When we arrived at Marylebone at 12.10pm today, I saw a man having his shoes shined on a ‘Shoe Shine Express seat’; and we went down the stairs to the Bakerloo line, got on to a tube that looked and felt like an overheated baked bean can, were off it within 4 minutes and on to a Metropolitan line train with a lot less people on it, and were repeatedly told to mind the gap. We got off at 12.35pm, I saw a cafe called ‘Protein Haus’ (selling protein shakes and fitness food), and I got out my phone to look up directions (and noticed a sprinkler sprinkling water over a small patch of grass) – and then we began trying to navigate via the phone (which was extremely difficult), by 1pm we’d got out a traditional London A-Z, were still confused, and my mother made an executive decision to hail a taxi, and stuck her arm up. We were in 1 (which felt like an oven) – driven by a brilliant traditional London cabbie within 2 minutes, passed a gym that said ‘turning builders bums into chiselled glutes’ on the front, and we were delivered to the visa centre we were aiming for several minutes later.

In there, we were given a ticket with the number 248 on it and then sat in an area of 6 rows of chairs in front of counters where the ticket numbers popped up with a ping on a TV screen to tell people which desk to go to. Then I went to a desk, was told that I needed to add a phone number to my form, so went over to the row of computers in the corner of the room to do it, the forms were reprinted, we went back to the desk (and I felt hysterical due to the extreme organisation of it all) and were told that I could have my passport back in 3 working days (for a price) – or it would be a month. The woman at the desk’s accent made things a bit confusing, I had my fingerprints taken (and a man – late 70’s – stood at the desk next door had quite a lot of hair growing out of his ear holes), and then had them taken again, and after thanking the woman on the desk (who’d been very patient), we left at 2pm.

Mum wanted to find a park to sit in – so we wandered around a bit, found a park (with some very very dry grass, pigeons, and people in it), sat on a bench, ate our packed lunches, I photographed a squirrel, and then we got up again, tried to work out where the tube station was, passed a chemist with sunglasses in it, found the Barbican tube station, and got on a Hammersmith and City line train at 2.25pm. We got off, got confused, but found the Northern line and got on a train, got off at Bank (it had been extremely bumpy and I’d been clinging on to a bar and nearly fallen on top of someone) and heard an announcement advising passengers to carry a bottle of water with them at all times. Then we did some brisk walking to a Central line platform and got on a train just as its doors were closing, got off at St. Paul’s (where a guitarist was playing a very cheery tune) at 3.15pm – by which point my trousers were sticking to my legs due to temperatures topping 30c – and headed over to the Cathedral.

At a table in front of it, our bags were peered into, then inside we queued for tickets at a desk next to St. Dunstans Chapel – which according to its signs, is set aside for private prayer (the signs also said that a Cathedral Chaplin was available to hear confessions). Next to the admission desk was a stand of burning ‘votive candles’ (30p each), and in the main hall was a ginormous stone font with a large (8ft ish) thin candle next to it (which was lit – and according to a sign was the Easter Candle – burning at the place of baptism – and visitors were asked not to step up to the font but were welcome to stand and reflect). Shortly after we came in, choral singing began, a small plaque on the wall said that the 2500 chairs in the Nave of the cathedral were presented by the officers and members of The Most Excellent Order of the British Empire on 20th December 1973, and were dedicated during the Service of the Order on 22nd May 1974. There was another entrance to the dome and galleries, and a sign there said that the Whispering Gallery was 30 metres from the cathedral floor (257 steps up), the Stone Gallery was 53 metres from the cathedral floor (376 steps), and the Golden Gallery was 85 metres (528 steps). A lot of people were sat in the rows of chairs beneath the dome listening to the singing (all the choir members were in robes), there were 2 large ‘cruciform’ sculptures (opposite each other) done by Gerry Judah, and at that point we were feeling rather desperate for refreshment – and found the cafe (which was a nice temperature) and sat down at 4pm.

While sat there, I saw a toddler holding a newly purchased white rubber duck, Mum realised she’d put the visitor guide down somewhere – and it appeared to have vanished, I went and asked a member of staff (he was thin, early 30’s’ and foreign accented) if we’d left it on the counter, which we didn’t seem to have (he briefly looked in the bin), then sat down again – and while Mum was reading through my notes to check things, he came over with the guide (which he’d found), stuck it on the table and walked away again. There were lots and lots of tourists around (and what seemed to be a group on a school trip); we had our tea and browsed the gift shop – I saw a small book titled ‘Do not stand at my grave and weep’, and 1 titled ‘Why did Jesus have to die?’, there were small ‘holding crosses’ (made from Holy Land Olive wood)(and it said on the back of the cardboard packaging ‘The cross is a reminder of the peace and comfort I have – because Jesus Christ is the Lord of my life’), there were headscarves costing £110, all sorts of crucifix shaped items, biblical herb grow bars, St. Paul’s baby socks, bibs, hats (and other baby clothing), Christmas decorations, advent calendars, Paddington Bear skittles and Paddington Bear bookends, post cards, tea towels, mugs and wrapping paper.

We found our way back to the cathedral at 4.45pm, and were told that sightseeing had ended for the day and we could only go in for the Choral Evensong – so we decided to go for it, and went and sat down under the dome. The choir – all in their robes – could be seen heading in to the stalls just before 5pm and organ music had begun several minutes earlier, a woman sat behind me was holding a large fan and took her shoes off, and then the choir were led round the front of the altar by a man also in a robe, and a man said something I forgot over a speaker. The choir began singing psalms (and the conductor was waving his arms around), the vicar walked up to the altar while holding a pole, and after the singing – we all briefly stood up. And the vicar read out something from The Old Testament. More singing was done (according to the Order of Service it was ‘Magnificat – The Song of Mary’) before a reading about various things that Jesus said and did (and I saw a large bit of dandelion floating around)(and a baby could be heard wailing at the back of the hall)(and another 1 nearer to us was squeaking) – and then everyone said The Apostles Creed (which includes the phrase ‘I believe in the Holy Ghost and the Holy Catholic Church’). I looked up at the ginormous dome we were sat under and saw 9 huge statues of men in robes (and I was wondering how they got up there – as they were at least 20->30ft above the highest balcony and no stairs or ladders were visible), and then we were asked to pray for people in Kenya, a bishop called Sarah, the pupils if St. Cuthbert’s school and several others I forgot, the victims of the shootings in Toronto yesterday evening, the Lord was asked to guide the leaders of our nations with his wisdom, a lot of people made the cross sign on themselves, the choir were led out by a man with a long silver pole at 5.35pm, and I saw a pigeon.

It was still very sunny outside, and on the way back to the station, I saw a Big Issue seller called Hugh (he had a name tag on and seemed to be asleep in his chair) and nudged Mum – she said ‘hello Hugh’ (nicely) and woke him up to buy 1, and he told her that he normally stands up but has had to sit down due to the heat. In the station rush hour was clearly fully under way, and the Circle Line train we wedged ourselves onto (while repeatedly being told to stand clear of the doors) looked and felt like an over packed baked bean can again and the humidity meant that my trousers were stuck to my legs by the time we reached the next station. We changed at Oxford Circus, and on the Bakerloo Line train things were even more cramped and sticky, I felt hysterical and the train driver sounded quite hysterical too and was repeatedly telling people boarding to allow passengers off the train first, and we got to Marylebone at 6.15pm. We asked a man when the 1st off-peak train we could get on was, which was 7.15pm, and so we sat down (and it was 9pm when we made it home).