An English Travel Writer

Cats

2012-02-12T00:36:00.001Z

The last week has been such a relief, with hot sun and blue cloudless skies instead of freezing temperatures and snow. The very South of Spain has mostly escaped the bad weather which has been plaguing so much of Europe lately and it has been a good place to be.

One afternoon, a few days ago I spotted a man feeding some stray cats. It was obviously a regular thing, and four cats were hanging around waiting and watching (at a safe distance) while he tipped two bags of food out onto the ground - one of fish, and one of what looked like dried cat food.

Unfortunately I didn't have my camera handy to photograph this kindly man, but I took a photo of three of the cats after he'd gone (the fourth kept skulking behind a tree)

I took the picture because actually they were the fattest and glossiest street cats I've seen. They ate at top speed and soon there was nothing left. I was glad someone was looking after them, but that evening, in the dark, I spotted a much thinner street cat.

Can you spot her, blending into the background under the yellow lighting, staring warily at me?

Poor skinny little thing. I wished I'd been able to speak cat language, so I could have told her where to go to find a square meal.

I'm not sure the others would have let her join in, mind you. Fat cats don't necessarily like to share.

Snowy London

2012-02-05T12:51:00.006Z

I probably won't be posting that much in the next few days but thought I'd share (for those of you who don't live here) that London's had its first snow of the year, not exactly unexpected but not tremendously well prepared for either. There's the usual utter amazement at Heathrow, for instance, which has resulted in cancelled flights because of the "unusual" weather conditions of snow in February. There is also the inadequate gritting of roads (although at least they'd made some effort on the motorways)

Driving back home into London last night we found many of the roads on our route were entirely ungritted, and cars were sliding all over the place. We had to go very slowly with the wipers whirring and the automatic braking juddering, just hoping that no passing bus would slide gracefully into our path. I sure was glad that T was driving and not me.

I took a whole load of photos out of the window with my iPhone as we crawled along. I thought the results looked more like paintings than photos. Some of them were really abstract. The messy,blurred, fleeting look of them reminds me of how it felt on the trip, with the scene outside the car windows changing, snow melting all over the windscreen, a slight feeling of anxiety because of the awful conditions, and everything looking so different from normal times.

Anyway here are some of them. Don't expect pin sharp precision, okay? And for those of you who know London, I've put where each picture was taken.

First, this blurred shape was a woman standing alone by the old red-brick Victorian public building in the square in ACTON, London W3. She was phoning someone, I hope she was arranging to be picked up!

He we were heading off the Westway (which is always, for some reason, un-lit) at PADDINGTON, London W2. Paddington Green is on the left, a bit of 18th century London stranded next to a busy road, you might be able to see the ghost of an old white church there. .

Here we are in ST. JOHN'S WOOD, London W8. with the bus going slowly along (thank goodness)

I forget exactly where this coned off shot was taken, but it was also near Paddington, the ttraffic cones sort of flashed in the car lights as you passed but I couldn't catch that impression.

And here is the tube station at MAIDA VALE, London W9, its greenish fluorescent lights looking almost welcoming - well, at least it was shelter from the heavily falling snow. No pedestrians in sight.just the belisha beacon with its striped black and white pole and orange light flashing on and off in a lonely way.... . .

Here's a quieter Edwin Hopper moment as we slowed down to turn a corner at SWISS COTTAGE, London NW3. This lady looked to me as if she has been shopping - surely not?

Finally, we arrived home, and glad to see it! We also found a parking space behind a snowed in car. You can't see me in the wing mirror.
.

The clock on the dashboard says the time, 22.26. This short trip has taken us three hours.

Outside in the garden, it seemed as if fairytales might happen, but the windows and doors were tight shut against them...,

Ooh! scary!!

I see that I have 199 followers - how exciting! I wonder who will be No. 200?

To and Fro, Wax Man and "Down the Nile from Cairo!"

2012-02-03T10:33:00.009Z

It probably seems as if I've been zigzagging around like a lost bumblebee, with posts on Germany, Egypt, Suffolk and (soon) Spain all in a couple of months. Of course the purpose of these is to write articles, and there hasn't actually been much time to spare for that little task. But I have FINALLY sent in my story about Germany, so I'm tidying my German pictures away for now and preparing to write about Egypt.

Before I do, I thought I'd share a few random images from the last German trip. First, on the flight into Munich, I saw a weather front moving across the land. Clear skies, bright sunshine, but the horizon shrouded in heavy rain creeping forward - you can probably see the shadows in the clouds where it is falling. The sun was setting and it looked dramatic, and reminded me of a JMW Turner painting.

Next, some suitcases on the train between Munich and Coburg. Not very exciting, you'll agree, but I was interested that you could lock your bags to the racks with that coin-operated locking system - something I always wish I could do on English trains.

But there is a little story attached to this photo. Some little tip-up seats are attached to the wall opposite the luggage racks and the toilet, and since the train was crowded we decided to stay on the tip up seats rather than struggle to find a seat in a compartment.

The ticket inspector marched past, took our tickets, looked a little strangely at us, (I thought), and said, "Don't you want to sit in the compartment?"

"Oh, no, no, we are very happy here," we replied.

He then gave us a VERY funny look indeed, but said nothing, handed back the tickets, tossed his head and continued on his way. His manner seemed so strange that I took another look at the tickets. Only then did I see that the good folk at Rail Europe (who had comped the tickets) had provided me with first class tickets and seat reservations.

We hastily transferred to First Class, but the ticket inspector no doubt told his family that evening of the mad English people who had first class tickets but preferred to crouch on tip-up seats by the toilets!

The third and fourth pictures shows Prinz Friedrich Josias of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. He lives in an amazing striped dining room in the hilltop fortress at Coburg. This was about the most eerily lifelike wax bust I have ever seen.

I've got very close to his face in this picture which makes him look rather bug eyed, so here is a side view

He lived from 1737 to 1815 and was a famous army commander. Apparently a good bloke, effective and popular, but really this gave me the creeps because he was so real looking. To me, he looks dutiful, conscientious, represssed, and well meaning, but not the sort of person I can imagine sitting down for a cosy chat with, even if my German was perfect enough to do so.

So that's my German trip finally out of the way, and I am continuing with the Egypt piece for the paper. The present demonstrations are part of the ongoing Egyptian revolution, and I doubt that they affect most of Cairo and I hope they won't escalate - but the Egyptian Museum is almost on Tahrir Square and if I were in Egypt now, I'd be waiting to see what happens next before visiting it. So I suppose I will write my piece mainly about Giza and Thebes, which are well out of the mainstream.

We've been invited to stay in the future in Cairo by some American friends who are currently building a house near Heliopolis. I'd like to stay with them and also visit Heliopolis (City of the Sun) since it is one of the places where my ancestors lived, way back in the Agatha Christie days.

Inspired by my trip, I've dug out some old photos of them all and they include one entitled "Down the Nile from Cairo! 1922".

Hardly the Nile, shurely - it looks like a sort of railway to me. What on earth can they be doing? I wish they were still here to ask. It would be so interesting to talk to them.

Sweet Memories

2012-01-31T00:15:00.006Z

We've just been away for a few days to a friend's house in Suffolk, on the East Coast of England. It's about two hours from London but it feels much further away than that, and it's one of my favourite places.

On Friday we took a short drive from her house to the weekly produce market in the church hall at the small market town of Halesworth, and I wanted to share with you these amazing cakes. Well, not exactly share them - I'm afraid we've already eaten them.

But they're lemon cakes infused with honey, of a smooth, firm texture like a madeira cake, and very good. But what caught my eye was the way that one has a bee, and the other has a honey comb, sculpted on the top. They're truly elegant, and could appear on the finest tea tables despite their low price of 60 pence each ($1 US approximately). So I took a picture of them in their white ruffs, and mentally congratulated Mrs. Hopkins, who made them, according to the hand written label on the packet.

Next time I'm in Halesworth on a Friday, I'll buy more goodies from Mrs Hopkins. And if you happen to be in North-East Suffolk, the market is held every Friday between 10.30 and 12.30 at St. Mary's church hall. The produce on sale is very good and very inexpensive.

On the way back to London, we stopped at Tiptree for lunch. This Essex village is the home of Wilkin's Jams
and on our visit, the most delicious scent of cooking strawberries filled the air because they were making a batch of strawberry jam that day.

We stop at Tiptree when we can, because Wilkin's has a good tea room, and an interesting little museum which tells the story of the company and its products. ( "The story of marmalade" - who could resist?)

The factory is surrounded by orchards and a market garden which supplies much of the fruit they use - morello cherry, mulberry, gooseberry, blackcurrant and so on. The oranges and other citrus fruits for the marmalade come from their special supplier in Spain - according to the museum, anyway. And the marmalades are all a bit different - I took this picture in their shop..

I know this sounds like an advert for Wilkin's jams, but not, because they've never heard of me. Perhaps I am well disposed towards them partly because my great-grandmother was so proud of them. She lived nearby in the village of Tolleshunt Major, which was then a very remote place indeed.

I remember visiting her in Tolleshunt Major when I was a very small child and she was in her nineties, a dignified old lady in a long, black dress and black boots - a real Victorian. My mother describes visiting her there when she was a small child, taking the train from London to Chelmsford, then being collected by granny who had hired a local man with a pony and trap to take them back to the village, and seeing the jam factory in the distance. . And granny would point out that the jams were exported from this little corner of Essex, all over the world.

Tiptree itself isn't the most beautiful of villages. Most of its local shops have succumbed to Tesco, but in one little precinct was a bread shop called the Crusty Loaf where I got a very good loaf (yes, it was crusty), and something which the woman in the shop couldn't identify. "We call it a frisbee," she said, doubtfully, "but that's not its real name".

So I bought one. That's it on a dinner plate, so you can see it is quite large. It reminds me very much of an eccles cake, and is undoubtedly made the same way, with puff pastry.

So here's an eccles cake recipe, adapted to show you what this frisbee tasted like. Sorry it's in grams, if you use ounces and pounds or cups. I tried to find a recipe with Imperial measures in my 1911 copy of Mrs. Beeton, which I was sure would have it. But although it has all kinds of strange recipes (parrot pie, eel soup, etc.) it doesn't have eccles cakes or anything like them.

30g butter
150g currants
2 tablespoons chopped mixed fruit peel
50g brown sugar
3/4 teaspoon mixed spice
500 grams ready made puff pastry
1 beaten egg white and caster sugar to glaze
Method:
1.Preheat oven to 220 C / Gas mark 7 (medium-hot) Melt the butter in a small pan on a low heat, but do not brown it. Stir in currants, mixed peel, brown sugar and mixed spice. Stir until sugar is dissolved and fruit is well coated. Remove from heat. On a lightly floured surface, roll out the pastry to about 5mm thickness. Cut out a large circle. spread the mixture over it. Brush with egg white and sprinkle with caster sugar. Bake in the preheated oven for about 15 minutes, or until it is golden.

A Bit Behind.

2012-01-25T17:47:00.000Z

I'm getting a bit behind. I have just fniished writing the German story from my trip just before last Christmas. After that, I'll have to start writing up Egypt. I'm also headed for Southern Spain and hope I can get Egypt written up before I go. Plus, I have another trip to make in the UK before Spain.

Thinking back to Germany, I spotted the three characters above in earnest discussion in Regensburg. I didn't ask what they were discussing. I preferred to imagine their conversation ... but I do wonder what it was!

Comments on Comments, where will it end....?

2012-01-22T17:24:00.015Z

I always love reading comments on my blog - who doesn't? The last post got so many interesting ones that I'm going to give this post over to answering those that still need answering. When I try to use the comments box, my creaky old computer starts freezing and jumping about. Also, I can put links and add photos here. So this will be comments on comments. But I won't make a regular thing of it.

But first, this picture above made me do a double take when I arrived at Luxor airport. A bit late for Christmas trees, surely? I thought. Then I realised it was commemorating the Coptic (Christian) Christmas, which was celebrated in Egypt on 7 January.

I also spotted another snowman (not a Christmas one this time) staffing the activities desk at a resort hotel one evening. I think you'll have to admit he looks pleasant and ready to assist.

And here are my replies...

Emm, your family background sounds so interesting. I don't know of any blockbuster family sagas about Jews but there must be a wonderful book to be written about the fortunes of a Jewish family moving around different countries over the centuries - did your ancestors pass down any stories?.

Lynilu. History did come to life, as the dry desert air has preserved so much (including bright colours) over thousands of years. Inside the tombs was remarkably colourful and pleasant, not dark and dank as I'd expected.

Jo, Egypt's tourism is so important to them and most people desperately want more prosperity. The Muslim Brotherhood (who got most of the vote in the elections) is aware of what tourism needs, and,I noticed they sent representatives to the Christmas service at the Coptic cathedral in Cairo on 7 January, so "tolerance" has official thumbs up.

Jane and Lance, how nice to hear from you again, your comments are always thoughtful and thought provoking. I was (from a selfish point of view) grateful to see the sights without the crowds, and this also contributed to my feeling of stepping back into the 1930s. I hope you get to Egypt yourselves!

Dominic D, I haven't seen the first Indiana Jones movie, but that dining room was just MADE for movies. I imagined men in suits and pith helmets, like old films of Howard Carter, (or, like you suggested, Malyss, some lovely Agatha Christie ladies and elegant detectives. )

And carrying on from that, Foolish Aesthete, my own "family reminiscences" date firmly from the Agatha Christie period. I kept feeling that certain places were familiar, a mixture of the old photos and all those movies, perhaps! I wrote hieroglyphic notes to my friends too, as a kid, but we made up our own, were not intellectual enough to study the real thing I am afraid!

DeeBeeL, such a brilliant idea to show kids real places that are related to their studies. It brings it to life as nothing else can. There used to be educational cruises for kids though I haven't heard of those for years. Surely an opportunity for some holiday company!

GB, I'm really glad my post made you consider going to Egypt (though I have to say that it's not exactly quiet and restful there.) I'm more likely to want to go somewhere if I anticipate seeing more than the tourist stuff and if there's a chance to meet the locals.. In fact, while in Egypt I fulfilled a longtime dream and visited the Wissa Wassef Art Centre. I will give it a blog post of its own later, but I'll just say now that I heard about the visionary creative Ramses Wissa Wassef years ago and was blown away by the tapestries (done by uneducated weavers) from his workshop when I saw an exhibition in London . That's one big reason I decided to visit Egypt myself and it was well worth it. This tapestry shows stars and sunset I suppose. I forgot to ask the story behind it.

Thanks for the follow, Sprinkles! And Librarian, I hope your sister liked the link. Did she make a comment? I remembered you as my camel got to its feet and it was like sitting on a nice big sofa.

Oh, Broad, now I know I have tasted perfection in Eggs Benedict. - T. had Eggs Florentine which were just as nice, (I tasted) and the orange juice was fresh squeezed too. And the Great Pyramid just outside the window...bright sunshine, blue skies, palm trees... a memorable moment. I'm glad I took the photo to remind me.

gz, (and GB too) When I go to a place to write an article about taking a holiday, I try to remember that to the inhabitants it's the place where they get on with everyday life. A life which may be very different from what we know and expect for ourselves, but still complex, messy, good, bad, fun - real life. I can't be an expert after only a short time in a place, so all I can do is sum up what I discover, what I hear from local people, what I feel - the kind of travel writing I like to read myself

Thanks for the nice comment, Adullamite . I have rather got into 1920s popular music and have been considering attending a few jumble sales to see if anyone is chucking out a wind up gramophone. I wasn't exactly tempted by that one though because it was GIGANTIC! I could just imagine trying to get it back to England on the plane - or any way!

Bryce, I don't know if they name their camels but they seem to look after them well (unlike some of the poor working horses and donkeys who were as thin as their owners). So my guess is that they do name them but I will ask some of my Egyptian friends if they know.

Isabel, I would guess it wouldn't seem very exotic to you, but I'm glad you liked the post! :)

Thanks for your comments, Linda. As I said on your Flowers on my Table blog, I would like to change the background myself - it IS too dark - but first I need to update my computer. It really, really doesn't seem to like Blogger and is endlessly freezing and doing weird things. I'm still patting myself on the back at present that I managed to get the header photo behind the lettering, and not floating in some tiny size far away, or so huge that it takes ages to scroll down!

To be honest, Nick, Egyptians seem to love food of all kinds, and they just haven't noticed that many of their starters, and things that poor people traditionally eat, are actually vegetarian. So it wasn't quite as hard as they seemed to think it would be to find dishes with beans and other pulses. T's the vegetarian, not me, anyhow, although I don't eat much meat.

