Down South

I'd reached the point in my visit when I was really in need of a more tranquil day, without all the rushing around, and Wednesday's outing was the perfect antidote to the crowds and the noise of central London. The plan was to meet friends David, Janie and Ray at half past noon in south London for a bucolic ramble, and we couldn't have had more brilliant weather for our outing -- a perfect September day.


Since the best route for me to get to Forest Hill was via Whitechapel, I timed it so that I could stop in the Whitechapel Gallery for a bit before catching my overground train. The gallery displays primarily contemporary art, often a bit edgy and incomprehensible. The major exhibition at the moment is Giulio Paolini: To Be or Not to Be, which looked like it must have some deep meaning but I didn't get it. I did, however, like the piece in the space where they have an annual installation  (Continuum of Repair: The Light of Jacob's Ladder) and some small dinos that were inspired by the ones at Crystal Palace Park (more on that later). 

Getting down to Forest Hill/Sydenham was so easy that I really don't know why I've never gone before. Ray and I came in to Forest Hill by different trains and were met by David for the walk up the hill to the Horniman Museum where Janie was waiting for us. After a tasty meal at the cafe, we walked around the grounds and took in the amazing views back down on London. It was too nice a day to spend inside in the museum, and we had other destinations, so we pressed on by car from there.

Our next stop was West Norwood Cemetery so that I could tick off number six of the Magnificent Seven that I've now visited. (Only Nunhead yet to see.) Opened in 1837, this is the second of the Victorian cemeteries to be built outside central London. Each of the Magnificent Seven has its own character, and West Norwood seems less formal (no grand central avenue) than some of the others. It also seems better maintained, perhaps because it was open to new burials until fairly recently. Like all of the cemeteries, it has some great architectural monuments and tombs, twisty drives and paths, and a good canopy of shade trees (not like a lot of American cemeteries that are mainly flat grass with few trees). 

Then, on we went to Crystal Palace Park, a real gem of a place that also dates from the mid 19th century. The Crystal Palace itself once stood here, after being moved from its original site in Hyde Park where it was built for the Great Exhibition of 1851. It subsequently burned down in 1936. I'd seen photos of it, but I had absolutely no idea of the scale until seeing the remains of the foundation. Apparently, some Chinese investors have plans to reconstruct the palace, but I think I'd rather that they left it just as it is. One of the must-sees in the park is the dinosaur court, a little pond with life-size (maybe) dino statues. These were the first dino sculptures in the world, and are probably inaccurate to our current knowledge, but it's astonishing to think that they were made before Darwin's seminal writing on evolution. 

Big thanks to David and Janie for treating met to this grand day out, and to Ray for coming up from Wokking to do it with me. 

Expenses:
None to report (I was too knackered to go to Pilates class)

19,114 steps, 7.54 miles

A Day in the City

I don't think I've ever been in the City on such a nice day. Blue skies, lots of sunshine, warm but not too hot -- perfect for having sit-downs in churchyards and little parks, and I did plenty of that as I roamed around.

I started my day at Tower Hill to see Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red, the installation of ceramic poppies in the moat around the Tower of London to commemorate the 888,246 Brits who lost their lives during World War I. A team of volunteers are placing the poppies in the lawn gradually from this August (I think it started on the 100th anniversary of when the war broke out in 1914) until Armistice Day in November. I took a bunch of photos, but I'm afraid they will be mostly crap as the sun was shining so brightly into the moat but the walls of the Tower were in shadow. If I have a cloudy day and I find myself back in the City, I'll try to stop by again.

Next, I headed toward St Paul's Cathedral, stopping briefly at St Dunstan in the East. This Wren church was mostly destroyed during WWII, but the tower and parts of the stone side walls remain. A lovely little garden has been created on the site, with plantings, vines and trees growing among the ruins. Roger brought Molly and me here when we visited him ten years ago, but I hadn't been back since.

Heading westward, I walked along Eastcheap and Cannon Street, passing Pudding Lane without giving it any thought. It was here that the Great Fire of London started in 1666. I didn't realise until I got to the Museum of London later in the day that the fire started on September 2, making this the 348th anniversary. 

My plan was to reach St Paul's by 11:30, when I thought there would be a brief, free tour of the cathedral. Since I've never wanted to pay the twenty-some quid for the proper tour, that sounded like a good idea to me. I'd written down that people were to assemble at the west (main) entrance promptly at 11:30, and I got there at 11:26 to find nothing that looked like an assembly point, a waiting guide or a queue. So I went inside and asked one of the guards where to go for the free 11:30 tour. He pointed me towards a small group gathering inside next to a woman wearing a red sash, and told me to get a sticker from the ticket booth. The sticker said "Bill Viola" on it, and it dawned on me that I was queueing to see the video installation, Martyrs (Earth, Wind, Fire and Water) that I'd read about. Our little group walked down the right aisle to a wall where the installation was mounted and waited for it to finish its 7-minute loop so we could see it from the beginning. I'm not into the religious aspects of it, but I reckon all cultures and causes have their martyrs so the video does have broader impact. And it's quite powerful. I still don't know if there really was a free, brief tour, but I did get a chance to gawp at parts of the cathedral while I was inside. 

