Everywhere But St Pauls
This is a blog about a walk around St Pauls, not a blog about going in St Pauls. If you want one about going in St Pauls then you probably want to head on over to the Central Anglican Church website. It’s a bit wild over there but you might still enjoy it.
A couple of weeks ago, at the back end of August, Vikki and I had a couple of days ‘up the smoke’. You know, in town. The reason is all because of Lauren & Stuart’s extended Wedding (a link to the wedding blog is here). You see, they’d bought us a Virgin Red Letter Day thingy which consisted of a meal and a trip to the top of The Shard.
Pandemicals
We were supposed to go last year but what with pandemics and stuff we postponed it. But it worked out really well because London was very quiet. Quieter than I’ve ever seen it. Apart from in the 70’s when I worked at BOC Datasolve and sometimes I did night shifts (a link to a blog about Datasolve is here). If we finished early, I used to walk back from Old Street to Liverpool Street and get the ‘milk train’ home. London was quieter then, in fact it was all but deserted at 4.30 in the morning, apart from the odd milk float, road sweeper and the occasional prostitute1, there wasn’t anyone else on the streets. But for August in 2021 during the day, it was really quiet.
Oysters
Anyway, we went up on the train from Hatfield Peverel (our nearest station), to Liverpool Street and changed to the Central Line to go on to St Pauls. And that’s where the fun started because my Oyster card wouldn’t work. I’d had an email the previous week saying I needed to update my card details (which I did) otherwise I wouldn’t be able to top up my account. I updated the details and added £20 to it and then it told me I had £58 on my card! How bizarre I thought, why did it need topping up?
Anyway, as soon as I tried to use it the barrier responded with an error message. The bloke at Liverpool Street was very helpful and let me on and suggested I phoned the number on the back of the card when I got to my destination to resolve the problem. When we got to St Pauls I obviously couldn’t get out. I started to explain my predicament to the station attendant who just cut me short and said, “Do you want me to let you out? I can let you out.” Oh, I thought, don’t we have to go through some kind of routine where I explain my predicament, and you question me on it’s validity because it’s more than your jobs worth etc? But no. He just said go over there and I’ll open the gates. I was quite disappointed.
Psycho Biker
The next obstacles to overcome were the traffic lights at New Change. When you come out of the Underground at St Pauls, you cross the road at the lights but there was no Rachel Riley and the Countdown Clock to let you know when the F1 grid lights would switch to green and at the time, there were two buses vying for Pole position.
Vikki was behind me, and I was watching the lights (on red) and the buses (revving and burning their clutches out) and I went to cross the road when some psychopath on a push bike (worse than me) came flying round the corner like he was Mark “The Manx Missile” Cavendish on the Champs Elysees, took a layer of skin off my leg as he flew by at 80mph and disappeared through the red light.
“Ready to eat” Avocados
And I thought, these cyclists are constantly complaining about being knocked off their bikes by motorists but have scant regard for anyone else’s safety, including their own. Personally, I think most of them get what’s coming to them. But while I’m on the subject of cyclists I really like it when you’re driving along a country lane and suddenly you find yourself driving at 10 mph behind about 15 cars, buses, vans, and other assorted motorised transport.
And when you finally get to the front, it’s taken so long that you’re wife, who wasn’t even pregnant to begin with, has now given birth and the child is nearly three years old, you’re designer stubble is now at ZZ Top length and your ‘ready to eat’ avocados are now…well, ready to eat. And when you do get to the head of the queue, it’s not a bumbling farmer on a tractor, or an old codger in a 1963 Ford Zephyr. Oh no, it’s three cyclists, riding side by side, appearing to be completely oblivious to the carnage and rage they’ve been causing for the last 63 miles. And still they wonder why perfectly reasonable people get behind the wheel of a car and suddenly it’s Death Race 2000 all over again. Cyclists: you can’t live with them and you can’t run them over.