I'm thrilled you liked E. Nesbit's stories too, Christine. She enchanted me as a child. I've helped introduce her books to some modern kids and glad to see that they love them, partly because the kids in them are allowed to go out all day and look after themselves, (a hopeless dream for many modern children, sadly) and also of course because the stories are so magical and intriguing.

Nice to meet you, red dirt girl, and now I've learned a new word, "tsotchke". I found a lucky scarab in the sand by one of the Pyramids, which definitely qualifies as tsotchke, needless to say it wasn't an old one! :)

Louciao, camels are the ideal thing to ride on in dreams. I noticed that they have kind of squashy feet which obviously act as wonderful suspension, and as Librarian pointed out, they're a really comfortable ride.

Kay, I already said something on your blog but I hope some other folks will pop over there and read your amazing post on the wonderful old gent you met when you were a travel agent. .

Thank you Stardust, your blog is always full of inspiration for me, and is one of the reasons I want to go to Japan someday, so I am glad we can inspire each other!

Yes, Rowan, I was warned Egypt is one of the countries where it's wise not to drink the tap water too freely. I didn't get ill but I was horrified to see some of the poor people actually drinking water out of the Nile, I suppose they were used to it but - !!

As for cruising down the Nile, I am not much of a cruise fan normally- nothing but sea for days and days...... BUT I could see myself cruising on the Nile, because it's so wide and placid and sunny and interesting. So much of the country is is desert and life clusters round the Nile. The colours are so wonderful - blues and pinks and violets, and there is a lot of bird life.

Sorry you couldn't comment in your own name, Suzanne. - I had that problem too. It may help by not checking the "Stay logged in" tab. I'm watching to see what happens on 25 January too. There are bound to be ups and down but the election results are cautiously encouraging, so fingers crossed all round.

Elizabeth, glad you're planning a trip - I think going soon might make a good combination of bearable temperatures and lack of crowds plus some brilliant tourist incentives. We met a couple in the Mena House who had been upgraded into a truly palatial suite without even asking for an upgrade. They were so thrilled they invited us over to tea in it! :)

I don't know figures for street crime in Luxor but can only say we walked around alone quite a lot and felt entirely safe. Even the hawkers weren't as bothersome as I'd been led to expect. In fact, there were remarkably few, perhaps they're finding other ways to earn money now the tourists aren't here. Interestingly, we didn't see a single beggar.

As for the handover to civilian rule, if and when they reach THAT point I think a lot of people are going to be celebrating like mad, but I don't see the Army being very keen and so IMHO this problem could run and run. Several people told me that the Army is trying to sow discord, which might well be true, but if people are aware of it, they may be less easily manipulated.
Dominic R, I love Wales too, but I'm glad the post made you consider something different. Imagining myself somewhere different is one of the pleasures of reading about travel, so I'm delighted my writing helped you do that.

Hi, Mimi and Klahanie, thank you very much for joining the blog and I'm pleased to have found and joined your great blogs too!

It is interesting, Rurosha, that you've been there during previous disturbances, yet still think Cairo is second only to Tokyo in safety. I haven't been to Tokyo (want to, though) but prior to the disturbances in Syria I'd have said Damascus was the capital city where I felt safest, so different to how everyone imagined Damascus here!

I reckon it's about the difference between an inherently dangerous place, like San Pedro Sula, and somewhere that's just a problem if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time - which in my experience is almost anywhere.

By the way, I want to follow your blog - I love it - but can't find any buttons to do so. Is this dear old Blogger again, or can you suggest some other way to do it?

AVCr8tur When I saw your comment I realised I haven't seen your posts recently even though I'm following you. I've just checked your blog and seen a whole lot of wonderful posts I missed about Taiwan and San Francisco. Think I'll unfollow and then follow again, and perhaps that will do the trick.

Hi, Wendy, your web page is fun and so are your flickr pics. If you go to Egypt let me know what you think!

And thank you to Lina, Carlos, Rita, HARRYGOAZ, aka Penelope, AGATKA, Country Cathy, Happy Homemaker UK, Josep, I'm so glad you enjoyed the piece, and I appreciate your thoughts and remarks.

Visiting Cairo

2012-01-17T13:02:00.016Z

I'm back! I can't get the hang of blogging on my phone, so I'm sorry not to have been posting for a while, or commenting on everyone's blogs. But Egypt was fascinating, so here is a post to tell you about some of my impressions and experiences in Cairo.

And yes, I did go on a camel (above) you can see the back of its head in the foreground , as it plodded towards the Pyramids one evening. It was very easy to ride, I was glad to find. Those big squashy feet seem to absorb bumps and jolts, and you almost glide along.

And that's my shadow...yee-hah!!!!!!!! I was being overtaken by a couple of the horses which tourists also like to hire. Although seems to me that if you have taken the trouble to go all the way out to the Pyramids, you might as well do it properly and hire a camel.

I hadn't known what to expect from Egypt. It turned out that it blew my mind. Even though I've been lucky enough to go to some amazing places, Cairo seemed special. It gave me the feeling that I have hardly ever had before, of history going back in a continuous procession over literally thousands of years. It's bustling and chaotic and that is the way life has been for most of human existence, with people thronging the streets, selling whatever they can. Here people are selling flatbreads, funky laundry baskets and coat hangers, raisins, sweets, lamps.... I just snapped that through a gap in a bridge.

-
Cairo bears the physical and mental scars of many years of corruption, bad planning and dictatorship, but it is also beautiful, and I was constantly assailed by that feeling of life flowing from the distant past to the present in a continuous stream. Look at the picture below, which shows Islamic minarets, some of which date from the 13th century, rising from today's chaotic traffic, while in the far distance, a pyramid stands where it has stood for the past four and a half thousand years.

I wish I'd had the chance to spend more time in Cairo. It's got such an atmosphere and such a personality, and I made up my mind to go back, not least because for me, the city has some personal associations. My family is not Egyptian or Arab, but my dad was raised in Cairo as a boy, and both he and my mother were there at various times before I was born. We have old family photographs of them in Egypt, and they often talked about it. So, on Mum's instructions, I made sure to go to the street where she had worked, very near Tahrir Square.

There, I found many of the elegant French inspired buildings that she'd described to me, albeit in a very dilapidated condition. Intriguing, though.

I felt really sorry that I hadn't scheduled more time in the city, and I longed to explore this particular shop, which reminded me of one of those strange old antiquities shops that seem to occur so often in Victorian and Edwardian stories, like E Nesbit's children's book "The Story of The Amulet" (it's a great story, by the way - read about it here )

I had a very entertaining lunch in a laid back restaurant in the street, called Felfela, with plants and birds. It's one of those cafes you get in the Middle East where people sit around chatting half the day. I wish I'd got some photos of the food, which was excellent. I'm told it is one of the few places in Cairo that caters for vegetarians - not wanting to eat meat is a concept that Egyptians seem very surprised by.

I didn't find the atmosphere in Cairo the slightest bit dangerous. Ordinary people, even very poor ones, seemed pleasant and decent. Of course I would not have approached a political demonstration if I'd seen one (which I didn't) and there is still much to resolve as the anniversary of the revolution approaches on 25 January. Western residents I spoke to in the city said they felt that it was now as safe as any big city, but to me, the main cause for hope seemed that everyone I spoke to was united in their relief at being free from Mubarrak and in their determination to have a better Egypt, one way or another.

Anyway, although Mum was a bit sorry to find that the area she knew had gone down, she was interested to hear about my more recent impressions, and we were pleased to find that she'd often been to social events at Mena House, where I stayed. I was really pleased that Discover Egypt, which hosted my trip, managed to get me in here. This historic hotel began life as a hunting lodge of Khedive Ismail, but quickly became popular with high society as hotel and gathering place. Mum remembers being very startled by an extremely large belly dancer she once watched there and she also remembered the fantastic view of the Great Pyramid. from what was then the entrance .......

but is now an immensely grand breakfast room

.

The old part of the hotel has been used as a location for several movies, and you can see why.

I can't resist putting in the picture of my Eggs Benedict. which were recommended by a couple of the other guests. They said they were the best they'd ever had, and I thought so too. If Eggs Benedict were poetry, these would be Byron.

:)

One thing that was rather sad is that the 2011 newspaper reports of city problems (which were very real at the time) have now had a catastrophic effect on tourism even to faraway spots like Luxor where nothing at all has happened and life is very small-town.

Things are now improving, and visitors (many of them lured to Egypt by stunning travel bargains) are trickling back, but the dent this is making in the local economy is specially obvious in Cairo. The big operators can afford to hang on and wait for things to get back to normal, but many other people who depend on tourism, from tour guides to camel-owners, are finding life very hard.

Indeed, last week, in the middle of the high season, I had the Pyramids almost to myself. Great for me as a tourist, but sad, too.

Checking In

2012-01-08T22:40:00.002Z

Not easy to post right now, or comment on articles, but normal service will be resumed soon. All's well, and stay tuned :)

Sunrise!

2012-01-04T11:01:00.003Z

The sunrise above heralded a bright, sunny morning, the start of a new day.  And I always like the feeling at the start of a new year, despite a tendency to make good resolutions which I don't always keep.

I'd better keep my main resolution now, though. It is to write my article on Bavaria - fast!  It needs doing before my head gets totally scrambled by my next destination, Egypt.

I'm told that the weather isn't that hot in Egypt right now, and I'm hoping to see a few camels, (which are of course mostly there for tourists nowadays).   I find camels strangely appealing. The ones below aren't Egyptian camels. I took the photos earlier this year in Syria, but I doubt that Egyptian camels look much different!.

Happy New Year!

2011-12-30T18:28:00.000Z

Have a lovely, bright exciting 2012, everyone!

Fancy Footwear and Royal Concerns

2011-12-26T23:30:00.001Z

I hope everyone had a good Christmas. We enjoyed ours, seeing lots of family and friends, definitely the best kind. The cloud on the horizon is that my mother is still not well, and that is at the back of my mind.

Now it's time for the post-Christmas sales, when retailers offload everything they hoped we'd purchase before Christmas. Some years I love going round the sales, other years I can't summon up interest. Strange, isn't it, when going to the sales seems so appealing ? I mean, look at all these merry faces LOL

This year I want to clear out rather than accumulate, and just admire some of the entertaining things I spot in shop windows. Here are two pieces of fancy footwear in the shops of the West End. I like this cheerful gingerbread man, but I'm thinking about getting the sugar out of those shoes.

I was very surprised to see these socks (below) in an upmarket men's outfitter. They have the monogram of the Queen on them, (E.R.II) and although I'm no expert on royal etiquette, I do believe you're not really supposed to wear this unless you are in the service of the Queen or actually the Queen herself.

Was this shop selling these in the hopes that HM would drop by to pick up some nice woolly socks to wear when she goes out tramping across the moors for her Boxing Day grouse shoot? Or are these bed-socks, perhaps, for those chilly winter nights in Buckingham Palace?

I am not tempted to buy. They are very good quality socks, and are sold at royal prices, definitely NOT reduced in the sales.

Actually at this time I am thinking of the Queen with real sympathy, because her husband, Prince Philip, is in hospital for the 4th night running, after heart surgery. I'm sure she is personally very anxious, and it always seems to me it must be hard to be in the public eye when you have to deal with personal problems of this kind.

I'm hoping the Prince will soon be back again at the Palace, being his usual self. Here he is with the Queen when they were both young, - perhaps sixty years ago - and she might have been just a princess then.

Weihnachtszeit - Photos - Bavarian Christmas

2011-12-17T23:52:00.003Z

Well, my trip to Bavaria was good. I don't have too much time for writing this blog at present, but I thought you might like to see some of the Christmas photos I took during my trip. They're mostly of Regensburg and Coburg.

Yes, it's a cliche that the Germans do Christmas better than anyone else - but I really think it's true. Many towns have a Christmas market (or several) and the shops, restaurants and churches can be most elaborately and painstakingly decorated. This is one of several exquisitely baroque windows from a confectioner's shop in Regensburg.

Here's another, in quite a different style, from a shop in Coburg. You see the tiny men (about 3 cm high) labouring with chocolate to create a gigantic truffle. What I like is the way that someone has made each tiny plastic man a tiny Christmas hat.

The markets usually open during the day, but sometimes they're fairly quiet, and things start to get going when darkness falls. There is sometimes an area for kids with a merry-go-round or two, and perhaps a nativity scene

As it gets darker, more people arrive.....

This was sunset in Coburg, and the big orange awning to the right was the bar. This had been quite busy for a while, mostly with young men who didn't seem to have much else to do in the daytime but stand around and drink.

But they were soon outnumbered as ordinary people came along from work, with their families, or coming to meet their friends. (Look at the brightly painted old buildings in the background, by the way - they almost seemed like part of the festive market atmosphere).

By the time night had fallen, the bar was full of people socialising with friends. Some seemed to have come along straight from work for some gluhwein and a snack.

You can perhaps see the statue of Prince Albert (husband of Queen Victoria) peering over the top of the bar canopy. The statue was given by Victoria to the city, because of course Albert came from Coburg, and there were several interesting exhibitions about him scattered throughout the town to celebrate the 150th anniversary of his death.

It was quite cold and this stall had a brazier in the middle which gave out a fair bit of heat.

The hot drink was a beautiful plum colour. I didn't know what "Padzera" meant.

The stalls in the Christmas markets I saw had all kinds of things for sale. Some sold home made cookies, or the ubiquitous gingerbread hearts

There were all kind of food stalls, selling everything from sausages and chocolate, to ham and cheese and crepes in various flavours .

And of course lots of people drank gluhwein and ate sausages

This stall specialised in wood carvings and tree ornaments. I thought it made a fine display

Here's a close up

I saw lots of nutcracker soldiers in Bavaria. Originally they came from a mountainous area called Erzgebirge, which specialises in woodcarving. I think they're incredibly ugly, and a bit frightening, and I'm not really surprised that the Brothers Grimm thought they were malevolent. Here they are with some "light arches" - a kind of Christmas candlestick.

You see a funny mixture sometimes of religious and fairytale imagery. This fairground-looking angel was rather pleasant - I think she presided over a food or drink stall.

But I found this little corner quite creepy. Admittedly, the market hadn't got going when I took it but do you see the witch sitting on the chimney of her gingerbread house with her pet raven, and that flaxen haired goose girl or whatever she is? She is life sized, but not real, and later on, when there were real children about, she looked even more peculiar.

Some of the stalls sell tiny little houses. I'm not quite sure if these are used in Christmas decorations, since only a few of them are covered in snow.

But there are stalls selling all you could need for making a Nativity scene - tiny little farmyard animals, mangers, figures..... this child really liked them.

For a child, there's something specially exciting about going on a carousel and seeing bright lights at night.

Late one night we went across the town square in Coburg and saw a full moon. With all the steep old houses, the whole thing looked a bit like a Christmas card. The next day, it snowed, but I was on my way to Munich by then.

Lovely Lucerne

2011-12-04T22:52:00.006Z

Well, everyone's getting on fine at home, all snug and cosy, I am glad to say, and me? I'm sitting here snug and cosy too and happily thinking about what I was doing exactly this time last year.

I was in Lucerne, Switzerland, and this is the view across the water. Our hotel, the Wilden Mann, was just to the right, beyond that church. It was a very comfortable and interesting old hotel and we really enjoyed being in Lucerne, which was beautifully decorated for Christmas.

Even though I'm only away a very few days, I probably won't have time to blog till next week as there will be lots of catching up to do even after I am home this is turning - into a very busy time. In the meantime, I hope you like the photo of lovely Lucerne.

Stories in Munich

2011-12-03T09:22:00.012Z

I'll be in Bavaria over the next few days. Every time I go to Germany, I'm struck by how often I see references to folklore, stories and fairytales. I guess there are reasons for this, and as a tourist I like it - it helps me to remember I'm somewhere different from home. Since I probably won't be posting during my trip, I'll share some of the random quaint creatures and odd stories I've come across in Munich in the past.
.
One of the main squares in Munich is called the Marienplatz, and this is where you find the Neues Rathaus (New Town Hall). This late nineteenth century building has a really huge musical clock, or Glockenspiel. At 11 AM daily, its gigantic figures re-enact two stories, while the bells play on and on and on (and on).

