The Last Football Session, A Big Mall, Westminster Abbey, Shakespeare (Again and Again)

When I wrote the other day that the temperatures hovered in the single digits on our boat ride to Greenwich, I failed to specify, especially for American readers, whether those single digits are measured in Fahrenheit or Celsius, which, of course, makes a huge difference. Single digits measured using Fahrenheit is well below, indeed very far below, freezing, while measured in single digits Celsius the temps definitely rise above freezing, as high as the low 40s Fahrenheit. Cold, yes, but not as bitterly cold as some might have assumed.

The next morning, Saturday 29 November, remained cold, and portions of the United Kingdom--Scotland and Northern England, began to began to experience some snow. Nevertheless, Benedict wanted to play football that morning.

This is the bus stop on southbound Northfield Avenue outside the tube station and next to a branch of the Ealing library system. Many bus stops in London have these electronic signs informing commuters when the next bus will arrive. Out of the picture on the right is a column telling bus riders how long it will take for the each of the buses to arrive. I've been told that this system uses GPS technology to identify the buses and determine how long it will take, presumably based on their current locations, to arrive at this stop. Two bus routes meander up and down Northfield. When Benedict goes to school he'll jump on the E3 to Chiswick (pronounced with a silent 'w'; don't know why). To proceed to the football field we needed the E2 to Brentford, and then later the H91 along the Great West Road.

Before I forget, a note or two about the libraries. Each borough manages its own library system. In the case of Ealing, there is the large main branch at Ealing Broadway (the main local shopping district) and nearly a dozen smaller branches in outlying neighborhoods. Library cards can only be used within the borough it is issued. Interestingly, taking into account the borough's massive ethnic diversity, the Ealing system has books in many different languages, including Polish, Urdu, Hindi, Arabic, Somali, and others. This diversity of language offerings is not limited to Ealing libraries. Last week on my way to the National Gallery I stopped in on a library run by the Westminster council. This was off Leicester Square about a block from the National Gallery and St. Martin in the Field. There is a Chinatown near Leicester Square and in this library, which was not the main branch, contained many hundreds of books in Chinese. A few people sat around reading Chinese books.

This building holds the offices, changing rooms, and bar of the private 5 a side football club. On nicer days one can sit in the stands under the awning and watch the footballers play and practice.

Usually at least a dozen players, almost all boys, show up on Saturday mornings. But on this morning only four braved the low temperatures. Benedict's friend, Dominic, didn't make this morning.

The trainer divided up the boys into two teams, and the trainer played keeper for both sides. Here Benedict attempts a shot on goal. Adults played on a couple of other pitches that morning, including a couple of teams of men from either the Middle East or south Asia. This may be Benedict's last Saturday morning here, so a couple of pictures seemed to be in order. There will only be two more football sessions, and it is likely that we'll skip one or both of them. After this weekend, there will only be two weekends left before we leave for Germany.

That afternoon we went to the Westfield Shopping Centre in Shepherds Bush, said to the be largest indoor mall in all of Europe, or at least west of Moscow. Here is an indoor ice skating rink set up for the winter season. Several outdoor rinks have been set up here and there around London. We had to take two different tube routes to get there, and our intention was to see Megamind. We missed the first few minutes in a large crowded theatre (we didn't exactly get the seats we were assigned), but that didn't diminish our enjoyment of the film.

We hung out at the Apple store for a while and played with their gadgets. We wandered around and watched the hordes shop, eat, skate, and enjoy themselves.

Unlike the shoppers, who dressed in dark dreary colors, waiters and shop clerks wore uniforms of vibrant color.

Unfortunately it isn't clear from this photo that Benedict can see the completed Lego structure in the mirror based on some kind of code emitted by the box he's holding. Very cool.