Glass Ceilings
However, I digress. After we had taken our lives in our own hands by having the temerity to cross a London street when the lights were red, we continued on our way to our destination, which at this point wasn’t St Pauls, it was a hotel just round the corner to St Pauls.
We found the hotel, (here’s a link if you’re interested – Leonardo Royal Hotel) checked in and went to our room on the 6th Floor. That’s when Vikki discovered she had a phobia of glass lifts.
Discovering Phobias
And then she discovered she had a phobia of opaque, frosted glass walkways six floors up overlooking large, glass atriums. I have to say, I also have a phobia of that too. I didn’t though until I got out of the lift at the 6th floor. Then my Amygdala went into meltdown. The Amygdala is the part of the brain that deals will fear in the present. The Cortex deals with past events. The Amygdala took one look at the view of the atrium over the balcony beside the lift and said,
Amygdala: “Wow, that’s high. If he fell off the balcony he could do us all some proper damage.”
Cortex: “Yes but there’s a balcony so it’s not dangerous. I’m going to get him to take a look, just to prove to you it’s safe.”
Amygdala: “I don’t need proof. I already know the danger. I’ve done the calculations. We’re high up, ergo it’s dangerous. Hey! Don’t you dare. Come back! If you go anywhere near that balcony….right….I’ll soon put a stop to that.”
Dizzy
And that’s when the dizziness started. Then I thought, “Hey. Let’s not get too close to the edge.”
And my Amygdala went, “Finally! Someone is talking sense.”
And from that point onward Vikki and I walked down the centre of the walkway every time we went to and from the lift. I say walked, we either stepped very gingerly and purposefully, like we were picking our way through a minefield, or we walked with a very wide gait, like a primate that had soiled its nappy.
£95
The room was pretty good. The hotel, if it’s not new, has been recently refurbished. Although the view of an internal, load bearing post and the lifts wasn’t to my liking, at £95 per night including full breakfast for two, in the City of London, I’d say that was a good deal. The hotel was called Leonardo Royal London St Pauls and I’ve since discovered it’s not always £95 per night. ☹
Sabine
The hotel also boasts a roof terrace bar called Sabine. If you can get a table, you can sit and sip cocktails with the view of St Pauls and the London night skyline to admire. Ensure you take pics and videos for your Insta/TikTok influencer account though.
You can find out more about the rooftop bar by following this link – Sabine Rooftop Bar
The Goblet of Fire
We had a coffee in the bar at the bottom of the atrium and so I didn’t suffer with any overt vertigo issues. Well, not until I saw the menu and the prices. At that point I had to subdue all my natural instincts to turn into my parents. “How much for a coffee? What’s it served in, a diamond encrusted goblet? I’ll have water. Tap water!”
Confusion
In the evening we had a meal booked through the Virgin “Shard” Experience gift. Now I don’t know about you but if you were given a “Shard” experience trip as a gift and it included a “meal for two at world renowned Marco Pierre White’s London Steakhouse, followed by a trip to the viewing platform at the Shard”, I would sort of assume the meal was in The Shard, followed perhaps by the trip to the top (having been to the top of The Shard, you certainly wouldn’t want to eat first).
But when I came to book it earlier in the year, the meal and the trip were able to be booked separately. So that’s what we did. We had the meal one night and the viewing gallery trip the next afternoon. I thought no more about it until a few days before we were due to go when I received an email from MPW’s London Steakhouse, confirming the booking for 2 on Wednesday 25th at 7.15pm.
Middlesex Street
All looked good and as I scrolled through the email just to check I hadn’t missed any vital information, like “Bring your own steer” or “food and seating not included in this offer”, that sort of thing, I noticed the address of the restaurant, hidden away at the bottom. Middlesex Street it said. “Hmm,” I thought. “I know Middlesex Street. But it’s nowhere near The Shard.” Then I remembered. It’s near Liverpool Street.
