Tate Modern

Tags

Bankside Power Station, Blackfriars, Blavatnik, Dora Maurer, Fons Americans, Gilbert Scott, Giles Gilbert Scott, Haegue Yang, Kara Walker, Man Ray, Millenium Bridge, Old Bailey, Richard Deacon, River Thames, Sosumu Koshimuzu, St Paul's Cathedral, Tate Modern, Victoria Memorial

The next day, my train back to the West Country wasn’t until early afternoon, so Mary and I went to Tate Modern, which she knew well, but I had never visited since its opening in 2000. We went by overground (which was mainly under ground for this section) to Blackfriars Station, and it was pleasing to see that the staff at the station where we got on was taking some pride in its upkeep.

It was just a couple of minutes’ walk from Blackfriars to the gallery, and I took this photo on the way. The station platform, with its solar panel roofing, extends the full length of the bridge, and there is a splendid view of St Paul’s Cathedral over the Thames.

Developed from the former Bankside Power Station, Tate Modern is immense! It is worth visiting for the architecture alone. The power station was designed by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott, grandson of the famous Sir (George) Gilbert Scott, and son of George Gilbert Scott Jr., also an architect.

This is just the end of the very long building, which has four storeys.

A controversial extension, the 10-storey Blavatnik building, was added and opened in 2016. The nearly residents were not pleased at the invasion of their privacy.

After just a glimpse of the Turbine Hall, (guess what it used to contain)

we took a coffee in the ground floor café, looking out over the river to St Paul’s. Right over to the left can be seen a small dome (the flying saucers are reflections of the cafe’s lighting) …

… which taken with my camera at maximum, 24 x, zoom and slightly shaky hand, does indeed prove to be that of the Old Bailey.

We had intended to visit a specific paid exhibitions, but, relaxed over our coffee, decided just to explore the building and generally wander. And there was plenty to see. For a start, the temporary exhibit, its surface made of non-toxic acrylic and cement, at the far end of the Turbine Hall, Fons Americanus, inspired by the Victoria Memorial, and ‘a narrative on the origins of the African diaspora’. Here from a first floor balcony …

… and up close to some details from the ground floor.

We took escalators up to the fourth floor, and the bridge across to the Blavatnik building, giving us another perspective on the Turbine Hall and its sculpture.

Having crossed to the new wing, I took a lift to its tenth floor, and went round the four sides of its open balcony, in a clockwise direction. It was a bright sunny day, but it was also very cold and rather blowy up there, so I did not stay long.

This shows just how close the new extension is to the triangular sun-rooms in the flats opposite.

I definitely do not find the bulgy building at all attractive.

The solar panels on the Blackfriars Station platform roof are evident.

Returning to the bar at that level, I was hoping that this message might be accurate, specially having learned some some very depressing political news the afternoon before.

Back on the fourth floor, we decide that we would investigate some of the many galleries. This was in the corridor as we went back to the fourth floor bridge.

The three following are in a temporary exhibition of works by Hungarian artist Dora Maurer, b 1937.

We moved on.

Emak Bakia, by Man Ray, 1926, remade 1970

From Surface to Surface, 1971, remade (seems to be the fashion) 1986, by Sosumu Koshimuzu, b 1944

I was so pleased at how this picture had worked (Mary is third from the left) that I failed to get its title, but recall that the artist specialises in plaits.

Art for other People #14, 1984 by Richard Deacon, b 1949

Sol Lewitt Upside Down – Structure with Three Towers, Expanded 23 Times, Split in Three, by Haegue Yang, 2015, made from 500 Venetian blinds. We quite liked this, if not its title.

Time was moving on and I had to get to Paddington, so we made our way down and out, deviating to a second floor balcony, and returning to a corridor seeking to entice one into one of the temporary exhibitions.

As I needed to get to Blackfriars underground, not overground station, we had decided to cross back over the Thames by the Millenium (aka ‘the Wobbly’) Bridge. From brilliant sunshine, the weather had turned icy cold, very blustery, and somewhat rainy! We did not linger, and I just managed to get photos looking upstream

and downstream.

Despite the art not always being to my taste, I think I should like to return to Tate Modern sometime, to, for instance, see the Henry Moore gallery, and that displaying British art from 1545 (so not solely modern).

