As for why the tube drivers went on strike, well from what I can gather it seems that they were given the option of voluntarily doing the same number of hours of work per week, but over four days instead of five. They liked the idea of the four days, but their preference was to work the same number of hours that they would normally work over four days, yet be paid the same as for five days. They went on strike to demand this. The fact that the proposed arrangement was entirely voluntary was irrelevant. The spirit of the 1970s lives on.
Anyway, because of this, our usual route to Buckingham Palace was unavailable. Fortunately, the Lizzie Line and Jubilee Line were both still open, so we took the former to Bond Street and the latter from there to Green Park, which is but a short walk from the palace. I'm not a fan of the Lizzie Line, because you always have to traipse a long distance at the stations. Still, it was better than yomping from Liverpool Street to the palace on foot. I doubt we'd have found a free taxi during a tube strike.
The exhibition itself was of only marginal interest to me, because why would I be interested in the late queen's clothes? My wife liked it, though.
That said, I did used to think that HM wore some truly dreadful hats during her reign, and so was delighted to find a wall full of them. Here are a few of the horrors she was obliged to sport.
There were some other ghastly ones elsewhere in the exhibition. Maybe I'll post about those another day.
I carried an umbrella with me the whole time and it didn't rain until we were back home. Of course, there would have been a perpetual downpour if I hadn't brought it along. That's how it works.
The day was only spoilt by a lad on the train who shouted into his phone rather than spoke into it, and did so for the entire 30 minutes it took to reach Chelmsford (where, praise the heavens, he disembarked). At least 10% of his side of the dialogue was the word "fucking". A nice drop in phone signal coverage would have been a release, but he was shouting so loud that the person he was calling, Lola, could probably have heard him anyway.
It did rain when we got home, so heavily that when I went round to the back of the car with the garage door still open, the splashes got me even though I was under cover.