You can see a picture of the Glockenspiel below. It is very large indeed, so those metal figures are at least life size. This movie shows just some of the Glockenspiel's performance - a remarkable feat of clockwork, though I wish they'd made the bells more melodious :)

The lower part of the Glockenspiel is the most interesting to me. It shows the Schäfflerstanz, or coopers' dance. The coopers are holding garlands, and the story says they are supposed to have danced through the streets in the 16th century when the town was hit by plague, to cheer everyone up and chase gloom away. Their dance represents fortitude in the face of adversity.

The top half of the display plays first, and it depicts the marriage of Duke Wilhelm V and Renata of Lorraine. As far as I know, there's nothing tremendously significant about them, but you see the members of the court parading past, dressed in interesting costumes. This is followed by a jousting match between mounted knights dressed in the colours of Bavaria (blue and white diamonds) and Lorraine (red and white.). Who wins, you ask? Bavaria, of course, every time. This is after all a Bavarian clock!

The Neues Rathaus is in spiky, elaborate Gothic Revival style. Most times of day the square is so busy that it isn't creepy at all. But in quiet corners, you may spot some fairly disturbing figures lurking in the shadows.....

What tragedy is going on here, for instance, with one figure wailing and the other serenely indifferent....

And who is this mischievous and not very pleasant gargoyle supposed to be?

Toy museums are always good places for stories, and Munich's toy museum is just off the square, in a Gothic-style tower - that's it in the centre right (below). The tower has many winding old steps - you do almost feel as if you'll end up meeting Rapunzel as you trudge up and up.

It's not a very large museum, far smaller than the wonderful toy museum in Nuremberg, but it is great, and contains many odd and quirky things. Germany is arguably the home of the teddy-bear and I really liked this cheerful fellow. I imagine him cooking a nice meal for his friends

There is a good collection of model figures, and I wondered what story was going on here. - the little man has a dancing bear, a peculiar toy when you think about it.

Not far from the toy museum, I found a large exhibition of art and craft work by senior citizens. It included a big display of fairy tale characters modelled from clay. I knew some of the stories already, others were a dim memory from my childhood reading of those powerful and fascinating Grimm's Fairy Tales, I suspect better known in Germany than here. Here are the Wolf and two of the Seven Little Kids, (see one of the kids in the grandfather clock?)

I'd almost forgoten this tale, which tells how Mother Goat leaves her kids at home to go shopping. Of course the sly Wolf is waiting to get to the kids, and he eventually wheedles his way into their house despite the kids' weak little efforts to outsmart him. He gobbles them up, and goes to sleep. All seems lost, but their desperate Mother, finding her children gone, grabs a pair of scissors, cuts open his stomach, rescues the babies and fills the Wolf up with stones. The Wolf wakes up, goes to the well for a drink, but the stones unbalance him and he falls down and is drowned.

I found such a cute video of some tiny children performing it here in elaborate costumes - they are having such fun in their fancy dress and I think that the young Wolf in particular is an amazingly talented actor.

Then I saw a model of "Hans im Glück" - (Hans in Luck)

This story tells how Hans gets a lump of gold for his good work, but he makes a series of disastrous exchanges and ends up with worse and worse bargains - a useless cow, a stolen pig and so on. They cause him so much grief, that when he finally ends up with nothing, he is delighted, because now he has no more troubles and this is best of all!

I found a good Lego film, made by some German children, of an updated version of this story, here. It is in German, but you don't need the words. You'll see how Hans, the businessman, gets a bonus and buys a car, but although all his exchanges come to grief, he ends up happy.

I knew the Four Musicians of Bremen because I remember seeing their statue when I was a child, and being told the story. It's a nice tale of how four worn out old animals make their fortune, and these days I quite empathise with them! :)

I was mystified by the little creature below, who didn't have any identification. He resembles a mole or a bear in glasses. Anyone know which he is?

On leaving the toy museum I nearly bumped into this life size lion figure, who somehow made me think of a judge, specifically the brilliant Australian singer Anthony Warlow in "Trial by Jury". I know the lion is meant to be a Santa, but do you agree with me that he is like a comical judge? Here's the link to Warlow as the crooked judge, who describes how he tricks his way into his job, uses the law to his own endsm and ends up marrying the lovely young plaintiff himself.

I then spotted a jewellery shop with a window display consisting of animals in a winter woodland, all sporting expensive rings and necklaces.

It looked quite bizarre, and set me off trying to imagine a fairy tale about how the animals in the wood all thought so much of themselves, and were so proud, that they dressed up like Kings and Queens. They wouldn't listen to the wise old owl who warned them that they were tempting misfortune. And so...

Well, I'm sure the Brothers Grimm would have found a story about it.

I wonder if I'll encounter any strange creatures and stories in Munich this time.

Piccadilly, Peas in a Pod and some pricey Christmas Crackers

2011-11-30T11:22:00.009Z

The gold macaroon has gone to the great digestive tract in the sky (or wherever it is), but getting these lovely presents was a delightful change from lying awake at night. Actually, when daily life is a strain, T and I try to make time to go out and take a walk, or better still a cycle ride. We use the London Transport specialist cycle maps, (FREE from tube stations) which help choose quiet and pleasant routes.

We decided to go and look at the Illustration Cupboard's winter show in the old and interesting area of St. James's, just off Piccadilly and minutes from Piccadilly Circus. It was just an excuse to go out really, and it was a slightly surreal experience when we reached Regent's Park, because in some parts, it almost felt as if we'd returned to summer.

So it seemed almost odd to turn around and see this lonely creature in a crowd of sticks....

We spotted a man wading in the mud of what is normally a pretty lake. They're doing maintenance, and he described how they had passed a weak electric current through the lake before draining it. This stunned all the fish, which were then "relocated" in another pond. We couldn't help thinking there must have been some mighty surprised fish when they woke up - assuming that fish feel surprise, that is!

More animal welfare issues of a less amusing kind arose when we reached the very expensive shopping area around Piccadilly. The men putting up the feathery Christmas window display at the clothes boutique "Joseph" were pointedly ignoring animal rights campaigners with a megaphone who were noisily picketing the shop because of its use of fur.

If even half of what they said was true, then I'd boycott "Joseph" too (assuming I could afford to shop there in the first place, which I can't). I won't repeat what they said here but I gathered that some of the methods used on furs used by "Joseph" are illegal in the UK, and the details are not for the squeamish. Nobody tried to move the protesters on. Was that a victory for free speech, or was it a reluctance to turn a protest into a more major incident?

There are some lovely shops in the area. We stopped at Paxton and Whitfield, cheesemonger, because they were giving away free samples of magnificent brie and goats' cheese from an upturned barrel outside the shop......

Also took the chance to visit St. James's Piccadilly, one of my favourite churches, and a place with a lot of history and associations. You won't find it on many tourist itineraries, (which just shows how hidebound tourist irineraries can be.)

Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, architect of St. Pauls, the church was consecrated in 1684, and is associated with well known people like Daniel Defoe, author of "Robinson Crusoe" and the anti-slavery campaigner and ex-slave, Ottobah Cugoanom, who was baptised there in August 1773. Cugoanom worked and lived nearby, and wrote several books, including "Thoughts and Sentiments on the Evil and Wicked Traffic of the Slavery and Commerce of the Human Species," and campaigned against the slave trade and worked on behalf of the poor.

Inside,,I noticed a beautiful and most unusual font, showing Biblical scenes. Here's Noah's Ark

Wondering who had made it, I bought the church guide for 50p and discovered the font was a stone carving by Grinling Gibbons. Gibbons was one of the top wood carvers of his day (and arguably one of the best ever), a friend of Christopher Wren and the diarist John Evelyn. Click this Youtube link to find out more about his interesting life and see some of his work at Hampton Court Palace.).

And when I reached the altar of St. James's, I found that the reredos, the bit behind the altar, was carved out of lime wood by Gibbons.

I looked to see if I could spot Gibbons' trademark pea-pods. The story is that when the pods were carved open, showing peas, it meant Gibbons had been paid for the work. When the pods were closed, it meant he hadn't been paid. I can't see any open pods, but there looked to be some closed ones towards the top of this detail here: sorry it's a blurry picture, I had to enlarge it right up. What do you think? are these closed pea pods?

So it seems Gibbon's St. James's carvings were for the glory of God, and perhaps he had an eye on future commissions from Wren, (such as St. Paul's Cathedral, which was then in the pipeline).

We finally got to the Illustration Cupboard, to admire the work of many of my favourite illustrators, old and new, such as Dick Bruna, creator of dear little Miffy.

And Graham Oakley - this is a picture from his lovely Church Mice series of picture books.

So that was the purpose of our visit achieved, and we left the gallery with the idea of having a bite to eat. What about Fortnum and Mason's, the grocers established in 1707? After all they have lots of delicious food, not to mention beautiful Christmas decorations - such as these crackers at a "mere" £500 a box.

.
Ah, well, it costs nothing to go in and try some free samples and soak up the atmosphere, and wish I had a bit more of this

I love the elegant counters - this one sold mainly dried and crystallised fruits. Fornum's "colour" is this charming sea green or pale turquoise which you see in the piled up boxes.

The tailcoated assistants

Something of the ringmaster in those tailcoats - I'm sure the male assistants all used to wear black, but in fact since the shop has an 18th century ambience, bright colours are more appropriate.

Here's their symbolic green-coated page, who stands on the newel post of the main staircase.

The lady with him isn't a customer. She's part of Fortnum's Christmas theme this year, which appears to be along the lines of "burlesque" or "Las Vegas".

The outdoor window displays were certainly entertaining passers-by.

For old times' sake, I put 50p in the Gruber polyphon, which has been in the shop since the 1880s. Polyphons are a kind of Victorian jukebox, a giant musical box worked by steel discs, found in pubs, clubs and shops. Fortnum's is, of course, a very posh one.

When one of our daughters was about 5 or 6, it was her joy to go into Fortnums when we were passing, and we would put some money in the polyphon and she would dance, prance and pirouette to it - to the amusement (I hope) of the other customers.

Money collected in the polyphon goes to the Prince's Trust, Prince Charles' very interesting charity for young people. It's a good cause, but this time when I put my 50p in, nothing happened. When I complained, a very nice man in a black tailcoat came along with a big key and wound it up and it played "Silent Night."

I am ashamed to say I didn't buy anything in the shop today. I do, sometimes, on special occasions, when I'm feeling rich. But I went across the road instead to Pret A Manger which is always my recommendation for good cheap takeaway food. We had some nice soup and yogurts for what I guess must be approximately the same price as one of those beads on one of the Christmas-crackers.

And set off home in the evening sunshine. I felt as if I'd paid a fleeting visit to several centuries in a single day.

Lovely gifts from abroad

2011-11-28T11:35:00.003Z

It's been rather busy lately as my mum hasn't been too well, but it hasn't all been tough by any means. We were delighted to get some really great foreign presents in the last couple of days, so I thought I'd share them here.

The first was a Cat Bus album from Japan. If you've watched the magical film "My Neighbour Totoro" you'll recognise the Cat Bus (above) a spirit bus which is shaped like a cat and takes you where you want to go. I'm very fond of the Cat Bus and our Japanese friend Rie, who was over here in the summer, printed out some photos of us all and put them int the album which you can see below, which has the Cat Bus's head on it. I'm so pleased.

Our second gift was a package of amazing foodstuffs which K and F got us in Paris. Paris is one of the cities which at times can really live up to the hype and cliches, and I often marvel at the glamour, elegance and refinement and .... well, Frenchness of it. Yes, yes, yes, of course it is French, and also of course there is a whole lot of grunge and garbage in Paris, too, but, at its best. it actually lives up to its idealised image.

So here are some beautiful macaroons from Fauchon at 26 Place de la Madeleine,

including a gold one at the right of the box

Plus a large box of three different types of cheese, cut into elegant bite sized chunks

Plus also a loaf of the most gorgeous bread, now disappeared forever

The cheese is also no more, we shared it with guests last night. We've eaten the gold macaroon and the violet coloured one, the rest are in the fridge.

So now I feel as if I have had a little private visit to both Paris and Japan.

Bethnal Green, A Fairy Dress and A Crying Dunce

2011-11-24T12:34:00.007Z

Life's busy in Woolf Villas right now, but recently T and I made the effort and went to Bethnal Green Museum of Childhood. It's a real bit of Victoriana, with Crystal-Palace style ironwork and a mosaic floor which you will see is in the shape of fish-scales (and originally laid by female prisoners- better than stone breaking or whatever they did in those days,).

I've always loved this museum, but it only gradually evolved into a children's one. When I first visited, it had some amazing dolls houses and children's outfits, but there were also many strange old knick-knacks which was very interesting but not much to do with kids.

A few years ago it had a revamp and ever since then it's been very lively, with displays involving local children as well as the regular exhibits. The current temporary display theme is fairytale nightmares, done with the help of local schools. I liked the wicked black-plastic-sack crow carrying off the baby here.......

Still on the scary fairy theme, the dolls house (below) is part of the permanent display,and I hadn't seen it before. It was made in 1970 for some children who wanted a magic or ghost dolls' house, with a secret room hideen in the roof. How I'd have loved that!

And here's an interior of a more traditional Victorian dolls house - a cosy nursery, I think, despite the shadows and high ceilings. Victorian nurseries usually had plenty of people in them, because the families were so large and the nursemaid slept there too.

.
The choice of toys often makes interesting social comments. Look at the way the "Sindy" doll changed over the years. It was originally a sort of British competitor to Barbie (the first Barbie is also on display, below)

and here is Sindy, and how she changed over the years.

This was my favourite out of the stuffed toys. I think he's a fox,and to me those specs make him look like some clever but unscrupulous young intellectual plotting a smart way of wheedling his way into the hen house.

There are far too many dolls to even mention, some of them hundreds of years old, some highly creative and modern, some just strange. I thought "Blythe"was pretty odd. She was made for one year in 1972 - hence the trendy kaftan, I suppose. . Not only does she have an unfeasibly huge head and an world weary expression, but you could pull a cord on her back and make her eyes change colour four times. That was all she did. Weird or what?

The collection of dolls below have a very sad backstory. They are supposed to show Queen Anne and her eighteen children, Queen Anne reigned from 1702-1714 but these dolls are really just wishful thinking, becuase they do not represent real people. Queen Anne had at least thirteen miscarriages or stillbirths, and her five children who survived birth, then all died before the age of 11.

(Quick aside: In the Enchanted Palace at Kensington, which I have mentioned before, there is a display of the model army of the last surviving child, poor little William who was such a brave child who tried so hard to be what was required of him. I really shed a little tear for William. And that whole exhibition is one of the most interesting I've seen lately, so click the link for more details and consider visiting if you like art and history and are in London - but hurry, it closes on January 3)

So here are some of Queen Anne's might-have-been children.

On a more cheerful note, I was glad to see the Big Yellow Teapot, which had a well favoured place in our home. I wonder why they stopped making them, everyone loved them and most households with young children, had one. As you see, it's a doll's house. I seem to remember its weak point was the hinge on the door, so most of the Big Yellow Teapots you spot these days are minus the door.

And here is what I would have wanted as a child - already thinking of travelling, perhaps, but doing it in style rather than in the cattle-truck conditions of today's airlines.

There's also a super go-cart, created by an Dutch artist associated with the De Stijl movement, almost too nice to career down the hill in.

We had a tin road layout rather like this one, although I liked looking at it rather than playing with it.

And as I like cats, I took a fancy to this beautiful child's chair

And this charming teaset, every piece different - so original. (sorry, I can only show part of it)

Puppets are not always toys. The museum displays a large 18th century puppet theatre with almost lifesized puppets (sorry, couldn't get far away enough to get a decent picture of this huge exhibit). These Japanese puppets certainly are not playthings for kids.

There are also automata - here is a French "dunce" from 1860, who wipes away his tears continually and plays a sad tune because he is too stupid at school.

It was a relief to move from this sad scene to a beautiful fairy dress worn by a little girl in the 1920s. How thrilled beyond words she must have been to prance around and show off in this lovely dress.

The museum has a good cafe, but we always go to the Gallery Cafe in an 18th century house just round the corner, which is run by a local charity called St. Margaret's House Settlement. It's vegetarian/vegan, very cheap, very good and very popular. Check out their website here if you live in East London because the charity runs arts and cultural events for young and old, a creative shop called The Create Place, a vintage clothes exchange, and it also does more.

In the summer you can sit outside the cafe but it's much cosier to go inside when it gets to be November. Since the museum is free to enter, and the cafe is so cheap and nice, this could be a very reasonably priced London outing, specially if you go by bike, as we did.