Late Sunday morning we attended the Eucharist service at Westminster Abbey. This was partially a ploy to get into the Abbey without paying for it. We felt we at least had to visit the place where kings and queens have been crowned for nearly a thousand years (a thousand years! it's almost unimaginable) and where next April Prince William will marry the woman who will become his Princess of Wales. The upcoming event has the entire country, except for a few anti-royalists, excited and proud. The Abbey is spectacular, of course, and I may have to return to spend more time with the immortals buried there. We sat next to a pillar with a sculpted memorial to the visionary artist and poet William Blake hanging on it (we saw his tomb in the crypt of St. Paul's Cathedral) and across the way from a large memorial to the poet John Dryden. The Eucharist service itself was almost indistinguishable from a Roman Catholic Mass, though the choir included boys as well as men and there was more Latin than in an ordinary Sunday Catholic Mass. Several weeks ago (months?) we attended the Sunday service of the the Anglican church (also called St. Paul) up the street from our house, and the difference between the two services is quite dramatic. The High Anglican, nearly Catholic, service in Westminster Abbey contrasted starkly with the Low Anglican, almost evangelical service in the local church: Bach sung with great solemnity by boys and men in gowns versus a pop band fronted by a female vocalist/guitarist leading the congregation in singing rock-tinged songs with the help of lyrics displayed on a screen; everyone sitting stiffly and quietly in folding chairs versus worshippers bringing cups of hot coffee to their folding chairs and chatting brazenly with their friends while the kids skipped along to their own noisy Sunday school class; a formal procession at the beginning and end of the service to and from the altar versus getting things started as the mood saw fit; the celebrant and his co-celebrants dressed in colorful churchly vestments versus decidedly casually-dressed preachers who didn't seem too familiar with such inconvenient encumbrances as coats and ties; a learned and polished sermon read from the pulpit by one of the Abbey's canons versus an almost off-the-cuff-without-notes homily by the church pastor who made points using his own humble family life for examples; the solemn distribution of the Eucharist versus the off-hand announcement that there will be a Eucharistic service the next Sunday but not today.

Of course both passed a collection plate.

After the service we we bundled ourselves up and took the short tube ride under the Thames to the river's south bank. Good fortune smiled upon us as we possessed tickets for a brilliant production of 'Hamlet' at the National Theatre that afternoon. We ate our lunch in one of the cafes as we waited to enter the Olivier Theatre, one of the three theatres in the National Theatre complex. I suppose most people are more or less familiar with the play. But this production was a revelation. We're familiar with the issue of wondering why Hamlet procrastinates in revenging the death of his kingly father, and that mystery usually occupies the center of the previous versions I've seen. This production, however, also brings out the political issues, as the set of the play makes clear. Hamlet's Denmark in this version is a totalitarian state complete with spies, informers, machine-gun toting soldiers, emphasizing the distrust that the innately decent Hamlet develops as the rottenness of the state of Denmark reveals itself beneath its crumbling surface, and who sends his own friends to their deaths and drives the woman he loves to madness and suicide. Terrific. That night the actor playing Hamlet, Rory Kinnear, won the best actor award from the London Evening Standard.

We barely made it home that evening before the start of another tube strike. Monday morning complicated commuting expeditions with the addition of a sprinkling of snow on the ground. Temperatures, especially at night, fell below freezing. I remained at home that day working on this blog and Erika ventured to CAPA to get some work done there.

Tuesday there was more snow, though the tube strike was over. Erika went into teach her next-to-last class, and after Benedict came home from school we joined her at a Belgian restaurant near the Roundhouse Theatre for dinner. Jim and Susie were there, and Janine, who teaches a theatre class for CAPA, were also there when we arrived. I had a hamburger and a very nice Belgian beer, skipping several beers on the menu brewed at Trappist monasteries. We came together to attend the final Shakespeare production of our London visit, the sixth one for me. 'Romeo and Juliet' by the Royal Shakespeare Company. Again, fantastic. Vibrant, moving, romantic, violent, funny, and of course tragic. The actor playing Mercutio gave a remarkable performance, and every other member of the cast was wonderful.

I have been so impressed by the quality of the performances and the productions in almost every play we've seen, including the non-Shakespearean ones, that I am forever spoiled. We've seen at least a dozen plays while here, and there are dozens more playing all over the city. What a treat we've had!

