. The view however, lived up to my elevated expectations.I then walked to the shopping district known as SOHO. The wide streets included Oxford circus (bars and restaurants), Piccadilly circus (A cluster-fuck of differing shops), and Regent street (upscale stores where the employees look down at you through their nose or treat you like a queen). I made my way to Selfridges where I took the escalator four floors up and four floors down before exiting through the perfumed cosmetic area of the luminous posh mall. I was fell to distraction on my way to Tea on Leather Lane. I came to a shop which sold prints from the two graphic designers of all the Harry Potter movies. Each of the four stores in the small building was themed differently. I bought over a kilogram of coffee from the cozy Algerian coffee shop. One was expected to pour their own espresso shot for a cup of coffee.I had a crumpet with my tea, which is a cross between a pancake and an English muffin. I decided to make my way up to Westminster to Abbey Road. The famous crosswalk is marked with flashing lights, indicating drivers to yield to the tourists crossing the iconic cross walk. What I found more interesting was the recording studio. The white walls were covered in sharpie signatures, dates and Beatles phrases. The studio had been used by other musicians all striving to perform as well as those who recorded there before them. However this place was dedicated to the Beatles. Down the road stood the Yellow Submarine Pub. I spent my evening around Southbank where I listened to Simon Garfield talk about time as part of the London Literature festival. I was gifted with the company of a poet who had put his poetry out front of Tate Modern for passerby's to pick up. He had every single poem memorized and recited the contemplation of Bee's to me, stating that he had once been lucky enough to contemplate Bee's.