London Dungeons - to be continued...

A few days later I felt that I’d spent enough time on the computer searching for jobs and getting scammed by Nigerians about house shares that didn’t actually exist… I needed some oxygen and excitement. I didn’t have a specific plan, I just wanted to laugh at one point, feel wonder at another and simply enjoy my own company for a day.

I jumped on the Tooting Bec tube once more, feeling the hot smelly wind gusting across my face, with my ipod stuck in my ears and book in my lap I waited for the mechanical lady to announce “The… next… stop…. Is…. London Bridge… Depart here for London Bridge…. Mind…. The…. Gap…”. As I write that I can almost hear her voice, I’ve heard it every couple of days for the last six weeks now!

Getting out of the station I saw “The London Dungeon” staring at me. Considering I had no specific plan and for once hadn’t scheduled the whole day, what was stopping me from taking the London Dungeon Tour? It was supposed to be even better and more tragicly touristy than the London Bridge tour. I took a deep breath, pushed away the thought that I was going to be doing this by myself, and that might, in some way, be embarrassing. But atleast I would do it and I didn’t mind being frightened for my life all alone… So I headed in.

A crowd was gathering at the counter, couples and groups, smirking at one another in embarrassed anticiption. I fumbled with my gloves, then crashed all of the coins in my purse on the counter… still frustrated at the face that the 2 pence coin is much larger than the twenty pence coin, not to mention the two pound looks completely different to any of the other coins…

After apologising profusely for my inability to accept the idiocy of how many coins England feels the need to have, and accidently bumping into three people standing very closely behind me I proceeded to trip over a head that was laying blood-spattered on the ground.

Including myself there was a group of about twenty that were escorted by a ghost with lascerations across his throat and dark rings under his eyes into a room of twists and turns, every wall constructed of mirrors. Mirrors after mirrors, no one knew where they were going, where they’d come from. I thought a person was behind me when infact they were infront, I walked into mirrors, slamming my face and leaving a smudge. Funnily enough I found the whole experience quite entertaining, even with the tortuous shouts and yells that echoed through the halls.



After ten minutes of bumping and crashing and trying my hardest to keep my cool and retain some level of dignity I heard a voice from behind, “Come this way! Follow meeeeeee….”, feeling thankful for the assisted direction I strode forward toward the voice and attached figure… and slammed right into yet another full sized mirror… where the heck should I go? A couple siddled past me, I decided the best option was to watch their feet very carefully and hope that their instincts were sharper than mine.

We were taken into a court house, the judge explained the need for one of the visiting group to be tried for dressing like a man in the centre of town. Unfortunately he was infact sentenced to death for being French… shortly thereafter I was sentenced to death for distracting the judge with my big eyes… it was all very exciting, with the sound of the jury shouting behind you, all of the group squeezed into a small room, everyone smiling at one another… the asian gentleman not terribly sure of what was going on, and a young girl squeaking at appropriate intervals and grabbing on to her boyfriends arm.

Going through a hole in the wall we were taken through to visit with Sweeney Todd… sat at wooden seats that were set around a barbers chair. Suddenly, the echoing and daunting sound of scissors cutting and razors being sharpened reverberated behind us and a voice came through the darkness. Sweeney’s wife started explaining the need for meat… her pies were not what they used to be… her friend upstairs (whom she was secretly in love with) had a plan… and what sort of meat do you think he suggested? Smoke bellowed from the corners of the room and the ladies voice bid us all goodbye… and goodluck. Suddenly Sweeney presented himself, asking who would like a SNIP hairy cut… and “You sir… SNIP… look like you need a close shave, the best in London…”. The chairs struck back to the gasps of the whole group, and a cold wind flew through the air. More screams from the group as something behind us whisped through the chairs and touched our backs, then, our hair.

Another hidden door was opened and we were ushered through it, “quick, quick! They’re coming… the ghosts of the dungeons… RUN!”

As quickly as a group of twenty can move through a thin door way, we stumbled into the next room where the Ferry Man greeted us with a sweep of his hand. He was here to escort us to the other side, “You are dead… I am your captain, your new best friend… My?” he said looking ever so closely at the people in closest proximity, “You look awefully peachy for a dead person… no spots, no bruises? Are you dead?” he poked and prodded, “No!” responded two of the front runners… the Ferry Man looked bemused, “Well? Too late now… off to the depths of the other world with you”, and pushed the first four people onto the first floating boat before us.

There was a stream running infront of and leading into a darkened dungeon. Through the dungeon you could hear the screams and shouts… The next four were escorted onto the boat, “How many are you?” he asked…
“Umm” I stutted, “Just one…” looking rather sheepish. He smiled, out of character for a moment and asked me to step to the side for just a moment, he had a special boat for me…

I got a front seat on the last boat and was sitting next to a gentleman who was escorting his elderly parents around the tombs… which I thought quite intriguing but was very impressed with the couples taking on such an adventure.

