I've been here. Twice. The first time, I was in college. My madrigal choir was on tour in England and Scotland, and we drove over a bridge parallel to the Tower Bridge on our way to our final gig, at London Symphony Hall. It had been a rather dreary morning, after an atypically warm and sunny trip overall, and we got to the hall and performed all our pieces. Our last number was this really uplifting gospel number, and as we sang, the clouds parted and we saw a rainbow.
The second time, my cousin Mick* was giving us his Whistle Stop tour of London, which included a visit to Ally Pally, County Hall, a bridge that is the popular choice for suicide attempts, the various bars where he saw various bands before they hit the big time, and the Tower Bridge, where Mick was a nervous wreck as Monkey leaped and jumped and hopped around.
*Mick is married to my actual cousin, Eileen, but I love Mick like he was a brother. One of my favorite people in the world. He took great care of us when we were in England a few years ago.
No comments:
Post a Comment