Three Stories

2011-11-22T10:19:00.010Z

So, it's dusk, and you're in a busy street in a souq, somewhere in the Middle East. Sitting quietly amidst the crowds is an old woman, begging. There she is - do you see her?

You come closer, you see she's too old to work, and she's shaking with some disease. The local stallholders are chatting with her, and one of them has given her a chair. What is her story? . Do you give her money?

A little way further on, you cross a footbridge across a main road. A little girl aged about four sits on the ground, and you nearly trip over her in the dark, Her head is hidden, but her hand is raised, shaking a tray of matches at heedless passers by. What is her story? Do you buy her matches, do you give her some money?

You walk on a bit further, and reach a Western style shopping centre, full of Christian Dior and Mulberry, Chanel and Hermes. Outside, where the rich people go in and out, is a woman carrying a baby. She has four other children, aged between about four and ten. They're lively, cheerful kids and they're selling cheap teatowels, running around in the crowds, pestering people to buy. The woman looks worn, but she is keeping an eye on her kids, and speaks kindly to them. What is their story? Do you buy their teatowels or give them some extra cash?

It's always a dilemma, one which is also dealt with here (in a slightly different way) in Nomadic Notes blog.

When I encountered the above three cases - they're true stories - this is what happened.

I gave money to the old woman, and she gave me a dignified "bless you" sign.

I did not give the child money. I was with a local who told me that organised gangs run children like this, and teach them to look pitiful, and take the money they make, and that they should not be encouraged to find this lucrative. He actually pulled me away. I worried about it for days afterwards, and even went back to try and find the child again, but I never did. I think he is right. Children do not look sad merely because they are poor - poverty doesn't depress their spirits; it's other things that do that. The little girl was probably, as my friend said, trained to act in a pitiful way. But I still see her poor little form sitting on the dusty ground, in my mind.

I bought teatowels off one of the boys for much more than they were worth. He whooped with joy, and so did his brothers and sister. Then the rest of them tried to get me to buy their teatowels too, and chased me half way down the road, but they were cheery, enthusiastic kids and did not annoy me.

So what do you do about beggars and hawkers, in a country where there is no social safety net, where a widow left with small children and no income must find a way to feed them? Where an old woman who cannot work chooses to sit in the market and solicit alms in the name of Allah? Where ruthless people leave small children alone and at risk to get a few pennies?

I should say that I don't know what the truth was in any case - that's just how it seemed to me. But it made me think again about the ethical dilemma of giving to beggars and hawkers. I don't have a rule of thumb, I go by what I feel like when deciding what and if to give.

I do have a few rules about people I don't give to, though. I don't give to people who traipse around looking pitiful and carrying small children who are apparently deeply "asleep" - those children are generally drugged. I am sorry to say that I don't give to gypsies. this is for entirely practical (not racist) reasons, because I have several times been threatened by gypsies in various countries when they see I have money, and sometimes it's been very scary. I continue to wrestle with the problem of how to respond to children who are deliberately abused or left alone and vulnerable in order to incite pity. In a country where you don't speak the language, and it's nobody's responsibility to care, what exactly can you do? I feel like just taking them away to somewhere safe, of course, but for the child, being taken by a stranger would be even more petrifying. Sometimes you can buy them food, but that doesn't solve anything. You can give to charities, but the charity may not exist, or if it does, it may not find that particular child.

I'm glad that in England we don't usually have to consider these issues as starkly as in less developed countries. Of course there is poverty here, and there are beggars, but there are systems in place which are supposed to help and there are many charities for children and the homeless. They are far from perfect, of course, but unless the homeless person actually chooses not to use the help, it is never a question of literally having to beg or eat.

This got me to thinking of all those nice ordinary people I know trying to live their lives and being engulfed in bloodshed and unrest, or else suffering the rule of greedy dictatorial elites who have no interest in the peoples' welfare, and would rather grab money for themselves, to buy those Dior handbags, than even try to alleviate terrible social evils.

It certainly reminds me not to be too sorry for my own problems.

I've been slow to respond to blogs etc. lately but I've mostly caught up and hope to be back to normal soon!

Louis Patisserie and an Autumn Sunset

2011-11-16T23:35:00.005Z

T. and I have been stuck inside feeling ill lately with a variety of interesting symptoms - all of them different. And then suddenly, today.... we both feel a bit better.

So we took a gentle late afternoon constitutional to Hampstead Heath. It's uphill all the way but within half an hour we were in the middle of the wood by one of the wildlife ponds watching the birds as the sun set, the autumnal sky changed colour, the water rippled quietly.

All of a sudden a group of birds flew by, like a skein of white hankies against the pale gold water and few remaining leaves.

The branches reflected in the water's ripples to make a series of endlessly varied repeating but surprisingly organised patterns.

We continued up the path, past the rather mysterious caravan park which I think is something to do with the Bank Holiday funfairs which traditionally take place on the Heath. A few of the caravans were occupied, and looked very cosy.

We came out at the Whitestone Pond, which stands at the top of Heath Street. This cuts the Heath into two, and has become a rather busy road which joins Hampstead and the nearby village of Highgate. The Pond was a where Victorian children paddled and played with model boats and poor old cart horses came for a drink or also had a paddle (see below).

It's recently been renovated at vast expense to be a "meeting place for the local community" (whatever that means). Needless to say nobody was "meeting" there but it's attractive now, with reeds growing, lots of wildfowl

and the evening traffic going past.

We walked down the hill and decided to have a cup of tea in Louis Patisserie at 32 Heath Street. This family-owned Hungarian patisserie has been in Hampstead since 1963, and it doesn't seem to have changed at all since I first visited it as a teenager. All my adult life I have liked to pass and look in the window at the cakes (which are always the same designs).

It's always been rather expensive, because although it's unpretentious, everything is of top quality. But every now and then we splash out on a florentine or chocolate. Our kids were always intrigued by the domino cakes, but they also do very good croissants..

Inside, it's very clean and well maintained, but here again, nothing much has changed since 1963, (and it must have seemed pretty old fashioned then)

You can see the shop section at the end, with the net curtains hanging above the shop window, but inside the cafe (divided from the shop by wrought iron screens, not visible in the picture) it is cosy and warm, with buttoned leather benches and brass lights. My idea of a traditional Hungarian coffee place. It's usually full and has a lot of "regulars."

We bought a loaf of bread - traditionally baked crisp outside, soft inside and not expensive - unlike the pretentious "artisan" bread which sells for three times the price in the farmer's market, and shared a vast but very good slice of chestnut cream cake.

By now it was dark, and we set off home, leaving Louis still selling cakes for the locals to have for tea.

Out of the door - it has the name of the shop inscribed in terrazzo at the entrance ... there is something a bit Edward Hopper about it at night....

Somehow, a lot of old fashioned shops have clung on in Hampstead Heath Street. The ironmonger and greengrocer have also been there as long as I can remember, as has the camera shop, which always seems to be full of camera fans does a good second hand trade.

Hampstead used to be a rather bohemian place, haunt of artists. Now, much of it has been taken over by bankers, media and money people, and rents are now so high that most of the modern shops are high priced boutiques, coffee shops, or art galleries - the sort of places you find anywhere. So it is nice to feel a sense of continuity with a less frantic and status conscious time, and I hope that the old shops can continue to thrive.

Now we are both feeling rather tired, so perhaps we weren't that much better. But taking a walk has to be good, even if it was rather a slow one, and involved cream cakes.

Pure Happiness

2011-11-12T17:36:00.002Z

Art by Offenders.

2011-11-10T21:51:00.004Z

Oh my ears and whiskers, I am so behind with everything. I meant to blog about the Koestler Trust Art By Offenders show long before now, and suddenly I've found that it's ending in a week! If you're in London, take a look - it's free, and it's in the gallery at the bottom of the Royal Festival Hall on the South Bank, SE1.
The Koestler Trust is a charity which in its own words, is all about "inspiring offenders to take part in the arts, work for achievement and transform their lives". Their website here is very interesting, I've realised. I had never really looked into what they did before.

Anyway the picture above is called "Lowry on Prozac" and I love it - it's so full of humour and life.

I was impressed by this detailed and striking piece of textile art. It is called "Tribal Nations" and its maker, William Andrew Ross, of HM Prison Channings Wood, Devon, says that he has been developing his art skills for 25 years, in various media. They include oils, sculpture, graphics, 3-D computer modelling and animation. He hopes to make a living when he gets out. He is obviously a talented craftsman as he has won the Worshipful Company of Weavers Silver Award for this piece, and he didn't even mention textiles in his list of crafts!

The work on display isn't only by prisoners. It's also by people in secure mental hospitals, and people who are confined in deportation centres, like this haunting photo (below) by Mukhtar Noor from the Colnbrook Immigration Removal Centre.

(The picture isn't really skewed like this - I snapped it an angle.)

I found this one rather touching. It's called "Walking Away from the Rain" by Leroy Francis of HM Prison Stafford. He wrote "I thought how walking in the rain is generally considered a miserable experience, full of grey, black and muddy brown colours. I wanted to recall the memory of walking in the rain as a child. It was a happy, fun experience, and I decided to portray this by using bright, happy colours." And indeed he has, but the person in the photo has his back to us, and is walking away.

I thought the picture below was very striking - at first I was imagining it as a variation on Edvard Munch's "The Scream" but then I laughed when I saw the title, which is "No Chips Again!" The artist, Pedro Murray, of HM Prison Wandsworth, was making a point about prison food.

One of the weirdest and most striking of the pictures was called "Cognitive Distortive Reality" by Anon. His picture has won him a painting scholarship. I can't reproduce it large enough but it is full of peculiar detail - on one side of the prisoner all is well, on the other side, all is NOT well with the same people

A mirror is supplied so you can read some of the back-to-front writing. Here's a detail:

There is more than a touch of surrealism in this ironic sculpture, showing a dog as a judge, riding on a horse which is both a clock and a lamp. It's called "Sitting Proud" by Peter Thomas, of Merseyside Probation Service. An extraordinary, eye catching piece by a talented craftsman - I wonder what the story is behind it.

My favourite picture was powerful and disturbing. I'm sorry I didn't get a decent photo of it - there is a line of light reflecting off the glass. It's also by Anon, but I would say that this image is the work of a really gifted artist, whoever he is. I would absolutely not like to meet the character portrayed here, because you can see exactly what sort of a person he must be. As the artist says, "See the paint roar!"

After looking at these, and many other excellent works, I thought about the people who created them and their locked up lives. I don't know what they have done, but I'll find out more about the Koestler Trust, anyway. And I left the exhibition, feeling very glad to be free, and walked the few steps to look at the Thames at Festival Pier

and felt very grateful that I could be out and about in a great place like London on a nice autumn evening.

.

Art by Offenders is on at the Southbank Centre till 20 November 2011.

Spooky Giant Woman

2011-11-09T21:05:00.002Z

Another strange sight in World Travel Market. Looks weirdly sinister to me, does it suggest a ghost story to you or do I just have a spooky mind?

World Travel Market 2011

2011-11-08T11:26:00.002Z

Well, isn't this grand. Sometimes the press are directed to a back door, or a hole in the wall, or requested to just not come at all. But clearly we are welcomed at World Travel Market. I am afraid I didn't use this entrance but I may do so today, just for fun. Because World Travel Market is the biggest travel trade fair in the UK and one of the biggest in the world, and most people connected with the travel trade try to go. Some hate it, but I love it, because it's so colourful and entertaining. And, although it's very much about business, the business is also about dreams and fantasies and being happy.

It's all so unreal that you are constantly coming across picturesquely dressed people exactly like the ones you imagine seeing when reading the brochures.....

and

OK, the magic is a little dimmed by the ambience of the great big exhibition hall and the dreary rail trip on the DLR but there's usually some music going on and the stalls usually offer free gifts, competitions and free food, some of it utterly delicious, some of it a shade weird. (Sorry for the blurry pictures, these are all taken on my phone)

There are also some truly wonderful examples of photographic skill. This picture of a Spanish horse is life sized, and I spent a lot of time examining every detail of the horse. How skilfully lit it is, too. Although it looks lifelike at first, this is no casual snap.

I also loved this picture, which I imagine shows a Diwali scene - it was displayed above the Indian pavilion, anyway, with a beautful decorated canopy.

Each year, a few of the stalls stand out for their ingeniourness or the care that has been taken with them. The delegates from Japan looked rather small against the fierce warriors decorating their stand

This year my favourite stand belonged to Burundi. Not only were the people on the stall charming, but the girls were happily dancing around with pots on their heads, just to amuse themselves, a lot of the time, and they seemed to be really having fun.

I was also very impressed by this elegant looking person from Panama - which also had some good movies on the stand - interesting looking place which I'd never considered visiting before.

Here's a cosy scene as the Cruise America guy has his lunch

And a spot of gold-plated luxury from an Arab airline.

This is the way to do long haul travel (sorry, the actual seat - or bed - is not in view, this is just the in-flight refreshments, entertainment, grooming etc.

A hotel with a pearl fishery had brought along some real pearl oysters in an aquarium

And the arguable star of the whole show was a magnificent white Arabian hawk.

And then there was the jolly man from Booking.com - not quite sure what he was supposed to represent.

And I got some free icecream from Hertz

I had to talk with people from Egypt, Rodrigues, Spain and Sardinia, and so I didn't get round all the other stalls. But I'll do that, I hope. I have a couple of seminars to attend today, and a visit to the dentist first - urgh! So, maybe tomorrow.
And I shall definitely go to the Chile stand. and learn more about it. I want to go to Chile. It's a difficult work destination for me, outside my area of expertise - but I hope I make it there some day. Even if I have to go on an actual holiday there, and not work. Now that would be a change.

Christmas is on its way....

2011-11-06T12:31:00.000Z

Suddenly, yesterday, it felt as if Christmas is coming in the West End of London. I know it happens earlier each year,and now spreads over at least two months. But there was a festive air to the big store, Selfridge's, which has fir branches and little lights around its doors and windows.

This year, though, Selfridge's special Christmas windows (if that's what they are) are a big disappointment. Usually they have ingenious, highly original and altogether superb scenes with a vaguely fairytale theme, to lure everyone in to Santa's grotto.

This year they were dull old things, all in white, with crackers and so forth. I couldn't be bothered to photograph them but the Concept Store's window was worth looking at. As you see, a circle of fans are blowing snow around a sort of orchid construction- it's an art work by Marc Quinn. Full of life and light and movement, it made a nice contrast with bleak November outside (The temperature is quite warm - see the little girl isn't wearing an overcoat.).

Next month I'm off to Germany - Munich, Coburg and Regensburg. I think the Germanic people do Christmas better than anyone else, and I'm thinking that this time I might discover what those peculiar bread things I saw in Munich last time were. I thought they might be a variety of Weckmann (a sort of spiced bread man - delicious, click on the link for the recipe). But this thing doesn't have a head, a pipe or any actual signs of being a "man.". To be honest it looks like a voodoo creature. Tasted fine, though.

Here are some Weckmen stealing butter in Switzerland.

Hmmm, perhaps I'll make some. I think they are actually associated with November, although they have a fairly long "season," - like Selfridge's Christmas windows.

Postmodernism and the Victoria and Albert Museum

2011-10-31T19:31:00.002Z

Comfy? This chair is one of the exhibits at the Post-Modernism exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum here in London. If you get the chance, I do recommend it - or at least if you have the slightest interest in the pop culture of the 70s and 80s. As well as all kinds of extraordinary things (some quite famous like the Mickey Mouse kettle)

there are some magnificent architectural set pieces and some great music.

I'd completely forgotten the German ex-opera singer Klaus Nomi who died in 1983. I wish they'd had his haunting Cold Song but in fact they had the utterly bizarre Lightning Strikes and I have to say that this went better with the exhibition. (click on the links to see the Youtube videos of these songs).

There is a strong decor and architectural focus to the show, which traces and rise, heyday, decline and fall of the Postmodernism movement. We also saw the behind-the-scenes photographic work that went into that iconic and peculiar picture of Grace Jones - a pity, I'd always thought she had really struck that pose but actually it was put together in a clever pre-Photoshop collage.

It seems so strange to me that there wasn't photoshop - I don't think most people even had CDs.

Outside, in the V & A courtyard, people were relaxing and having a nice time. One person decided to walk across the pool on his hands.

I didn't catch the moment when he overbalanced, but here he is, as Mr. Wet Teeshirt, and all his friends were highly amused.

I like the V & A because it manages to be both cool and cultural - even though its cafe is expensive and has a crazy queueing system. But entry is totally free, and you only have to pay for some of the special exhibitions, so I usually take a deep breath and eat in the cafe, as a sort of payment for being able to get in free.

