London Journey: Interlude

In a story just TAILOR MADE for my dear wife, the following news item came to my attention last week:

IN HIS 24 years as a traffic officer, Chief Inspector Donald McMillan has chased errant dogs, pigs, horses and, once, a wild boar - but never a chicken.

Until yesterday that is, when, at the crack of dawn, he had to contend with 3,000 of them, all terrified and shrieking, after falling from a lorry that had jackknifed on a dual carriageway.

Mr McMillan arrived at the scene - the A80 Glasgow-Stirling road, near Castlecary - at about 6:30am to find chickens everywhere.

It was chaos, and had been since 4:30am when the articulated lorry skidded into the crash barrier on the central reservation and across the outside lane of the southbound carriageway, spewing white feathers in its wake.

Police, vets and chicken catchers were called in, and the road network was gridlocked as the clear-up operation began.

from The Scottsman. See http://thescotsman.scotsman.com/index.cfm?id=1629372007

One can only hope that the rest of the chickens survived.

Meanwhile, it seems that some folks are fed up with the National Health System and have turned to "do it yourself" methods....

LONDON -- A shortage of National Health Service dentists in England has led some people to pull out their own teeth -- or use super glue to stick crowns back on, a study says.

It seems that not ALL the oddity was left at home in the States after all...perhaps I should have brought Walter Wrenchall with me.

London Journey: Part Fourteen

The British Museum of Natural History


Bobbi and I also took in the British Museum of Natural History. This museum opened in 1881 and while it looks like a cathedral or castle, this temple was built to the glory of Science and Progress (although it's prime founder, Richard Owen did not see the two as mutually exclusive...having engaged in a running battle with Charles Darwin over the theory of Evolution). As such, it is a virtual hymn to the Victoria faith in the ever upwards march of Progress.

Upon entering, you are overwhelmed by the high vaulting ceilings, which, like the churches from which it took it's inspiration, inspire feelings of humility and contemplation.

(That's me up there on the Balcony.)

Each area of the museum is a work of art in and of itself. In the main hall, these stone monkeys climb up the walls to the sky...each one intricately detailed. Every room is adorned with it's own sculptures and decorations.

The museum is a repository for specimens from around the globe, and the collection has its origins in the private holdings of Sir Hans Sloan, physician to the Governor of Jamaica in 1687. Famous explorers, including Captain Cook have sent scientific samples here, and the museum holds them all...millions and millions of them...only a fraction of which are on display. It is an amazing storehouse, and a testament to man's struggle to know his world.

As befits the brainchild of Owen, who was the first to guess that the giant bones being found in England actually belonged to a vanished race of reptiles called: Dinosaurs... these terrible lizards hold pride of place at the museum....


But there is more here to enjoy than a giant anamatronic T-Rex - although they do have quite a nice one... in the galleries around the main hall, the skeletons of monkey gambol in the rafters, displayed so that they show their grace and dexterity...




There is, of course, the Dodo- a long extinct member of .... the pigeon family...I did not know that....did you know that....I sure didn't...a pigeon...go figure...
There is also a large collection of mammals...including a life size model of a blue whale....the museum is careful to note that these are historical specimens...there are now acknowledged to be better ways of studying an animal than stuffing it...



The fishes are also well represented...including a fascinating representation of how an angler fish from the dark depths of the ocean can swallow prey that is actually larger than itself...



We had lunch with Charles Darwin....




After which Bobbi did her little known, but always well received "Shark Impression".....

In addition to the fascinating items in the collection, was the fascinating nature of the collection itself...to amass so much information about the world, and to enshrine in a truly magnificent building... there is something awe inspiring about this...and we wondered if the will could be found to do as much today....surely, we haven't stopped learning...but there is something about this building itself which is, well, transcendent...and shows a belief in the possibilities and sacred nature of knowledge....something that I fear our age treats far too cavalierly...


At any rate, although Bobbi and I agreed that it might, perhaps, be possible to learn much more about nature from a well produced documentary on Television....we still managed to loose ourselves in the museum for an entire day....emerging tired, but moved...feeling as if, by joining in the stream of humanity who have poured through these doors for well over a century, that we had taken part in a pilgrimage to a shrine to knowledge.

London Journey: Interlude

It should be noted, for those of you keeping track, that Friend Russell has been posting the story of his own Ghost Tour of England....worth reading... go to http://www.nycstories.blog-city.com/ and look for the Ghost Tour Diaries, In Among all the Other Interesting and Ghoulish stuff.

