British Museum and books

Yesterday morning I was of two minds; would I go to the British Museum or would I go have a look at the British Library and try to get a reader's pass for a month. I finally opted for the British Museum, but clearly the Library would not let go of me, because I passed at least a half a dozen bookstores on the way; for a start the most excellent Blackwell's on Charing Cross Road. I do think that is the nicest Blackwell's in London. Oh most excellent and evil Blackwell's. They offer shipping on the US. Mum, there's a box a comin'...

As my dad would say, one extravagance warrants another, so of course I then saw two more little bookshops in quick succession. A delightfully eccentric lady in one approved of my purchase, and we engaged in a spirited discussion of the author Jonathan Barnes, who he was (and who he wasn't), the particular book I had chosen (The Somnambulist) by same, and a variety of other subjects. She also changed my ridiculous pile of coins (a weighty business here in the UK) into more compact coins. Then an Oxfam store just down the road...

Ouch, said my feet. If you are actually going to go to the museum, you had better get on with it. So, the British Museum.

What can I say about the museum that hasn't been said by a thousand other souls with bone weary feet? Well, for a start, I didn't get through all of it. As per my experience with the V&A, I tried to find the exhibits that I knew I would not like to miss first. I succeeded with the Rosetta Stone; there it was in all it's glory! I fear I did not succeed with the museum's famous collection of ancient jewellery, because it is spread out amongst all the appropriate exhibits. So trek I did; from Assyria to Ur, from Greece to Rome, through Egypt and all about. "Strange animals, statues and gold—everywhere the glint of gold." Etruscan necklaces of extraordinary delicacy - loop-in-loop gold bands made with wire so fine I could barely see it. Greek earrings and necklaces with exquisite pierced-work and covered with granulation; granulation so small I would not be able to distinguish the individual balls without magnification - in perfect patterns. Elaborate Egyptian bead collars; with gold and lapis and carnelian. Breathtaking.

I did look at other things besides jewellery. Rooms full of elegant Greek pots - in beautiful condition. Rows and rows. Assyria, Nimrud, Nineveh, Imgur-Enlil (the Balawat Gates), and much much oh ever so foot-wearingly much more. Pictures coming as soon as I unload my camera, and the batteries recharge.

Now my feet really hurt. I am lurching up and down the stairs. I haven't eaten yet today (it's nearly 3 o'clock). Food and a sit down! But first to obtain the museum's excellent "A to Z guide to the collections"...

A very nice mid-eastern place that looked to be geared mostly for the dinner crowd - it was mercifully empty. I sat, ate, rested my abused feet, and read Penelope Fitzgerald's The Means of Escape.

On my way back, I spotted "Bookmarks" (a - you guessed it - bookstore). Oh, sez I, what a cute name. Well perhaps I won't feel compelled to go in a shop with a cute name. My eye descends to the sign boards below: "A Socialist Bookstore". Oh dear, sez I. I see. BookMarx. Well, I guess I will have to at least look. David, this one's for you! I took pictures. Then I went in. "Pardon me, miss", sez I to the very earnest young lady behind the counter, "perhaps you could recommend some interesting books on Socialism in England to a clueless parent of a sincere and earnest young American Socialist". She was earnestly helpful, and after a few false starts, I walked out of "Bookmarks/x" with ... books.

Right. Enough already. I got lost a little in Soho on the way back and ran into a gorgeous fabric store - The Cloth House. Oh my. 35 pounds for a meter of silk. Even though a meter is slightly greater than a yard - it is only slightly greater. Silks and satins and ribbons, oh my. Mum, that one was for you! I didn't purchase anything there. Well, it was nearly 6 by that time.

In the evening I sat on the floor of my dorm room with my 3 other room mates for the day/evening. England, US and Germany by way of Australia. We were all the gregarious type, so had a lovely chat - until nearly midnight. On a thousand different subjects. And so to bed.

London South Bank and around

Today; wandering around South Bank, mostly with my delightful sister-in-law, Dervilla. First, mandatory tourist activity - one per day is mandated. Photos of Trafalgar square and Nelson on his great big tower...

