Oh no it isn't!

Ahh, the great British Pantomime. 

Fun for the whole family: girls in hot-pants pretending to be boys, grown men in dresses pretending to be old dames, an angry, shouting mob for an audience and a lot of arcane rules that you just have to be born here to know about.  For example when does one shout "He's behind you!", does the audience start with "Oh yes it is!" or "Oh no it isn't!"? Do we boo the baddies and cheer the goodies, or just one or the other?

The extravaganza I saw yesterday was The Village Players production of The Three Musketeers in a tiny village hall the other side of the Severn at Elmore. My cousin Norman was playing the villainous Le Chevalier Lobster Roquefort. See how the gags work, this one was pretty simple, basically lots of anti-French gags and jokes about eating snails. Which is a perfect evening out if you ask me.

It was the first Panto I've been to for donkey's years and it was a laugh. However it was difficult for me to watch and turn off my critical faculties. As some of you know even though I am involved in the theatre I don't actually like going to see plays. I can't stop noticing the dodgy sets and dodgy acting. Not that there was any of that in Elmore. Well not much anyway. What amazed me most was the number of young blokes involved. Whenever we did a play that needed fellas in Kalgoorlie you'd be lucky to get two turn up. Must be something in the water. Or more accurately it looks like there is nothing else to do in this part of the world. I mean Elmore doesn't even have a pub!

So I had a good time, but not as much as the little kids in the audience who were very vocal in their booing and shouting. Actually they were pretty chatty all the time. That is the the major thing about panto, the target audience is aged 6 to 10, but 6 to 10 year olds get very bored after 2 hours of French monarchistic comedy.

Funny that.

Healthy Breakfast

I've just seen an advert for a new breakfast cereal with honey, nuts and chewy caramel!

When did it become normal to have toffee for breakfast? I thought nutella was bad enough, apparently it's a hazelnut spread full of "milk and goodness". Not to mention 31% fat and a 55% sugar. Oh actually that's not mentioned.

What's next? Cadbury's Fruit and Nut as a healthy start to the day?

Je suis juste revenu de Paris...

..et je l'ai vraiment apprécié. OK I think that's plus de Français pour the moment. So as you may guess I have just got back from a trip to Paris with the folks. It was great, I'd not been for a long time but it doesn't seem to change much, the eternal city and all that (or that might be Rome, whatever, it'll do).

For the first time though I went on the Eurostar through the Channel Tunnel. Sadly it now leaves from St Pancras so the French don't have to see 'Waterloo' every time they look at the departures board in the Gare Du Nord. Luckily the new station is absolutely spectacular. In true modern British style it's basically yet another shopping centre that just happens to have trains in it but it looks lovely. The trains are great: fast and smooth but the security at St Pancras is ludicrous. They have airline style security with x-ray machines, metal detectors and rent-a-goons intimidating everyone and confiscating pen knives. Has nobody pointed out that trains are not like 'planes; if someone runs amok on the Eurostar you just stop and everyone gets off, you can't do that in a 747: if a crazed terrorist hijacks a train he's going to have quite a challenge in ramming it into a 110 storey office block. It's a bit bizarre. If this security was really needed on trains surely you'd do it at every station in the country and on every entrance to every Tube station in London? Oh no, because that would be far too difficult and might have actually stopped the 7/7 bombers. Hey-ho, you should all be used to my rants about security theatre by now. This one is made more personal as I had my bags emptied and searched by some goon at St Pancras. My letters of complaint are already on their way to the authorities.

So anyway after 3 hours on the train (eating sandwiches from Marks and Spencer, how English can you get?) we got to Paris and that's where I realised that even though I can speak French a bit I can't really understand it at all. The first conversation went something like this:

Me - "Bonjour Madame, nous avons une réservation pour deux salles pendant trois nuits"

Receptionist - "D'accordvousavezunnombrederéservationoulenoms'ilvousplaît?"

Me - "Errr, plus lentement s'il vous plaît madame"

Receptionist - "Name please"

This happens a lot, I speak French, they answer in French then I look blank  for a while 'till they answer in English. This also messes with your brain as you desperately try to change gear and think in English again. To be fair to myself I did get better as the week went on but I'll never be good at it as I don't have the lips. French seems to be very pouty lip intensive when spoken. We managed to order dinner in a bistro where the waiter spoke no English and didn't end up with some strange french concoction like raw horse meat stuffed in ducks gizzards. However I did learn that there seems to be no French for chicken breast. It's either 'poulet' or nothing. See they'll eat anything the French. It sounds like I hate them but actually I really like France and the people are generally really helpful and friendly, especially if you at least try to speak the lingo.