A Cold Boat to Greenwich...and Back

It was awfully cold last Friday morning. Heavy frost, you see. Don't let the bright skies fool you. The temperature was in the low single digits and for some reason this was the day we'd chosen to take the boat ride to Greenwich. Our plan was to give Benedict a treat and take him out of school for the day, but his school foiled our plans: Acton High had already planned a day for teacher meetings that Friday and there would be no school anyway.

So be it. We had to be down at Westminster Pier by 10am for the boat, and while we waited Benedict took this picture of Erika holding up the London Eye, which is across the river from Westminster. Well done.

Our boat was a bit late to the dock. In fact, we were a bit worried that it might not show up. Here it comes, the County Hall framed behind it. This used to be the headquarters for the Greater London Council until it was abolished by Thatcher's government in the mid eighties. Today a couple of hotels, restaurants,a the London Aquarium occupy the space. A ship's crew member told us that it took them longer this morning because conditions were 'slippery'.

Here's a good view of Westminster and Big Ben as we're pulling away from the dock. We were the only representatives of SU on this trip, though there were about 40 or so students from other American colleges on this trip. SU students, according to Erika, were reluctant to fraternize with other students. Something about their eagerness in imbibing a bit too strenously in the pubs. Having now seen these students, I can't say that I blame their reluctance. Some of the young ladies were dressed as London tarts rather than wholesome midwestern girls. Tsk, tsk. The big city has despoiled them.

Floating down the river one gets a different experience of the city. There are wharfs (I didn't know this, but 'wharf' stands for 'wharehouse at river front'), and soon we drifted past expensive river front apartments worth millions of pounds.

Notice in this picture how much of the wooden piers you can see. It's about 11am and the tide is out. By the time we return about 5 hours later the tide will be in and cover up those piers.

This is Canary Wharf, London's new financial centre. For now and until the Shard is completed in central London, the tall building is the tallest in England. Recall we were there a couple of weeks ago when we visited the Port of London museum. That was the place that was devoid of people on a chilly and drizzly Sunday afternoon. Perhaps part of the explanation may be that thousands of  people working in these buildings lost their job since the financial crisis hit.

This is museum is at the Old Naval College in Greenwich and is a good starting off point for our visit, giving some background and history of Greenwich. There are many fun hands-on activities, and we were distracted to the point of forgetting about why we made the trip. Here I believe I'm wearing the Admiral hat and Benedict is modeling the Captain hat. Or perhaps the other way round. Greenwich once had one of the royal palaces, King Henry VIII's favorite in fact.

The term is close to coming to an end and we'll soon be departing, and these cups summarize Erika's view on the situation.

We walked through the village of Greenwich to the observatory which is on a hill in the middle of a park. In this photo the Queen's House, which we visited later and rushed through the galleries filled with maritime paintings, is in the foreground, the excellent maritime museum next to it, and the Old Naval College, is right behind. Beyond the Thames is Canary Wharf.

The spiky building in the distance is the O2 Arena. The Lakers played the Timberwolves there a couple of weeks ago, and Federer beat Nadal in the ATP World Tour Tennis Finals under its dome on Sunday. The place also hosts major concerts, such as Benedict's favorite performer, Justin Bieber (NOT!!!).

A look back at Central London. The Gerkin is easy to spot, the building that looks like a cigar. St. Paul, which used to dominate the skyline before the onslaught of skyscrapers, can barely be seen in the the left third of the photo.

The Royal Greenwich Observatory.

The Prime Meridian, otherwise known as 0 degrees longitude. Benedict has a foot in both eastern  and western hemispheres while Erika is in the East (Hark! Yon sun of my life doth rise!) while I'm in the West (Alas, I liveth now in the sunset of mine years.). There is a terrific exhibit on time and time keeping and includes the fascinating story of the development of an accurate clock for keeping track of time on the seas. This was of immeasurable importance because temporal accuracy was necessary to determine the longitude of ships at sea. The way to determine longitude was to set the ship's clock to a set point on land that would be associated with a determinate time. By international agreement this set point became Greenwich's Prime Meridian--0 degrees longitude--and Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) the determinate time. By comparing the local time at sea with the GMT, as indicated by the ship's clock, navigators can determine the ship's longitude. Every hour of difference between GMT and the ship's clock indicated a difference of 15 degrees longitude from Greenwich's Prime Meridian. Without an accurate clock on board ship, calculations could be off several degrees and several hundred miles. So one could see the importance of accurate time pieces on the ships. Pendulum clocks had become very accurate, but they didn't work well on ships rolling on ocean waves. Details of who developed the first highly accurate non-pedulum clock and how he did it are here. The clocks are in an exhibit at the observatory, as well as time pieces from throughout history. The observatory also has terrific astronomy exhibits as well.

