Look Familiar?

Last Friday we went over to Stoke Rochford, a country house near Harlaxton and built at virtually the same time? It was designed by the same man who designed this manor, so guess what?

See anything that looks familiar? Indeed, the central entrance could almost pass for Harlaxton. The clock is in the same style as well although of a different color clock face. The house is a working hotel now with guest rooms going for about $500-$1000 a night. And, this house, too, served as headquarters for some of the British 1st Airborne in the days leading up to Operation Market Garden in September 1944, and a number of those "lads," now in their late 80s or 90s, were returning last weekend for a reunion.

This building was hit by a devastating fire in 2004 which gutted much of the center of the house, although the walls were left intact. Fortunately, their B&G director had been doing everything right (British Army veteran), and the insurance company had to fork over 12 million pounds for the reconstruction effort. You can barely tell where the surviving original decor ends and the reconstruction begins. A large Orangery survived without damage.

As did the only known marble sculpture work attributed to the Flemish master Peter Paul Rubens, the great marble fireplace in the what had been one of the drawing rooms and now serves as the bar. It is insured for 2 million pounds.

The rooms on the other side of this wall (almost two feet thick) were destroyed. The brass hardware on the inner doors melted completely, but the fire did not penetrate. However, thousands of gallons of water poured into the room during the fight against the flames. The plaster ceiling was saturated and on the verge of collapse. Scaffolding was quickly erected in the room up to within about a foot of the ceiling and then sheep skins were shoved in between the scaffolding and the ceiling to draw off the water. It took 18 months before the ceiling was dry, but it was saved. The company that directed the restoration work was the same one that worked on Windsor Castle after its fire in 1992. The external scaffolding alone cost over a million pounds to erect and maintain for three years while work went on.

 After a lovely cream tea in the main hallway--sorry, my flash was disabled so those didn't come out very well--we returned to Harlaxton.

Today is Halloween and there is a trick and a treat for the students. They second exam in the British Studies course is this afternoon from 2-4, and then there is a costume party in the Bistro tonight.

The True Navel of the Universe

Well, this morning we travelled to the true "Navel of the Universe." The ancient Greeks foolishly believed that it is at Delphi, the Incas believed it to be Cuzco, but in truth it is in the heart of a little farm town in Leicestershire, Melton Mowbray at this very spot.

Seriously. They have been making pork pies here since the middle of the 19th century, and there are NONE in the world better. It is part of Dickinson and Morris Sausage shop which is next door.

Their recipe is so treasured that it is registered as a Protected Geographical Indicator which means that they and a couple of other pie shops in town are the only ones in the WORLD who can call their product Melton Mowbray Pork Pies. Those of you who know us know that we make a pork pie every year for Christmas, and they are pretty darn good if we do say so ourselves, but they are nothing compared to these. And, they will ship anywhere in the world--for a fee.

Melton Mowbray's most famous "resident"--as opposed to food item--was undoubtedly Anne of Cleves, Henry VIII's fourth "wife," whom Henry had married in absentia and upon first seeing her labeled a "Flanders mare," i.e. a Clydesdale. Now, by this time, Henry was no longer the dashing young thing he'd been and was at least as rotund as she was and reportedly had a huge running sore on his leg that refused to heal. So it is probably no surprise that she jumped at the chance to escape from Henry and settle in to a property he gave her along with the title of the King's Good Sister after divorcing her. The place had been Thomas Cromwell's until he fell out with the king for having arranged the marriage to Anne in the first place. Henry thought it would be funny, I guess, to give Cromwell's old place to her.

 

No one knows whether she ever actually lived there or not, her main residence being Sussex, but she certainly got possession of the place as part of the divorce settlement.

After that, back to the Gregory in Harlaxton for a well deserved pint on a spectacular autumn day. We had snow flurries last night, and the temperature today stayed at below 40, but with absolutely gorgeous sunshine--and a pretty stiff breeze with gusts up to 20 mph or so, which made sitting by the fire at the Greg the perfect end.

I'll make another post soon about a country house near here that we visited yesterday.