As well as photographing BigBen and the buildings of Parliament.

The lunch was at South Bank's Strada (perfectly respectable Italian restaurant that let us stay there almost 3 hours. Sounds respectable to me!) The weather continued to be unnaturally nice - so a walk about seemed to be in order. Marking out the Tate Modern and the Globe for future visit.

The Tower bridge obliged us by raising the drawbridge for an incoming vessel whilst we stood chatting; it was the Waverly - last ocean-going paddle steamer in the world built in 1947. It's been tarted up a bit; it looked quite spry and fit.

As night fell, we went back over the Thames, and had a look at the scene of many a British detective novel. Speaking of such, there was the spirits store where "Rumpole of the Bailey" purchased his sherry. That one's for you, mum!

Concluding with a pint at The George, right across from the (?) Royal Court of Justice. A nice lazy day all-together!

Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew

Another beautiful fall day; a little cool and foggy in the morning, burning off to reveal blue skies. I'm sure I don't deserve such nice weather; but whatever. A perfect day to go and explore the world-famous Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew.

A nearly perfect spiderweb (all it lacked was a spider) perfectly catches the not-yet evaporated dew. This resided right out side the palm house; within, all humidity and heat. Probably this would be a very popular place round about December. Within the house, I climb the stairs - the great jungle explorer prepares to rise above the tree-tops... Below, an unidentified insect basks in the heat and dampness.

I availed myself of one of the excellent tours offered by the management. Julie led us on a brisk walk through the south-east quadrant of the garden to view "The Champion Trees of Kew". She had a charming distinction of "Champion" with a capital C and "champion" with a small c. Apparently, there is an organization that rates trees as biggest, widest, oldest, tallest, and so forth, for which identifications are registered. I think she called it "Trobe", though I'm quite sure that is not the correct spelling. The Champion trees (capital C) are identified by a national organization. The champion trees (small c) are Kew Gardens' own identifier of excellent trees - that distinction usually based on beauty, health, rarity, curiosity (weirdness), or history. We were introduced to several, and at the same time got to see some pretty sterling lawns and vistas. Ahh. English parks and gardens. Hello, Jane Austen!

This all accompanied by a chance-met acquaintance, a young lady from Germany enjoying a last few days in England before returning to work.

The park is too big to visit properly in a day. I will come back and revisit - the vistas want walking, there were all together too many people there, enjoying the perfect weather! Also, perhaps next time I will be more forbidding in my demeanor, and will get a chance to sketch. I did not get enough chances to sit and gaze. Still, it is always delightful to connect with random human beings in places of mutual interest. It is always happening to me, and I do not reject any of these experiences! If I were traveling with built-in companions, I most certainly would not be meeting the amazing collection of people that I have so far. My chance-met companions this trip have spanned the globe.

We also visited Mad King George's "weekend cottage", walked the new and excellent "Rhizotron and Xstrata Treetop walkway". This takes you up about 4 flights of stairs to a walkway that is suspended above a little forest. It was packed with people when I went up, so there was a certain amount of sway. Pretty nice! The walkway was elegantly designed and tastefully ornamented.

Although the garden is still a working laboratory and resource for botanists, the directors have worked pretty hard to make the garden accessible and interesting to pretty much everybody - of any age or interest level. There was a little aquarium below the palm house. All the glass houses had walkways around the top of the greenery; with circular stair cases winding up to get there. The iron work is mostly Victorian, and ornate as a wedding cake. Painted white. There must be an enormous amount of maintenance required in a garden like this. Leiden's botanical garden came as such an amazment to me; Kew is its grand and glorious elder.

The shop was not a disappointment; there were two shelves of botanical drawing and painting books. Eeek. I got two. Does this surprise anyone who knows me?

What a delight of a day.