The Old Naval College is now the campus of the University of Greenwich. Sir Christopher Wren, St. Paul's Cathedral's architect, designed the buildings. He also designed the observatory. He must have been a very busy man.

Construction of the site for the fastest clipper ships of its day will be completed in time for the London Olympic games. It's near the Thames shore and looks like it will be fantastic.

The five hours we spent in Greenwich was much too short. We never explored the maritime museum, though we had a bite to eat in its cafe. It looks spectacular. At least two days are required to explore Greenwich. But our boat was heading back to Westminster at 4pm and we had to be on it.

It was dark by the time we got back to Westminster. The sun set about the time the boat shoved off from Greenwich at 4pm. Twilight lasted for about half an hour, and then darkness. It was still cold.

A Skipped Play, Another Play, and Art (Oh, and Beckham)

I forgot to mention that on the day (18 November) Erika and I visited the Geffrye Museum--the place with rooms furnished in different periods--Susie, who was with us that day, offered me a ticket to a performance of Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night' that night at the Rose Theatre in Kingston. Jim was taking his Shakespeare class to the performance and she preferred an evening at home. Never having seen the play I accepted her ticket. I still have not seen the play. The production was a kind of parody of the play that retained the most important plot elements and characterizations. The stage was set up for a rock concert with microphones, guitars, keyboards, stand up bass, amplifiers. The cast sang, danced, dragged audience members on stage, ordered and distributed pizza to the audience, camped up the characters, and generally had a very good time. The production was really funny, and for those familiar with the play it was probably even funnier. There were moments that might have skirted the edge of self-indulgence, but it was really very funny most of the time. The company somehow edited Shakespeare's play down to 90 minutes while still capturing its essence.

Before the play Jim and I walked through the Christmas Market on Kingston's public square. What struck me as unusual about it is that on one end a booth sold German sausages and saurkraut, and on the other end a booth sold German steaks, and in between them stood a busy temporary pub.

Going home on the bus after the play a class of primary students--about 10-11 years old--got on the bus in Richmond, took over the upper deck, and rode all the way to Ealing. I don't know what they were doing in Richmond, but they were still in their school uniforms and were accompanied by their teacher and one or two parents. Naturally, livinging in Ealing every ethnic group was represented. They got off in Ealing near the Catholic primary school, so I assume these kids attend that school. What struck me is that it was already after 10pm when they got on the bus and that, for what seemed like more than 20 kids, there were no more than three adults to supervise them. I wondered if the kids could sleep in the next morning before going to school.

I got off the bus one stop later at the South Ealing tube station. Instead of walking home directly I took the 30 second ride on the tube train to Northfield instead.

During the week of 22 November I made three visits--on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday--to the the National Gallery in order to finish seeing all the paintings. Each visit took at least two hours as that was about all I could tolerate physically and mentally. After a couple of hours my feet and back ached and I wanted to take a nap. The Gallery has over 2,000 paintings in its collection. They're not all shown, but sometimes it seems like it. If you have a couple of spare hours you can explore the collection here. If you want to, you can get almost an entire course in art history from the online resources alone.

On Tuesday night of that week Erika and I attended a play called 'Yes, Prime Minister' at the Gielgud Theatre near Piccadilly Circus. The theatre used to be called the Globe until the Shakesperean Globe opened, and then this Globe was renamed in honor of the distinguished English actor, John Gielgud. The play is a very, very funny politcal satire. Spot on! as the locals might exclaim.



On the way to the National Gallery this Beckham-sponsored ad demonstrates his still potent marketing influence despite the relative decline of his football abilities. I couldn't resist taking this picture because he has become a kind of iconic figure. Plus the buses are really cool.