What Goes Up. . .?

. . . Must come down. This afternoon, I tagged along with an engineering class and a calculus class both taught by Dr. David Unger from the University of Evansville for a visit to

All together now. . .the birthplace and childhood home of Sir Isaac Newton, he of the laws of motion and gravity, the spectrum of light, and the inventor of fluxions which we now call the Calculus--and yes I know that Leibniz is also credited with this discovery, but I wasn't visiting his birthplace, I was at little Isaac's, so cool it.

It was in this house that Newton was born on Christmas Day, 1642, (OS) in the room at the upper left of the house.

For anyone who has taken my Origins III class in the last 15 years or so, you have seen this house at the beginning of Bronowski's The Majestic Clockwork. I've stolen so much from that film over the years for my lectures on the Scientific Revolution that I feel like I should be paying royalties to the late Dr. B's estate. But, if you are going to steal, might as well be from the best.

And, of course, here is THE TREE, seriously, this is the apple tree in the field in front of the manor. It was blown down in a storm in the early 19th century, but the root system was undamaged and it has regrown. Cuttings from it have been taken to Cambridge (both England and Massachusetts) and several other spots around the world.

As you can see from the foliage, autumn is coming on strong here, and I confess I miss the leaves falling across campus in Bethany now. The weather has turned rather dreary this week. Haven't seen the sun for three days, only endless fog. Hard to get a picture of, but this is a pretty good example.

Visibility is at best about 300-400 yards at the height of the day, much less in the morning and toward darkness which is creeping in earlier and earlier these days. We go back to standard time on Sunday which will mean darkness before 5 p.m. We're much farther north than Bethany, so the hours of daylight will shrink to about 8-4 by the time I'm ready to leave in early December. Anyway, that was our visit to Newton's home. Very glad I got to do this and my thanks to Dr. Unger.

Two Very Dear Old Friends

Slipped into London on Saturday to visit two very dear old friends. Trip was a bit trying as in addition to the usual Saturday football match traffic on the train, there was a huge demonstration scheduled by public and private sector unions in the heart of London. 150,000 workers from all over the country converged on the capital to remind the Tory government that there are limits to what working people will endure before they say "no" to more austerity and more foolishness, such as the Tory Chief Whip's notorious slur toward police officers guarding No. 10 as "#$%&* Plebs" who need to remember their place. He has resigned. Also, the Victoria Line was completely shut down for the weekend for maintenance which dumped everyone onto the Northern and Bakerloo lines which made for a very crowded underground ride to Lambeth North near my first old friend.

And here she is.

Yes, the Imperial War Museum, one of the best museums dedicated to this sort of thing in the world. The guns you see are 15-inch naval guns from the Queen Elizabeth class of battleships that first entered service in 1916. Below is the breach end of the gun on the right, taken from HMS Ramillies (look it up--although surprisingly not a naval battle!).

And these guns could fire a shell that weighed as much as a Volkswagen up to 30,000 yards, so far that you had to correct for the curvature of the earth when aiming them. This is one of those shells--mother and child are actual scale.

Then it was into the great hall at the center of the building where there were such wonderful things as a M4 Sherman, a Churchill, a Jagdpanther tank destroyer, a T-34, and a Mark V British tank from the First World War. Overhead flew a Spitfire (on the left), a P-51 Mustang (center) and a FW-190 (right).

And if you look closely just below the Mustang, you will see the most feared weapon of the war, the German 88mm dual purpose flak/anti-tank gun.

Could have spent much more time there, but had a date with  another dear old friend just up the street toward Waterloo station, The Old Vic.

As you can see from the marquis, I went there to see a production of Ibsen's Hedda Gabler adapted by Brian Friel. A wonderful afternoon in the theatre. Ibsen's plays are considered one of the earliest forceful statements of feminism, although he denied this himself. He saw the struggle for women to break free of male dominated late 19th century society as an issue of humanity in general. Whatever, it made for some incredibly powerful theatre.