After picking up a egg salad sandwich from Tesco Express, I ate my lunch in another little park made in the ruins of a church -- Christchurch Greyfriars in King Edward Street. From there, I strolled through Postman's Park, a favourite destination since I first discovered it by accident in 1998, and around Smithfield Market. 

Next up was the 2:15 tour of the Charterhouse that I had pre-booked. I've been wanting to see this place for ages, but it had never been open for tours when I was in London before. Brother Duncan gave us a fabulous tour, explaining the founding of the Carthusian monastery, its dissolution during the reign of Henry VIII, the history of the almshouse and school, damage from bombs in WWII, and the continued work of the charity. A former school master, Duncan has been living at Charterhouse for the past two years, along with 40 other brothers. 

I was running out of steam at this point, but made a brief stop at the Museum of London to see the Olympic cauldron and to have a cookie and a sit-down before heading back to Westbourne Park. My plan was to have taken mat class at 7:30, but I checked the studio website just before I was about to head out the door -- thinking that the class might be full -- only to find that it had been cancelled. So, I did my own mini-mat class of stretching. 

Expenses:
50p to pee at the visitors' centre at Tower Hill
£1.60 egg salad sandwich from Tesco Express
£10 for Charterhouse tour
£2.50 cookie
£2.20 for soup from the Coop for my dinner
£5 to top up my Oyster card for my journey to Zone 3 today

21,592 steps, 8.51 miles

Six Exhibitions, a Pavilion and Italian Fountains

Monday was a day full of art -- so many exhibitions that I'm just going to give you the links rather than describe each one in any detail. All different, all very good, and all but one in the company of my good friend Judy. Suffice to say that much of what we saw was right up both our alleys -- photography, abstractions, objects used in social change movements or to convey political messages, things made by women to further women's causes, etc. We started at the Royal Academy of Arts, where Judy is a member and I got in free as her +1, and then moved on to the V&A for several free exhibitions. At the end of the day, I went on my own to the Science Museum -- by that time overrun with kiddies doing after-school activities that seemed to consist of running and yelling -- to a photography exhibition in the (blissfully quiet) Media Space. So, here's the rundown:

• Radical Geometry: Modern Art of South America. Neither of us knew anything about art from South America, but we could both see some connections to the Malevich exhibition at Tate Modern. 
• Dennis Hopper: The Lost Album. Black and white photos, taken in the 60s and 70s (after which he put down his camera and never took photos again). An interesting glimpse of one man's eye on a time of change in America; more compelling in total, I thought, than as individual images.
• Disobedient Objects. Placards the doubled as shields against the riot police, a graffiti-writing robot, arpilleras that contained political messages made by mothers of the disappeared in South America, and some brilliant ceramics on the V&A facade made by Carrie Reichardt.
• Posters of Protest and Revolution from around the globe, spanning about 100 years.
• Rapid Response Collecting. Objects collected now, which may or may not hold greater significance in the future. This display is right next to the 20th century gallery, where Judy and I saw a Gestetner printer and talked about our memories of printing leaflets and booklets for various political actions on just such a machine.
• Stranger than Fiction. Photos by Joan Fontcuberta that I can't begin to explain.

By the time I left the din of the Science Museum and exited to Exhibition Road, the rain that had been intermittently pissing down all day had stopped, so I decided to walk up to Hyde Park, stopping to see this year's Serpentine Pavilion, a pod-like shape that looks like it dropped out of the air onto the lawn. I had a sit-down there and a chat with a nice woman who sat at my table. Since time and weather were in my favour, I opted to walk north to Lancaster Gate station rather than to Knightsbridge or South Kensington. This took my past the Italian Gardens, which I'd never seen -- the fountains, pools and flower beds are really lovely and well worth the stop. 

From there, I pushed on to Belsize Park, where Roger and I toasted Greg and Esther's 40th anniversary before the four of us had a fun meal of pub grub at The George. 

Expenses:

£31.40 for 7-day zones 1-2 travel card

£4 for exhibition at the Science Museum (50% off after 3 pm on Mondays and Tuesdays for old people)

60p for postcard for Roger

£16 for pub meal

16,825 steps, 6.63 miles

Bletchley Park Rerun

I gave Roger a few options for our Sunday adventure (West Norwood Cemetery, Nunhead Cemetery, or Bletchley Park) and let him decide what we would do. Despite the well-known Curse of Milton Keynes, he chose Bletchley Park. My ticket from last year was still good, many new exhibitions had opened since I was there last October, the weather was gorgeous, and there were no transport mishaps this year -- so all-in-all a grand day out. 