Bath

Is it possible to see Bath in 3.5 hours? pfff. Foolish question. Of course it isn't. What is this? 20 ridiculous questions? Oh, I see. Yes, I just asked that a moment ago. This was the "see Stonehenge and Bath in one day" tour. All right, I suppose it is a good start; a taster. What can I say. 3.5 hours is not really enough time. I tore myself away from the Roman Baths (I was still enjoying the same bizarrely non-English weather), and decided I had time for tea and a little wandering. So, I had tea at the Jane Austen Centre (does this really surprise anyone?), and wandered about town, taking another scad of pictures. And having pictures taken of me posing in front of the main bath, and returning the favour.

Oooh. I just realized. My spelling of "favour" was not rejected. I must be using the Brit spellchecker, eh? Let's see: labour, travelling, aluminium; all good. Hah. Lovely. Although I will say that now I am in "re-edit" mode, those other perfectly good spellings are being rejected. C'est la vie.

Right. Tea, Roman Baths, wandering. Not enough time. Still, it was just supposed to be a nice outing for the day, and most assuredly it was. Perfectly lovely. My camera got quite a work-out today. There were too many lovely pictures to choose from; I'm not going to post everything here. But, oh! the sky was so lovely. The Abbey was glowing in the sunshine, and the stones of the Baths shone in the completely proper buttery yellow approved manner.

And the tea? Mmm. Scones with jam and clotted cream. I'll have another, please...

Stonehenge

Is it possible to see Stonehenge in approximately 45 minutes? No, it is not. However, if that is all you have, then you must make the best of it. Some 200 pictures best of it, I reckon. The weather was bizarrely un-English today; blue skies, mild fall air, how lovely.

The day was so beautiful; it was strangely hard to take photographs, because the sun actually got in the way of "easy" photography.

There were an astonishing number of people streaming around the rocks. Taking pictures (as was I). Having their picture taken in various poses in front (as was I). Standing and wishing they could get up close and personal to the rocks (as was I!). Reluctantly looking at their watches and realizing that their tour bus was going to depart and leave them standing at the rock. Well, I suppose some of them were. I was.

There was also quite a lot of non-human participation in the event; bugs, birds and this guy. We were instructed not to feed the sheep; they were very friendly. Too friendly, our guide said. I ask you. Does that look like a friendly sheep?

221-B Baker Street

I visited the museum at 221-B Baker Street. Who needs to know more than that? It's the Sherlock Holmes Museum that was created to commemorate that fabled fictional character who lived at an address that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle made up out of (almost) whole cloth. But anyone who has read the stories is perfectly aware that Sherlock Holmes lives on; long after his creator is dead and dust. Apparently (probably an urban legend), so many people would come on pilgrimage to London, looking for that non-existent address, that when Baker street was extended some many years ago, the address 221-B was added so people would have something to "look at". I just read this very diverting article on Wikipedia on the same subject.

In any case, the museum is very tastefully done, complete with a living Sherlock Holmes who lurks theatrically in the upper floors. Even if Sherlock was never invented, the museum would still be a lovely period piece. The folks who put the museum together were clearly huge Sherlock fans, because the rooms are accurate down to little tiny details. I took loads of pictures, and had a delightful conversation with "Mr. Holmes", who graciously gave me permission to play on his precious "Strad". That picture is above.

Loads of fun! I also wandered about town, found a post office, Soho Square, and watched people engaging in buying frenzies. I thought the economy was poor...

Currently reading: I Wouldn't Start From Here by Andrew Mueller

loot of ages

I visited the Victoria and Albert yesterday - my first British museum ever. What did I expect? A lot of stuff, somewhat haphazardly organized? My only pre-knowledge came from guide books, a description of the starting principles of the museum, and reports from friends and relatives.

The reality is; how else can you display the loot of ages past?? Very wisely, I decided to start with the jewelery exhibit. That way, I figured, I would see the most alluring exhibit first (well, alluring to me), and dabble at the rest. That was wise. I did not see all, nor did I even manage to dabble in all. The jewelery exhibit was unbelievable. How could they cram so much goodness in such a relatively small set of rooms?! No pictures there - no photography permitted. I did a couple of sketches before I became overwhelmed by the scale of the exhibit. I saw so many items that I had only seen in books before. I saw examples of almost every style of jewelery I have been introduced to. Jewels from the various sacks of India. Jewels from ancient Rome, Greece and Etruria. Jewels from every country and period I could think of, made of every material I have ever heard of. They even had a gorgeous cut-steel chatelaine. That one's for you, mum...