We went for a wander round after we arrived and discovered that I had managed to book a hotel in the rather less salubrious end of the 18th Arrondissement, the Pigalle on one side with it's sex shops and 'revues' and the Goute D'or on the other with it's multi ethnic, working class vibe (I'm trying to be polite, just use your imagination). It did at least mean we had lots of life going on around us and surprisingly few tourists except those going to visit the Sacré Coeur. It was the Ibis and I can reccommend it, it's cheap, near to Anvers and Pigalle Metro stations and the top floor rooms have fantastic views over Paris. As long as you don't mind the lift which is the size of a broom cupboard. I kid you not, it says the capacity is four people but they would have to be either very friendly or have laid off the pies for a few months before the trip. 

It may be because there seem to be very few fat people in Paris that they can get away with such tiny lifts. Everyone is really slim and generally stylish. It must be all the fags they smoke. That and the fact that there seemed to be absolutely no lifts or escalators anywhere in the Metro. I have never been up and down so many steps in my entire life. At this point I'd like to defend the Tube in London. I am always being told how great the Metro is compared to poor old London and, yes it's cheaper and more frequent, but the stations are bloody awful, dirty, confusing and dirty. And did I mention dirty? Even when I knew I wasn't getting off in murderville it sometime felt like it, as so many of the stations look abandoned and graffiti covered. Actually the street artists in Paris must be pretty brave as there was even graffiti in the tunnels of the Metro. If you tried that in London you'd be smeared along the tunnel wall in a very colourful way. Even Banksy would find it hard to sell stuff after that. The other thing is that the doors on the trains stay open for about 10 seconds at each station, as my dad discovered on the first train we got on when he was viciously pinned in the doors as the train started moving. We should have been warned as the signs on the door say "Keep hands away from the doors as they may be pinched very hard". They're not kidding.

Once he'd been extricated from the door mechanism we did the tourist stuff, Musée d'Orsay, Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Sacre Cour, Notre Dame, Champs Élysées, Arc De Triomphe. You know the drill. All very good, all full of art and views and stuff. I did discover that the French have a different idea about security (here we go again). Every place we went involved a bag search and a metal detector. However they would be pretty easy to fool. For example at the Musée d'Orsay the guy looking in the bag just looked in the bag, just the top where you open the zip. That was it. If you wanted to smuggle in a bomb or smuggle out the Mona Lisa you just needed to hide it under a few tissues. Not exactly foolproof. And the metal detector at the Eiffel Tower was even better. Even after I'd emptied all my pockets it was still beeping. The woman in charge just looked at me, gave a fantastic gallic shrug and waved me through. Brilliant.

Actually the museums and galleries are all a bit overwhelming, to find you self standing in a room with 15 van Goghs on the wall and realising that they are all worth at least $10,000,000 each is quite an experience. Same with the Louvre. "Oh yes over there it's the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa is round the corner. Now where's the café?". Actually it doesn't matter where the café, is you can guarantee it'll be extortionately expensive. We paid 40€ (or €40, I have no idea which way round it's meant to go, and neither do the French by the looks of the price tickets) for lunch. That was two crôque monsieurs (the only thing you learn to order in french lessons at high school), a bowl of onion soup and three coffees. That is about £33 or AU$80! 

So a few tips for travelling to Paris:

Bring lots of money.

Zebra crossings are just suggestions, DO NOT expect vehicle to let you cross at them.

Bring more money.

Teenagers smoke pipes. It's normal here so don't stare.

They really do sell beer in McDonalds; as part of the meal deal too. Enjoy it as it's all you'll be able to afford to eat after a few days.

Do not expect any of the lifts or automatic doors to work at the Gare Du Nord. The unions won't allow it.

Check very carefully before wandering into the shop with the lovely christmas display window of Santa and his reindeer. It's probably a sex shop.

The only shows on the TV with sub-titles are from French Canada. No, I don't get it either.

Great Clip

This is just a great mash up, Quantum of Solace and The Incredibles. I love it.

