A day trip to Cambridge in bitterly, bone chillingly cold arctic conditions was, despite the weather, absolutely wonderful.Now I am sitting in Westminster Abbey listening to a concert of music of Purcell - spectacular, particularly in his own church.

Waking at 5 am and sleeping after 11 pm I would have thought I would achieve a longer, deeper sleep. Nevertheless up at 5 am again for another on-the-go day. I'm not sure how many kilometres (or should I use miles) I covered walking from the flat through Bloomsbury, past the British museum, through to Goodge Street to find The Langham on an incredibly busy intersection, ducking down Wigmore Street through Marylebone to the outrageous Wallace Collection, running the gauntlet of Oxford Street through to Mayfair (love South Audley Street), through Hyde Park to beloved Belgravia, bypassing Harvey Nicks sauntering down Sloan Street to the prize - John Lewis and Kings Road, darling. The encounters with the Sloane Rangers was rather uneventful and Kings Road seemed, quite sadly, flat and dull - despite my love of the area and the exuberant scents of my highly favoured Penhaligons perfumes. So it was a jaunt down past the Royal Chelsea Hospital to Pimlico Road - and might I add what a delightful part of the city in it's much more subdued and restrained elegance and rather delightful furniture and antique shops. A quick pit stop at The Orange (no service but a great little place), down to Buckingham Palace, The Mall, Trafalgar Square (people, people everywhere), throwing it in and taking the tube back to the flat. 5 pm rush hour and what better thing to do than head to Westfield Shepherds Bush (Stratford is zone 3!) and hence the late return home after a big meal at Wahaca. Golly gosh...and today another big day ahead although it may be museum and gallery day because of this weather! 

So I've survived a day and night in London.

Landing at Heathrow brought back a multitude of emotions; none of which could be fully expressed until I cleared the interrogation zone at customs. Fortunately there were more than a few officers working, and no excuses of 'just about to take a break'.

The tube ride into the city is a breeze and so much more affordable than Sydney's outrageously expensive airport train (despite it's ease and efficiency). Fun being back on... it was freezing outside! A balmy 6 degrees for a welcoming May day.

I'm in a first floor plat in a Georgian terrace in Bloomsbury, closer to Holborn. The front door is pillar box red - I love it! The beautiful tromple l'oeil scene of a conservatory room in the main reception room is a little disturbing, however. I still can't get over the whole carpeted bathroom thing.

It's a charming neighbourhood between the universtiy and hospital, and is rather quiet, fortunately. A pheasant-like bird is nesting outside the bedroom window. Full height floor to ceiling sash windows in the reception room are devastatingly elegant. I want!

10 am. Breakfast (bacon and egg sandwich - yummo); showered, changed - off to Westminster Abbey, fighting through the crowds of Continentals and the already manic tube, I arrive in Westminster. It is crisp, the light golden, few clouds in the sky.

Thanks to wonderful Warren, I dodge the crowds of onlookers to my reserved seat ("Oh, you're the Australian dentist..!") behind the choir; south side, seat number 6. Gorgeous. It is such a beautiful church, the choir and organ are rather, well, orgasmic; but what I lust after mostly are the outrageous Waterford Crystal chandeliers. Yes please!

Being so close to the choir throughout the service was a delight, Dove's Missa Brevis was sung heartily, although the service was marred being seated next to an obscenely obese American who had appalling body odour and smelling of regurgitating gastric juices, he must have been suffering from peripheral neuropathy and possible deafness. Being as 'subtle' as an American could be, he was reading, very loudly in that awful accent, unsympathetically out of time with the rest of the congregation. Oh well, you get all types.

Catching up with dear friend Kathryn, David walks us into Soho for food  suggestions... we decide on what appears like a charming pub, serving usual pub grub... my gammon and eggs was satisfying.

The weariness begins to draw in; and after heading back to the flat and having a lamb roast dinner, it's time for bed, under King King's twinkle toes upstairs.

Packed and away I go. Aiming for only 2 changes including the clothes I'm wearing, it still feels like I'm taking a lot... the bag feels too heavy and there's not enough free space for potential purchases... not that I'm intending on buying much, hmm?
Check in is easy, immigration not a problem, security, on the other hand, was quite an adventure... if only there could be allocated lanes for those who don't know how to travel...
I see my cousin Adriana at the Dermalogica store and I have my face washed, prepped and hydrated for the flight ahead. Singapore Airlines upper deck. My first flight on an A380. Expectant after all the hype, I board quickly and efficiently and am greeted by charming cabin crew (maybe it's my Korean pop star haircut look). Take off,  service immediately after, it's a seamless experience and puts the old QF crew to shame (though I haven't been on one of their A380s, I have seen the totally 'blah' new Qantas uniforms - how sad to regress to BA of the 80s; could have tried harder with the colour blocking).Service personable and impeccable, what struck me most was not the comfort of the plane but the sobriety of the traveling passengers. This ain't no Qantas cattle run to the motherland in wife beaters and thongs and asking for 'any' red wine as long as it's red. It's an easy flight and Singapore arrives comfortably. 5 stars sure... the test will be the horror onward journey to Heathrow on a packed plane. Eek.

One day to go, and the blog is ready!

Getting a haircut before going away on holiday is always a risky thing... worse when you can't speak Korean and somehow don't feel quite at ease with the hairdresser.
I've walked out with a rather conservative cut by perhaps we'll add a little street-creed in London...