Sundays with Roger always start at the farmers' market in the schoolyard at Salusbury Primary School in Queen's Park. I've probably said this before, but I'll say it again: this is the nicest farmers' market I've ever been to. Roger got all sorts of veg for our meals this week, and I bought a loaf of raisin and walnut bread for my breakfasts during the week and a small quiche and over-priced apple for my lunch on the train to Bletchley. 

The take-away from this return visit to Bletchley Park was a much better sense of what it was like to work there during the war. I learned that 9000 people per day worked there, in shifts of 3000.  The place was in operation 24/7. 75% of the workers were women, and the average age -- this really floored me -- was 20. Imagine what it would have been like to be 18 or 19 years old, studying at university or working, and to receive a letter telling you to report to Bletchley and containing your train ticket. No one knew what work they would be doing until they got there. The first thing they did on arrival was to sign the Official Secrets Act. They weren't even allowed to talk to other people working there about what exactly they were doing, let alone tell their friends and relatives at home. I remember reading somewhere that the Queen (or maybe it was Camilla) came to Bletchley Park recently for the opening of a building and a reunion of people who worked there during the war. The Queen (or Camilla) sat down to chat with an old dear and asked her what part she played in the code-breaking. The old dear replied, "I signed the Official Secrets Act. I've never told anyone what I did here and I certainly am not going to tell YOU." 

I think I now understand how the Enigma machine worked, but I still can't comprehend the turning dials of the Bombe. I couldn't get any of the interactive displays to work (but kids seemed to be having no problem), so I don't think I would have been much help to the war effort at BP. 

Expenses:

£3.20 walnut & raisin bread

£2.90 apple and mini quiche for lunch

£14.50 return train ticket to Bletchley

Free admission to Bletchley Park

£3.30 tea and flapjack snack at Bletchley Park

15,070 steps, 5.94 miles

The Bad, the Good and the Posh

Jet lag? Not me! After taking mat class at NY Pilates Studio, I was all stretched out and ready to go. We were headed to Charing Cross to get a Southeastern train to Bexleyheath. Normally, we'd take the Bakerloo line from Queen's Park, but Roger wanted to drop off a print at the framer in the Harrow Road, so we got on a Hammersmith and City train at Westbourne Park. I would probably have changed for the Bakerloo at Paddington, but Roger knew there would be a shorter walk between platforms if we went to Baker Street. At Edgeware Road, the stop in between, it began to be apparent that something was wrong as we sat on the tracks for an unusual amount of time. We could catch bits of the announcement over the tannoy on the platform -- "signal failure," "alternate routes," and "number 205 bus." Finally, there was an announcement on the train -- the signal failure was at Moorgate and our driver was waiting to hear whether he could go ahead to Baker Street or King's Cross, and we should wait for him to let us know. So we waited. Then, he told us that the train we were on was terminating and we should cross to platform 2 and take the train back to Paddington to change for the Bakerloo. We followed his instructions and got into an empty carriage and waited there for something to happen. But the train didn't seem to be going anywhere, so we headed up the stairs to the exit, turning back to see that train pulling out. As we continued to the exit, we heard an announcement that the train on platform 1 (our original train) would be departing for Baker Street. Yup, we saw the carriage doors close and the train leave the station. Out to the street we went, onto the 205 bus, over to Baker Street, into the station and onto a train to Charing Cross, and from there on had an uneventful journey to Bexleyheath. 

Red House was the home of William Morris. It was in the middle of an orchard when it was built in 1860, but now it's in the middle of suburbia. We reached the house by way of a 15-minute walk through residential streets and found ourselves in what seemed to be a scene right out of an episode of Father Brown. The Friends of Red House (average age about 70) were having their annual garden party, complete with cake and sandwiches, tea, Pimm's, and a brass band. The house is a lovely, asymmetrical Arts and Crafts masterpiece. The National Trust has held the property for about ten years, having completed a significant amount of restoration work since then (with much more to come). After wandering around the house, the flower beds and the veg plot, we joined the OAPs in the back garden. I had my first glass of Pimm's! I can't say it would be my cocktail of choice, but it wasn't bad. 

On the way back, we made a stop at the Whole Foods in Kensington Church Street. I'd heard about this multi-storey temple of veg and capitalism, but I'd never been there. It's more over-the-top than I imagined, and full of more yuppies and their demanding children than you'd ever want to encounter. They sell essentially the same products as Whole Foods at home, but there's something about the elegant presentation in this former department store that makes you think that you MUST CONSUME. There's even a little bar, where you can have a glass of wine or a pint of beer -- probably a bad idea to get tipsy and then try to find your way out of the store without buying all manner of exotic, expensive edibles. 

My expenses for the day were modest:
£15 for mat class
Red House was free on my Art Pass
£3 for a litre of coconut water at Whole Foods

11,162 steps on the pedometer (but probably another 2,000 or so for the walk up to the Pilates studio and back), 4.4 miles (which I'm going to round up to 5.4 miles)