Quantum of Something

I went and saw the new Bond movie yesterday; Quantum of Solace and it was absolutely fantastic. 

I have to admit that I had no idea what was going on half the time but it didn't really matter as it was so cool, everything you want in a Bond movie was there; fights, big things exploding, evil foreign villains, baddie CIA agents, fast cars, small things exploding, hot chicks, blatant product placement, and some gadgets. And lots of fighting. The only thing missing are the Roger Moore era double entendres. Who can forget "I had a bit of trouble in the beginning, but got off in the end" for example. Actually missing the double entendres is no bad thing, they were a bit crap even in the 70s. Also I know a lot of people say that the lack of exploding underwear and laser beam equipped watches from Q is a problem but I much prefer the more realistic, and almost possible, gadgetry in this film. I mean after the invisible Aston in Die Another Day we needed a rest. 

There was also a lot more of M in this movie and who can resist a bit more of Judi Dench screen time. In fact I think that's the major difference between the new Bonds and the pre-Daniel Craig version - the new cast can all actually act. It makes a huge difference. I also love the fact that when Bond get's in a fight now he gets hurt, bleeds and doesn't just jump up, dust off the safari suit and make a quick getaway in a union jack decorated parachute. In fact, in spite of the risk of a lynching, I have to say that Daniel Craig is far and away the best bond. Ever. Sorry Sean but the crown has been passed.

I'll try not to spoil it if you haven't seen it yet (actually quite hard as I really had no idea what was going on) but it seems that this movie was introducing a new villainous super organisation for Bond to fight in the future (Quantum) and a replacement for Blofeld (Mr White). See if you agree when you see it. Lets face it SMERSH and SPECTRE must be retired by now, or at least running some Russian petrochemical conglomerate or gas company. All above board of course.

Bored

Well it's raining, cold and I have nothing to do.

I think that's the most boring post in the entire blogosphere.

Only Australians

I sadly get all of these, except 41 (I do know all the answers).

1. You know the meaning of the word "girt".

2. You believe that stubbies can be either drunk or worn.

3. You think it's normal to have a leader called Kevin.

4. You waddle when you walk due to the 53 expired petrol discount vouchers stuffed in your wallet or purse.

5. You've made a bong out of your garden hose rather than use it for something illegal such as watering the garden.

6. You believe it is appropriate to put a rubber in your son's pencil case when he first attends school.

7. When you hear that an American "roots for his team" you wonder how often and with whom.

8. You understand that the phrase "a group of women wearing black thongs" refers to footwear and may be less alluring than it sounds.

9. You pronounce Melbourne as "Mel-bin".

10. You pronounce Penrith as "Pen-riff".

11. You believe the "l" in the word "Australia" is optional.

12. You can translate: "Dazza and Shazza played Acca Dacca on the way to Maccas."

13. You believe it makes perfect sense for a nation to decorate its highways with large fibreglass bananas, prawns and sheep.

14. You call your best friend "a total bastard" but someone you really, truly despise is just "a bit of a bastard".

15. You think "Woolloomooloo" is a perfectly reasonable name for a place.

16. You're secretly proud of our killer wildlife.

17. You believe it makes sense for a country to have a $1 coin that's twice as big as its $2 coin.

18. You understand that "Wagga Wagga" can be abbreviated to "Wagga" but "Woy Woy" can't be called "Woy".

19. You believe that cooked-down axlegrease makes a good breakfast spread.

20. You believe all famous Kiwis are actually Australian, until they stuff up, at which point they again become Kiwis.

21. Hamburger. Beetroot. Of course.

22. You know that certain words must, by law, be shouted out during any rendition of the Angels' song Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again.

23. You believe, as an article of faith, that the confectionary known as the Wagon Wheel has become smaller with every passing year.

24. You still don't get why the "Labor" in "Australian Labor Party" is not spelt with a "u".

25. You wear ugh boots outside the house.

26. You believe, as an article of faith, that every important discovery in the world was made by an Australian but then sold off to the Yanks for a pittance.

