I finally made it to a gym this morning; the first time during this trip. It was the YMCA off Tottenham Court Road: I met David and Kelvin there at 10.00. The place was well equipped and mostly empty, so it was easy to get a good work-out. I own I was a little dissapointed that there weren't more cute boys there though. I'm beginning to wish I could find a way to meet guys in a romantic/sexual way when I'm on a long trip like this.

Anyway, I finally found out my weight in stone - fourteen, which would peg me as being exactly the same weight I was when I left San Francisco. (I think - the reason I'm not sure is that my brother says English pounds are different than American.)

At lunchtime I met David, Kelvin and another couple who are friends of theirs, Jeff and David for brunch at the oldest restaurant in London, Rules, in Covent Garden. This brunch finally put to rest any doubts I had that English food had not turned the corner into the twentieth century (note, that was not a typo :) First, the menu: how many times have you sat down to brunch and had the choice of rabbit, pigeon, quail, venison and many other items of game (that I didn't write down)? Second, the food was excellent - wonderful, in fact. Then there's the decor. The restaurant was opened by the Rule family in 1798, when the English were fighting Napoleon, and there have only been three other owners since. The walls are lined with prints, and paintings from that unbroken lineage, and the painted glass ceilings illuminate it all with plenty of natural light.

At brunch in Rules with Davids 1 and 2, on the left, and Jeff and Kelvin on the right.

Everyone was very good company, although it was a little disconcerting to sit with people who'd read parts of my website and knew quite a lot about me! David (the other David, not Kelvin's David) is from Dallas, and he's been living in London for over three years, so we swapped experiences on living in an alien country, and how it makes you see your own country through new eyes. Jeff, David's boyfriend, is a keen Patrick O'Brian reader, so needless to say, we had plenty to talk about. All in all, a lovely brunch, with a lovely bunch, and once again I have David and Kelvin to thank. They've certainly added enormously to my stay here in London.

In the afternoon I took the tube to St. Pauls Cathedral, where I found the organ echoing through the space, and most of the cathedral closed to visitors. Of course, it was Sunday: I guess they need at least one day of the week to use the place for its original purpose. But it meant that I couldn't see Nelson's tomb, which was my main reason for visiting. I did get to see a statue of the Earl St Vincent, another naval hero of England, though the statue looked lost and unhappy in its enclave next to some plain coffee tables in the crypt.

The inside of the cathedral is beautiful, and if I hadn't just come from Rome and St Peters, I'd have said it was magnificent; but seeing St Pauls makes me realize just how large St Peters is.

Outside St Pauls

There's been a church on this site for 1400 years. Isn't that fairly mind-boggling? The one big difference between St Pauls and St Peters in Rome is the relative lack of crowds at the former. If you wander round the back of the churchyard, you can sit quite undisturbed in a pretty, green garden enclosed with 18th century wrought-iron railings which are now lined with flower-bushes.

In St Pauls churchyard

I was curious to see the massive new Canary Wharf development which everyone has been talking about over the last few years. I took the Docklands Light Railway to get there, which is fairly dispiriting. You pass through some of the most distressed sections of London, with what Americans call "projects" clustered thickly all around the railway line, and cowering underneath the massive Canary Wharf towers approaching on the horizon.

The development itself was even more dispiriting once you emerged from the mall (with a Starbucks and a Chilis) that cocoons the railway station at Canary Wharf. A few impressive buildings and landscaped walkways, but almost deserted - and completely quiet apart from the distant noise of traffic on a motorway, and the occasional cry of a seagull. Under the cold, grey sky it was really rather depressing. It, obviously, must be different on a workday - but I can't imagine either living or working here.

Canary Wharf

A view from the development.

The infamous Millenium Dome, nearby

All alone in Docklands on a grey late afternoon. Get me out of here please :)

So I escaped back to civilization, and the crowds of Soho picked my mood back up again. After the enormous brunch, I wasn't really hungry, so I couldn't decide whether to stop somewhere for a soda, or for coffee, or just get some dinner to go. I looked for a free table in the cafes along Old Compton Street, but in the end I decided just to pick up some chicken and vegetables from the Old Compton Cafe and head back to my hotel. I rarely feel up to sitting by myself at gay places any more - I just don't have the "face" for it.

Besides, it was almost time for the France vs Spain game in the Euro 2000 soccer championships. This was the one game I didn't want to miss! (Don't worry - the championships will be over soon :)