Monday was our big “see the sights” day. We started it out with breakfast at a local diner called Gino’s. In a way it was nothing special, but its non-specialness is what made it special. A British version of the local downtown diner, untainted by any marketing toward tourists.

After breakfast our first stop was the Beatles’ zebra crossing – the crosswalk on which they were photographed for the cover of “Abbey Road.” We took the obligatory pictures of each other walking the same course, and enjoyed talking to a few other pilgrims doing the same thing.

One woman who passed by said that she’d lived in the neighborhood for ten years, and had never known why there was so much attention paid to that spot until we explained it to her. She knew of the Beatles, but had not known that this was the place that they made so much of their music.

Monday’s other highlight was the London Eye. This is a huge ferris wheel built much like a bicycle wheel. Each car is a big clear bubble that can hold about a dozen people. It rotates slowly, taking 45 minutes to make one circuit, and it carries you hundreds of feet over the city.

On our car was a ninety-something English lady who said that this was her 45th ride on the Eye (she has a lifetime pass). She knew where everything was, and what everything was, and was more than happy to point things out and explain them to anyone who would listen. She was a complete delight to have along on our car … it was like having our own personal tour guide. We hope that we are that spirited when we reach that age.

From there we walked across the bridge to visit Issac Newton and many other important historical figures who are buried in Westminster Abbey. We got to the Abbey at 4:30. They had closed at 3:45.

We took the tube to the Tower of London, arriving there at 5:00. Normally, they’re open until 6, but on this day they closed at 3:45 for “ceremonial purposes.” Views of these sites from the outside had to do.

As we rested our hands on the 2000-year-old Roman wall, suits carrying brief cases rushed by, oblivious to the significance of the wall they were passing. The afternoon rush hour had begun.

We had been advised that a visit to London is not complete without taking a ride in a London cab. We caught one near the Tower of London, and asked him to take us to the Algate Station a couple of blocks away. The cab was elegant and roomy, but we seemed to be taking a long time to go three blocks. At the end of the ride we paid a fare of five pounds and found ourselves at the Moorgate station, and extra eight blocks.

Rush hour was in full swing as we went into the station. We were engulfed in these crowds of suits (we were in The City, London’s financial district) as we returned to the home of our hosts in the northwestern suburb of Harrow Weald. Monday’s commuters were much easier to handle than Sunday’s shoppers. The commuters moved about predictably, with a purpose and a destination, while the shoppers seemed to wander about aimlessly. It’s hard to move with the flow when no flow exists.