And the Old Vic is one of the classic theatre houses in London, although located on the South Bank rather than the West End. Built in 1818. It had a checkered career in the 19th century including several ownership changes, and a false fire alarm in 1856 which led to the deaths of 16 people in the Upper Circle (demonstrating Justice Holmes' remark that freedom of speech does not include the right falsely to shout fire in a crowded theatre). In the early 20th Century it settled into its modern form under the leadership of Lilian Baylis, and became popular as the "Old Vic" in the 1920s. The stream of England's finest actors in the 20th century has flowed mightily through the resident company including  Olivier, Richardson, Redgrave, Guinness, Dench, Jacobi, and on and on. Guest artists such as Smith, O'Toole, Finney, Hopkins, Burton, and on and on. The current Artistic Director is Kevin Spacey. It is one of my favorite venues to watch plays.

After the play, I foolishly thought I would slip back up to the Euston Flyer near King's Cross station for dinner and a pint before my train back to Grantham. However, when I got out of Euston Station and on the way down Euston Road toward King's Cross,  every pub in the area, including the Flyer was jammed packed with either the remnants of the demonstrations earlier in the day or football fans glued to the big screen TVs showing the Arsenal-Norwich match. So, I settled for a quick pint standing outside and then on to the station. Had a few lads on the train who had had a few too many, but they settled fairly in quickly as we left the station. At Grantham station ran into another couple teaching here this fall, Dan and Peggy Harris from Baker University, who were on the same train in another carriage, and we shared a cab back to the manor. Dan retired a couple of years ago after 27 years as football coach, baseball coach, and Athletic Director. Peggy is the Dean of the School of Education and Dean of the School of Professional and Graduate Studies.

Please Sir, may I have some MORE!

First, sorry for being a bit late with this posting, but it has been a busy week here at Harlaxton. Among other things, yours truly participated in the annual Harlaxton Variety Show last evening along with about a dozen students, as well as three children of visiting faculty here for the term. It was a grand evening, music, comedy, dancing, etc., held in the Great Hall. We did a couple of John McCutcheon tunes that were very well received (if we do say so ourselves).

Anyway, on Tuesday, the entire school was taken over to The Southwell Union Workhouse, a particularly stark reminder of the official attitudes of the Victorians to those less fortunate members of society who had no job or were in some way prevented from working--age, disability, an economic downturn, things like that. If you have ever read Dickens, watched "A Christmas Carol" on TV,  or seen the musical "Oliver" you will know what I am talking about.

Southwell was actually built in 1824, a decade before the passage of the new Poor Law, ("You're poor, boy. That's why we have poor laws in the country!") which completely revamped the way those in need were to be handled. Its setup was used as a model for the "reform" measure passed in1834. Since the last poor laws had been set up in 1601 when Good Queen Bess was still on throne more than 230 years before, we're thinking that it was probably time for a little tinkering, wouldn't you?

From the outside the facility looks pretty solid and imposing, but not particularly odious.

But behind those walls, there was a whole system of treatment designed to make life in the workhouse so odious  and distasteful that people would do literally anything to avoid having to come to the workhouse.

To understand the system however, you need to know that the Victorians charitably made a distinction between the "deserving" and the "undeserving" poor. The deserving poor were those who through no fault of their own--old age, disability, widowhood, abandoned children--were forced to seek assistance from the state. The undeserving poor were any able-bodied man, woman, or teenage child who couldn't find work. Poverty for these people was seen as a moral failing, i.e. the fact that they had no job was the result of the fact that they just would not go out and get a job because they were no-good layabouts who were just waiting for the benefits to roll in. Unfortunately, there are those in America today who seem to have about the same opinion. Amazing, sometimes, to think how far we have NOT come. Economic conditions--downturns, depressions, bank panics, etc. (financial meltdowns brought on by toxic lending practices)--were never excuses for not having a job.

