SEEING LONDON BY COACH.

Manawatu Standard, Volume LIII, Issue 257, 27 September 1933, Page 5

SEEING LONDON BY COACH.

MOTOR “CRUISE” WITH VISITORS RACY REVIEW BY GUIDE. The great adventure of the moment is to see London from a motor-coach. For this is August, and the holidaymakers are here—thousands of them. They all want to see the sights, and yesteray afternoon I shared the experience with one party, complete with guide, who, mercifully, did not possess a megaphone (says a correspandent'of the London Daily Telegraph). It did not matter whether we were from tlie provinces, from Ireland, from France, Germany, Belgium, or (as in the case of two young naval men in uniform) from Portugal; we all learned an extraordinary large number of things about London. Seated in our coach, we journeyed through “The West End,” sublimely oblivious to the heat, the crowded traffic, and the petrol exhaust fumes. But all the while we were conscious of the curious stares of pedestrians. They were almost as inquisitive about us as about our “guide lecturer.” I discovered what it must be like for a workman in the Strand to be gazed at when he is tearing up the roadway. Our guide, on the other hand, enjoyed the publicity immensely. And he said the most unexjiected things. KING CHARLES’S HEAD. “That is the statue of King Charles the First,” he confided at the top of his voice, as we passed through Trafalgar Square. “They took his head off m 1648, and it’s off yet.” At Hanover Square he pointed out St. George’s Church —“where the great big weddings take place. I showed you tlie Divorce Court this morning.” Wo moved along swiftly. “The Marble Arch is on tour left.” went on our mentor, “and there is Tyburn. That’s tho place where they used to hang ’em—-right in front of the'policeman.” “How very disconcerting for the policeman!” exclaimed an Irish lady before she realised that the reference to the man in blue on traffic duty was made merely to indicate the spot where the executions - took place. ■ On we sped, to catch a glimpse in I Bayswater Road of the dogs’ ceme- j ter’y and the smallest house in London, before arriving at the Albert I Memorial. “You must see this,” said ; the guide, and obediently we trooped j out of the catch in the blazing sun- i shine and up the steps. “Notice the 1 sculptured figures all round the base! j All distinguished figures, and only one j of the whole 195 of them is a woman. - She was a Queen.” “Queen Vcektoria ?” hazarded the

German girl, who was of such striking appearance that we had dubbed her “the film star.” “No,” said the guide. “Queen Nitocris. She built one of the Pyramids.” IN THE ABBEY. More sights, and then we came to the Abbey. Here the guide had full scope, and we attracted to ourselves a host of other tourists, mostly foreign, with guide books, maps and cameras. Not many could understand more than a few words of English, but openmouthed they listened to our guide’s description: “Ben Jonson. He was buried there standing up. ... If we had been here 400 years ago we would have seen the monks going to midnight service, each carrying his lighted candle through the door. .. . That’s tho spot at which Princess Mary and the Duchess of York were married. . . . “Here is old Charles Darwin. He thinks we ' are all descended from monkeys. I don’t. . . . Observe this stone over the grave of Thomas Parr. He lived to be 150, and was a bachelor until he was 99, when he met a girl and had seven children. . . .” On and on we went, until at last we were in the Chapter House. This surely provides -London’s strangest | daily sight. You go into that wonderful place with its, slender central column supporting graceful rafters that open out like the ribs of an umbrella. And here, in the cradle of all the Parliaments, you can now walk on the priceless tiles. But no risks are taken. At the door stands an official who looks at your feet and bauds you a pair of rubber shoes, which are slipped on over your own. But the tour is nearly over. "We reenter the coach for a brief journey. And as we do so the guide points out the statue of Oliver Cromwell. “You’ll notice,” he says, “that his spurs are on upside down 1”