Postmodernism - Style and Subversion, 1970-1990 is on at the V & A till 15 January 2012. It costs £11 for an adult, and there are various concessions - I got in for free because I'm a Friend of the V & A.

Welcoming pumpkins

2011-10-31T15:17:00.000Z

I took this photo last year in New York and actually the owners of the house WERE very welcoming, they happened to come out and were delighted to find me photographing their pumpkins. They toured us through their other Halloween scary things and even turned on the outside lights to show them off better(although actually I had liked the creepy dark porch. I think it looks as if a ghost could be lurking there where the cobwebs are draped around the porch lamp)

Netherlands, Schiermonnikoog and Thoughts on Travel Writing

2011-10-29T21:12:00.008+01:00

I'll be writing my latest Dutch trip up for a newspaper, so I can't blog about it till after the piece has appeared. As it is about taking kids to Holland, a lot of it was like this ......

(One of the "Six Servants" at Efteling Park's Fairy Tale Land)

Or this..........

(a pirate ship playground marooned on a huge sandy beach in Scheveningen.)

But I've been remembering other trips to Holland, starting when I was a child. Then, there was the exciting night ferry ride, getting-on the train in your pyjamas and waking joyfully to a land where people ate chocolate vermicelli sandwiches for breakfast -.

(and they still do!)

And at Christtmas time, you might see Sint Nicolaas with his elfish assistant, Black Peter, handing out marzipan to good children.

(photo from Bloglandlane, which has more about the Sint Nicolaas tradition)

After I grew up, I returned to Holland occasionally to write articles. And in looking through my cuttings file, I've noticed something. Nearly all the travel articles I've written in the last few years are descriptions of outings, attractions and hotels. But until a few years ago, my articles were about real life in the countries I visited - and I have to say they were far more interesting to write.

One of these old Dutch articles was on "green" and eco aspects, travelling by bke and visiting hippies, visionaries, eco gardens, and all kinds of wind powered places, including a sawmill.

And I learned quite a lot about all kinds of windmills. This thatched one (can you see?) was quite an experience with its narrow stairs and ladders, as the sails creaked round and it puffed out dust.

The Dutch article I most enjoyed writing was a magazine feature about the northern province of Friesland. This focused on traditional foods and cooking (yes, there is some). I searched around today and found some of the background notes I made for this story, and have put them at the end of this post.

Reading these notes through really brought it home to me why I wanted to do travel writing in the first place. I wanted to learn how people live and think in other countries, how their lives are different, what they do, what their grandparents did and how they think about life.

Sadly, very few editors now commission articles that deal with things like this. It was only a few years ago that top-range publications would hire writers and photographers to produce several pages on an unusual destination, its life, history, art and culture. But it hardly happens now - have you noticed? Perhaps people no longer want to read thousands of words evoking a place, specially when they can pay a virtual visit via YouTube or read someone's blog much more quickly. Do you agree?

(Credit)

But actually I think it's mainly because print media (magazines, newspapers and books) are in big trouble. Circulations have plummeted by 50 or 75 percent over the last decade, advertising revenues have dropped through the floor and as yet, nobody can think of a way to deal with it, except by cutting staff, cutting fees cutting expenses and, in many cases, cutting quality.

For instance, one extremely famous international publication now pays precisely NOTHING to contributors to its online travel pages. It is relying on its reputation - and the online editor says that the "travel writers" are happy not to be paid because they can enjoy freebies from commercial partners, and also get "exposure" for their work.

Well, that's true. Trouble is, the "exposure" isn't worth much, if nobody's prepared to pay a fee. . Meanwhile, staffers or regulars fill up space by compiling lists of places they may or may not have visited themselves - top ten country walks, top ten waterside hotels, etc. It's cheap copy, and advertisers like it. Perhaps it is also what readers actually want from travel pages these days, too.

Anyway, times change. But I liked reading through my half-forgotten notes which were made on the Frisian island of Schiermonnikoog. Since they're notes, they don't link up into a complete narrative, but you can take my word for it that it was interesting to do the research.

Notes on Schiermonnikoog

At about ten o'clock, the sun breaks through the hazy cloud like a big silver ball, and an ear-shattering boom shakes the ground. The birds are shocked into silence, but after a while, they gradually resume their singing. The sea continues to pound quietly at the edge of the beach, a long, long way away.

Schiermonnikoog island is only ten miles long, but the wrecker's wind sweeps the sand towards the East, adding thirty metres a year to the coast. If it was only in the South Pacific, say its residents, it would be called Treasure Island, for there is plenty of gold and silver lying beneath the fierce North Sea that lashes its shores.

The map in Hendrik's lighthouse is dotted with wreck symbols. That blast at ten o'clock was the controlled detonation of a 50-year-old mine,, he says, and he shows me the entry in that morning's log. You often find the detritus of long-fought battles and tragedies in these rough grey waters, and Hendrik knows a good deal about the dead ships. He puts his finger on the chart at the spot where the "Lutine" went down with thousands of silver coins in 1799. Since then, her treasure has stayed where it is. Only her bell was ever retrieved, and it this bell which is tolled at Lloyds of London every time a ship is lost at sea.

I descend the spiral stairs of the lighthouse, and then cycle down one of the many tracks to the beach. The few roads are more like lanes, for visitors don't have cars. Only the island's 900 residents are allowed to drive here, and mostly they don't. The tide seems to be out, or perhaps it is just the sheer size of the beach that makes it seem so.

I leave the bike where the sand gets deep, and walk towards the sea until it is hard and smooth and dappled underfoot, with odd, branchlike patterns from algae, and long, thin shells half buried. Birds wheel and swoop and cry overhead or feed at the water's edge - oystercatchers, plovers, sanderlings, dunlins, shrike, silver and black-backed gulls.

Schiermonnikoog is a national park, a place where the boundaries between sea and land blur. Most of the island is wild: tidal mud flats, dunes,, some windbeaten woodland and scrub, countless rabbits and hares. Several times a year the sea engulfs large parts of the island. People know when it's going to happen, because the hares and rabbits make for the dunes, impelled by a kind of sixth sense.

The island does have visitors - many visitors - about ten thousand a year. They somehow manage to lose themselves and have a quiet time in their holiday homes, or in the white, angular Hotel Van Der Werff in the centre of the town. Dutch and Belgian Flemish are mostly spoken, although many islanders know English too, and some still speak Schiermonnikoogs, the island's own language, an ancient mixture of Saxon and Scandinavian tongues. It is incomprehensible to mainland Dutch people, so it is dying fast.

"We're all Europeans now" shrugs restauranteur Jan Berend Bazuin, but Hendrik is sad, looking back at the generations who have spoken the language and realising he is one of the last. Until this century, the island's men would go away to sea, sometimes for years at a time, and they would only get to speak their own language when they got home. It wasn't only the men who travelled - their wives did too, and their families. A hundred years ago, Hendrik's great-grandma went overland by train and coach to St. Petersburg and then Marseilles with her three little daughters to visit her husband when he was in port.

The island's one town - or village, really, is a relaxed place with wide verges and trees, and trim, low Dutch houses. I stayed in an 18th century house, now a youth hostel, where ducks and horses peer in through the windows. Almost opposite is a large field in which the islanders keep their pets.

The Frisians seem rather fond of fancy livestock, in particular little brown goats, but the people of Schiermonnikoog have branched out into peacocks, donkeys, deer, Shetland ponies, pouter pigeons and extraordinary fancy hens like walking feather dusters.

They all live together like animals in a children's story, rushing periodically up to the end of the field where people came to feed them with household scraps.

Down a path in the middle of the scrub is a little war cemetery for airmen or sailors shot down or claimed by the sea. Several times a week Jan Groendijk cycles along in the early morning to tend its flowerbeds and trim its shrubs. A quiet man, he first did the job because he was asked to, but then, he says, "I was caring for their graves and I began to wonder who they had been. It didn't seem right not to know."

Knowing that most came from England, Jan wrote in fractured English at his own expense to local papers in the mens' home towns, asking for information. Gradually, relatives and friends came forward, and now only about six men are still unknown. There were letters, visits, eventually group reunions, Now Jan has a file for each man, with momentoes, old school reports, letters, photos.

"We can think of these people, here", he says, as he plants out the spring bulbs. "We think of them all. It is sad, but at least the sea which killed them, has brought them to a good final home."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back soooooooonnnn

2011-10-21T22:29:00.005+01:00

Back sooooooooon

Thank you to Sevenoaks Art for the windmill!

The Tijou Gates ... and Holland on my Mind

2011-10-19T20:08:00.005+01:00

You may remember that in the early Summer I posted about the wonderful Tijou Gates at Hampton Court,- twelve huge wrought iron panels designed by the celebrated craftsman Jean Tijou in 1690.

After a pretty chequered career, they ended up in King Willliam of Orange's privy garden. And when I passed on the Thames Path, I was dismayed at what a mess they looked. Ugly guard-fence, weird and tatty paint scheme..
.

So I asked Historic Royal Palaces what was going on, and after a long wait, have now had a detailed reply.
I promised I would post an update, and so here it is. They said:
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"In 1702 the panels and rails were painted grey and were later seen to have been gilded. This finish has been faithfully reproduced in previous restoration projects. The screens are not painted at random. There is a deliberate painting scheme in place. The railings and 5 of the screens are the original grey colour. 6 are gilded. The black one has been painted in the past but not completely stripped and therefore holds the most evidence to understanding the previous painting schemes. We intend to take this away for further analysis later this year so we can gain the best understanding on the painting of the Tijou.

"The security measures were put in place following a series of vandalism from the Thames path. In 2002 we placed cameras on the main palace that pick up the screens and live pictures are streamed back to the control room. This has helped our security know when someone is tampering with the screens but all too often by the time they got round there the damage had been done. Hence why we had to place a barrier between the screens and the Thames Path as a further deterrent.

"This is the start of an ongoing project and as an independent charity, Historic Royal Palaces is currently raising money through donations for £1million to help us with this project, if you are able to mention
this it would greatly help our plight."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So there you are. They're doing their best, although I still think someone has lost sight of the big picture- that these gates are supposed to be beautiful and impressive, not historically authentic vandal-proof artefacts. (Oh, but check out the Historic Royal Palaces website - lots of fabulous stuff and I can very much recommend the Enchanted Palace exhiibition which features really cutting edge exhibition design and extraordinary, creative ideas. )

To get back to King William ... he was was Dutch, as was his wife, Mary, and both of them were very keen gardeners - the Dutch have historically loved flowers.

And I have had Holland on the brain today, having just booked some parking in Amsterdam on a Dutch website, with no English translation. I don't speak a word of Dutch, so I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself. Parking is just as much of a nightmare in Amsterdam as it in London, and prices for anywhere central are eye watering. This garage is only twenty euros a day. It's about a kilometre's walk from the hotel, but hey, I won't be using the car while I'm in the city, and it means I don't have to use the Park and Ride and trek to and from the suburbs.

At least, I hope not. I won't be entirely sure I've made a big success of this parking booking until I've (a) got in and (b) got out, without problems.

I have been less successful in trying to find a book about Holland that will interest kids. I think it's good for children to know a bit about places they're going to visit. I haven't been able to find a single one, and in fact there are very, very few books anywhere about other countries. I wonder why.

Still, I found that video of "A Mouse Lived in A Windmill" which must date from at least the 1960s and looks as if it was shot in the pouring rain.... children do like the song, though, and there must be many adults who have fond memories of singing it at school.

Fairies?

2011-10-17T15:27:00.002+01:00

Seen in my favourite county of Suffolk, on the heath near Dunwich.

Mozart and the Shouting Lady of Vienna

2011-10-14T00:53:00.002+01:00

Organising and labelling my photographs, I came across this one of a shouting lady, taken a couple of years ago in Vienna. Even if you know the city well, you probably won't recognise her. She's hidden away on a rooftop.

To me, there are several odd things about her. Her hands are more like claws. What are those three things on her chest? Is she wearing something on her head? And what can she be shouting about? She looks as if she's enjoying herself, and the white stripe down her face (courtesy no doubt of a perching pigeon) gives her the look of a lady in war paint. A kind of Boadicea.

I've enjoyed revisiting the photos of that Viennese trip. Here are some more - do you notice a common theme? You'd think Mozart was born there, at least. But he wasn't. He just lived there for a while.

A Mozart mug, and a heap of Mozart chocolates

Mozart Corner

Mozart showing the way upstairs.

Mozart really did like Vienna - they didn't treat him like a servant like the snobs did in Salzburg, and above all, they cared about music and liked him. He did well financially there, and had quite a good apartment, near the Cathedral. When I visited, I realised he'd been quite a party boy - apparently he'd sit up all night with his friends, playing billiards, and he was very, very good at it. He loved dancing, too; in fact, his wife thought he should have been a dancer.

And in the apartment, there is a very small room with a very fine decorative ceiling.

It's in remarkable contrast to the rest of the flat, (which is fairly plain) and apparently it was decorated in this way because a previous tenant to Mozart had been in the business of making fancy ceilings, and this tenant had created the ceiling to show what he could do. I suppose it was in a small room because he didn't want to spend too much time and money on what was, after all, an advertisement.

The people at the Mozart House don't know what this room had been used for when Mozart had the flat, but I'd lay a fair sum that Mozart quickly bagged it for himself and woite his music in it. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if it sold him the apartment in the first place. There's no proof, but I do believe it!

Come to think of it, although that shouting lady dates from long after Mozart's time, she might actually be singing, not shouting.

Singing very loudly. From a Mozart opera, perhaps.

Wonderful Websites, and ... Name Needed?

2011-10-13T09:33:00.004+01:00

Couple of things today. First, I just saw the shortlist for the Website of the Year (no, I'm not on it, but then I didn't apply). I'll vote though. Probably for the National Trust's original and creative http://www.my-farm.org.uk/ in which readers can be involved in running a real farm - though I'm a bit dubious that they've set the joining cost too high. There are also some particularly clever creative websites for artists and musicians, so take a look.

And as for this picture?

Well, this time last year I was leaving New York, and above is one of the images I took back to England with me. She surely combines two cultural icons (Marilyn and Mickey) pretty well. But she didn't have a name. Does she need one, I wonder?

An afternoon in Nunhead Cemetery

2011-10-11T11:26:00.005+01:00

No, this place with the wonderful tomb is not Highgate Cemetery. Highgate is one of the supposed "hidden gems" of London, and it's certainly amazing, but "hidden" it is not - in my book, anyway. It's so famous that it's besieged by people wanting to make movies, run events and do photo shoots, and so on, and you can only visit at certain times, on guided tours.

For the true atmospheric Victorian cemeterry experience, my vote goes to Nunhead Cemetery, fifteen minutes on the train from London Bridge station. Nunhead, consecrated in 1840, was one of the seven big cemeteries opened by the London Cemetery Company in Victorian times. Many famous and distinguished people were buried there in massive, often highly decorated tombs.

We all took a walk there on Sunday afternoon.

Unfortunately, the company went bust in the mid-20th century and simply abandoned Nunhead.. Trees and brambles grew up and the huge monuments and elaborate headstones vanished into the undergrowth. Can you spot the tombstone here?

Some are a little creepy, as this very large monument, caught by a stray ray of sun

There is some really beautiful sculpture, like this graceful angel

At the gate were two lodges. One is inhabited, and it has a climbing frame and toys in its well tended garden, so I conclude that a family lives there with their kids. Apparently the house was originally leased by Southwark Council (which put in a caretaker) but it was later bought under right-to-buy legislation and is now a private home.

The other lodge is in ruins, just compare! You can see a bit of its pediment poking out amidst the bushes and beneath the protective covering erected by the Friends of the Cemetery.

The Friends of Nunhead Cemetery have done great things, and turned the cemetery into a thriving nature reserve, offering guided walks, historical walks and local events. On the rather chilly and damp day that we visited, they were sitting bravely outside a ramshackle shed offering leaflets, books, a rather stylish calendar and all kinds of information to visitors.

They're hoping to find a lottery grant to restore the other lodge, to use instead of their shed, and run a visitor information centre. Click the link to visit their site, for more information.
]
Although it's sad to see the graves so neglected, it's good that the cemetery is no longer open house for vandals and arsonists. The latter burned down the splendid Gothic revival chapel in the 1960s, leaving only a shell. Inside it, is now some artwork, which you see here being examined by a visitor - the dog really isn't that interested.

Here's a closeup - I think it's very interesting, and was part of a series of sculptures organised by the Friends. . It's by Mike Hoath and Sara Scott. .