So, as I said,  the whole point behind the Poor Law of 1834, then, was to make public assistance so odious and distasteful that people would do virtually anything to avoid going to the Workhouse, that public assistance was to be the very LAST option. For example, workhouses were strictly segregated by sex, i.e. men and women--even if married--were forced to live in separate parts of the workhouse. Children were placed in another area away from both their parents. If you were able-bodied, you worked and menial tasks all day or even and tasks that had no point at all except to keep you busy, i.e. like an army fatigue. Rules were strictly enforced.

This particular workhouse could handle up to about 160 people for which there was one privy for each sex--a hole in the ground--and one water pump for each sex in their respective workyards.

The chap holding the clipboard was our guide from the National Trust. He often does this in costume as one of the inmates (and I use that term deliberately as these places were very little better than prisons). Suffice it to say that it was a very sobering experience for the students and your faithful blogster. Also, admittedly a great treat as we are a scholar of the Victorian Era and knew a fair amount about the workhouse system but had never visited one. If you want additional info on this whole era, check out Edwin Chadwick's Poor Law Report to Parliament in 1834, or Friedrich Engels (yes, that Engels) Condition of the English Working Class published in 1844. Or, just read more Dickens!

A Horse, A Horse. . .

Well, today campers, we visited the city of Leicester about an hour's train ride from here to the west and south. It is famous for several things, but most importantly for being the final resting place of wicked King Richard III, he of the hunchback and the little Princes in the Tower--yes, yes, I know, all Tudor propaganda designed to clear Henry VII of murdering the little darlings. Not buying it. Richard put the princes in the Tower, his own nephews no less, and nobody ever heard of them again. Both of them had precedence over Richard for the throne so he needed them dead. Not that Henry would have balked at a little murder if he'd found them still alive in the Tower when he got to London, and from the same motive as Richard, but that is stretching it methinks.

Anyway, just a month ago, a team from the university was excavating three trenches in the area around the cathedral where the Greyfriars Abbey used to stand and made a stunning discovery, a skeleton of an adult male with spinal curvature, evidence of a very nasty knock on the head, and an arrowhead in his back. Richard is known to have been buried in the Greyfriars Abbey after he was killed at the battle of Bosworth in August 1485, losing to Henry Tudor who then became Henry VII and was the father of Henry VIII, he of the six wives and the Henrician Reformation fame. This is a pic of the trench--in a parking lot no less--one of three dug by the team, with a couple of actors being filmed in it last month.

Now it looks like this again!

Anyway, exciting work being done on the remains including DNA analysis. Time will tell. The trench is literally just across the street from St. Mark's church, the core of which dates from the Conquest, and which was elevated to cathedral status in 1926 when Leicester was made a diocese--gotta have some place for "The Bish" to hang his mitre--but it is one of the smallest in England.

Walked to the cathedral gate that said "Entrance," went through and tried to open the door only to crash a ceremony underway in the nave elevating some new members of the clergy. So, thought I'd take in the Guildhall next door which dates from the early 15th century only to crash a wedding there, well not quite. The hall was closed but I only had to wait about ten minutes before the wedding was over and the place was open to visitors again. The first pic is of the outside of the building and the second is of the hall inside.

 

 

Not as grand as Commencement (where your blogster was wed), but not a bad setting for nuptials.

The highlight of the day, however, came at the Jewry Wall Museum a few hundred yards away. If you guessed that this may have had something to do with the town's Jewish population prior to the expulsion of all Jews from the kingdom by Edward I, Hammer of the Scots (and the Welsh), in 1290, you would be WRONG. Has no connection to anything Jewish apparently. Instead it is the site of the Roman bathes in the city which were dedicated to Juno (or Janus) and the Jewry spelling only dates from Victorian era. The "cester" in Leicester marks it as a Roman town (see earlier posts), but even before the Romans, there was a Celtic town there, as well as an Anglo-Saxon settlement later, and it became one of the five "county" capitals of the Danelaw in the 10th century. The baths were unearthed in the 19th century as were a number of villas with elaborate mosaic tile floors and fresco walls. Couldn't take any pics of the villa interiors in the museum (an excellent one by the way), but you can see the layout of the baths in this picture with the entrance in the back, preparatory rooms in the middle, and three "hot" baths in the foreground where the father and his daughter are reading one of the plaques.