The display was not random at all. Darkened room, beautiful descriptive cards, each jewel displayed in its best aspect. There was a glowing blue circular stair made of some transparent plastic leading up to a small mezzanine within the display rooms. Stunning! The whole aspect was magical. I could have stayed there for hours, if I hadn't started to feel a little faint. That'll teach me to dive in to a vast monument before jet lag was worn off. There were some excellent video displays, including the fun interactive one that also resides on the website for the exhibit.

Some people are never pleased. With all this glory, I overheard a man asking one of the docents; "Where are the pearls? Don't you have any strings of pearls here?" Whatever.

I staggered out after nearly an hour and a half in the exhibit. Lunch and copious quantities of water were highly necessary. After? Well, I nearly was lost for good in the textile rooms. The displays are lovely. BUT. Then I found the "study room" with hundreds of pull-out racks of textile samples - from every country and every age. Oi. Anyone could pull the rack out, and place it in one of the many racks for examination. There was hardly anyone in there! Such riches! Each rack had a typed card (by the looks of it, typewriter vintage 1950s) with the origin of the piece, and who donated it. Did I pull any racks for examination? What a foolish question. There were a couple of samples of beaded work. Well, there was some textile involved... I could photograph if I wished to, but unfortunately the light was not really good enough for close up work. So, a couple more sketches.

The textile rooms also included a whole section of Asian textiles - the Chinese half had My Dragon! The dragon I painstakingly embroidered a copy of many years ago. I wanted another couple of hours there to look at these alone.

I wandered through rooms of silver, medieval bits, paintings, a room of Rembrandt etchings, a room of miniatures, a corridor of ironwork. Oh, the corridor of ironwork. There were gates and grates, locks and keys, boxes and bell pulls, windows, gargoyles, benches, and more than I can even remember.

There is a library there; a proper library with spiral staircase and stacks surrounded with a wrought-iron balcony. And a guard, who very nicely informed me I'd need to check my bag in the cloakroom, and would have to request the books I wanted to be brought to me. Some further research would be involved to find out what I would want to see. Browsing not an option. Oh well.

There were rooms of musical instruments. All mixed up. There was one proper looking violin - "Oh, a Strad!" sez I, glance going automatically to the sign. Well, ok. Not original varnish, massive soundpost crack on the back. On further inspection, most of the instruments were in pretty bad shape; warped tops, peeling laminations on the guitars, gaping cracks in the back. But so many instruments! There were also pull-out cabinets in these rooms as well; huge cabinets that were on floor and ceiling rollers. Massive!

The instrument rooms were arranged as a huge mezzanine loft - open to the rooms below. The area below is currently a special exhibit (5 pound admission) on fashion. There was a delicious incongruity in hearing the very pop music drifting up and around the medieval and renaissance instruments above them. I would have even paid the 5 pounds to go in, but by that time, it was already nearly 5 pm. 5 pm! The museum would close in 45 minutes. No, not enough time to do justice to the exhibit. I did go to the museum shop (the only disappointment), where I found books on the jewelery exhibit, a few assorted books on jewelery (many of which I had already) some post cards and nothing on the instruments. Oh well. Can't have everything.

As I said. The loot of ages. Phenomenal.

London at first

Here I sit in the 24 hour internet lounge at a hostel in Piccadilly. So far? Clean and friendly. The price can't be beat. They do need to take the "cheapest beer in London" advert off their website. I was reciting to them their "list of amenities", and the very nice young lady (they are all SO young these days. harumph) regretfully said they had to shut it down. "Too many drunks". What a surprise... However, the 24 hour internet lounge is still here, and here I sit. There was some weirdness with the account I started, but it mostly seems to have sorted itself out.

