By virtue of the much-maligned (by many) but appreciated (by me) Arsenal balloting system, we find ourselves in London this morning with tickets to the Arsenal v. Wolves match tomorrow. By our calculation of odds we expected to possibly attend one more match this year after Manchester United. Maybe luck will be with us and this will not be our last visit this season.

I have moved into the hotel lobby to post this while my husband has his Italian lesson in our room. It’s a cold and damp in London and the lobby doors keep opening to the outside world, but I am in a cozy nook with a giant radiator an inch from my elbow. It’s lovely.

We arrived yesterday, taking the late flight from O’Hare to arrive at around noon. The flight here is the only part of the trip that I remotely dread, but I slept better than I ever have. I credit Ibuprofen, Benadryl, and a new neck pillow. We flew Basic Economy on United, so no seat assignments until minutes before the flight. We both got aisle seats, not together, but A-ok! The gentlemen next to me was mistaken by everyone as my spouse. He fell asleep immediately and, as far as I can tell, never woke up until we landed in London. I woke up once to two snacks on my tray, one for him and one for me, and on other occasions was left to speak for his snacks, meals, and drinks. I learned that he always wanted what I wanted two of. And that he never wanted what I wanted none of. What an odd coincidence. Once I woke up during the flight and there was a strange pair of eyeglasses on my tray. Seemed someone found them on the floor and concluded they were mine….or his. But my tray is your tray, at least until the flight attendant finds the person of the missing eyeglasses.

Our hotel this time is called Dixon Autograph, one of Marriott’s small hotels in the Tower hill area. We’ve stayed in Tower Hill quite a few times recently, but this one is on the other side of the Thames. Funny how it feels like a completely different neighborhood. And maybe more like a real neighborhood. Nice hotel, nice area with lots of pubs and restaurants.

After we dropped our stuff off at the hotel we had lunch at The Ivy. One of the things I forgot that I love about London in December is that so many of the restaurants have special menus for the Festive period. The Ivy specializes in British cuisine and whether they always do this or only during the Festive season, they were serving both lunch and tea at the hour we arrived. We just had lunch but it was fun to see the tables being served with giant, multi-level tea trays full of yummy-looking stuff. Including one item at the top that seemed to have dry ice in it. The steam coming off it was spectacular and I never saw a tea tray set on a table that was not duly photographed by the recipient. It could not have actually been dry ice, could it? I guess we’ll never know.

I had a smoked gin drink that came under a glass dome, dramatically unveiled by the waiter, and a delicious butternut squash dish with feta, pomegranate seeds, cranberries, and a spicy sauce. My husband had a scallop risotto. I had cream tea for dessert because the scones it included came with clotted cream. I cannot resist that even though there was also crime brûlée on the menu. I have never before passed up crème brûlée.

By the time lunch was over, it was already dark. We had to hurry to walk over to St. Paul’s for the Evensong service at 5 p.m. Recently, my daughter and her partner took a trip to London and she asked me to share the Don’t Miss things to do in London. One of the things I recommended was Evensong, the music-focused service held in many churches here at twilight.

I once attended a performance of Rachmaninov Vespers at an outdoor venue near Chicago. It was a fully moving experience hearing music intended to celebrate the movement from day to night while literally experiencing this change. Clouds overhead, trees swaying, the sky going from bright, to pink, to dark. It’s kind of like Fall. I love Fall; it’s my favorite season. I love the colorful leaves and crisp, bright days. But it also makes me feel melancholy. Leaving a season of warmth and light and heading to a season of cold, dark. Pretty sure all of that is why I love the tradition of Evensong.

Given my advice, my daughter tried to go to St. Paul’s when she visited London but they were doing a different service that night. She ended up going to the Church of the Sepulchre, and loved it. I wanted to go to the Church of the Sepulchre but they don’t have services on Thursday, so St. Paul’s it was. Have been to church services there, but never Evensong. It was lovely. The acoustics are terrible for the spoken word and great for the kind music sung there. Beautiful music in a beautiful cathedral.

We walked over to the Somerset house to see the pop-up ice rink there and then over to Trafalgar Square to look at the lights and briefly visit a Christmas market. London is beautiful with all the lights and decorations. But it was cold and we were jet-lagged. We took a bus back, sitting in the top front row hoping to enjoy lights. The window was iced and fogged over but I enjoyed taking pictures of the lights through the ice.

If you look carefully, you’ll see a weird version of St. Paul’s cathedral in the one above.