Tate Modern Oil Tanks

The foggy morning added a new element to our walk across Millennium Bridge, making Tate Modern seem like a shadowy dream.

Our experience of Tate Modern today was unlike any of our previous visits because we were booked into a guided walk through what is usually an inaccessible part of the museum: the giant basement oil tanks that ran the turbines in this former power station. Usher We (Down There) was a guided tour with a difference: during the walk, our artist guides used hand signals and flashlights to channel our attention, remaining silent throughout. We were also instructed to remain silent, and to take advantage of the relative quiet by listening to the industrial sounds whirring, humming, and beating around us. After being decked out in hard hats and reflective vests (something that we were getting rather comfortable with after last weekend's similarly kitted visit to the Tower of London), we descended below all that art and headed into the very dark underground areas

that hold the oil tanks. Along the way, various art pieces caught our attention; sometimes we were allowed to see them close-up, while on other occasions we could only glimpse them from afar.

Some of the pieces we came across were downright creepy, like this shiny women's shoe missing its mate (and person), lying in an industrial riverbed of garish colours and detritus.

In the dim lighting, our eyes were automatically drawn to the brightest spots, and we were sometimes left searching for something that couldn't be found.

Although no words were spoken during the tour, the many warning signs we passed along the way filled our heads with words that may as well have been said aloud.

After our 20-minute walk through the dark basement, the now fog-free morning seemed brighter than ever, and we slowly made our way along the river and across Waterloo Bridge, where we noticed Fredrikson Stallard's Portrait for the first time:

With its internal lighting just visible during the day, the sculpture probably looks much more dramatic at night. We crossed through the courtyard at Somerset House, passing this interesting pair of mermen:

At the edge of St James's Park, we caught the end of a procession headed toward the day's official duties

before spotting some animals that were dressed down in comparison.

These bar-headed geese were making a whole lot of noise,

maybe because of this nearby bird sharing their space? Now that's some serious effort at grooming!

This particular pelican was the friendliest of the lot, and seemed to enjoy the constant cuddles he received from passers-by.

His companions kept to themselves,

but this guy stayed on the people's side of the fence, waiting for new cuddlers to come by (and he never had to wait for long).

With a face like this, is it any wonder?

Somehow we managed to tear ourselves away from the pelicans and walked over to the nearby ICA, which was putting on a performance this weekend in an inaccessible area of its own: their closed terrace overlooking The Mall. After climbing up a metal ladder perched on the side of the terrace, we found ourselves a bit higher up,

and waited for the performance to begin.

Susan Philipsz's sound installation ended up being quite underwhelming, and as we listened to her singing, we gazed out over The Mall toward the park, a bit wistful for our pelican!

The trees in Hyde Park were ablaze in their autumn best

as we walked toward the Serpentine Gallery to have a proper look at Frank Gehry's summer pavilion (the last time we stopped by was the day before the pavilion opened).

After we left the park, we wandered through parts of Westminster for a while, passing a house where John Stuart Mill lived

and another building located on the site of Siegfried Sassoon's former home.

We walked on quite a few grand streets, but something about this narrow lane and its houses especially appealed to both of us.

Our next stop was at an event being put on as part of this weekend's Open Rehearsal, a wonderful annual event that allows Londoners to sit in on an incredible variety of cultural events, including film, visual art, dance, music, and theatre. We took the opportunity to listen to a rehearsal in St John's, Smith Square, a church which we'd heard is a lovely concert venue. The sound inside the church is indeed wonderful.

After we left the church, we continued toward the river, where we came across two sights we hadn't noticed before. The first is the Buxton Memorial Fountain, an 1835 commemoration of the 1834 emancipation of slaves,

and the second was this sculpture,

The Burghers of Calais, by Auguste Rodin.

We crossed the Thames for the third time today, and got down to Royal Festival Hall just in time to catch a Billy Bragg performance with a twist. Entitled Billy Bragg's Big Busk, the event consisted of Bragg and members of the audience performing some of Bragg's songs as well as a variety of covers. The musicians in the audience had turned up earlier to learn chords, and just in case anyone needed extra help during the performance, lyrics sheets were handed out and chord-fingering cards were held aloft during the songs as reminders of what chords were being played and how to play them!

Even the non-playing members of the crowd got into the performance, singing, dancing, and just plain old smiling during the songs. The summery weather, the happy people, the feeling of community spirit--this was one of those events that makes London great.