27. You believe that the more you shorten someone's name the more you like them.

28. Whatever your linguistic skills, you find yourself able to order takeaway fluently in every Asian language.

29. You understand that "excuse me" can sound rude, while "scuse me" is always polite.

30. You know what it's like to swallow a fly, on occasion via your nose.

31. You understand that "you" has a plural and that it's "youse".

32. You know it's not summer until the steering wheel is too hot to handle.

33. Your biggest family argument over the summer concerned the rules for beach cricket.

34. You shake your head in horror when companies try to market what they call "Anzac cookies".

35. You still think of Kylie as "that girl off Neighbours".

36. When returning home from overseas, you expect to be brutally strip-searched by Customs - just in case you're trying to sneak in fruit.

37. You believe the phrase "smart casual" refers to a pair of black tracky-daks, suitably laundered.

38. You understand that all train timetables are works of fiction.

39. When working on a bar, you understand male customers will feel the need to offer an excuse whenever they order low-alcohol beer.

40. You get choked up with emotion by the first verse of the national anthem and then have trouble remembering the second.

41. You find yourself ignorant of nearly all the facts deemed essential in the government's new test for migrants.

42. You know, whatever the tourist books say, that no one says "cobber".

43. And you will immediately forward this list to other Australians, here and overseas, realising that only they will understand.

Via misscellania

HM the Q, Whitehall and metal detectors

Well I've had an interesting few days, spent Saturday night out with Liz, Phil and the kids. That's Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, Prince Philip Duke of Edinburgh, The Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Cornwall, the Earl and Lady Wessex, The Princess Royal and the Duke of York to you lot of course.  

Admittedly when I say "I was out with them", there were also 5,000 other people in the Albert Hall with me. Not that exclusive then really. I should explain that this weekend was Remembrance Sunday, which is like ANZAC day but without the slightly poorly hidden anti-British sentiments and politicians making political mileage from other peoples sacrifice. As dad is a loyal member of the British Legion he managed to get tickets to the Festival Of Remembrance at the Albert Hall and I have to say it was fantastic. It's basically a memorial service to all the fallen but it's also a celebration of the survivors and a way to raise money for the poor buggers who are still suffering. There was also rather too much of Russell Watson, Il Divo and Haley Westrena singing but the marching, gun firing and thunder flashes made up for that. And obviously the Queen was there with almost the entire ascendency to the throne (the heir and spare were probably off getting pissed at Fabric or something). It's the first time I've ever seen her in the flesh and it was oddly exciting. I'll rephrase that. It's the first time I've ever seen her in real life and it was pretty cool. I'm obviously never going to be a republican as I can't imagine seeing President Blair or Howard would be quite so special. Don't ask me why, she's just a fairly short, slightly dumpy old lady but there is something special about having a Monarch compared to yet another politician. Even if he is black.

It was pretty obvious that no one knows all the words to the National Anthem. The first verse was ok, but the the amount of page riffling to get to the words of the second verse printed in the programme was hillarious. I wonder how sick to death of God Save The Queen the Queen is? I bet she'd vote to change it to Land of Hope and Glory after hearing it sung, usually badly, at every occasion she's been to for the past 56 years.

 There was also the entire upper echelon of British politics present, Gordon Brown trying not to look guilty (especially when the film of the Mum who's 20 year old was killed was shown) and David Cameron trying not to look smug (quite a challenge). This probably explains all the security to get in, I've never been through a metal detector in the street before, it's a bit of a weird experience to be honest. 

The best bit was when the Gurkhas marched in and a huge cheer went up. If we'd been a bit closer I would have loved to see the look on the pollies faces. Down right shame I would hope as they are trying to deport retired and ex-Gurkha soldiers from the country after they have served in the British Army. Go sign the petition now as their treatment has been nothing less than shameful. There was a lot of blatant emotional blackmail throughout the evening but it was good to see that the public do still support the armed forces, to the tune of £30 million to the British Legion last year. It is a bit odd for me to be saying this, as I still maintain that anyone who joins the military now is really just asking for trouble, but I think it is important that returning service men and women are supported and as the government seems to be incapable of doing it the public will have to. It's just a pity they are fighting in two places at the moment that they shouldn't be. I still don't support the war in Iraq or Afghanistan and I think it's about time our troops came home. There were some surreal moments during the course of the evening when poems and pieces were read about all those who laid down their lives for freedom while looking around inside and outside the Albert Hall you couldn't move for CCTV cameras and armed policemen. Whose freedom exactly did the poor buggers fight for? I suppose the local councils freedom to film you doing your shopping.