How is London? I'll tell you once jet lag wears off. Old. Full of things I can't visit yet. Tiny streets. Perfectly acceptable beer. I had dinner at "The King's Arms" actually "The Devonshire Arms" - presumably one of hundreds of so-named pubs. Well, it would be if it were really called "The King's Arms". Whatever. This one is a few yards down the street from the hostel. Except for the fact that my brain was reeling; at that point the time was 6 pm UK time (which would be 10 am US time) which represented 28 hours up. I expect sleep at this point would be a good thing; I had to get back up to be able to intersect with the tech desk in Sydney. Fortunately, that turned out not to be necessary.

I walked (lurched. very tired) down Regent street which at some point turned into Portland place. Regent street is full of clearly very expensive places to shop for stuff. Portland place, on the other hand, is stuffed with excellent locations that I probably can't visit, but that I am very glad are there. Like, the BBC office (probably one of many, but whatever). And the Associated Board of the Royal Academy of Music. And more. Lots of old houses and buildings. Whatever. I did a sort of back and forth meander. I wandered as far as King's Cross, where the British Library is located. Tomorrow, I'll be awake. "Tomorrow" I believe I will wander over to a ticket office to get a travel card, and then to the Victoria and Albert.

Tomorrow.

Sitting and waiting

I'm sitting here at terminal A4 at SFO waiting for my plane to take me away to a long-awaited vacation. Mostly vacation. This is my laptop, and it is all full of work. But mostly vacation. I am on my way to London; I have wanted to visit London for many years. Now I am. Five weeks is almost enough time to scratch the surface, I think. My guide book (which is full of its own lists) is packed with my other lists as well. So many lists. Of course, my usual modus operandi is to make copious lists - and then ignore or lose them entirely. In any case, the things that I will see are a distinct set (not always a subset) of the things that I plan to see. That's half the fun.

Well, I know I'm going to visit the Victoria and Albert. I know I'm going to walk a very great deal, and will almost certainly see many things on the way. I know I'm going to visit the British Museum. I know I'm going to visit the National Gallery. And the rest? I know that either on purpose or accidentally I will visit or pass by many, many things. But the most important things are taken care of. I have tickets. I have money. I have credit cards.

I get to: visit all the museums I desire, look in the window of every bookshop I pass, forget to eat, eat weird stuff, be a little silly (or a lot; who knows?), sit in a park all day, drink tea and read a book, visit the same museum 3 days in a row, take a train to nowhere, take a train to somewhere, walk all day and cover my feet with blisters, write postcards in a pub whilst drinking a pint, drink tea whilst eating scones and watching the rain come down (likely), and many many other things.

Currently reading: Rough Guide to London, Rebecca by Daphnis du Maurier, and Forty Signs of Rain by Kim Stanley Robinson. That ought to keep me busy till I get to London. Heh.

Esther Davis

Our very long time friend and my "honorary auntie" Esther Davis died the other day. She was 92 years old. Her end was pretty peaceful, considering all that she saw and lived through. 6 months after she was born, her father died of polio, and she was paralyzed from the waist down. Her doctor wouldn't operate for nearly 5 years, because he felt sure she would never live. She lived.

She lived through World War 1 and World War 2. She worked at Stanford for the Nobel Award-winning George Beadle. She supported her mother for years. She walked on crutches all her life, and never let that stand in the way of doing whatever she wanted. I wrote a little website for her a couple of years ago when she turned 90.

I'm sad she's gone, but I'm glad I knew her. Bon Voyage, Esther! Fly free.

Pre-travel detritus

My theory is, the more of a mess I make before I go, the more organized I shall be once I do. This involves laying out piles of items in "maybe" stacks, all over the floor. Making lists, all over my notebook. Putting all the items away again. Laying them all out again in different stacks.

My theory is, that if I know EXACTLY what I am taking, I will know where to find it when I need it, and I won't be taking anything I won't actually use.

That's my theory, and I'm sticking to it.

Preparations for take-off

Hmph. Another blog. Another entry into the vast wasteland of random words in the oortian cloud that is blog-land. Well, here is mine.