As I was saying in my last post, I spent a week in London with my brother and his family. I took my eldest son along with me and we had the time of our lives.

My favourite picture.

I noticed when watching CTV that they use this shot as part of their montage when referring to “London 2012″. I think it is very cool that I took the exact same shot.

We visited Westminster Abbey – so amazing to walk across ground that has seen every British monarch crowned over the last one thousand years or so. It has also seen the funerals of royalty including Princess Diana. And, most recently of course, it was the place of the nuptial ceremony between Prince William and the lovely Kate Middleton.

My favourite place of all was The Tower of London. The original tower – The White Tower – was built in the year 1066. Ann Boleyn was held here and executed in the inner courtyard. Ann, as you know, was King Henry VIII’s second wife – and the reason Henry broke from the Catholic church and created the Church of England. Henry was married to Catherine of Arragon, who was not doing a great job providing him with a son, and he fell in love (lust) with Ann Boleyn. Ann would not become his mistress which left Henry no choice but to break away from the Catholic church so that he could divorce Catherine and marry Ann. Quite remarkable really that a change as vast as that came about largely because Henry wanted to “know” (in the biblical sense) Ann. What people will do when sexually frustrated……..incredible really, isn’t it?!

A portion of the White Tower on a rare (particularly this summer) sunny day in London, England.

Unfortunately, along with the wonderful memories, I will always also have a rather traumatizing memory.

Colin and I were walking toward Westminster Abbey one day when I spotted a woman coming toward us who was being pushed in a wheelchair. Her sunglasses were sitting slightly agee on her face. My spidey senses went up and I thought to myself “There is something wrong with this woman. Majorly wrong.” As we drew closer I got a brief glimpse at her face. There was a hole in her face. It was about the size of a large marble and you could not see anything inside. It was like staring into a very dark cave. To make matters worse, the flesh surrounding the hole was inflamed and infected. It was as red as the double-decker bus that passed by and it was weeping. Weeping the most awful thick, whitish liquid I have ever seen. In all honesty, I don’t think she had eyes or a nose either – but it was the blank hole and the surrounding sickly flesh that horrified me. I will never be able to erase the sight from my memory. She was a stark reminder that some people’s troubles are far worse than others.

So there you have it. Some old sites, some history, some blue skies and a woman with a hole in her face. Never a dull moment.

To help you wipe out the visual presented above, I will leave you with a more pleasing image.

London preparing for the Summer Olympics 2012.