If you saw it on the TV you missed the best bit (and missed me as I was sitting up in the gods) at the beginning when the Massed Bands of the Guards Division treated us to a medley of James Bond themes. What made it even better was the Marines sergeant, in full mess kit, singing Goldfinger! He was brilliant and a definite shoe-in for the next Britain's Got "Talent".

The next morning we went into Whitehall to see the Cenotaph service and the march by of all the old soldiers. Again more metal detectors in the street, but with very polite policemen and women on duty (see I can cope if they are real security personnel, it's just Chubb going through my hand luggage I have trouble with) just to stand in the street. It must be a security nightmare having thousands of tourists and hundreds of old soldiers all crowded round the Head of State and all her ministers standing in the open air, in the street, for 2 hours. No wonder there were so many people on roof tops and plod with machine guns on the streets. I have always wondered if they'd actually open fire with those Heckler and Kochs in the street, or at Heathrow, if there was a perceived threat. I would imagine you'd end up with no dead terrorists and hundreds of dead standers by. I think they just carry them to look hard. Especially on Sunday as I'm pretty sure there were a few SAS hidden in the bushes to deal with any actual eventualities. The service was interesting, not that we could see much, had to watch what was going on on a big screen. If you are ever in London on the Sunday nearest 11th November and want to see the Cenotaph service my advice would be to get there at about 9 am and stand on the Ministry of Defence side of Whitehall west of Downing Street. All we could really see from where we were near Horseguards Parade was all the old soldiers either fainting or swigging out of hip flasks. Not that that wasn't entertaining mind you. The most amazing thing was how absolutely silent it went when Big Ben struck 11am. I've never heard birds twittering in central London before. Quite moving really. And again much loud cheering and clapping for the Gurkhas. 

One of the oddest things about the whole weekend was seeing all the military personnel walking around in their uniforms. This is something I never get used to as when I was a kid you never saw military uniforms on the street. Not because the British have any sort of weird standards about dress but because the Irish used to take pot shots at anyone in camouflage or boots and spurs. How times of changed. Now we just have people with exploding backpacks on the Underground.

I would also like to apologise for any freak weather we may be experiencing. It's because both of the above events involved a certain amount of religious fannying about and the fact that I have been to two religious ceremonies in two days may have made hell freeze over.

Whizz Bang

It's Guy Fawkes Night tonight and the village sounds like a war zone with fireworks going off all over the place. I love it, one of the things I miss in Australia is the ability to buy explosives at least once a year and set them off in the confines of your garden.

Except this year I left it too late and Sainsbury's sold out so I've just got to watch all the neighbours.

I suppose I could still go out and burn a pope. Actually it's only Lewes in Sussex that still burns the pope, the rest of us have to burn the Guy.  That's progress I suppose.

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,

The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,

I can think of no reason

Why the Gunpowder Treason

Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent

To blow up the King and Parli'ment.

Three-score barrels of powder below

To prove old England's overthrow;

By God's providence he was catch'd

With a dark lantern and burning match.

Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring.

Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King

Cold Comfort

Well I'm back from the 'smoke'. It was not a smooth journey however. I left the apartment at 11 and headed to Paddington to catch my train. Now I had bought an advance ticket but thought I'd change it and just get an earlier train. How much d'you reckon they wanted to change the time of my train from 15.48 to 12.30? 

£48! That's $117!

That would have made my single ticket from London to Gloucester cost £60.50. For a two hour train journey. I think that's a bit steep but when I said as much to the woman in the ticket office I got the stoney silent look. Obviously you pay the price or get stuffed. It would have been cheaper to get my dad to drive from Gloucester and pick me up, even paying the fuel and congestion charge. So I thought I'd just put my bags in the left luggage and go back into town. Now obviously there are no left luggage lockers anymore, terrorism you know, so you have to pay to put your stuff with the company who has the contract for left luggage. This costs a bargain £7.50. Per item. Per any part of 24 hours. So £15 for two bags. Now call me a tight ass but I am not paying that much for some one to look after my bags for two hours. So I spent a lovely couple of hours in the freezing cold at Paddington station marvelling at the amount of junk food available at the average UK train station.

