Inns of Court

Spring and I were rather drawn to the regal-ness of this walk's name. (Okay, and the fact that it is also estimated to be the fastest may have something to do with it too....just maybe. Though if this was the case, Mother Nature sure had her way of bestowing justice upon us--it was freezing this day.) Doesn't the name just seem grandeur and historically significant? Well that's because it is, in London's purest form. This walk celebrates the four Inns in London, one to which every lawyer (or "barrister" as the Brits call it) must be a member to. In days long past, let's say like 14th century, they use to house, school, dine, and ecclesiastically uplift all their members--now they act mainly as professional law offices. I wish I had known this while walking, but the textbook seems to think I am some sort of historical protege....which I clearly am not. Instead we were left to make up our own tid-bits of information to suffice our curious minds and avert thoughts regarding the cold.




It was quite a ball for the two of us.

This street was named after Milford, or "Aunt Millie" as the barristers of the late 19th century used to call her. She and her husband owned a bakery in this exact spot and provided special pastries and pies for the young, budding scholars close by. There is good evidence that she frequently rewarded the boys at Lincoln's Inn with a few free extras (they are my own personal preference too).



This is the elaborately decorated light post that Aunt Millie magically enchanted to provide cups of hot cocoa to Lincoln advocates (like us!) on the day she was executed by the uprising barristers of other Inns who caught onto her favoritism. Did I mention yet that she was a rather gifted witch? Well, she was.



I wish I had more pictorial documentation of the other fabulous tales we told; there was a rather clever one regarding a unicorn trapped inside a trinket unknown in the Old Curiosity Shop, where Aunt Millie derived her power. (It's also the place where Charles Dickens was inspired for his novel. I don't think he has ever skipped a beat.)

And this is a more serious picture of me by the Royal Court of Justice. There is no room to embelish details here; I was afraid of being accused of libel and being sentenced to death....I think British historical literature may or may not be influencing these darker thoughts.



Anyhow, I'm sorry this walk AND this post are so weird. We just thought we'd mix it up a little. I was really impressed with the Inns of Court, even causing this once law school-minded student to rethink her decision (for a moment, at least).

Oh, and in case you were wondering, Spring did manage to get her magic cup of hot cocoa in the end. She was quite a happy girl.



Fin.

show me the color.

Why is it that the foods that go through the least amount of artificial processes, (which you would think would require less labor and funds for supplemental ingredients), and aren't nearly as tasty, cost the most money?!

It's the anomaly of my ages.

I need to be more healthy all you cranky market price-deciding people.

....I kind of have the American reputation at stake.

Here's the gossip.

I was instructed to look at the November issue of my church's magazine the Ensign. President Monson's talk from the October General Conference to be exact.

Lo and behold who do I see smiling at me as the representation of all missionaries across the world right now?

THIS boy. And THAT boy. Who's also HERE boy. (forgive my adolescent freshmen giddiness) ....basically the companion of my entire first semester at school.

So funny. You would be the handsome, dapper young man they chose to appear alongside the president of the church, Elder Jorgensen.

And I'm honored to say I dated you.

Blimey.

Those Norman architects really knew what they were doing.



I think I could sit, stand even, all day in wonder at this beauty.

How did they construct it all?

And why don't we (ya, I'm referring to our generation) do more of it?
I'm sure with the technologies of our day it could be done like five hundred and seven times faster.

I'm just saying.

I always wanted a band.

And if I had one, our album cover would look something like this.




(Brenden and Spring)

The unity of the leather-like material we are all wearing pretty much says it all.

The City (East).

Yes, another one. My apologies.

This walk started out at the Tower of London and proceeded into the financial hub of London, including the immaculate Lloyds and Royal Exchange buildings. I felt very at home because it was reminiscent of my summer spent in New York stalking young professionals on Wall Street at lunch time. (Funny I never mentioned that before.) I think this helped my case as the walk's co-leader, alongside Jamie. I taught them the ways of business flirtation, though we weren't very successful in Leadenhall market. If the men weren't enough to make me return, the first Mexican restaurant I've seen since my arrival AND a Ben's Cookies will.

Don't panic, Mom.

With somewhat defeated egos, we decided to throw our "serious" young adult personas aside.  This is what resulted in the glory of St. Lawrence Jewry Church. We had to ask a young professional for assistance.




The walk continued past the St. Mary-le-Bow Church, the old garlic district, merchant houses, and the Great Fire of 1666 monument.



The closed passage at Wren City Church caused some confusion, but a young professional redeemingly helped us on our way, where we were able to return to the tube station as happy walkers.

Haley the Walker. Ha.

Westbourne Park Station to Notting Hill.

 

I ventured out one morning to complete this walk with the lovely Lyse and Heather. Always equipped with some bag of tricks, they decided to do it backwards and therefore end the pleasurable afternoon with the familiarity of Portobello Road. Considering they'd already done this feat once or twice, I allowed my consent of such rule bending.

Always trust your inner conscience.

......

You see where this is going, don't you.





We came across some beautifully constructed swanky Victorian neighborhoods. (I like to romanticize they are also the influence of my dearest Queen Vicky.) The varying pastel colors of adjoined houses made me giddy, similar to how I react in the presence of the marshmellow, gummy, and chocolate-y hues of The Sweet Factory. It also further confirmed my belief that the English should be responsible for architecture all around the world. These people really are on to something.





Then we reached the mecca that is Portobello Market on a Saturday morning. Glorious. Stands and tents of all shapes and smells extended until the horizon my short 5"3' frame provided. I expected to see Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant come walking out hand-in-hand at any moment.

It didn't happen. But I have not given up on finding that bookshop and red door.

Eventually as the sugar munchies wore on Lyse and Heather, as they seem to always do, we stopped at a cafe for lunch. It was the bad omen of things to come. After waiting for what seemed hours for their hot chocolate, we decided to just leave.
 
And then we got lost.




No longer peeved, I'll refrain from much more venting and allow positiveness to prevail.

The confusion caused by the outlying District and Circle tube lines and the literal three back-and-forth rides we had before discovering the yellow brick home, gave us the opportunity to see the stark contrast of the more "project" aspect of town.

Words to the wise, backwards is backwards for a reason.