Having missed the IgoUgo opening night extravaganza, we arrived at the London Eye full of perky enthusiasm to find a clutch of people I vaguely recognized, trying to look unrecognizable in an array of hats and sunglasses. It was clear that the excitement of the previous evening had got to a number of the party, and they were not all as pleased to meet the Tomato as he was expecting. He has a method for dealing with this, however, and Mutt was on the receiving end of two days of particularly hard stares.
To build up anticipation for what was to come, our ‘flight’ was delayed long enough for a few hangovers to wear off and for the cheeky one to work his grubby magic on a number of the party. When the call came to board, we headed the charge for the pods – a year of preferential boarding of aeroplanes does that to a family - only to be informed that buggies are not allowed. The Tomato unleashed inside the bubble without restraining mechanism? Is that wise? A further blow was the discovery that we could check only the buggy. The multitude of bags, coats, food and assorted stuff had to remain with us. Bear this in mind, all who follow.
Still, such setbacks often have fringe benefits. We rejoined the rear of the party, largely consisting of friendly female IgoUgo staffers. Smiles and attention for the Tomato, along with a distinct lack of beards (it seems to be facial hair that perplexes – as if he’s not sure which way round the head is). The day was looking up.
The London Eye is a spectacular way to see a spectacular city. Its clever design, placing the cars so they are always on the outside of the structure, ensures incredible views for most of the 30-minute journey. The historic city spreads out below, and everyone begins to snap photos and share their observations. Just over the river to the west is a strip of the most familiar real estate. The imposing opulence of the various government buildings that line Whitehall is book-ended by the reassuring Big Ben and the surprisingly diminutive Nelson’s Column. At the top of the wheel, 135 metres above the Thames, the 360-degree view is complete and encourages a little awe--that’s if you’re not crawling around on the floor or trying to put your hand in the woefully inadequate air-conditioning unit, of course.
The Blonde and I took it in turns to apologise to our fellow passengers, as the Tomato did his best to trip them up or use them as a climbing frame. The Blonde took the opportunity to correct any preconceptions about her that may have developed from my journals, and I mostly sweated.
The London Eye is great. It’s even better than that when it's free and enjoyed with good company, but it does still justify the somewhat steep £11.25 (online) fare.