So a few final observations on London made while wandering around on Sunday:

There forty-seven churches in the City but are only four are open on a Sunday, the rest are only open in the week (plenty of bankers need a place to pray at the moment). I found this out in St Vedast-alias-Foster, which must be up there with weird ecclesiastical names. Why does a church need an alias? Been testifying against the sports centre down the road maybe? Actually I think St Andrew-by-the-Wardrobe wins in the funny name game. Anyway St Vedast was just beautiful inside, especially with the organ playing and the soloist practising for the sung Eucharist. It's enough to make an atheist cry. In fact I do love a church, even though I am an un-believer. I think you'll find most atheists love religious buildings whereas your average born-again, happy clapper would be perfectly happy praising in a high school gymnasium. Anyway the point of this is another example of that long history you come across in Europe. St. Vedast was founded in the 12th century, destroyed by the Great Fire of London in 1666, rebuilt by Wren in 1697, damaged by enemy action in 1940 and finally restored in 1967. I was told this by a lovely lady setting the church up for the morning service. Who I eventually realised was Josephine Tewson, who played, amongst much, much else, Mrs. Bucket's neighbour in Keeping Up Appearences. Eventually a real celebrity.

There seems to be an obsession with sausage and mash at all the restaurants and pubs. You can get it anywhere. There is even a chain called S&M that sells only sausage and mash, they have the franchise to supply food on the Thames fast ferries.

The Barbican is a love it or hate it kind of place. I have to say I love it but most people hate it. It was built in the 60's on a massive bombed out section of the City as a kind of upmarket council estate. All the flats were rented by the City to lawyers, bankers and doctors as well as people from all walks of life. It's a vision of what the future was supposed to be like; all raised walkways, rough concrete and glazed tiles. All the pedestrian areas are separate from the traffic and it is a total maze of passages, stairwells and lifts. Unlike all the other concrete high rise developments in the UK of that period though this one worked. It never turned into a sink estate (probably because it's always been full of middle class people and therefore much closer to Le Corbusier's original theories) and now the apartments in the high rise blocks command prices in the millions. I don't think there's many left that still belong to the Council.

Is there anywhere else in the world that has a working meat market right in the middle of it's Capital city? Sitting on some of the most expensive real estate in the world. It's like having a butchers in the middle of Wall Street, or a vegetable market on the Sydney quays.

Finally I realise that the English are truly a forgiving lot. There is a memorial to William Wallace at St Bart's hospital. Now I know some people see him as a hero (after all one person's freedom fighter is another's terrorist)but the fact remains that he was an enemy of the country for quite a while and was executed as a traitor. But the English still let a memorial go up to him. Can you imagine a memorial to Ho Chi Minh in Sydney or a statue of George III in Boston? I really can't imagine any other country doing this sort of thing.

Does that make the English noble or just daft?

Seeing Sights

You see some strange things on the Tube. Actually that should be strange people on the Tube. For example yesterday I saw a family in full riding gear; jodhpurs, whips and silly hats, the whole kit and kaboodle. No horses though. I'm not sure you really need to dress up like that to ride the escalators on the District line. Unless it's a new event for the 2012 Olympics - Public Transport Eventing. Dressage on the busses, show jumping over the station barriers in the Tube. It's a thought, Team GB might even manage to win a medal. I also got asked yesterday if it was worth visiting the Imperial War Museum. It certainly is; but I was asked by a German family! What do you say to that? "Yes it's great, there's a V2 rocket in the foyer, you know; the ones you lot fired at London". It's full of booty brought back from the wars we've fought. It must be the only UK museum that doesn't have a queue of foreigners outside asking for their stuff back. I also got cornered by a bloke called Miles selling scientific dvds. I told him to bugger off but he was very persistent and just moved onto the next person. It may surprise you that the 'science' on the DVDs was "Intelligent Design". Or maybe not, let's face it people who approach you on the street are not usually selling copies of A Brief history Of Time. Apparently there is a 'large number of scientists who now support the fact that evolution is just too unlikely to have happened all on it's own without some guiding hand'. He didn't mention who made the even more unlikely guiding hand in the first place however, and I was not about to engage a nutter in discussion between Tottenham Court Road and Bond Street.

After this I have taken to riding the busses. Mainly because you can get off in the face of nutterdom a bit more easily but also because you can see more. For example yesterday I went past the Direct Marketing Association offices. The urge to get off the Bus and stick loads of unsolicited junk mail through their letter box was almost irristable. I also went past Bookmarks, London's last socialist bookshop. Apparently there are still some socialists left. By the looks of it they are currently in their element, as the window is full of books about the Credit Crunch (the failure of Capitalism, the rise of new socialism &c.). In one of those strange coincidences that happen a lot in London I was on my way to the British Library, where I saw Lenin's application for a readers ticket. From new school socialism to very old school socialism in one bus trip.