This statue of the George Washington stands in front of the National
Gallery and supposedly the soil beneath it is from America.

This is the church of St. Martin in the Fields. I attended a noon concert here the previous
week. It stands across the street from Trafalgar Square.  At the left edge of the photo you
can see the statue of George Washington in front of the National Gallery.

Trafalgar Square from the National Gallery portico looking down Whitehall.

Admiral Nelson and Big Ben, which is basically at the end of Whitehall.

This fountain would be emptied and cleaned a couple of days later.

Cleaning out the fountain.

 A restaurant down the street from Trafalgar Square.

I've been reading one of Benedict's books call Framed: The Perfect Crime...It's a Work of Art by Frank Cottrell Boyce. Though set in Wales it involves the paintings in the National Gallery, and about a dozen of the paintings play important roles in the story's plot. One of the tasks I set out for myself was to find these paintings in the Gallery so I can bring Benedict here and whisk him through to show him those paintings in particular and some of my favorites. I'm unable, or perhaps more accurately unwilling to take the time, to figure out how to copy the paintings to the blog. If it could be done easily I'd have at least two dozen paintings.

Oh, well, here are some links to the ones I like, some of which are mentioned in Benedict's book.

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/jan-van-eyck-the-arnolfini-portrait

This painting, from 1501, is remarkable for its detail:
http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/giovanni-bellini-doge-leonardo-loredan

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/joachim-beuckelaer-the-four-elements-water

In Edinburgh at the Scottish National Gallery we saw a self-portrait of Rembrandt at age 54. Here there are two self-portraits, at age 34 and 63.

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/rembrandt-self-portrait-at-the-age-of-34
http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/rembrandt-self-portrait-at-the-age-of-63

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/lorenzo-monaco-incidents-in-the-life-of-saint-benedict

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/canaletto-venice-a-regatta-on-the-grand-canal

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/george-stubbs-whistlejacket

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/joseph-wright-of-derby-an-experiment-on-a-bird-in-the-air-pump

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/joseph-wright-of-derby-an-experiment-on-a-bird-in-the-air-pump

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/luis-melendez-still-life-with-oranges-and-walnuts

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/elizabeth-louise-vigee-le-brun-mademoiselle-brongniart

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/john-constable-salisbury-cathedral-from-the-meadows

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/pierre-auguste-renoir-the-umbrellas

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/georges-seurat-bathers-at-asnieres

The painting stolen by the characters in Framed:
http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/vincent-van-gogh-sunflowers

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/claude-oscar-monet-the-water-lily-pond

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/paul-cezanne-bathers-les-grandes-baigneuses

My favorite Van Gogh at the Gallery:
http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/vincent-van-gogh-long-grass-with-butterflies

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/gustav-klimt-portrait-of-hermine-gallia

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/hilaire-germain-edgar-degas-ballet-dancers

I could add many more, but this should be enough.

National Gallery (again), Ceremony of the Keys, National Archives, Tea, Geffrye, St. Paul

On Monday morning, by this time it's 15 November and I'm slowly getting up to date, I thought I'd drop in on the National Archives. I caught bus line 65 at the South Ealing tube station and shortly crossed the Thames near Yew Gardens where I got off. I guessed which street to take, and when I passed a used book store I entered with the intention of asking if I was headed in the right direction. Assured by the owner that indeed I was, I spent a few minutes browsing in the store and purchased a used copy of a graphic guide to Wittgenstein's philosophy. Wittgenstein studied philosophy with Bertrand Russell at Cambridge University. Born into an extremely wealthy Viennese family, he volunteered for Austria in WW I, spent the end of the war in a POW camp in Italy, and, after promotion to Professor of Philosophy at Cambridge in 1939, worked as a hospital porter in London during the Blitz and later as a research technician in Newcastle. Along the way he saved the lives of his sisters by buying off the Nazis, who were considering throwing them into the death camps because of the their Jewish heritage. Ironically, he and Adolph Hitler attended the same school at the same time as youths; they were about the same age.

I found the Archives a few minutes after leaving the bookstore. A massive building that is closed on Mondays. Oh, well. (Sorry no pictures. Can't even download a picture from the web. Really cool building, though I doubt that Prince Charles likes it.)