And as well as the care taken with woodland conservation, there are also pleasant signs of life all round the cemetery. It's a favourite spot with local families,

there are beehives in the grounds of the abandoned lodge,

and fine distant views of Greenwich through the trees....

although some people just sleep happily through it all!

Wizard Fun in Ilam Hall, Derbyshire.

2011-10-07T00:42:00.006+01:00

This is Ilam Hall. on a later summer evening,

These pictures were taken when the light was fading and the lamps of the hall shine out. It's a most impressive experience to walk up that long path and into the long, 200-year-old building with its coats of arms and leaded windows.

Actually, Ilam Hall is a youth hostel. When I've stayed there, I've found it comfortable, in a stone-flagged, echoey corridor, high-ceilinged sort of way. It's ideal for groups or families (although if you have very young children, the general Gothicky vastness of the place can pose a slight problem, just because it takes five minutes to go right up and downstairs, for instance... .)

There's lots of open space around, including a gigantic lawn at the front where there are often organised games. Families can roam in the many acres of truly gorgeous National Trust countryside all around. My pictures were taken in July, so it will look more autumnal now.

One of hte nice things about the YHA is that it is truly child-centred. Kids staying there can run around and play and get to know each other, and the staff are mostly young and energetic. Another nice thing is that it's not expensive. Sure, there are bunk beds (with duvets - and quite comfortable) But kids don't mind bunk beds - in fact, they like them. A does, anyway (sorry about the blurry picture).

Most of the rooms are en-suite, and there are also the usual single sex dorms in some of the larger rooms.
You can cook for yourself, but most people eat in the cafeteria style dining hall, an impressive place indeed.
Now I've had a newsletter from Ilam Hall which describes some really bargain priced and good fun activities for families at Ilam over the coming winter. They've thought of all kinds of things to fill this great big place over the winter months, including Elf weekends and spooky Halloween activities, but I was particularly taken by the Harry Potter weekend on 27 and 28 January 2012.

From fanpop.com

It costs the bargain price of £45 per child and £50 per adult, including bed, breakfast & evening meal on both days and lunch on Saturday. Wand-making, games of quidditc, potion-making, a party, a banquet and of course lots of hot chocolate, biscuits and stories. The programme's too long to print here, but contact ilamdeputy@yha.org.uk or phone 01335 350212 for more details. (+44) 1335 350212 outside the UK).

As Ilam Hall is part of the YHA, they're stuck with a corporate website, which doesn't seem to allow space to put in hostel activites. But if you have kids (or grandkids) and want a short unusual break this autumn, winter, Christmas or New Year, then some of this might be for you.

(By the way, I didn't get a free stay at Ilam, we paid for ourselves. I took out life membership of the YHA when I was 20 and, although some of its recent changes bug me a bit, I think it's one of the few holiday organisations that really deals with kids well, and offers fun activities they can join in).

Chartres Cathedral, France

2011-10-05T16:38:00.016+01:00

Thought that you might like to read an account of a visit I paid to Chartres cathedral last summer I've written it up as an 800 word article, so it's longer than most of my posts. Although I'm not particularly religious, Chartres made a huge impression on me.

Here's what I thought:
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chartes Cathedral - Pointing the way to God

The French cathedral of Chartres seems like a great big medieval loudspeaker broadcasting GOD, GOD, GOD, GOD, GOD. Right in the centre of the town, it entirely dominates its small square, overshadowing the surrounding jumble of old houses, cafes, shops, bars, luxuriant flowerbeds.

Its two un-matching spires point at the sky, and the carvings of its stone facade seem as alive as the flowers.

To pilgrims flocking here over centuries, this huge building's elaborate decoration must have seemed like a great story book of faith. Each carved image has a meaning, a significance. Perhaps the biggest of its set pieces is the one above the main entrance, which shows the Apocalypse of Christ in Glory, surrounded by beasts representing the four Evangelists, and the twelve Apostles, and a host of angels.

Step inside and you're engulfed in breathless dimness, with immensely high, thin windows sparkling gently all around like jewelled kaleidoscopes. Most of Chartres' glass dates from the thirteenth century.

It shows saints, parables, scenes from the Life of Christ, all the usual things; but for me the most touching and fascinating images are placed humbly in the lowest panels of the windows. These show the human beings who actually paid the cost of this place. Here they are, these little half naked people, as brightly coloured as they were eight hundred years ago, toiling at menial tasks. Water carriers, stripped to the waist, with the jars they've hauled up the cripplingly steep hill from the river; cobblers, mending the worn-out shoes of people who could not afford to buy new.

Can you discern them in my rather blurry picture? With their hand-tools and ox-carts, they lived hard lives, and we would, perhaps, think them primitive if we saw them at work. Yet their achievement, in creating this soaring building, illuminates how the power of their faith and the range of their thinking transcended the physical hardship of their lives.

The stone labyrinth in the floor of the cathedral continues the theme of offering toil and hardship to achieve grace. It is set flush into the nave, and every Friday the chairs are moved away to reveal it fully. You are supposed to follow it upon your knees, welcoming physical discomfort or even pain, to make the difficult progress towards the holy centre.

Chartres has always attracted pilgrims who come to venerate its holy relic of the Virgin Mary and admire its marvels, and the place is full of people wandernig about simply gazing at it all.

There is no entrance fee, but in our secular age, those who care for the cathedral must work hard to keep the visitors coming, and spending. So they have hit upon the idea of small groups touring the crypt by candlelight, and that's what I have decided to do during my visit to the city.

At night, the cathedral is brightly floodlit, but I gather with the rest of the group at the pitch-dark entrance to the crypt, far from the golden spires above and even further away from the dazzling sunlight of midday. Everyone has a tall, wax candle, and these are the only light as we descend into total darkness.

It is an extraordinary experience to progress slowly beneath the low ceilings, gazing at the wall paintings by the light of the flickering candles.

And not only paintings, but several eerily tall Gothic statues are preserved here. Survivors of a twelfth-century conflagration, they rise over three metres, taller and far thinner than any normal person. Yet these weirdly elongated statues have beautiful, naturalistic heads, which give them a compelling, eerie presence.

The sculptor Rodin was enthralled by them, and he studied them for days and weeks, trying to pin down what it was that made them so fascinating. Eventually, though, he wrote to his family that he thought he could produce something that looked like them - but the could never produce anything that actually was like them.

At the far end of the crypt, stairs lead upwards into the darkened, silent cathedral itself. Votive candles in red glass holders flicker in bright pools of white and scarlet, reflecting dimly off polished stone, but there is no other light. With the twenty-first century banished for now, I can barely see the walls and roof some distance away, for the great glass windows permit only the faintest moonlight. The only way to understand the size of the place by the echoes of my own whispers, returning from the shadows.

It is overwhelming, and on summer evenings, a son-et-lumiere show outside in the square regularly lightens the atmosphere. Shortly after dark, music starts booming from cunningly positioned loudspeakers, and the cathedral’s facade becomes a towering screen for moving images representing its history: the kings and queens,

the fires, the burnings, and the cold and tumbling stones of war

and eventually the dove of peace. Superficially, it isn't unlike the kind of show I've seen at Walt Disney World in Florida, but the difference is that, beneath the moving colours, the wall carvings continue to gaze out with the dignity of hundreds of years.

Let them be happy with their lights,they seem to say, for we will always stay the same. Today it is son-et-lumiere, and neatly tended flower-beds, and people sitting around in bars. But next century, and the century after that - who knows what we will see?

Greys Court, the National Trust and Apple Day

2011-10-03T13:48:00.014+01:00

I'm a big fan of the National Trust - not only does it protect our heritage but it's original and forward looking too and their tea rooms are extremely good. So I always try to pay a visit to any nearby National Trust property (if only for tea) when I go out.

Thanks to everyone for the good wishes. Things are at present easier and since we weren't required at the hospital this weekend, we dropped by at the National Trust's Greys Court, near Henley-on-Thames, Oxfordshire, on Saturday. Weren't expecting much more than a nice big house and (of course) the tea room, but actually we happened upon the Greys Court Apple Day. This is a national celebration of English heritage apples, and events take place over the country. The National Trust had decided to make a big deal of it at Greys Court, which grows many heritage plants.

Throughout the garden are dwarf and espaliered apple and pear trees in all kinds of diffferent varieties. Volunteers had picked many of the fruits and were selling their harvest it at very low prices as well as offering tasters and descriptions of each type of apple.

All the produce for sale - which included flowers, veg and honey - was extremely cheap and beautifully laid out. I bought a couple of quinces, some wacky looking carrots, some pears, and more.

The house dates from many different periods and has the atmosphere of a family home - I wish I could have taken photos of the elegant yet comfortable rooms, but photography isn't allowed inside.

Its lovely gardens are also full of variety and interest. They are divided into "rooms" each with different atmospheres and different types of plants.

Some parts of the garden include ruins. Below, is some of the old "castle" bit, which dates from medieval times. I think the owners probably just got fed up of living in a nasty uncomfortable castle and decided to abandon it and build something infinitely more cosy and comfortable.

In the old kitchen gardens, they were raising money to build a third greenhouse which will be used partly for community gardening projects. The garden here contains various types of edible plants, chosen for beauty as well as practicality. Behind this huge artichoke you may spot marigolds and nasturtiums and other edible flowers.

Some sections of the garden had water featuresl; fountains, ponds. Other had lawns, or flower borders with autumnally coloured dahlias and other plants.

One "room" was devoted to a huge wisteria. In Spring this would be a mass of dangling lilac coloured blossoms, but the weather was so warm that for us, its tangled stems and large leaves created a nice retreat from the blazing sun, as well as a rather mysterious, almost fairytale atmosphere.

And, on the fairytale theme, we then heard a jingling of bells.

Actually it was morris dancers, in search of other morris dancers.

They'd been booked for a performance on the main lawn an hour previously. Oh dear! Luckily, being morris dancers, they were not that bothered. And of course they weren't fairy-like at all - as anyone who has seen them dancing, or drinking beer, will know. They were a particularly good side and I was sorry not to catch their name - if anyone recognises them, please let me know.

They were very good dancers. Their music was great, and best of all they involved everyone in their music and dancing. Here they are, having enlisted some kids to dance with them.

They had a good hobby horse, with a particularly realistic head, but he was so friendly that even the youngest kids weren't afraid.

In fact, they ended up patting him, and even having conversations with him.

Apple Day was brought to the UK many years ago by a rather low profile but very interesting organisation called Common Ground. If you live in the UK and are keen on the idea of community involvement in our heritage, check out Common Ground's site here.

And, although I try to keep polemic out of this blog, (hmmm... without huge success...) I want to mention the National Trust's petition. Perhaps if you are a UK resident you might like to check out the details of its objection to the Government's proposals to de-restrict UK planning law.

The planning law certainly could do with a shake up. A big one. It is bureaucratic and unduly restrictive, But despite this, the radical changes being proposed to make development much easier don't convince me. Firstly, they are loudly applauded by developers, who maintain it'll enable them to build more low cost homes. But, I don't know any other group who supports these plans.

Also, the Government has no sensible answers to pertinent questions about the proposed changes. Such as, "why are many developers refusing to build on land they already own that already has permission for housing?" The answers I've heard to that one include "Sorry, I don't have the exact figures - I'll get back to you." to "Low cost housing doesn't make enough profit - oops! Er, I mean - .."

In short, maybe pockets are being lined here? Or something else. Whatever.

Anyway, that feeling of sheer suspiciousness is why I've signed the petition against these law changes. They're also opposed by the Campaign to Protect Rural England (who have their own petition) and many other conservation groups.

(PS "Marigold Jam" suggested I enter the Travelizer draw, so I'm going to put this post in. It's only a draw, but fingers crossed)

The Ladies' Pond on Hampstead Heath

2011-09-29T21:19:00.007+01:00

I apologise to everyone who left a comment which seemed to disappear. They didn't disappear, it's just that I haven't been at my computer much to click the button which posts them to the blog. Life's been a bit strange because a close family member has had an accident, and it's been a bit like wearing a groove between us and the hospital. But things are looking brighter, fingers crossed.

After the cold, wet and grey summer, we have an Indian summer, sunny, bright, clear skies and unseasonably warm. Today I didn't have to go to the hospital so I decided to cycle up to the Ladies' Pond on Hampstead Heath in NW London, and take a swim..

The pond is in the middle of a patch of woodland, reached down a dusty lane, once a farm track, and through a gate on which is a notice banning men from entering. (The men do have their own pond, though, which women can't enter).

Inside the surrounding belt of trees is a meadow (ideal for sunbathing) a little garden, informally cultivated, and (I noticed today) a ping pong table. There's a deck from which you can enter the pond, which you share with various types of ducks (and, in season, their ducklings). The pond is fringed with large trees, shrubs and bulrushes, and it's been left pretty wild. Right now, the water lilies have died, but a laurel was in flower and some of the leaves and berries are turning pretty colours.

I'm afraid I didn't take any pictures of the women themselves. (Who knows, maybe a man will see them, :-) haha!)  I suspect it is not allowed.

Anyway, did I say the pond was cold? I mean, COLD. Because of the awful weather, it hasn't had the chance to warm up this year, and for the first ten minutes my arms felt as if they were being rubbed with a grater. But it was worth it. The experience of swimming outdoors in natural surroundings is rare enough. The ponds are rigorously tested for safety - the water comes from underground springs - and many women go regularly with their friends, so it is a social, friendly place.

Originally, the Ladies' Pond and a couple of other ponds nearby, were 17th and 18th century reservoirs for drinking water.   I don't know when they were converted into swimming ponds, but my guess is somewhere in the 1920s or 1930s. Early enough for them to segregate the sexes, late enough for them to countenance the idea of women swimming at all.

That 1920s image looks too glamorous actually, because the atmosphere of the man-made buildings is very 1930-ish, health-and-efficiency style, with cold showers, open air changing rooms and a little wooden lifeguard's hut where the lifeguards can cook themselves lunch.

The users' association for the pond is very lively and active. Some members are tough enough to swim every day, including Christmas. If you look here you can see some more photos and images of the Association's postcards and Christmas cards - one or two bracing winter scenes.

The swimmers are mentally tough, too. Eight years ago, the City of London Corporation, which manages the Heath, wanted to close the ponds because they said they couldn't afford to keep them open (poor things - we all know how hard-up these bankers are). The swimmers challenged this and won their case in the High Court. The City of London then put in ticket machines. I use them, but I have to say nobody seems that bothered if you don't.

There is a Men's Pond and a Mixed Pond. I've never used the Mixed Pond, because I love the quirky charm of the Ladies' Pond. Long may it continue. And, by the way, I loved my swim and felt loads better for it!

Ferrets for Sale

2011-09-28T11:44:00.003+01:00

We're still battling on here, but hope to be back to normal service soon. Meanwhile, I thought you'd like to see this ad I snapped recently, advertising polecat ferrets for sale. (after reading some comments, below, I should add that the only sane people who would buy ferrets are ferreters - it's a rough but popular outdoor country sport. Absolutely NOT suitable as house pets though I know they inspire affectionin many of their owners)

Two things strike me. First, the names of males and females - Jills are the girls, and Hobs are the boys. In the olden days, Hob was the name for a ploughman. Females of any type were often referred to generally as "Jill" (a bit like "Jane Doe") or sometimes "Joan." Males were often referred to generally as "John" or "Jack" So these were seen as little peasants.

The second thing is how cute and lovable the ferrets look in their picture. Polecats are not in general considered to be very attractive little beasts, savage and smelly, but you can see that whoever bred them really liked them and looking at their photos, it's hard not to like them too. .

Topsy Turvy

2011-09-23T11:13:00.001+01:00

Things have been a bit difficult and topsy turvy here, and I have felt much like A. (above) only not so cheerful, perhaps. So forgive me if I can't keep up as much with your blogs and pay as many visits as usual. Hope to resume normal service very soon. Meanwhile I found a link to a piece about successful tips for travel bloggers - or do I mean tips for successful travel bloggers??? Well, anyway, it's here.

Forgotten Totem

2011-09-21T08:43:00.002+01:00

At the old Commonwealth Institute I spotted this intriguing culpture, abandoned, as you see, and being gradually embraced by ivy.  It's clearly one of the exhibitits from the Institute which didn't make it to the British Empire Exhibition (and thence, illegally into the grasp of private collectors I suppose. See my post below).