Arnhem Remembered 2

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barnacle goose, carrier pigeon, cormorant, EU, Freedom Museum, greylag goose, Groesbeek, Nationaal Bevreijdingsmuseum, National Liberation Museum, Nazism, Nijmegen, Operation Market Garden, Rhine, Rhineland Offensive, sugar beet, Vreiheidts Museum, Waal, Wiel Lenders

Sunday 15th September. We were free for the early part of the morning as the chapel was being used for eucharist. So I went out for a short walk with Clementine and Mariske. The first thing I saw of note was a huge pile of sugar beet, a first for me.

A pleasure lake pleases both humans and cormorants

Two adjacent fields were full of wild geese, Barnacle and Greylag. The farmers do not like them, I was told.

Clementina and Mariske did not take much persuading to climb onto this sculpture ‘The sunken windmill’, on the site of a real one which had stood here from about 1300 until 1929

After a late morning rehearsal and lunch, we piled into a coach to be taken to what had, until recent renewal and enlargement, been called the Nationaal Bevreijdingsmuseum (National Liberation Museum). Having just reopened on 1st September, it was now called the Vreiheidts Museum (Freedom Museum). The Museum was the sponsor of our entire weeklong visit. The journey to Groesbeek took about 45 minutes.

Passing via Nijmegen, we crossed the Waal, a distributary of the Rhine.

As we arrived, a Dutch Band, calling itself Bill Baker’s Big Band, was playing American dance music of the ‘forties.

We stood and listened for a while, before moving to the museum itself.

The museum itself may be finished, but its landscaping has not quite yet been completed. Its dome is reminiscent of a parachute.

Once inside we assembled in the café, were given vouchers for refreshments to be taken later, and were welcomed by the Director of the Museum.

Items on sale

I don’t think this radio equipment was on sale!

Beatrix and the Director of the Museum, Wiel Lenders

As planned, we moved back to the performing area,

and sang four short items from our programme, not under the tent but in front of it. The woman singing with the band had been amplified and I was a little concerned that the audience would not be captured by our acoustic sound, but they were, and were highly appreciative. I was delighted to find that we had been singing under the EU flag.

After refreshments, we were then free to look around the museum. This was very comprehensive, and dealt fully with the build-up to WWII, its roots in WWI, poverty and unemployment, the rise of Nazism, and moved on to the course of the war, particularly as it affected the Netherlands. Here are just a few of the many photos I took, some of them not as focussed as they might have been by my less than steady hand in dim light.

A short film introducing the Museum

It was inevitable that much of the explanation had to be in text panels. These were in Dutch, English and German.

Unemployment leading to unrest

The outbreak of war, and Nazi occupation of surrounding countries. (I use the word ‘Nazi’ deliberately. I learnt later in the week that one of the two brave Germans in our group was very uncomfortable at the use of the ‘German’ in connection with the events.)

A reference to WWII in other parts of the world

The stories of individuals

A German (I can’t avoid the word here) one-person bunker, offering protection against flying shrapnel and shells.

American carrier pigeon’s uniform. Pigeons ‘were normally transported in cages. This uniform was used for short transports during which a pigeon could be tied to a soldier’s uniform with a piece of string. Paratroopers sometimes jumped with the carrier pigeon strapped against their chest.’

My time started running out. I had no time left to sit down, choose my language, and watch the mock up of the progress of the Operation.

A photo of a small part of the parachute drops in September 1944.

And I just had to rush through the last sections of the Museum

As I went round, I felt so strongly that our current politicians, many of them a near generation younger than me, should be obliged to visit this museum to understand what the EU is really all about, and why it was created.

This was ironically brought home even more as we realised that our route home was actually taking us through a small corner of Germany. Only the yellow street signs told us we had crossed a country border.

Arnhem Remembered 4

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C-130 Hercules, Canadian War Cemetery Groesbeek, Dutch Military Pipes and Drums, Freedom Museum, George G Blackburn, Groesbeek, Magritte, Operation Market Garden, OPeration Market Garden commemorations, Pannenkoeken Restaurant de Duivelsberg, paratrooper, Prince Charles, Princess Beatrix of the Netherlands, South Windmill Groesbeek, Wiel Lenders, Wylerbaan

Wednesday 18th September. Before we set off for today’s events, Mariske, on behalf of all of us, presented Beatrix with some flowers to thank her for all the hard work she had put in, on a purely voluntary basis, to organise our splendid week. What a lot she had had to think about! And later, we gave a her a restaurant voucher, which will have enabled her to have good company with her as well.

Beatrix had certainly organised a full day for this our last day! After the presentation, we once more embarked in our coach, armed with packed lunch, music and costumes, and travelled again to Groesbeek, passed the Freedom Museum, and shortly afterwards stopped on the road at Wylerbaan, like many other vehicles, to catch a few minutes of a parachute drop, the first of several sessions that day. I manage to get these photos through the coach window.