The Kew Underground station was nearby so I took the tube to Westminster. When I emerged from underground I walked up Whitehall towards Trafalgar Square. The previous day was Remembrance Sunday, the day set aside in the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth to honor those who served in the military conflicts since WW I. We watched the ceremonies at Whitehall on television. A long parade with marching bands proceeded past the Queen and her family. Interspersed in the coverage correspondents interviewed active and wounded soldiers from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. For weeks we had seen many people wearing artificial poppies on their clothing, poppies they received after a donation to support those wounded in Afghanistan. At 11am the whole nation observed two minutes of silence. Then the Queen laid the first poppy wreath of remembrance at the Cenotaph in the middle of the street, followed by Prince Philip and the rest of the royal family each laying a wreath. One by one the heads of various arms of the military, government officials and political party leaders, representatives from important civilian services laid a wreath. The Prime Minister didn't have far to go because 10 Downing Street is right off this section of Whitehall. The base of the Cenotaph was soon covered with wreaths of poppies. They were still there when I passed by Monday morning.



Many people crossed to the middle of the street pay their respects.

This memorial is a few dozen yards from the Cenotaph. The women were also honored with wreaths.

The camera ran out of space, otherwise I would have taken more pictures. Of the Horse Guards, Trafalgar Square from Whitehall, and others

I don't know why I can't left align the text, but we're stuck with this.

I spent a couple of hours at the National Gallery, and at some point I may post some of photos of some of its paintings. I didn't get very far again. Somewhere in the 16th century. I'm proceeding chronologically.

(Note: In the last post I wrote that the previous Monday after visiting the National Gallery that I wandered through Leicester Square. Untrue. While I did stroll through the Gallery the previous Monday, today was the day I explored Leicester Square. Just want to keep the everything straight. You may not care, but I do.)

That night we went to the Tower of London to observe the Ceremony of the Keys. We had scored some tickets, which are free but hard to get. Only a limited number of people can watch the ceremony. We had to be there by 9:30pm, and it was pretty chilly. We had to get there a little early because Erika had the tickets for the SU students. While we waited one of the students entertained us by recounting how she and some other students had waited 28 hours in the freezing night air in Leicester Square for the world premier of the latest Harry Potter movie. They couldn't move from their spot or they would lose it. No peeing or eating for 28 hours. Freezing nights and windy. Benedict listened, I think, in disbelief.

The Ceremony of the Keys at the Tower has taken place for over 700 years, and without a single interruption for at least 300 years. The Ceremony involves locking the Tower up for the night. This, of course, is very important given that the Crown Jewels lie within its walls. The Ceremony doesn't take very long (you can read about at this link), but it is fun to watch such an old ritual.

The next day, Tuesday, I did make it to the Archives. The place was packed. There is a small museum, but that was practically empty. People were there to use the archival materials in the museum. I suppose most of them were doing genealogical research. But I was there for the museum. I wanted to see the Domesday Book. in the museum. When William the Conqueror had settled a little into England he wanted to know exactly what was going on in his new kingdom. He wanted to know who owned what property, what kind of property, and their livelihoods. To better control and tax the populace, you see. So he sent out a bunch of folks to find out. The Domesday Book is the result of all the information they collected. What's interesting about the book is that it has been used to settle property disputes even into the 20th century. So researchers can still rely on data recorded over 900 years ago in the 11th century. That's mind boggling.

There were other interesting things and exhibits in the museum, but that was the main thing I wanted to see. When I left the museum I found a path down to the Thames. I walked along the river on a very muddy path to Kew Bridge. Before I went on the bridge to catch a bus home, I noticed that there were several businesses located under the bridge. They were enclosed like regular offices. One of the businesses was a gym to work out in, and another was a car repair shop. Though I'd crossed the bridge several times, I'd never noticed the businesses under it.

That night Erika and Benedict attended a Brazilian dance performance. Frankly, by this time I'd had enough of 'cultural activities' and I stayed home. To recover from extreme cultural overdose. It must be noted that the dance performance received rave reviews from Erika and a thumbs up from Benedict.

