The weekend was finally over, so we went towards London Bridge to the nearest post office. Because one day I want to write a letter to Andrew Scott and to get a reply I need to put stamps into a return envelope. But I couldn't buy any stamps yet, because the post office was closed due to bank holiday. Ffffuuuuu, this meant that I'd either not get any stamps or would have to go before our flight home.

We went pretty much only across the street and were at Southwark Cathedral. I wanted to see it, because it played a role in the Lazarus episode of Doctor Who.







We walked to Blackfriars Bridge and then went eastwards through a Tube Station. Because there's another TV-show place I wanted to see.





Then we went to my sister's favorite place: Trafalgar Square. Ooh, the London Symphony Orchestra was about to play there. And we got to hear the rehersal.




We went into the National Gallery, where they don't allow photos, hmph. I wasn't so interested in the pictures - the rooms were much cooler.



I was soon tired of looking at pictures, because 1. we had been out and about for some time and I'm a weakling and 2. I didn't find enough pictures that I like. And I noticed something about boobs: apparently the ideal of beauty used to be small boobs. Everytime there were naked boobs, they were these small, round, not hanging ones. While some of them were ridiculous in their roundness, at least they had the decency to be small enough to naturally not hang. You know, these days there's this ridiculous idea of big but also gravitiy-defying boobs.

Then we went shopping. I needed another 16GB USB stick - the first one only had enough space for days 1-3 (minus one concert video - but for that I had a CD).

We went "sightseeing" via city bus: took the 390 in the direction of Archway, but got off at Hilldrop Road and took the 390 in the other direction to the last stop Notting Hill Gate. By then I was really exhausted and also sad, because I had hoped I'd get to randomly meet Andrew Scott on this trip and this was our last day - still no luck. I don't think I have ever paid as much attention to the people around me as during this trip. Every day and pretty much wherever we went I looked at people - except in the stadium and I tried not to look at people in departing Tubes, because it would have sucked if I saw him, but didn't get a chance to meet him. Gah, reading in Tumblr's Andrew Scott tag of people meeting him made it seem so easy. In the end I thought it would be nice to at least spot him. Or any other familiar TV face! But not even that happened. Only on day 2 I was glad I didn't meet him, because I was wandering around in the Touriarty outfit and oh god, it would have been so embarrassing!
Aaaanyway, I was done, so sister and I took the 390 again, but only Euston Station...


We indulged in our Pret obsession one last time and then took the Tube to our hotel, where we arrived 19:15.

My sister put on warmer clothes and got going again. Meanwhile I cut yesterday's concert videos and saved them onto the second USB stick. Have I mentioned that we had a TV in our room, but didn't turn it on once?




At midnight I was done with my stuff and could have gone to bed, but I wanted to wait until my sister was back, which was luckily just about half an hour later.