London Journey: Part Thirteen

October 7, 2007: Cabinet War Rooms

“If you were lucky enough to receive a ration of sugar, as this officer was, you would place it in an envelope, write your name on it, and hide it in a drawer. That’s what this Officer did, and there it stayed from 1945 until these rooms were opened again in the 1970s.” Audio Tour, Cabinet War Rooms

We found the Cabinet War Rooms almost by accident. I knew they existed, and, of course, any self-respecting Churchill enthusiast would have to visit. However, it was not my intention to drag Bobbi along. I had no reason to think that any reasonable person would be impressed by black and white photos of politicians long gone or push pins in a map. In the end though, I’m very glad I did- because surprisingly enough, she had a great time.

Deep below the Treasury Building, next to the Clive Steps, is the entrance to the Cabinet War Rooms. In this hole in the ground, Winston Churchill and his military advisors planned first the resistance, and then their counteroffensive, against Hitler’s blitz.

When peace came, members of the staff closed up the room and went home (some of them, according to the audio tour, for the first time in six years). These rooms were left, all but forgotten, until Margaret Thatcher had them opened to the public in the early years of her premiership. In some cases, things had been left exactly as they had been on V.E. day…in other cases, the rooms have been restored using detailed photographs taken during the 40s. The final effect is stunning…it truly feels as if everyone just left- despite the fact that they’ve been gone now for over half a century.

This was not a comfortable place, to be sure. It was, as it was designed to be, cut off from the world above by an enormous concrete slab which protected the roof of the chamber from falling bombs. There was very little egress to the outside world. On those occasions when it was possible to leave the shelter, it was to face a world destroyed...only upon reaching the street would the answer come: which national landmark had been bombed, whose house destroyed, whose family was dead. (Alan Murdie, the Ghost Host on Russell’s tour, told me that he had once known a chap who had gone to work in the morning, and when he came home that night, he found that his entire family had been wiped from the face of the earth by German Bombs.)

In one hallway was a door (still there) marked, W.C., and the “occupied” sign was always on (it still is). According to the audio tour, almost all members of the staff assumed that this was the only working toilet (or Water Closet) in the entire bunker….probably reserved exclusively for the Prime Minister.

Inside, however, was not a commode, but a closely guarded secret…hidden from nearly all: a transatlantic “hotline” (the first of its kind, in fact) linking Churchill directly with Franklin Delano Roosevelt in the White House. This direct line of communication between the President and the Prime Minister was of vital importance in coordinating the Anglo-American alliance which would defeat Hitler.

Elsewhere in the exhibit, are tableaus, illustrating the P.M.’s bank of typists at work, or a pair of general officers going over the details of an operation. A BBC technician sits at his transmitter, ready to relay one of Churchill’s incomparable speeches to the outside world, while down the hall, officers (including the one who had the sugar) man the phones and keep the situation updated.

The pins marking the positions of allied and enemy troops remain in the map on the wall as they were left.

One room is set aside to relate the story of the “Dig For Victory” campaign. With U-Boats prowling the shipping lanes, England’s sources of food (the American and Canadian breadbaskets) were cut off- thus, the Kingdom was urged to “Dig for Victory” by planting gardens and helping to grow their own food supply. In London itself, many of the parks which I have been extolling were turned into garden allotments. City dwellers grew vegetables in the shadow of the Albert Memorial in Kensington Gardens. Films were produced by the government showing urban Londoners which end of a hoe to use.

Outside the bunker, at night, Londoners slept inside the tube stations side by side with complete strangers. Inside the war rooms, the secretaries and other clerical staff retired to “the Dock”…a low, stark tunnel under the main structure.

Higher level aids to the Cabinet and the General Staff slept in private rooms- each about the size of a walk-in closet. These rooms are full of relics from early twentieth century life- matches, ashtrays, bedpans, pajamas folded neatly on the bed, and Penguin paperbacks on the night stand, as if waiting for their owners to return.

It is these little touches which lend such verisimilitude to the exhibit…not the lofty medals, film footage, or maps…but the tiny little pieces of flotsam that people carry with them to make life comfortable, bearable, even under the most adverse circumstances.

Thus, this shrine to the heroic resistance of Great Brittan against Nazi tyranny (a rearguard action which saved the world) is celebrated, not by glorious statues- but by the completely everyday and mundane.