By the next day most of cultural ennui had worn off. I was prepared for the next planned event. This time it was Wednesday afternoon cream tea. Erika and I met Benedict outside his school and immediately we whisked ourselves off to South Kensington.

We purchased a new digital photo disk for the camera, so now we were ready to shutterbug our way through life again. We were to meet in the Pavilion Restaurant at the Regency Hotel for tea. The hotel is on Queensgate, which is poorly pictured above. The reason I wanted a picture of this street is because it does have some pop cultural significance, at least according to one of the tour guides we had several months ago. A chap named Freddie Mercury lived on Queensgate while studying astro-physics at Imperial College, which is only a few blocks away. When deciding on a name for his band he adopted part of the street name, Queen. 'We will...! We will...! ROCK YOU!!'

But on to a more sedate and formal activity.

Benedict and I waiting for the rest of the SU crowd in the lobby. Prince Will and Kate had just announced their engagement, and of course everyone was simply in a tizzy about it.

We hadn't seen Professor Mike in a while. He showed us how to slather the cream and jam on the scones and bravely dare them to clog our arteries and do their worst. Sue Mennicki, director of SU's study abroad program, sits on the right. She's in town to make sure that all the students are still alive and more or less thriving. She seemed to be pleased.

On Thursday morning, the 18th, I met Erika and her students, along with Sue Kilfoyle, at the Geffrye Museum on the east side of London, one of the rare times we've ventured out of the west side. On the long bus ride from the tube station to the museum we passed the Royal London Homeopathic Hospital. My understanding is that only the Queen, or King, can bestow the title 'Royal' on an institution, so I found it interesting that a homeopathic hospital had earned that title. The bus unloaded me near the museum, and this neighborhood had a huge number of Vietnamese restaurants, leading me to conclude that this district has a large Vietnamese population.

The Geffrye itself was really fun. The building was once an alms house, but now it's main function is to show us moderns what middle class life was in earlier decades and centuries. There are about a dozen rooms furnished and decorated to resemble rooms in the 16th century onwards to the 1990s (we had a TV set just like the one in the 1990s room!). It was a fascinating peek into people's lives. There is virtual tour at the link above if you want to explore.

Friday morning Erika and I had tickets to see the inside of St. Paul's Cathedral. We were not allowed to take photos inside. You can see some photos of the interior at this link. There are numerous monuments to military leaders and heroes in the cathedral, but there are some devoted to those pursuing less martial activities, such as the poets John Donne and John Milton, the man of letters Samuel Johnson, and the artists Joseph Turner and Joshua Reynolds. Their names are more familiar, to me, anyway, than most of the military worthies honored with bravura statues. Way in the back there is small chapel "To the American Dead of the Second World War from the People of Britain'. A moving tribute that includes a book with the name of dead American servicemen. More in the middle of the nave off to the side and on a couple of pillars are plaques that list of every single bishop of London since 314, beginning with Restitutus. The ceilings are partially covered with beautiful mosaics that Jim Kilfoyle tells us were ordered by Queen Victoria because she thought the interior seemed too dark and needed some sparkle. This cathedral is the fourth named St. Paul to occupy this site, the first one built in 604. The structure it replaced at the same location was actually much larger than this one. Hard to believer. The previous cathedral burned down during the Great Fire of 1666 after standing several hundred years. This one was finished in 1710 and built by Sir Christopher Wren.

We climbed to the top of the dome, with a couple of stops in between, 365 feet above London. Here are some photos.

This is not the top of the dome, what part way up. The students are milling about, and the Gerkin and the other skyscrapers of the City are clearly within view.

A little artsy photograph.

These photos are from the very top of the dome. Above the is the Millennium Bridge. On the other side of the Thames you can barely see the old power station that is now the Tate Modern Museum. To the left, just out of view, is the Globe Theatre.

Looking west towards the London Eye and Westminster. By this time it was about noon and the sky was very hazy. You might notice a brown tinge of air pollution.

The haze is quite noticeable in the picture looking east. You can see the Tower Bridge and the ongoing construction of the Shard. St. Paul stands at what was once the southwestern edge of the old city of London, and the Tower of London, right in front of the Tower Bridge was once the southeastern corner.