It is by the acclaimed Zimbabwean sculptor John Takawira and it is called "Totem Protection."   I'm imagining it standing there through a decade of rain and wind and neglect, seen only by security guards and their dogs, and bravely keeping an eye on the place, all alone.

Actually, I am hoping that Dave King may spot this post and write a poem about it, if he is ever stuck for inspiration. ( I firmly believe Dave is one of those people, like Tennyson, who actually thinks in poetry - so click on his name and take a look at his blog, if you like poems. )

I have written to the Design Museum asking if they're going to incorporate Totem Protection into the bright new renovation scheme. It would be a pity to see it carted away on a builder's truck for an unknown destination, like so much else that was in this museum.

And there's acres of fantastic hardwood flooring inside, too. Just flagging it up, y'know.... wouldn't like that to disappear either...

London Architecture Open House Weekend

2011-09-19T12:55:00.004+01:00

We spent most of the weekend going round some London buildings which opened themselves to the public for the annual Architecture Open House Weekend. What a variety - and some of it was really thought provoking, in various different ways.

We began on Saturday morning with an early walk through the gardens of Kensington Palace. The palace itself is undergoing renovations but the gardens are always worth a visit, at almost any time of year. Right now it has a good display of late summer bedding plants.

We also visited the old Derry and Toms Roof Garden, which was created in the 1930s on the top of a department store of that name. The store has long gone, and the gardens and its art deco buildings are now operated by Richard Branson's Virgin as a restaurant and nightclub.

I am so glad they are looking after the garden with its Spanish buildings,

and its grape vines, flamingoes and so on.

I have to say I wish the modern developments showed the same sense of taste and quality of construction as the original 1930 stuff, but we should be grateful it is there at all.

We continued to the College of Psychic Studies in Kensington. This is a typical early Victorian town house, much altered and modernised. I didn't know why it had been included, since the house was a pretty ordinary early Victorian one and most of what was architecturally interesting had been taken out of it. However, there were some fascinating Spiritualist things around. This picture on one wall shows a medium in the 1920s.

There was more than enough Victoriana in Leighton House. This eye popping mansion belonged to the well known Victorian artist Lord Leighton, and it is one of London's many small but wonderful lesser-known museums. They have just done a stunning renovation. Alas, they don't allow you to take pictures. This stock picture shows the Arabian hall. The ceiling is of gold leaf, and so are several of the ceilings in this astonishing mansion.

Lord Leighton, who was immensely rich, collected ancient artefacts from the Middle East (the tiles shown here are about 250 years old, from Damascus) and he owned many valuable works of art by major artists. The renovation has involved much weaving of authentic fabrics and use of expensive materials. Do go if you are in London. The website is here. It provides more information and a virtual tour which doesn't work on my computer but might work on yours. . (There is usually a modest entrance charge, though they opened it free for the Open Weekend.)

We then went on to the nearby Commonwealth Institute. This has always been one of my favourite 1960s buildings, and it's been deteriorating for ten years since it closed and everyone started arguing about what to do with it.

This striking and frankly gorgeous building has a design of walkways radiating from a central platform, and h what is known in the trade as a hyperbolic paraboloid roof. It looks like this

The Institute was designed to explain and celebrate the Commonwealth, the community that succeeded the British Empire. There were 54 Commonwealth nations, but the whole organisation started to fall apart when Britain joined the European Union. I used to love going there and looking at the displays of cocoa beans from Ghana and Maori artefacts from New Zealand, and so on, and I was also attached to the big, beautiful map inlaid with bronze showing the Commonwealth - here's part of it.

But there are interesting issues around the Commonwealth Institute, and I'm curious. When it closed, many of the artefacts it contained were given to the British Commonwealth and Empire Museum in Bristol. However, according to Wikipedia that museum is closed "pending relocation" (no date specified) and the ex-Director, Gareth Griffiths, was dismissed pending a police investigation into unauthorised disposal of museum assets.

What's more, trusty old Wikipedia also points out that "Comprehensive repair works were carried out [to the Commonwealth Institute] in 2000–1,... by a London-based roofing company ... but by this point the Trust had closed the building to the public....In 2002, the Trust entirely closed the Commonwealth Institute building,...which ... led to controversy because of the secrecy under which it was carried out, the recent expenditure of money on repairs to the building,.....restructuring of the charity and the disposal of the builiding cost approximately £7m in redundancies, restructuring and professional fees by July 2006."

Course you can't believe everything you read on Wikipedia, but it's hard to believe that pockets have not been lined here. I also came across a blistering communique from the Commonwealth Secretariat, here. It accuses the UK Government of being a dog-in-the-manger about the site rather than wanting to improve education in former Commonwealth countries - yes, folks, all the money seems to have found its way somewhere else.

The poor old building is finally going to be rescued and turned into the new Design Museum. Nothing of the controversy was mentioned (surprise, surprise) in the Design Museum's leaflets, which concentrate on happy new beginnings. One of the ladies who showed us round, said the Design Museum had acquired the building free of charge, and it was only going to cost them £130,000 to convert it. Hmmmm.....

Anyway, I wonder what will happen to the lovely old map and to the magnificent tropical hardwood floor, since new architects OMA won't be able to re-use them. Step forward Donnachadh McCarthy,perhaps? We met this Irish eco-auditor and guru of recycling and sustainable living on our next visit, his retro eco-cottage, 3 Acorns. It's a quaint Victorian workman's cottage with tiny rooms and a long, narrow back garden, tucked away in a Peckham back street.

Donnachadh practises what he preaches, and his home is full of brilliant tips for saving energy and low-impact living. This fab steampunk fan is part of his heating system; he uses a clean type of wood burning stove fuelled by waste wood which he collects from skips and the streets round about where he lives.

We were so impressed we bought his book, "Easy Eco Auditing" and spent ages listening to him answeing questions - he was being mobbed by people wanting to know more, perhaps because he also appeared as the on-screen eco-auditor in the BBC2 TV series "It's not Easy Being Green". (Although actually, he makes it seem VERY easy ...)

After that, we headed further into Peckham to see 15-and-a-half Consort Road. This extraordinary building was shoe-horned into a tiny, awkward space and uses some startlingly original ideas, not all of them exactly practical, in my humble opinion. But it is certainly fun. Read more about it on their Peckham House website and here's a picture of the pull out fully plumbed bath which they keep stored under the bed.

Although it's on such a tiny site, the house also incorporates a dance studio. Wow!

We returned back to our place feeling slightly dissatisfied with its boringness. Also it's starting to feel cold now the weather is changing. Perhaps we'll call Donnachadh in to give us an eco-audit, and I just wish I could think of a way to use that metal map if OMA would take an offer....

RU OK Day

2011-09-16T09:27:00.001+01:00

This is a good idea from Australia - a day on which you contact people you've been a bit concerned about and ask if they're OK. It's mainly about mental health, I think, but I've taken it as a reminder to call people who are frail or sick or having a tough time. Maybe I'll have my own RUOK day every month!

(A. is just checking we're all okay - he needs to wear a waste-basket on his head to do it, of course.)

In the Grant Museum

2011-09-15T19:28:00.001+01:00

One of my daughters gave a talk last night in the Grant Museum of Zoology, so I went along to be a proud mum. In the picture above, taken about half an hour before the start, people had already begun to arrive and were starting to bag themselves seats and look at some of the collection, which is housed in huge Victorian-looking wooden cabinets.

The museum is the last university museum of comparative anatomy remaining in London, and its 68,000 specimens include many from other, now closed, collections. It's still used for teaching, and it is a fascinating place, so long as you're not spooked out by displays on anatomy and physiology. Nearly all the audience yesterday were medics, so of course they were totally unfazed by the somewhat grisly things - bones and pickled specimens - which surrounded us.

I was particularly interested in the museum's specimens from extinct animals. One of the star exhibits is their very rare skeleton of the quagga, hunted to extinction in the 1880s.

The quagga looked a bit like a zebra - see above.

There were dodo bones and a skeleton and Huxley's dissection of a thylacine. The last known specimen of this Tasmanian animal was filmed in 1933 - see it here (makes me mad to see it kept in a cage, actually).

I absolutely love the astonishing glass sea creatures that were created by Leopola Blaschka (1822-1895) and his son Rudolf (1857-1929).

The secrets of how they made their glass wildlife specimens died with the Blaschkas, but the National Museum of Wales has a collection of over 200 sea creatures, and Harvard's collection of over 3000 Blaschka glass flowers is definitely something I want to see some day.

The museum has fairly recently moved into a spacious and very interesting hall in the UCL Rockefeller Building in the heart of London's Bloomsbury. The hall used to be a library, and even without the specimens it would be full of atmosphere and personality. It reminds me a little of Oxford's Pitt-Rivers Museum of anthropology, with its crowded cabinets and hand written labels.

There's a touch of humour in the exhibits. We all agreed that these members of the audience, in the gallery above, were extremely well behaved. .

Making Money from Travel Writing?

2011-09-15T12:07:00.023+01:00

Many travel writers are trying to figure out how to make money from their blogs.  Don't worry, I don't plan to turn this blog commercial - but like so many other industries, travel is having problems, and so are most newspapers, magazines and publishers. And consequently, life for travel writers is becoming harder too.

This was brought home to me when I contacted a European tourist board about an article I've been commissioned to do.   For this type of fairly short (1000 word) general-interest article, I'd expect to stay 3 or 4 days, and I would expect the local tourist board to take an interest. They supply information and (usually very valuable) local advice, and generally provide some free/cheap travel within the destination, and/or a museums card so I can whizz around and see far more than the ordinary visitor would in a brief time. They facilitate stays at hotels that want to show themselves off (and no, I don't guarantee coverage in return). They suggest new attractions I might like to look into, tell me about seasonal things I might not know. In short, a good travel press officer, like Linda Marcuzzi whom I had in Trieste last year, is worth their weight in gold. And a press visit really isn't a holiday.

So I have a commission to write about this particular country (it's not one of the Eurozone debt disasters) but the press officer says she can't help because she's been told only to deal with papers of circulations of 20,000 and up. At the generally accepted rule of thumb of 3 or 4 readers per copy that means a readership of about 60,000- 80,000, plus website.

The paper that commissioned me has an accredited readership of nearly 70,000, but this includes visitors to the website. So the circulation is lower than the board want, but personally I'd have thought 70,000 readers were worth bothering with, just a bit. Anyway, the press officer didn't, or couldn't.

I can't argue with their policy, and of course I'll still go there and write the story, but it will be harder to take in whatever attractions the locals are trying to promote, because I either won't know about them, and/or won't be able to afford them on my budget . And I may not be so keen to write about the place again, simply because I can't afford to.

It shows the way the wind is blowing. This time last year this very press officer was begging me to visit her country, and the paper's readership has actually risen since then.   But rates for writers have gone down.

In fact, many print publications are now not using outside writers at all, or paying them peanuts, or expecting them to work for free. So you can see why it's necessary to look at other options if we want to be able to keep writing about travel and making a bit of money.

Two of the money-making travel blogs that I admire are Donna Dailey's Pacific Coast Highway and  Karen Bryan's Europe A La Carte      Donna focuses on just one region, which she knows really well, and she has said that she makes decent money from this blog, which has many ads. Karen's European blog includes "tell it like it is" reviews and the kind of "Top this and that" features which form a staple of so many travel pages. She ropes in good guest bloggers like Amanda Kendle to cover some of the parts she can't reach.   Karen said on David Whitley's "The Grumpy Traveller" that 95 percent of her income comes from travel writing online.

Neither of those is for me. I live in London but honestly who could do a better London site than Londonist?  And maintaining a multi-destination blog is difficult and expensive for an individual.  I don't have the time (and more importantly the money) to be constantly updating stuff I've written about in various far flung parts of Europe.

Broadening Karen's idea into a bigger site involving more people, you might get something like Simonseeks.com. I don't know if it is making money for its owners now (it wasn't the last time I heard, but it's had a revamp since then.)  But even if the owners make money, the writers don't seem to.  This link shows that Simonseeks relies heavily on people giving content for free. Even the "experts" who are expected to do a great deal of leg work, don't seem to get anything in exchange except the hope of "substantial rewards" - pay by click and cross your fingers, I suppose? I'm trying to find anyone who writes for them, so I can ask.

I once tried making money on someone else's pay-by-click sites, and wrote about it in Writing for Suite 101 on my other blog: (I hope you can get to the site - the server's having problems today.) You'll see I reckoned then that it wasn't worth doing, and readers' comments - temporarily removed because of a spam attack - agreed in no uncertain terms.

Another site has recently started which is aimed at people who aim to travel-blog professionally. It's called http://www.travelllll.com/ and so far I haven't read the detail. It is clearly a very business orientated thing, serious stuff.

Ah, well, it's a sunny day today and I am not going anywhere, and glad of it. A friend has just called and told me about a Welsh cliff hotel where he stayed with his family which he said was both beautifully located and cheap. One to try next time I'm in West Wales. But now I'm going to the post office (un-favourite task) then I will tackle the nasturtiums which are absolutely swamping everything (that's a bit more fun than the post office), and finally I'll plant some Spring bulbs (which is definitely fun as I imagine how beautiful they'll be).

Here are flowers from some of last year's bulbs.   And how do any of you make money from online activity?

Curiosities of Alentejo

2011-09-12T22:23:00.001+01:00

When September is rainy and blustery and cold, like it's been in England, Portugal is definitely a good place to be. This marble staircase was up with sun and beautifully tiled with 18th century tiles. According to the sign outside, it was a police station - just a teeny bit different from our local nick here in London, so I crept in and took a few pictures.

In a little museum near Evora, I saw some very unusual embroideries.

Unfortunately, they were captioned all in Portuguese, a language I don't speak, but someone told me that several incorporate pieces of "chestnut skin." (I think that this means the shell of the chestnut fruit). This thin and brittle substance is sewn onto the embroidery in a kind of applique. The examples here all date from about 100 years ago and didn't bear much resemblance to the "local" embroideries on sale in the rather small number of souvenir shops I spotted.

I was in the Portuguese Alentejo, an agricultural and wine growing region which lies north of the Algarve, and is far less well-known than the Algarve. With textiles in mind, I also visited an amazing modern tapestry works in Portalegre. The tapestries - often vast - are hand woven using a unique stitch which allows great precision in the design. This gives them a really fine quality, and means that pictures or photographs or even paint techniques can be reproduced or suggested far more accurately than they can in ordinary tapestry. Like, paint on a wall...

By contrast, the tapestry below is in totally different style. Created to a mid-twentieth century design, it's large, subtle and detailed and it is tremendously striking. I can only show one, much-reduced bit of it here.

As the tapestries are hand made and so specialised, they're also ruinously expensive and production is very slow. Perhaps that's why the company doesn't even seem to have a website. Now I know these tapestries exist, though, I have decided that if I ever win the lottery, I'll commission one to adorn the mansion which I'm going to buy.

Since that's in my dreams, it doesn't matter that it would take years to weave!

Dogs and Cake Don't Mix

2011-09-10T13:55:00.000+01:00

Thanks so much for all the comments - I love getting them, and I''ll be replying to them soon and also going round all the blogs I've missed over the last week away.

Meanwhile, I'd like to share another insect cake. This one is a ladybird (I think they're called ladybugs in the US). I admired it in a garden produce, craft and dog show in deepest Gloucestershire a couple of weeks ago. The judge wrote an encouraging and nice comment on every entry to the show, and has awarded this ladybird second prize. But - do you detect a slight problem with this cake? The judge's comment card explains. It reads: "Very well iced. Sorry about the mess. A dog ate it!"

Here's another picture from the show. These two dogs were waiting for their owner to emerge from the village church, which dates back about 800 years or so and contained a lovely display of flowers from peoples' gardens. They looked so bored and fed up, I couldn't help thinking that a nice piece of cake might cheer them up...

Goodbye to summer bugs

2011-09-03T18:14:00.001+01:00

Had a lazy Saturday today after a really tiring week, and even had some sun, for a change. And now we're saying goodbye to summer I'm not ready to let it go, although I'm not sorry to see the end of summer bugs.

I was going to stop my post here, and put in this picture of cake bugs which I spotted in Nuremberg, Germany.

But actually, I'll write a bit more about the cakes. They represent may-bugs, (though I photographed them in June.) In England, may bugs are called cockchafers, and their grubs play havoc with your lawn, as they eat the roots of the grass. Not an obvious reason to turn them into cakes, so I wondered if they have some cultural significance in Germany. Maybe some German reader can explain

I looked up "Maikäfer," though, and found a little rhyme which is very similar to our old rhyme of "Ladybird, Ladybird fly away home."