I looked on Google Maps and there it was. Off Bishopsgate, near Spitalfields Market and Brick Lane. I thought, perhaps there’s another restaurant in The Shard. I checked. No, there wasn’t. So, for the last year I’ve thought we were going to a MPW restaurant in the Shard and we’re actually going to an upmarket Curry House in Ripper Street. And, we’d booked a hotel at St. Pauls because it was fairly close to The Shard, just on the other side of the river, and then discovered we were nowhere near the restaurant.
A Walk Around Half of London
Anyway, we decided to walk to the restaurant because it was only about 25 minutes away. Vikki decided she’d wear heels because it was ‘only up the road’. That was a mistake. It took us about 40 minutes to get there because she had to stop evert 5 minutes to adjust the strap on her wedges. Anyway, we made it in good time but just so you know, the area around Liverpool Street isn’t quite as salubrious as it is around St Pauls. This area appears to have its fair share of those less fortunate than ourselves hanging around on the streets. And we’d dressed up for an evening at 5 star London restaurant.
Anyway, we stepped over the deadbeats, druggies and drunks, made our way through passport control, through the security scanners, over Checkpoint Charlie and into the restaurant. Which was quite nice. It was downstairs, done out in a French Bistro fashion, with bevelled mirrors, pictures and cartoons adorning the walls, dark wood furniture and waiters in black and white.
Marco
It appears that Marco though, in a bid to claw back some lost pandemic revenue, has decided to cater for absolutely everyone in this restaurant because, not only were we surrounded by others who had put on all their ‘refinery’ (as Vikki calls it. No Vik, it’s just finery), but we were also surrounded by blokes in T-shirts, shorts and flip flops, like they’d just come back from the beach. I couldn’t work out who the restaurant was catering for. It seemed like anyone and everyone. It’s not that I’m a snob (I am) but I wouldn’t have worn my full military dress uniform with medals and ceremonial sword if I’d known I could dress like I’d just finished a 12 hour shift down the mines.
Ribeye
But the meal was pretty good. We had a cocktail to start which was in with the price, a starter, main course and a dessert. You had to purchase sides and any upgrades on the steak dishes came with a surcharge.
But all that, for two, came to £55 (plus surcharge) which is why you get blokes dressed as if they’re going to KFC for a bargain bucket, sitting there. Because the cost isn’t too dissimilar. We walked back to the hotel, past the dossers, winos and beggars and went to look at the rooftop bar at the hotel, only to discover it was closed due to a COVID outbreak.
Later we learned all the staff were isolating although we then discovered it might open the next evening. So we decided to invite my kids up for the evening, if it was open. As it transpired it became so complicated that only Izzy came up. But she lives in Blackheath so it wasn’t far for her.
Wobbly Bridge
The next morning, after breakfast and after having coffee thrown over me, we went for a ball of chalk across the Wobbly Bridge. The Millennium Bridge which spans the Thames from St Pauls on the northside to the Tate Modern on the South. And as we walked we discovered that nobody was about. This was around 11 am. There was no one on the bridge, no one at the Tate, no one at The Globe. It was just very quiet. We wandered along the river, round to the Golden Hinde and then back to the hotel and onward to London Wall to visit the Museum of London.
Museum of London
We found our way in to The Museum of London via a dodgy looking escalator in a grimly lit concrete cocoon that is the area around the original London Wall. It’s free to get in though so I was very happy.
Dub London
The first thing we found was the Dub London exhibition which provided a wander back to 60’s ska and reggae and some history of London and Reggae which for me was a delight since I discovered the music via its connections with 70’s Punk music. They had a section on Linton Kwesi Johnson, a particular favourite of mine, plus The Pioneers whose single on Trojan Records I had back in the 60’s (it’s long since gone). Vikki suggested we go and see the rest of the museum and although this was a tiny exhibition, if I’m honest I could’ve stayed there another few hours just listening to the wonderful, spirit lifting tunes coming through the PA.
