St. James s Park, near Buckingham Palace, I saw the bird feeders out taking care of business, and two older ladies sitting on a bench sipping water from glasses, even though no restaurant, or even a water bottle, was in evidence. There will always be an England. In summer, the tops of the buildings appear above the trees as if in a fairy tale. The first time I carelessly glanced in that direction, I was enchanted, and I make this a stop in every London visit. The winter view is different, but no less engaging.
Mist rises off the half frozen lake on which ducks are doing a careful ballet.
The naked tree branches point up towards the now visible white buildings that support the luxurious roofs. My Rapunzel fantasies become more textured. The tea and coffee shops along Piccadilly, their smoky windows indicating it must be warmer inside than out, become another respite. So now you do, and presumably you can find it listed in the phone book. Wooden benches line the other walls, long family style rough wood tables in front of them.