I think it was this that Bobbi found so fascinating, and I, who tend to have my head turned by the glorious, was also enthralled by what really turned out to be a monument to the struggle of the average Englishman against the most ruthless assault of evil the world has yet known.

Churchill himself said, and after seeing this exhibit, it is impossible not to agree:

“It was the nation, and the race, dwelling all ‘round the globe, that had the Lion’s Heart.

I had the luck to be called upon to give…

…the Roar.”

London Journey: Part Twelve

October 10, 2007: Westminster (again)

This weekend, Bobbi and I slept late, and so missed our chance to see the London Zoo. That’s okay. While I’ve been getting plenty of rest (thanks to the interminable slowness of British Telecom, I seem to be on permanent vacation) Bobbi has been working very hard. Not only has she been attending class, but last weekend, in order to attend a conference, she had to make the transatlantic crossing AGAIN (the second time in two weeks) with all its attendant jet-lag and exhaustion.

Therefore, we revised our plans and set out for the London Aquarium.

Alas, most of the other visitors seemed to have the same idea and so we changed plan again, stopped for the obligatory photographs of ourselves and the Houses of Parliament, and then proceeded on foot across Westminster Bridge. The idea was that we would take in a closer look at Westminster Palace, and then enter the Cathedral. Alas for us, it was Sunday, and the Cathedral, while open to worshipers, was closed to sightseers.



Still, there is a lot to see in the area, and we were not disappointed with simply walking the streets. Parliament Square is dominated by statues of great leaders of the English (and occasionally, the English Speaking) world.

Here are monuments to Peel, and Disraeli, as well as to Staunch British Ally, Jan Christian Smuts of South Africa, who promoted Apartheid, and Nelson Mandela, who ended it.

There is of course, a monument to Winston Churchill...

...and somewhat gratifying to an American far from home,
a statue of Abraham Lincoln, looking both dignified and simple amongst the splendid British Statesmen, remembered here for the Emancipation Proclamation, gazes gently across the square.

We walked up Parliament Street and then turned down King Charles Street, walking alongside the VERY IMPOSING Treasury Building until we got to the Clive Steps. Dominated by a statue of Clive, who secured Britain’s hold on India for over a century to come, these steps lead us to a charming view of Saint James park…Bobbi was quite captivated by the Pelicans who live there as well as the gardens and Duck Island….well, who wouldn’t be?

London Journey: Part Eleven

September 30, 2007: Hyde Park, Speakers Corner:

An 1872 law made it legal to assemble an audience and address them on whatever topic you chose. Since then, [Speaker’s Corner] of Hyde Park has become the established venue for budding orators and a fair number of eccentrics…speakers from fringe groups and one-member political parties reveal their political plans for the betterment of humankind while assembled onlookers heckle them without mercy.

DK Eyewitness Travel Guides: London.




Some historians have referred to the telegraph system as the “Victorian Internet”. If this is so, then Speaker’s Corner, in Hyde Park, might be called “the Victorian Blogosphere”. For just as today, many of us cranks use our blogs as platforms for our political views and as a way to talk back to power, Speaker’s Corner seems to be very much the 19th Century equivalent. And, fortunately, the tradition is alive and well today.

While there are some in the United States who may try to hold forth in a public place, these people are generally overlooked…mistrusted by the crowds as being not only a little odd, but also just a tad bit crazy, and perhaps even physically dangerous by virtue of their perceived insanity.

At Speaker’s Corner, on the other hand, a fair number of people will wander by on a Sunday (the accepted day for speaking), and see what all the fuss is about. As the spirit moves them, they might even shout out an encouragement to the speaker, or offer an admonishment for wrong-headed thinking….just as we might leave a comment on another’s blog.

On Saturday, as I wandered through Hyde Park, Speaker’s Corner was my ultimate destination. It is a fairly quiet place for most of the week, but there was one gentleman who, apparently comes most days, stands on his soap box (or in this case, plastic crate) and says nothing all day. Then, he goes home.

I know this, because I got to sit in on a portion of a class for a group of Dutch college students. These young blonde men and women (well, they weren’t ALL blonde- but it was a photo finish) were apparently taking a course in public speaking. They were receiving a lesson from their teacher and one of the “regulars” on how to run a successful “meeting” at Speaker’s Corner.