That session over, we were able to move on the remaining few hundred metres to park, and walk a short distance to the spectators’ ground, encountering many people coming away from the session of which we had seen just a little.

It was time for lunch. It was going to be a while before the next demonstration.

Most of us ate standing up. The alternative was sitting on straw and dust.

In due course we were diverted by hang gliders, some, Beatrix told me, (translating from the Dutch commentary), with people making their first drop, in tandem. (Remind me to add that to my list of unfulfilled ambitions.)

I spotted some red berets eating their frites, and went over to talk to them. It turned out they were German paratroopers, volunteers for the day. They had already done one jump each and were due to do more. (I never did find out exactly who was taking part in the demonstration that day, but I had the impression there were no UK or US paras there. Perhaps they were being saved for the following weekend, when Princess (formerly Queen) Beatrix of the Netherlands and Prince Charles were attending the commemorations.)

I asked if I could take a photo of the badge of the spokesman, and got his smiley eyes as well.

The next session of parachute drops was about to start. I moved down to the fence to get the fullest view. Here they come.

And I switched to video to get the full passage of four planes, each spewing out a dozen or so paratroopers, followed up by a fifth plane, whose purpose was not clear to me.

The planes then circled round several more times to pass again and release more paras.

(This picture makes me think of Magritte for some reason.)

In due course we had to remember our musical obligations. As we left I spotted a group of four more soldiers in uniform, chatting together. One would not be photographed, but the others agreed. It turned out they were Dutch military police.

That’s one of our number photobombing!

As we walked away I got this beautifully sunlit photo of one of the C-130 Hercules. I just love it’s bottle-nosed dolphin nose! Its registration is G-273, and I’ve been able to find out that it belongs to the Royal Netherlands Air Force.

During our time in the country we had seen virtually none of that icon of ‘Holland’: windmills. But we did pass this one as we drove to our concert location. It turns out it was South Windmill, now one of many war memorials in Groesbeek. ‘In the cupola of this mill was planned the Spring offensive of 1945 by 400,000 British and Canadian soldiers… that … allowed irresistible Allied armies to cross the Rhine and end the war. … [T]he crucial role of this mill as the prime observation has been immortalized ….. by George G Blackburn, who as an artillery forward observation officer spent much of the winter of 1944-45 in its cupola.’

It was good to find that we were to sing in a more modest-sized church that evening.

After short rehearsal, we got back into the coach to be taken to a pancake house (the Pannenkoeken Restaurant de Duivelsberg). Because of coach access problems, this involved a short walk though a nature reserve.

Not only was that pleasant, it was worth it!

My cherry pancake was excellent!

It had been intended that we visit a Canadian war cemetery before the parachute drop, but time had run out, so Beatrix fitted it in now.

Post Script. I have since learned that although this is called the Canadian War Cemetery, in addition to the 2617 graves of known servicemen, the memorial is to 1,047 missing soldiers whose bodies were never found. They died during operations in northwest Europe after August 1944 when the River Seine was crossed. Their names are on the red brick memorial, and include 942 British, 102 Canadians, 2 South-Africans, and one British aviator.

There was plenty of time back at the church for us to get ready, and we were amused to be able to watch the audience coming in via CCTV!

It was standing room only for the concert, with welcome and introduction by Wiel Lenders, (Director of the Freedom Museum). His also were the thanks and valediction (‘We’ll meet again’ had again gone down very well), at the end of which each one of us was presented with a (paper) carrier bag with souvenir booklets and other items.

We departed separately after breakfast the following morning, and I spent some hours in Amsterdam. That will be the subject of the final blog in this series.

Haynes International Motor Museum

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1897 Daimler Wagonette, 1905 Daimler, AC Ace, Alfa Romeo Gran Turismo, Ambassador scooter, Austin 10 four door saloon, Benz Patent motorwagon, Cadiallac 452A, Clement Voiturette, Facel Vega, Ford Edsel, Ford Popular 103E, Ford V8, Gaz M13 Chaika, George Hotel Castle Cary, Harley Davidson Fatboy, Haynes international motor museum, Haynes Light 12, Haynes motor museum, Healey Silverstone, Hindustan Ambassador, Jaguar 3.5 litre, Jaguar 420G, Jaguar XK 120, Jordan Playboy Roadster, Lambretta, Lanchester Sports Tourer, Market House Castle Cary, Maserati Merak, MG Midget, MG TC, Morris Eight, Morris Minor Van, Pontiac Superior Ambulance, Reliable Dayton, Reynard 893 Alfa Romeo, Skoda Citigo, Stanley Steam, Vanden Plas 1300, Wolseley Hornet, WW I tank