"Maikäfer flieg...

Dein Vater ist im Krieg

Deine Mutter ist in Pommerland

Pommerland ist abgebrannt

Maikäfer flieg!"

("Fly, cockchafer, your father is at war, your mother is in Pomerania which is burning to the ground.")

Anyway, I wish I'd bought one of the cakes and eaten it now. German cakes are definitely among the best in the world!

Rowan Tree

2011-09-01T09:10:00.006+01:00

I have always admired the rowan tree. As a child, I was told that it "keeps witches away" which I found very reassuring during a period when I was scared of witches. (Wisely my grandmother also told me that the beautiful scarlet berries are poison, perhaps to stop me eating them to make myself witch-proof.)

I have a little book called "Rowan, Tree of Protection" by ethnobotanist Chris Howkins, which delves into the extensive mythology associated with this little tree. In his book, Mr. Howkins points out that the celtic name for the rowan is "fid na ndruad" which means "Tree of the Wizard" (or, surely, "Druid"?) So its reputation for magic goes back a whole lot further than my grandmother!.

Mr. Howkins has also traced the fact that old English names for the tree often contain the word "quick" which is an old word for "alive" - he quotes "Quickenberry," "Quickbeam" and so on. (He also points out that the common hawthorn is also known as the Quickthorn, something I'd known, but forgotten. Interesting.)

I won't quote Mr. Howkins' book at you - although full of good things, it is not expensive, so if you are interested, click the contact link to find out about it and its author.

But I should say that this particular photo in fact shows two trees. The rowan berries with the distinctive rowan leaves are in the foreground. Behind this is a trunk of silver birch. The birch is associated with birth and renewal, and both trees, although usually seen in gardens and parks, can also be found growing wild on poor acid soil, like this heathland near Westleton, Suffolk.

And, not only do they offer protection from passing witches, and encourage renewal, but I think they look very attractive together.

Big Eyes

2011-08-30T18:46:00.002+01:00

Just a quick post today. I've been away and lots of catching up to do. But I saw these two pairs of beautiful eyes at the weekend and wanted to share them with you. (Sorry for the slightly weird colours - that's my iPhone camera for you)...

The first pair of eyes belongs to an owl - I think it's a Eurasian Eagle Owl but I forgot to check its tag. It was sitting on a stand at at a fund-raising stall run by the Midlands Bird of Prey Rescue. It is one of several hand reared owls which the organisation takes round to various summer fetes and public events to raise cash and awareness. They must look after the birds very well. All of them were bright, glossy, healthy and alert, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from this owl's amazing eyes. The owl was obviously quite happy meetnig the public, and actually seemed quite interested in what was going on. (It took a particular interest in any small dogs which passed its perch. I suspect it saw them as potential prey. )

The little cat with the stripe on its face was one of two, living in a run-down garden centre. The garden centre was frankly pretty sad, with flappy, torn plastic polytunnels lined with white plaster board ,and droopy plants.

I thought it had such a friendly gaze - if a cat can have such a thing, (Can it?)

But both cats, which the owners had rescued from a shelter, were enchanting and full of life, in total contrast to their surroundings. Wish I could have got both of them together but most of the time they were frisking around too happily to look at me. Here they are in a brief pause between jumping on each other.

Architecture, Housing, Making Communities, Grrr....

2011-08-26T08:59:00.008+01:00

Managed to catch the final day of the "50 Years of London Architecture" organised by The

Architecture Club, at a funky exhibition space called AMBIKA P3, just off Baker St. in the centre of London. I think it used to be an underground service area or car park, but it is quite impressive, and this is a part of it.

The exhibition consisted of over 350 huge images of architecture built in London since 1960 and to be honest it made me feel proud of London, to see how many people have spent so much effort and money on making it look good and work well.

I was specially impressed by a photo of Broadwall, part of the social housing at Coin St. on the South Bank (which I blogged about last time). Here's a snap of the exhibition picture which shows it off well. (A picture of a photo - weird!)

I was also impressed by the gorgeous looking St. Mungo's homeless hostel in SE London - read about it, and see a photo, here.

I'm interested in social housing, so last night I watched the BBC4 television documentary "The Great Estate, the Rise and Fall of the Council House." If you live in the UK, I recommend taking a look on the BBC iPlayer.

If you're not in the UK, and aren't interested in housing per se, then you might consider stopping reading here, because I'm about to embark upon a rant.

Ever since watching this programme, I have been fuming about the Government's plans to limit the length of social housing tenancies instead of offering them to people for life. What the programme pointed up (and of course it is echoed in real life), is the way that most people blossom when living in a COMMUNITY, where everyone has not only rights but responsibilities - the right to a secure and decent home and the responsiblity for keeping that home in reasonable order, for behaving well towards neighbours and making an effort to fit in with others.

I'm lucky enough to live in a part of London with reasonable sense of community, largely due to an innovative mutual housing society which owns many houses in the the area, and the fact that the gardens of several areas of local flats have been mostly blended into one large traffic free, communal garden, locked against outsiders, each garden serving about 50 or 60 houses and apartment blocks. Here's an example in this picture.

The permanent residents are what keep these places going - either they have bought or have long term tenancies. They are the ones who maintain the gardens, and keep the housing society running. The short term tenants are very nice people but I have not known any who take part in community activities. And yes, believe me there are people in the established community who only cause trouble, complain, criticise, grab all they can and try to trash the place. But if everyone else behaves okay, the destructive behaviour of the relatively few, can generally be dealt with person-to-person, and doesn't get out of hand.

I think that the government's current idea of turning Britain's council estates into vast swathes of temporary housing, with residents constantly having to be re-assessed for eligibility,but not expected to repay that in any way (like by keeping things clean and behaving well) is utterly destructive of any sense of community. It's hard to see how any collection of temporary tenants can care about their estate, its public spaces or its sense of order when they have absolutely NO incentive to identify with it. And if decent behaviour is not even expected of them, either, it all becomes totally nihilistic. What on earth sort of environment is that to raise kids in?

I know the arguments against subsidising people who can afford "better" housing, but having estates that are only for the extremely poor, extra needy, anti-social and vulnerable, is surely condemning the kids who live there to difficult, dysfunctional upbringings and much more trouble and expense for everyone in the long run.

It seems to suggest that the official priority, despite all the fine talk and hot air, is not actually about building communities, and so it is not about helping poorer people to live decent and pleasant lives and therefore can not be about fixing the kind of social tensions which helped fuel our recent riots. Policing and social work intervention alone will not create good places to live. The people themselves do that, and they should be helped to establish themselves, not uprooted as soon as their income gets above a certain level.

Well, I could rant on about this for ages but I won't ... normal service wll be resumed shortly.

Yes, it's the South Bank - Van Gogh, Sunflowers, Cycling Lizards and the Eye

2011-08-22T09:22:00.005+01:00

No, it wasn't a flat picture. This is a life sized 3D painted SCULPTURE of Vincent Van Gogh and it is based on his own famous self portrait. I saw it the other day in Gabriel's Wharf, in London's South Bank. It was really disconcerting, and the reflections in the glass make his head seem a strange shape, which adds to the odd effect.

Gabriel's Wharf is just East of the National Theatre, and is part of the Coin St. development. The good people at Coin St. were the first to spot the potential of this area. It's strange to think that others didn't, because these days, the walk from Westminster Bridge to Tower Bridge is a highlight of any trip to London.

There is so much to look at - from ingenious street entertainers and "human statues"

to major attractions like the London Eye (which we went on.)

In summer and at weekends there are often festivals and all kinds of free entertainment on the South Bank. We saw a free street dance class at the National Theatre. You could participate yourself, or else sit on deckchairs or on giant astroturf armchairs

and relax, and/or watch everyone having fun.

The folks at Coin St. spotted the potential of the area when it was semi-derelict, back in 1984. This was before the developers of expensive restaurants and fancy apartments moved in, and frankly you'd have had to be mad to want to live there in those days, because it was a wasteland of broken down factories and abandoned enterprises.

The unimaginative plan at the time was to redevelop the riverside site as office blocks (and one or two did get built - they're now dead zones). But a group of far sighted local people formed the social enterprise and development trust of Coin Street. They developed a neighbourhood of public housing, with space for families and children to live and play, and with space for small businesses.

Gabriel's Wharf is full of small (and good) craft shops reasonably priced (and fun) places to eat and other things.

And that's great - places like this are always fun to browse around. But what makes this place special is that it's the stretch of riverside which also has many major national entertainment venues and national attractions. As well as the little enclave of Gabriel's Wharf, and the National Theatre, you'll find Tate Modern, The British Film Institute, the South Bank Centre, which is London's major concert hall venues of the Royal Festival Hall, Queen Elizabeth Hall and Purcell Room. There are cinemas, including a large IMAX, many renowned restaurants, good eateries and splendid shops, an amphitheatre and ... oh, all kinds of other things, temporary and permanent.

Very near Gabriel's Wharf, the South Bank Centre is holding its 1951 festival, based around the Festival of Britain. I will try and blog about this later, because it's very interesting - and there's also a very nice gourmet food market currently in residence on the space behind the hall.

Meanwhile, though, their seaside and countryside celebrations include a beautiful temporary garden of fruit and vegetables amidst the concrete canyons by the Hayward Gallery (oh, yes, I forgot to mention that - currently showing one of my un-favourite artists, the self-publicising Tracey Emin, but it does have some spectacular shows at other times) . In the garden, I admired the gorgeous double hollyhocks, which seemed particularly beautiful in bright sunshine, as it was a lovely day.

And, since this post started with Van Gogh, here are some sunflowers from that little nearby garrden.

You can see Van Gogh's actual sunflower painting in the National Gallery which is not too far away. Although I love Van Gogh's paintings, I myself prefer real sunflowers.

I think we're very lucky in London to have a space like this, where a short walk along the river can reveal so many new, unexpected and ever-changing delights.

Not that anyone's paranoid around here....

2011-08-17T09:59:00.000+01:00

Snapped in Paris.

Mondaye Abbey

2011-08-15T13:01:00.003+01:00

Saw some magical and almost theatrical effects of the light at Mondaye Abbey, near Calvados, in Normandy. The blaze of light was so great that we almost felt that an angel must be inside the abbey, just out of sight, waiting to emerge and amaze those outside. Or, if not an angel, at least a very large and imposing light. .

The brilliant light cast a semi circle onto the grass beyond

The ducks inside the abbey courtyard faced this way and that, casting shadows.

Liberty's of London, and Totoro Bun

2011-08-08T12:07:00.001+01:00

I apologise if I haven't visited everyone recently, or posted much in the last week. I've been away from home, or been at home and had guests ... and it will continue next week too. But I thought you might like to see where we took one of our guests on Saturday - Liberty's.

This is the big shop in Regent Street, famous for its artistic and unusual wares (and high prices). A couple of years ago it had a revamp, and I didn't like it, but it's all settled down now, and so a trip there is just as much (free) fun as it always was.

I didn't snap any of the fab selections of clothes and accessories and scarves from top designers, so you'll have to imagine these. I got my camera out in the homewares section. We specially enjoyed the "bargains" corner (that is, prices merely high rather than sky high) and found the strangest things.

I liked the visual impact of these fluorescent pink garden chairs (plastic and painted metal.) Best for a minimalist city garden, I guess - the sort of garden that has just a few well chosen and strange looking plants.

Elsewhere, were original takes on familiar things. I feel a "crafty" person could probably copy some of these ideas.

I mean, why chuck away the rusty old lawnmower when you can convert it into a garden light?

The chest below was beautifully finished with a white lacquer, but the idea of putting lots of interesting handles on it could be easily copied.

A tiger skin rug for those who don't like to kill animals

One collection of tin trays, panels, etc. had a combination of animal pictures and Tudor portraits. The animals look as if they are dressed up like Henry VIII and his court. The lady duck is holding her baby ducklings.

Since our friend is Japanese, we then went around the corner to the Japan Centre and bought some very good Sapporo beer, and a Totoro bun.

Gunk?

2011-07-31T23:21:00.004+01:00

Well, today's been all about gunk. T's spent hours and hours getting all kinds of terrible looking stuff out from the pipes under the sink. And at last, the water runs away properly. But oh, the mess! it looked like a murder had been committed (except that it was all black, not red.....) Oh, ugh! I will spare you the other details. But I thought it might be appropriate today to tell you of my visit to the London sewers.

Don't read on if you have a sensitive digestion, although to be truthful the sewers were actually infinitely less disgusting than the stuff under the sink.

These sewer trips occur roughly once a year, but they're not advertised - not quite sure why, and the lady at Thames Water was a little bit evasive about that. I think they were afraid of having The Wrong Sort of People down their sewers. We were certainly carefully vetted and given a fixed (and far from convenient) time for our visit. Despite this, we had a very good day out and were glad we had made the effort.

So we arrived (uncomfortably) early one fine day at ye olde Victorian Waterworks at Abbey Mills in South East London.

It is a very handsome waterworks, although run down - to be fair, they do have a more modern waterworks nearby. I liked the slightly Haunted House atmosphere, because I like big, gloomy, ornate bits of Victoriana, and there aren't nearly as many of them around as there used to be. This place has played the Arkham Asylum in the "Batman Begins" movie, by the way, and should surely feature in more movies. Here is the front door .

We had a tour of the very interesting grounds - the staff are proud of the place's history, character and atmosphere. And the people who built it were proud of it too - they spared no expense, even on the ironwork on the roof, which could easily have created for an upmarket shopping arcade of the period.

And there was lots of antique machinery, some of which isn't used any more. At first I thought I spotted a Dalek from "Dr. Who."

But it was actually a Dalek's cousin, and didn't move or say a word.

We then had a film and a lecture and also the chance to look at some museum exhibits relating to London's history of waste disposal. I think everyone was thoughtful afterwards, considering the truly filthy conditions our ancestors lived in. It is quite surprising that anyone survived at all. Here is a wooden water supply pipe from a very early attempt to get London's water organised.

Of course, like all other major works of infrastructure, the development of a sewerage system cost a fortune. MPs were only persuaded to vote the money when the Thames became so noxious that Parliament was unable to use the nice new buildings that had been created for them in the mid 19th century. The distinguished engineer Alfred Rosling Bennett, in his memoirs, recalls leaning over the bridge near the Houses of Parliament in the 1850s and marvelling at the sight of the millions of red worms which had crawled out of the mess, and were lit by the low rays of the evening sun to create a sort of red glow.

After the educational bit, we got togged up in white boiler suits and tall wader boots with thick white socks. Here I am with one of my daughters, both of us glad that we finally got around to wearing one of those cool mother-and-daughter outfits that we always yearned for.

We found that you are lowered into the sewer on a sort of crane, strapped in with a harness. You need to be OK about climbing up and down iron ladders, too, inside the sewer.

And once inside, you have to hold on to a rope, just in case you fall. Miners' lamps come in handy, since it's not very light down there. Although the sun did shine through the gaps sometimes, and the shafts of sunlight created quite a striking effect, if you are being artistic about it.

The operative who guided us was very enthusiastic about the magnificent brickwork of the walls - the best possible, designed to last for centuries - and so it has. But in general it was all rather Dickensian. Here is a sluice gate. Looks like something out of Marshalsea Prison, doesn't it?

Dear readers, forgive me, but I didn't take many pictures inside the sewer, specially when we reached the dark bits. And I never got a shot of the wonderful brickwork. You see, .I was wearing great big rubber gloves, and I had to take them off in order to operate the camera. I was afraid of dropping (a) the gloves and / or (b) the camera.

I did manage to capture this chap stylishly modelling the outfit we wore.

Back "upstairs" again, we sat down for a yummy buffet. Not everyone had a good appetite. But everyone agreed that it had been very interesting indeed, a side of London which few of us had seen.

Our family was inspired to join the Crossness Engines Trust, which is striving to restore the nearby, and very sensational looking Crossness Pumping Station, which dates from the same period and is even more of a riot of cast iron. Sometime, I'll post about the Crossness open day we attended. But do check their website f you have any interest in Victorian social and engineering history, or industrial archaeology. It's a very active and imaginative group ( a few of the activities are here, although in fact they have many more) .

I could write a whole lot about them and about the amazing Joseph Bazalgette, who was behind the drive to make London the first city in the world to have a proper sewerage system. But it's late, and I won't be blogging for a few days now, so I'll leave you with a glimpse of the sewer archives - a whole world of research for an historian, and, like everything else at Abbey Mills, much more interesting than you might think at first.

*An English Travel Writer*