After all this, a well deserved pint and sandwich and then back to Harlaxton for a relaxing evening.

Music and Theatre at Harlaxton

First, in the "It's a Small World After All, Bethany Edition" category, was going into Grantham yesterday on the shuttle and got to talking with a visitor from Winston-Salem State University who had given a couple of guest lectures here this week and is looking to set up the program at his school. Turns out he is the son of Dr. Barry Richardson, former Econ prof and Dean of the Faculty at Bethany College from the late 60s. He lived on Point Breeze Drive when he was a boy, and we had an excellent visit recalling Bethanians from that era. Amazing how so many interesting people have dwelt along the banks of the Old Buffalo over the years and the extraordinary places that you run into them!

Then, in the evening, we had the pleasure of participating in "Death, Damnation, and British Studies, A Performance by the Harlaxton Choir and Players."

Sorry for the quality of the pix of the program, but forgot and folded it up before taking the picture. The evening featured the Harlaxton Choir of some 30 singers, including yours truly in his formal debut in the Bass section--seriously, and led by Visiting Professor James Larner of Marian University. Dr. Larner chose works that were linked to the themes or contexts of the British Studies program which all students take and included Gregorian chant (Dies Irae), early polyphonic music (Sumer is icumen in), and a contemporary arrangement of a traditional English melody (Autumn's Treasure). We also performed a couple of songs written by Dr. Kay Gandy, another Visiting Professor, the Sorting Hat Song, and a wonderful sendup of the British Studies class. We sang in the Great Hall here in the Manor which has acoustics comparable to Commencement Hall, although on a smaller scale.

The evening also featured an abridged version of "The Summoning of Everyman," acted and directed by students. In addition, Dr. Larner and two students presented a lovely flute trio by an English composer from the Hundred Years War era, John Dunstable, and a another student did a wonderful job with Dido's Lament by Purcell, a 17th century English composer. We ensured a standing ovation by ending with God Save the Queen. When in Rome. . . ! The point is that you don't have to give up music or theatre while you are studying here for a semester, so I would encourage students to consider that as well when thinking about coming here.

Finally, a tinge of sadness in the evening though. It was Stephanie's last night here. She was off to Heathrow this morning at 6:30 a.m. Will miss her desperately for the next 8 weeks.

A Splendid Weekend at the Coast

Well, campers, we spent last weekend at the seaside town of Whitstable on the Kent coast about 5 miles from Canterbury. It sits at the entrance of the Thames Estuary and for centuries has played a role in the maritime life of the area, as well as being a center of the oyster trade. In more recent times, it has been a vacation spot for Londoners as it is only about 75 minutes from Victoria Station by train. We arrived late Friday afternoon to deteriorating weather which turned even nastier in the night. However, by morning it was gloriously sunny and remained so for both Saturday and Sunday allowing us to walk along the sea wall and beaches for hours in the most beautiful weather. Our hotel, the Hotel Continental, was a typical 19th century seaside building with a lovely view of the sea. Our room was in the upper left corner.

 

 

Americans sometimes have trouble understanding that "beaches" in England are not like those in the US. For starters, there is little or no sand, instead these are rock beaches with quite substantial tidal flats that reach out into the sea a good way at low tide.

 

 

 

 

Second, this is the North Sea, so the water is about 45 degrees making for very chilly swimming--if you are foolish enough to try it. Instead, a typical day at the beach includes long walks along the sea wall and perhaps renting (or purchasing) a beach shack like this one to pile into in the event of bad weather.

 





A walk down into the harbor of Whitstable itself took us past rows of small artisan shops and the masts of the Whitstable Yacht Club--mostly small sailing boats or catamarans.

High Street had many small shops for art work, antiques, etc., a classic 19th century arcade, and, of course, numerous pubs and fish and chips shops. We had a wonderful example of the last at Ossie's Fish and Chips Shop just off the Marine Parade on our wanderings. A huge slab of fresh cod, battered and deep fried, with proper chips (what Americans call steak fries) on the side.

