It seems I "brought the weather with me" to London.

The day I arrived, the pilot happily announced that it's an unusual London day because the sun has come out. No rain! When I came in from Heathrow airport at 6.30 in the morning, there were still a good number of people in jumpers and jackets, but by the time I emerged from St Paul's Cathedral, the tank tops, short skirts and T-shirts were all out in full force.

Apparently, talking about the weather is a full-time English hobby. By everyone.

St. Paul's Cathedral is an amazing structure. It has the largest dome in England, and is only second to St Peter's in Rome. I climbed up steep, curving, ancient spiral staircases and wriggled through tight corridors (which only short Asians like me don't have to lower heads to get through), to get to what they term The Whispering Gallery. The acoustics here are so good that a whisper on one side can be heard on the other side -- some 100+ feet away!

I was alone... so I simply eavesdropped on everyone else's conversations. That's how I knew the whispering thing actually works!

There are three climbs all together, each steeper and harder than the next. It's a real test of divinity, possibly. I'm not so devout, so I only went up to the second level, where you get a fantastic view from the outdoor gallery of the entire City of London.

On the other hand, visiting the crypt, with its hundreds of memorials, urns of ashes and coffins buried under the stones, and effigies of people buried there -- plain spooky. For a moment there, I wondered why I'd paid some 10 pounds (S$30) to tour a city equivalent of a cemetery.

But what was amazing about St Paul's is the hourly moment of silence. The priest, dressed in long black robes, looking like he has stepped out of Storybook Land, speaks from the pulpit, asking everyone to just stop for a moment. Everyone in the cathedral stops moving. Everything seems to slow down, like time has stopped. Only his sonorous voice rings through the cathedral. It was 11am, and he asked everyone to say the Lord's Prayer, to pray for the sick in nearby St Bartholomew's Hospital. Perhaps it was the combination of the compassion and knowledge in his voice, the chime of bells on the hour, a man crossing himself after the prayer, and the otherworldly feel of the cathedral, and my jet lag, but that simple act made tears come to my eyes.

The Tube. OMG. Think a warren of rabbit holes tunneling their way under, across, over London. And outer London too. Prices are mad - 4 pounds for a ticket in Zone 1 if you don't hold their Oyster Card (a Brit version of the ez-link). Some stations are ancient - you'll see how the lines look like they were built for railway trains, and it looks a tad like Platform 9 and 3/4. Stairs are everywhere so if you can't carry your suitcase (and not hold up the other 999,999 passengers behind you), you might want to splurge on a cab. Then again, cabs cost like 10 pounds for a 10-minute ride. And the tube is super crowded at peak hours. There is no air-conditioning. There are only little ventilation windows that you hope the kind soul standing next to them slides open. Heaven forbid that you are downwind if the person standing next to the ventilation window has bad body odour.

But London is amazing for it's architecture. I cannot believe how it has managed to keep buildings that are hundreds of years old. It is the city which has not forgotten what bricks look like!

And, all those books that are so popular in the mainstream about secret societies of masons and knights and things like that? OMG!  The headquarters of them all (and their remnants and temples and stuff) are all situated here. I wanted to go into the Freemasons lodge and have a look-see but my walking companion was thirsty. Damn.

I need to come back to London - mental note, there's a YHA just off Ludgate Hill, opposite my hotel which seems to be in an excellent location.

I wish I had more time to explore. I didn't even make it to Harrods or Buckingham Palace -- oh the sacrilege!

Bobbies on horse patrol!

Visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Remember to declare your wand at the door.

Drury Lane, the traditional home of theatres. One of them is called the Hippodrome - sort of like a hippogriff, you think? Oh, did I mention it has a sculpture that looks like a winged reptilian thing on the front? Harry Potter signs everywhere in London!

I find the guy on the right rather cute. He's got a bit of a rubber face, which I wish I could do. When the two street performers in Covent Garden saw me hoist up a large camera, they stopped and immediately posed and hammed it up for the camera! They are excellent at what they do, and really connect with the crowd - make 'em laugh, make 'em sing, but make 'em wait!

Don't you think it's nice to laze in the sun? If we did that here, people would think we are mad.

Four pounds a ride within London, and The Tube doesn't even have air-conditioning.

Did I mention that some of the stations look really ancient? (Hey, I hear one of the lines just celebrated it's 100th year in service, so no wonder...) It actually looks like Platform 9 and 3/4 at one of the older stations okay...

More pictures here.