Day 13 - Random strolling

My peregrinations take me to St James and I walk by the chuch where William Blake was baptised. A few minutes later I stop in my tracks, staring at the formidable memorial to the Duke of York. He doesn't look the least bit lonely, despite being on a 40 metre high pedestal where it must be a darn sight colder. The Duke of York was also known as the Duke of Debt for owing more than 2 million pounds on his death.

Crossing a wide and long boulevard known as The Mall, I reach St James Park. 

 
 



A mulled wine provides the perfect accompaniment for making further inroads into the language of ducks. These, like all other ducks I've met, are more than pleased to have their photo taken for posterity.

Even more eager to be snapped (and to receive bread crumbs from the woman trailing me) are the Greylag Geese of St James. The Gulls and the Moorhens and the Great Tits and the Coots all join the feeding frenzy, and I narrowly miss getting sconed on the noggin by a desperate pigeon coming in to land.

A squirrel emerges to forage for some nuts. He takes them in his little hands and nibbles like a child. Adorable pest! For that's what they are, I'm told.
     
And what is that building ahead when I exit St James Park?