Three years it took me.

Three years to get round to seeing the view from Europe’s highest building, which is two years and 363 days longer than it took everyone in London to turn “getting taken up the Shard” into a phrase you can no longer say out loud without someone finishing the sentence with “WHEYYYYY”.

But last Thursday night, I made it. I went. I took myself.

Right.

To.

The.

Top.

(Well, almost.)

What took you so long?

Part of me reckoned that if I hung on long enough, eventually I’d work for the sort of company that would whisk me up there for a Christmassy treat and give me Champagne for free.

Also proximity to all them bloody tourists stopped me, to be honest, and the assumption that on a nice clear, sunny, perfect up the Shard-y day it’d be too busy, and I’d have to queue. And on a rainy day, there would be no queue, but also… no view.

And aside from birthdays – which, despite my many attempts to stretch them out for as long as humanly possible, still only come around once a year – and romantic occasions, of which I have none, ever – there wasn’t ever really an occasion or willingness to pay £25 to go.

Until everything changed.

Until they made it silly not to.

Until they made it pretty much free.

Maybe someone looked around and realised this London attraction was lacking in…Londoners.

Whatever the reason, this year View from the Shard sold 2,016 annual “Love London” passes for £20.16 (yep, you’ve got it, you’re seeing the theme).

So for less money than it costs to go up there once, you can go up there whenever you like, as many times as you like – as long as you live in London.

The only downside is you can’t book, but because booking anything too far in advance makes me extremely nervous, the idea of turning up unannounced – no occasion, no expectation, no planning ahead – appealed quite nicely.

So a couple of weeks ago, I joined the queue just in time and bought a card.

Then last Thursday night after work, I used it.

And entirely unexpectedly…

….that view ended up being really, really good.

It’s like when a plane does that really good descent over London on your way back from holiday, but with bigger windows.

The very top floor is open air, and it’s also where you get the best photos.

But after a while I couldn’t feel my fingers so I went back down to the warmer level below, found a seat by the window, and looked out over the city for a bit.

Thing is, although lots of people have shown me pictures of the Shard, and I’ve read blogs about it, and I knew it was there – no one had really mentioned how nice and calming it is being so high up with everything so tiny below you.

So even though your immediate reaction is to take a load of photos the whole time, I thoroughly recommend putting the camera down for a bit, putting some music in your ears, and just watching the city do its thing.

So I think I’m just going to see how many times I can photograph that view over the course of the year. That means beautiful aerial views of London are going to get pret-ty commonplace around here over the next 12 months.

But the best thing is: the next time I go up the Shard (wheyyy) and look down on this expensive silly but brilliant city, it’ll be free.

My dad became a freeman of the city of London a few weeks ago.

Since this happened some people have asked me what it means. The short answer is “I’m not completely sure”, the long, vague answer is “he gets to go to dinners in really old halls and talk to other butchers” and the best answer is “don’t know but once a year he’s allowed to herd sheep across London Bridge”.

The latter is some sort of bonkers tradition that’s been going on for ages. As in, 13th century ages.

As far as I can tell, the main purpose of the sheep drive is to baffle tourists, give Barbara Windsor and the sheep a day out, and raise a fair whack of money for charity.

And this year I went along, because if your dad offers you the chance to herd sheep across London Bridge, the only possible answer is “yes, yes, of course, when?” – so that is what I did.

So because we’re now Certified Sheep Drivers, I see it as my duty to guide fellow Londoners through the process of herding sheep across London Bridge, should you ever need it yourself*.

(*Not a ridiculous idea. Stranger things have definitely happened.)

1. Befriend a Freeman of the City

Hang around at the Guildhall and collar a good one when they come out. They exist in three varieties: haired, non-haired, and hatted. Lady versions (not pictured) are also available.

2. Note your arrival time instructions

Also make sure your own flock have enough food for the day before you go out, because they can’t come.

3. Make your way to Famous London Bridge ™

4. (Um, the other famous London Bridge)

Look for pointy glass + sheep

5. Find whoever’s in charge around here

Captain dog of the sheep parade at your service, how may I help you

6. Stand near some important looking people 

If in doubt, look for the people wearing hats. Important people are always wearing hats. If the people wearing hats also have a sticker with the same number as yours on it, even better.

7. Follow important looking people across the bridge

There they go! Setting off into the unknown, embarking on their mission, their destiny! Follow them! To the sheep!

8. Locate your flock

You will know it’s them because it’ll look like someone’s put down a nice carpet.

9. Stride with purpose behind sheep

Remember to look menacing, occasionally shout “come by!”, and make sure the crafty one on the left doesn’t run off. Aaannd smile for the camera.

10. Receive signed certification of your sheep driving abilities

Frame it, put it on your wall, then make a website and start charging for your niche new consultancy service.

11. Remember to thank the organisers.

They’re having a tough day.

If you also want to find out more details not covered by this highly informative blog post, trot over to the Worshipful Company of Woolmen who know loads about this sort of thing.

Hope you find this guide to driving sheep across a bridge useful. If you know of any sheep in need of herding, let me know.