After coming down from the dome we explored around the main floor some more, and then entered the crypt. The tombs of Nelson, Wellington, and tombs and more monuments to other heroes lie here under the cathedral. To my surprise, the poet William Blake is buried down there. Seemed a bit out of character.

One of the pleasures of London is that there are endless discoveries to be made and optic exposures to visual contrasts that stimulate the mind. It's a city with a mixed-up stew of ancient, medieval, very old, just plain old, and modern juxtapositions that keep on surprising, sometimes in a head-scratching way (where did that come from? does that really fit here?) but often in a way that fascinates and invites exploration. From the top of St. Paul's dome one can clearly see how much was destroyed during the Blitz because of the obvious new buildings--some dull, many daring and provocative--that have been constructed since.

This building is brand new, only opening a month ago. It stands right across the street from St. Paul's. Nothing could be more different in style or purpose. Where St. Paul's is a place of worship, a place to contemplate eternal verities, this new building, called One New Change, is a large shopping centre and office building, a temple to consumerism and commercial enterprise. While St. Paul's design is classic, One New Change is aggressively modern. Even its name evokes an assertion of momentum, connoting a manic restlessness endemic to contemporary urban life foreign, I imagine, to the more peaceful and slower paces in such places as Berwick in Northumberland and even more so in the village of Ubley near Bristol.

And yet the new building tries to accommodate the old, to even embrace it. We can see not only St. Paul but also St. Paul's reflection, giving us new ways to see something that is so familiar. Even after a few brief months in London St. Paul's has become a comforting sight, a frequent companion-in-passing as we've explored the city. Regular readers will note how often the Cathedral shows up in text or picture. Its presence has become almost a cliche. Here, in this view, we have something different.

Apparently One New Change fostered controversy from the beginning. Some have accused the building of unremitting ugliness, of offering too much contrast so close to one of London's most iconic buildings. Perhaps, but take the elevator to the roof and we see yet another view of the dome, unhindered by trees, unblocked by buildings. We can get closer with an unencumbered view than we can anywhere else. The developers are planning a restaurant on the roof. Imagine having lunch with such a grand view of such a grand cathedral.

The restaurant is not open yet. This bit of creative pastiche covers what will one day be one of the restaurant's windows. One can see the developer's desire to create a happy mix of the contemporary with older styles, and reminding us that the old ways did not make many people better off.

I decided to go home after this, while Erika explored some more. So she headed for Regent Street, one of the most fashionable streets in London. The Tudor building above houses Liberty, one of the most fashionable stores on Regent Street.

A detail from the Liberty shop.

Those old enough to remember the Sixties will remember that the fashion designers on Carnaby Street were the hippest of their time.

When Erika got back home we went out to Domingo's Spanish Restaurant on Northfield Avenue. It was ok, but nothing special.

On Saturday I accompanied Benedict to football and left him there to be picked up again by Jackie and Dominic to enjoy another afternoon of computer mayhem. I hoped to find the Famous Three Kings Pub today, but discovered that though I had the camera with me I failed to reintroduce the batteries after having charged them. So I decided to walk home, exploring along the way. What did I find? Behind Tesco Plus I discovered a Harrod's distribution centre and the huge studio and offices of the Sky network, a pay TV outfit. If you want to watch Premier League football, a subscription is a must. We don't have one, unfortunately.

Finding my way back to the Great West Road I popped into PC World, a store similar to Best Buy. And then I wound my way down to the Brent River, which was also used as the Grand Union Canal when canals were a major transportation spoke for freight. One of the placards along the river said that it's possible to walk all the way to Birmingham on the tow path of this Canal , about 135 miles away. I crossed the river/canal over a wooden bridge, walked through Boston Manor Park, and made it home after 2 hours of walking.

Sue Mennicke, the SU director for studying abroad came, and she and Erika went to Gunnersbury Park where they enjoyed the museum. I may have to check it out before we leave. That evening we ate at Papaya, the Sri Lankan/South Indian restaurant, and boy was my lamb curry good.

Sue spent the night with us and flew off to Texas Sunday morning.