Like their 21st Century counterpart, the blog, which measures its popularity in number of visits, a meeting is deemed successful by how many people it attracts to the speaker’s soap box.

Thus, the Dutch Students were being taught how to gather a crowd. “What’s your topic?” asked the teacher. “People should be happy,” replied one of the students. “Well, then, here you go….(the teacher stood up on the box he brought)….YOU SIR, YES, YOU! COME HERE, I WANT TO PUT A QUESTION TO YOU. ARE YOU HAPPY? TRULY HAPPY?” The whole thing was a bit like listing to a class for carnival barkers, but it was a lot of fun.

Other portions of the class dealt with the subject of handling hecklers. Anyone who has watched Prime Minister’s Question Time knows that the British tradition is not always one of deference to a speaker; in fact, political speakers here are often interrupted by cheers from their friends, and boos, hisses, and rude and witty comments from their enemies. Bringing more friends to your meeting than enemies was the VERY BEST piece of advice I heard on the subject, and one that I devotedly hope that Democrats will heed in the next presidential election.

It was shear luck that I happened to blunder into the class, but it helped me appreciate the happenings the following day much more.

The next day, Sunday, I once again walked up to Hyde Park, and made my way to Speaker’s Corner. As I approached, there was no mistaking that this was the day…the empty spaces of yesterday were filled with spectators today, and signs and banners advertised the topics being addressed.

There were socialists…


…and the Right Wing religious fringe was out in force….


One lady, speaking on behalf of social justice for the poor, put me in mind, by her fiery demeanor and slightly old-fashioned appearance, of Mrs. Pankhurst and her Suffragettes, disturbing the peace at the beginning of the last Century, agitating for Votes for Women.


By far the most agitated meeting, drawing the largest crowd, was held by a man in traditional Moslem dress. It was hard to understand what his point was, since it was very hard for him to get a word in edgewise against the crowd, but it seemed to be very basic: you can’t keep Islam down.


Of course, there was an Angry American in the crowd- who took issue with the role of “peace” in Islam: “If that’s true, then explain the many despicable acts of terrorism that have been committed in the name of your religion…not only 9-11, but in Spain, England, Africa…”


But it wasn’t just the Angry American trying to howl down the fiercely proud speaker; before he could answer the Angry American, he was interrupted again by an Angry Englishman: “Why don’t you join the Modern World? Get your self some modern clothes. Your religion is only about persecuting women!”


It wasn’t simply a racial dispute, however, because in this sentiment, the Angry Englishman was joined by the Angry Jamaican who urged the speaker to get a pair of jeans or something, and then loudly lamented that, because of Moslem terrorism, he (the Jamaican, no longer felt safe riding the tube to work every morning.


While all of this was going on, the crowd debated amongst itself the true nature of Islam while the speaker’s voice sailed out over the crowd, warning that Islam would not be trampled upon by the west. To add the final note to this cacophony, an Angry Caribbean lady scurried through the crowd, bellowing out to the speaker that, unless his gave up his wicked, heretical ways, there would be no future for him, because Christ was Lord.


Across the walk, all the Blonde Dutch Students had arrived and were delivering their messages to a much more quiet meeting…British (and Australian and American) passers-by stopped to listen as the Dutch made their radical claims that it is nice to be nice to people and that we should take a little time to get to know our neighbor: mine was the fellow from Down Under- and we both agreed that we knew of no similar tradition of public speaking in our respective corners of the English Speaking world.


Oddly enough, despite the somewhat overly-wholesome nature of the discourse, everybody at their meeting WAS polite, and none of the students or their allies in the crowd needed to resort to the cries of “shame” and “quiet” and “go start your own meeting, then, if you’ve got so much to say” that they had been taught the previous day.


Although I had no idea that such a place existed before I consulted my guide book, I was very glad that I had a chance to see Speaker’s Corner in action. It wasn’t so much that the discourse was important in and of itself: like so much of what we write feverously in our Blogs, a great deal of it was recycled sentiment puffed up with an excess of hot air. What struck me, rather that this was one of the most vibrant monuments to the power of human expression that I’ve ever had a chance to see…exhibiting the notion, so ingrained in our own (American) Democracy (so ingrained in fact, that we often forget it) that not only can ideas be powerful, but that the individuals who wish to endeavor to express those ideas should be protected and allowed to prattle on about anything they choose, because, in and amongst all the weeds, now and again, something truly marvelous might just spring up- providing only that it is allowed to live to see the sun.