The boat bobbed to the current leading on into the darkness where the screams became louder and louder. Water spattered at me and headless creatures walked along the rivers broken red-brick shore. The boat moved up, up and up – as if we were on a roller coaster in the middle of the night – before we were turned, I stared infront of me at a blood streaked wall, looked across at a man in a cage hanging from the roof. Then suddenly we were pulled backward, sharp and fast and down… I looked at the man next to me, he looked at me… we both screamed (he, with a little more embarrassment then myself) before coming to a sudden hault.

I loved the ride. I had completely forgotten how much I loved ghost rides and made a mental note to go on more in the future, and to more importantly identify the best ghost ride in Europe… and buy a ticket there.

We were escorted off the boat by yet another intimidating figure that had apparently been chopped up into very small pieces and then sewn back together. Mechanical rats danced around our feet and we met back up with the rest of our group.

We found ourselves talking with the Detective looking for Jack the Ripper, explaining the different potential candidates… who had killed these prostitutes? The killed women danced on the wall before us… I had seen Johnny Depp in ‘From Hell’ and thought I had some vague Hollywood idea about the history of Jack the Ripper, but it was fascinating to find out the background of the investigation… the fact that the initial candidates were jailed simply for being vagabonds rather than being connected to any of the evidence. Oh it seemed like such a dark world.

During my travels there were other snippets of history and gouls greeting us along our journey. It was fascinating and funny and so well done. The people running the tour seemed to not only care about entertaining customers, but also holding true to the history of the London Dungeons. I was very impressed.

But not as impressed as I soon would be…

Myself and four other people were placed in a dark room, filled with graffiti on the wall explaining the history of the Dungeons, the murders and diseases and fires. I spent ten minutes wandering around reading and enjoying the musky music that filled the small room. Hearing the latch of the steel door unhook my heart jumped a beat – what was next? Another boat ride?...

The Grim Reaper walked into the room… “You are all… ALL… going to DIE” he bellowed… He struck his stick on the ground and motioned for us to move through the steel door… We dare not ignore his advise…

Entering the next room we saw long lines of red leather seats all attached to large metal poles, which were in turn attached to an apparatas that led o the highest part of the very tall room… One of those rides that you see at shows and festivals…

“Are you scared?” drowled lurch as he pulled the safety harness over me,
“Ummm… what’s going to happen?” I asked… he laughed and stepped away.

I was sitting alone on the bench, the other group of four on the bench behind me… all alone I wasn’t sure what was about to occur. I held my breath.

We were taken up, my legs swinging in the emptiness below… Looking down at the floor below I estimated that we were atleast three building floors up. I could only guess what was to happen next.

Lights struck up against men dressed as judges, they announced;

“You have been convicted for crimes against her Magesty the Queen of England. May you be strung by the neck until you are Dead… Dead… Dead”

And then. The lights went out. Darkness. Elephant filled silence. Before…

I was rushing down screaming, my hair up around my ears, my feet 90 degrees with my hips… we were falling through the air at such a speed… I SCREAMED! I screamed like I’d never screamed before and it was fantastic.

It was the end of the tour and chatting to the guide he said he’d never seen someone enjoy being frightened for her life so much. He gave me a free photo and I thanked him very much.

Coming out back into the light I didn’t even care what the rest of the day held, I could go home and be happy, so impressed with my little experience I was.

I saw Tower Bridge across from me and thought it would be nice to see, and photograph it during the day. While snapping photos here and there a very nice man came up to me and asked if I’d like him to take a photo. Part of me was slightly concerned by the offer, ‘he might run off with my camera!’, but I felt too rude declining the offer so resigned myself to the possibility of my camera being stolen for the sake of keeping face.

Luckily, he didn’t run away with my camera and took a nice snap of me with Tower Bridge behind me. I decided considering I was on the touring trail I might as well do the Tower of London while I was in the vicinity.

Walking along the bridge I looked across the river, getting that familiar surreal feeling…
“Look where you are! Fiona… you are actually in London. All by yourself”, and a quick sense of pride and amazement came across me. I have such a desire to take advantage of this experience. I felt re-energised and as I walked along the bridge, staring up at the sweeping arches and windows bearing down I started singing, nothing in particulare… just singing, making up songs like I did as a child, almost skipping along, past the other site seers, smiling at them, smiling at me and simply being happy.

I remembered Kelly saying about St Katherine Dock, it was opposite the Tower of London and I thought I had enough time to go for a leisurely walk. The sun was flickering on the Thames and through the trees, it was all so beautiful and I felt at ease with taking the day as it came.

Walking down the stairs and past the man selling roasted chestnuts (I am still as saving my first chestnuts experience until I have someone to share the moment with) The sun beamed through bridge and across the square before me. It was picturesque – what were those people going on about, me not seeing the sun for weeks on end, what a magical day this was. But regardless of the sun it was freezing cold, my fingers were hardly capable of pressing down on the little silver button in order to take a photo.

St Katherines Dock is a little haven in the centre of London, filled with empty but welcoming boutiques, people wandering slowly along the water sipping tea and coffee from cardboard cups. There was a silence in the air that I embraced. A main road was only steps away, and yet, all I could hear was a light wind and the bobbing of grand expensive boats in the bay. My pace slowed as I crossed a wooden bridge and took in the mosaics adorning the walls. It seemed like a secret place, and I was glad to be there in that moment.