The Library was absolutely fantastic. Hideous to look at of course, I've never seen so many bricks in one place in my entire life. It's like a huge high school gymnasium. It took years to build, went massively over budget and was dated even before it opened. But inside it is full of fantastic things. If anyone says that a room full of documents must be boring they've never been here. I saw:

Shakespeare's signature on a mortgage for the Rose theatre, 

Two Magna Cartas, 

Captain Scott's Diary, 

DaVinci's notebooks, 

The Lindisfarne Bible, 

The Codex Sinaiticus, 

A bit of dead sea scroll, 

Charles I's death warrant, 

The declaration of the English Commonwealth (and Cromwell's oath as Lord Protector)

And the original, hand written version of Alice in Wonderland that Dodgeson wrote for Alice (apparently he was "very fond of children". Hmm. I think that's a polite euphemism).

It was all a bit overwhelming.  I was in there for ages. If you are ever in London it is worth a visit. Much better than the tourist trap of Madam Tussaud's at the toher end of the Euston Road. And the bookshop has a section called "Books". 

I also went to the National Maritime Museum. This has been shut for years for renovation and the last time I went I was a little kid. The only thing I could remember was seeing the uniform Nelson was wearing when he was killed at Trafalgar. The reason this is all I could remember is that it's the only interesting thing in there. The whole place suffers from that strange problem of the English in that everything we did in the past was evil colonialism and nothing good ever comes of that. In a museum that deals with Britian's maritime history this poses a problem as that's all the Navy was for in the 17th to 20th Centuries. Weird. This even comes through in a newish display which has the stained glass naval memorial from the Baltic Exchange in the City reassembled, so you can see it as it was originally. All very interesting. But nowhere was there any mention of why this glass  was in a museum. 

It's because the IRA blew the Baltic Exchange to smithereens in 1992 and there is nowhere else for it to go. Obviously you can't put this on a museum information label as it might upset any Irish ex-terrorists. Is it just me or is that a bit pathetic?

Bit o' culture

I was in the V&A yesterday. It's full of so much stuff. But you get that in museums. It made me realise that the victorians were obsessed with death. The place is full of funeral statues and tombs and mourning clothes. I don't know why. They must have been miserable buggers. I did find out that the Courtaulds, who were one of the richest industrial families in the country, made all their money from making mourning crepe and flogging it to all the widows from a massive shop on Regent St. Now they flog Macs and Gap on Regent Street. The museum was also full of very bored looking kids who obviously really wanted to see the dinosaurs in the Natural History Museum but their parents refused to stand in the queue. They would get to see lots of boobies though; the place is full of art you see. Every schoolboys dream, or maybe not in the age of online porn. The victorians also managed to combine some pretty broad interests, for example Henry Wellcome, founder of Wellcome Pharmaceuticals, who was a pharmacist, explorer, art collector and pioneer of aerial photography. Now that's a CV by any definition.

I did increase my celebrity quota yesterday too. Well if you can call Stelios Haji-Ioannu a celeb, he's the bloke that founded EasyJet and has the unhealthy obsession with all things orange. I was very gratified to see he still uses the tube though, even if it is the posh one at South Kensington. I also saw Stephen Jones wearing a really bad hat. That only makes sense if you know that he's a milliner I suppose. Again I am wearing the definition of celebrity pretty thin here.

I've just got in from the theatre, The 39 Steps, which was brilliant if you get a chance to see it (it's on in London and New York so you have a choice), and obviously it's Halloween and, boy, are the locals getting into the spirit. I've never seen so many adults with face paint outside a football stadium. It seems especially popular with the boys and girls (who like boys and girls, respectively) on Old Compton Street, most of them are out in nothing but tiny shorts and a coat of red paint. I would like to point out that it's October and about 4º so if anyone says those gay boys are soft I would beg to differ. Unless they just put partying above pain? Mind you it might be like this on Old Compton every Friday night for all I know.

As for me I'm off to bed to avoid the ghouls, ghosts and drunk Australians on the Tube.