Again, could not believe our good fortune with the weather. We will long remember our stay.

Burghley House Visit

Yesterday we went to Burghley House, named for William Cecil, the First Lord Burghley and chief minister to Good Queen Bess for the bulk of her reign, a spectacular example of the great country estates that began to dominate the English landscape in the reign of the Tudors. No longer castles or fortresses, these magnificent structures often started out using stone quarried from the local monastery which had been closed during Henry VIII's "reformation." The house is still the residence of the Earls of Exeter, but was converted to a trust in 1981.

Here is a view from the park surrounding the home. The wall in the foreground is called a Ha-Ha, I kid you not. It is invisible from the house and is actually one side of a sloped ditch which keeps the sheep and dear grazing in the park from approaching the house. Here is one of the fallow deer and one of our students in the car park being foolish.

The trip was organized for the Honors course here at Harlaxton by Dr. Edward Bujak, one of the permanent professors in the British Studies program, and faculty were invited to go along, so Steph and I joined in and are we ever glad we did. No photographs are permitted inside the house, so you will have to take my word for it when I say it is a visual delight. Room after room of the most exquisite paintings, tapestries, furniture, carvings and woodworking, etc., culminating in the the "Hell Staircase" that depicts the day of judgment and the descent into the nether regions. Pretty darn scary actually.

Outside, the grounds are immaculate and include several thousand acres of woodland and park. The park was designed by "Capability" Brown in the 18th century when all the rage was to destroy the original landscape around the great houses and completely redo them to look "natural"! So, this is a photo looking back at the house from the Lion Bridge which crosses the artificial lake.

And, of course,  we had to stop at the Orangery for tea and scones.

 

Tomorrow, we are off to Whitstable on the Kentish coast, so we will be probably not be posting again until early next week again.

 



London Trip Part Two

Well, last time we talked about our first day in London at the Eye, the theatre, and the Abbey. Friday we had to make some adjustments in our housing accommodations, but that was relatively easy to do--have to admit I do like computers for that sort of thing--and so we spent the afternoon doing more touristy things including visits to two of London's most famous retail outlets, Harrod's and Fortnum and Mason's. Harrod's is quite a trip, and I would recommend it just for the food stalls on the first floor if nothing else. Fabulous array of sweets, meats, pastries, teas, and what you will. We had to check out the pet shop department for Zoe and Clio but decided that they didn't need a $15 toy that they would just knock under the furniture anyway.

Fortnum and Mason's is a famous caterer going back to the 18th century that became legendary for its picnic hampers and such in the Victorian era. During World War I, they would deliver these directly to the troops (well the officers) in the front lines of France, guaranteed next day delivery with such delicacies as quail eggs, fresh strawberries, and the finest wines. Dr. Bill Young, long time chair of the History Department at Bethany, always talked about those hampers when I was travelling here in the 80s and 90s.

That evening, we took in a new play, "Yes, Prime Minister," written by the same team who produced the television show in the 1990s. The plot is pretty straightforward, a bungling politician who has made good all the while being manipulated by the permanent under secretary (i.e. career civil servant) and his earnest but naive staffer. The issues were updated to the latest political scandals, but the formula is timeless. Saw it at the Trafalgar Studios, a relatively new theatre. Had great seats, second row within three feet of the stage in a severely raked house.

Saturday was a day for museums. First to the Tate Britain, home of an extraordinary collection of JMW Turner paintings.

Unfortunately it doesn't photograph too well. However, the British Museum in Russell Square certainly does.

Free to the public, it houses a stunning collection of artifacts from the ancient world, as well as special exhibits, the current one being Shakespeare: Staging the World which we took in. More about the times than the author himself, it connects the themes of his plays with the political, economic, and cultural trends of Elizabethan England and the reign of the first Stuart, James I. It made a connection between James' treatise on witchcraft and the witches in Macbeth which had never occurred to me before, but then I never got to take Shakespeare with Mr. Taylor.