Woolly
Unfortunately the rest of the Museum was a bit of a damp squib for me to be honest. I was expecting some historical timeline of London (especially the inner walled City) but it appeared to me to have little geographical correlation to the present day city (or City). For example, there were some excellent information on Woolly Mammoth bones being unearthed in parts of Ilford, but if you don’t know Ilford or what it looks like (and what it may have looked like then) the information becomes meaningless because it lacks any contemporary association. Having said all that, the last time I was in Ilford there were quite a few woolly mammoths sitting in KFC so perhaps there’s no need for a modern day correlation.
Later we wandered through middle ages London with the Plague, the Great Fire and all and ended at 60’s to Modern Day London where we discovered the smashed bass guitar of Paul Simonon of The Clash. I know they’re from London but it was smashed in New York. Does that matter?
Actually Engaging In A Walk Around St Pauls
In the afternoon we walked down to the Old Bailey, where we discovered it was built on the site of the old Newgate Prison from which the term “As black as Newgate’s knocker” comes from. Dr. Crippen, The Kray Twins, The Yorkshire Ripper, and Stephen Ward for his part in the Profumo Affair, were all tried here. We past the new Paternoster Chop House i.e. the First Dates restaurant (now moved!) round past Cutlers Hall, back across Paternoster Square and then we walked to The Shard. Technically speaking, strolling through Paternoster Square is, to all intents and purposes, a walk around St Pauls which is what we came here to do…at some point.
At The Shard, we showed our tickets and joined the ‘VIP’ queue. The VIP queue is basically anyone who has a pre-paid ticket. Then we took the two lifts to the top. Not one each but one after the other.
The Top of the Shard
It’ll be no surprise to anyone to say there are some amazing views from the top. For example there are girls drinking cocktails whilst livestreaming to TikTok. There are also seats around the outside and a bar in the middle. But we didn’t indulge in alcohol. We’re now beyond the need to post stuff on SM to prove how exotic our lifestyle is and how ‘cool’ we are. So I just do it on a blogsite instead! If you decide to climb the stairs up to the next viewing gallery, you discover this area (72 floors up) is out in the open.
Red Alert
And you have a 360° view of the London skyline. The glass is very high so there’s no danger but Vikki’s amygdala was on Red Alert whereas mine was only on Amber. She spent most of the time standing in the middle of the viewing platform, holding onto a post and saying, “It’s moving, I can feel it.” Occasionally she took a tentative step forward, like a new-born calf learning to walk but then like a landlubber on a listing ship, her balance would disappear and she’d go back to clinging to the post for dear life. “How are you enjoying this?” I asked her. “It’s lovely,” she replied. “Can we do this again sometime?”
Back on terra firma we walked back to the hotel via the Millennium Bridge and attempted to book a table in the rooftop bar. That was more difficult than it was worth but we managed it.
St Pauls & The Rooftop Terrace
Izzy arrived at about 7.00 and we went up. After being told the place was fully booked for most of the evening, we discovered that it was no more than half full but it did have amazing views of St Pauls, Docklands and The Shard amongst other things.
We had a meal that cost more than some small countries total GDP but it was good food and the bar was pleasantly decorated. We sat outside later when it got quieter but once the chill night air set in, it was time to leave.
Beautiful Baynard Place
The next morning we had breakfast but this time I didn’t wear the coffee and we went for an exploration walk around the area. There’re some lovely little back streets, cut throughs, alleys and the like, all with hidden history. We discovered Church Entry, a small cut through alley that originally boasted a medieval church which is long gone now. As the plaque explained, it burnt down during the Great Fire of London in 1666. We also found Baynard Place and the Church of Scientology, which made me wonder about whether the establishment really are looking after our best interests, or is just that they’re so busy looking after their own and they never quite get round to ours?
Then it was time to go and we packed up, walked back to the station and got the train home. But if we can get a double executive room at Leonardo’s again for £95 (including breakfast and via Secret Escapes) I’ll be going back. Maybe next time I might even go in St Pauls as well.
You can go back to the Blogs page by clicking here