As you may be able to see, the weather Saturday was stunning for late September here, so we took advantage and just wandered around a bit. London is a great city for walking because 1) it is flat, and 2) there are beautiful little architecural or historical gems tucked away in practically every corner.

Sunday morning we checked out of the hotel and left our bags there and walked down to Hyde Park. Came into the park at Speaker's Corner, a tradition dating back to the 18th century. The corner is where anyone can get up on his soapbox--literally--and hold forth on the great issues of the day or the little ones depending on your point of view.

The chap on the left side of the fence is a student complaining about the rise in tuiton at university--until about 20 years ago, college was free in the UK-- and beyond him was a fellow preaching the superiority of the Koran. There was also a guy wearing a bloody spiked horn and two little devil's horns on his head, but I decided that was probably not for me.

From there we strolled down to the Serpentine, the lake in the center of the park, and did some  bird watching, including gray swans and white swans, ducks of various types, cormerants, gulls, and a variety of others.

 

A light lunch at the Lido on the south bank of the lake, followed by more ramblings through the park to the Speke memorial

 

Now, who was Speke, and let's not always see the same hands? Sir John Speke, right, noted explorer and first European to reach Lake Victoria in central Africa, as well as finding one of the two sources of the Nile. Got into a terrible row with his erstwhile fellow explorer Richard Burton--no not that Richard Burton--and died under somewhat mysterious circumstances in a hunting accident just before he was scheduled to debate Burton in London.

After that, a trip back to the hotel to get our luggage and off to Kings Cross/St. Pancreas to catch the train back to Harlaxton (well with a stop for a pint and some chips along the way.) All in all a most enjoyable weekend in the greatest city in the world.

London Trip Part One

We arrived in London on Thursday the 27th about 12:30 p.m. after a 80-minute trainride. One of the great things about being here is that you can get about anywhere in a reasonable amount of time either here or on the continent quickly and conveniently--there are a few exceptions. Distance is a completely different concept here than in the US. Everything is relatively close. In the time it would take you to drive to DC or New York, you can go from London to Edinburgh by rail. In the time it takes you to drive to Cleveland, you can be in Spain, Italy, Germany, Poland, you name it, by cheap air fare. It's a great opportunity.

Anyway, we did touristy things the first day, returning to the traditional haunts of Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square. Here we are at the base of Nelson's Column.

Here is a relief of Nelson struck down by a dastardly French musketball at the moment of victory aboard his flagship HMS Victory.

And, of course, the statue of Eros in the center of Piccadilly with the giant electronic billboard behind.

 

 

Then it was on to the London Eye, one of the great abominations of all time, thank you very much Tony Blair--a ferris wheel in the south bank of the Thames, not far from Westminster Bridge. But, someone wanted to check it out, so we did. It is the most visited tourist attraction in Great Britain. 

 



I'll admit that the views were nice, but really, a ferris wheel in the middle of London? You can see the iconic Dome of St. Paul's through the buildings to one side, and the houses of Parliament to the the other, but really, a ferris wheel in the middle of London?

 

After that, a stroll along the Thames to Westminster Bridge and over to the Abbey for Evensong. I try to attend this whenever I'm in London in tribute to my mentor and friend Dr. David Judy whom so many of you knew. David was the man who insisted that I go to England during J-Term of my senior year which triggered my wanderlust that continues to this day. The last time I was here was with some students on our way to The Gambia, including Jack Wheeler, Paul Starcher, and Dex Myers, among others.

Then it was off to the theatre for a performance of Wicked, celebrating its sixth birthday on the stage in London that night. The Half-Price booth in Leicester Square has now morphed into a whole string of half-price (or so they say) outlets in and around that area, so you can still get excellent seats for a decent price, but it is nothing like the good old days--for example back in 1974 I was able to see Maggie Smith, Vanessa Redgrave, Alec Guinness and a host of other well known actors for about a pound a show, often less than that--but still a bargain compared to New York.

Enough for now. I'll post again soon about our Friday and Saturday, including trips to the Tate, the British Museum, and to another show.