The day after my trip to Caen Hill, my friend Mary came down from London. We were planning to visit the recently opened Newt in Somerset. We had joked about making sure we had gloves with us, the weather had been so awful on her previous visit in June, when we had stuck to our plans to go round the Bishop’s palace and Gardens in Wells, but the pictures were so dull and grey and cold that I didn’t write it up. In the event it was even worse. Perhaps not so cold, but it was raining continuously, and only forecast to stop mid-afternoon. So we abandoned those plans to another day, and decided to visit the Haynes International Motor Museum, just a short drive from Castle Cary Station where I had picked her up.

First though, a stop in the town for a coffee at the George Hotel, opposite the Market House.

Although I had been vaguely aware of the Museum, in the eight years I had lived in Somerset I had never visited it. Established in the 1980s, with its 400 cars and motorcycles from many countries it truly merits the epithet ‘international’. It was quite amazing, and, though neither of us has the slightest interest in motor vehicles, we had a great day out.

I do apologise to real motoring aficionados for the undoubted mislabelling which will have occurred from time to time below. I tried to keep track but fear I may well have made some errors. Corrections, and suggestions for filling gaps, if added in Comments will be gratefully noted and acted upon.

There were a few cars in reception, and this one caught our eyes.

But I didn’t make a note of what it was.

As you go through the dark doors, you are plunged into ‘The Dawn of Motoring.’

This then greets your eyes. Nearest is Veteran and Vintage. Where do you start?

1905 Daimler Detachable Top Limousine

?

We turned off to visit The Red Room.

1929 6C Alfa Romeo 1750 Gran Turismo

1956 AC Ace

1980 Maserati Merak SS

1958 Facel Vega HK 500

Back to Veteran and Vintage.

1900 Clement Voiturette

A reconstruction of a WWI car turned into a tank.

I took photos of quite a lot of car mascots.

1929 Lanchester 30hp Sports Tourer

A byway into Minis and Micros

And back into vintage cars.

1934 Austin 10 Four Door Saloon, and …

… its mascot

No yellow room, but a collection of yellow cars.

1951 Jaguar XK120

I’m pretty sure that my (state) primary school headmaster, Mr May, had one of these (below) in the 1950s. Perhaps head teachers were paid more, in real terms, in those days.

1949 Jaguar 3.5 litre Saloon

There was a whole section, on a first floor, for motorcycles, which we didn’t visit – there are limits – but this magnificent Harley Davidson made it to the main British Marque showroom.

1992 Harley Davidson Fatboy

1928 Jordan Playboy Roadster

I think I’m rather glad that steam cars didn’t last for more than a few decades. The Stanley Twins started making this model in 1897.

1924 Stanley Steam Car

This car brought Mary a little nostalgia. Her father had something like it at one point.
1937 Ford V8 Model 78 Deluxe ‘Woody’

1909 Reliable Dayton (we’re in the US section now.)

Plenty of displays on the walls as well.

More mascots, or hood ornaments.

It was time for a bite of lunch, in the café just off the reception area.

While Mary held a place in the lengthy queue – they apologised profusely for the delay, explaining that the tills had gone down, but were now up and running again – I went back to reception, and found my very first car, a Wolseley Hornet, only mine had been a pale turquoise.

After lunch we found ourselves in the ‘other foreign cars’ section. We looked at this and virtually chorused that it must be Russian. We were right. (I suspect that we actually had some deep memory of the car.)

1959 Gaz M13 Chaika

Aggressive or what?

In 2010, most unexpectedly I found myself the sole tourist occupant of a white Ambassador for three days in Uttar Pradesh, India. Sadly, the Mumbai massacres had just taken place, so instead of having only a driver with me, I had some army fellow with a rifle as well, for my ‘protection’. I sat scared in the back, and had to ask for the rifle not to be pointed so near me over the shoulder of the army man, who sat in the front passenger seat. I really would have preferred not to have been ‘protected’ in that way.

This Ambassador seems much more peaceful. I understand that, prestige cars as they have been seen in India for a long time, they are now being phased out, heavy polluters that they are.

1992 Hindustan Ambassador

We seem to have wandered back into the British car section.

1969 Jaguar 420G

And now into The American Dream once more.

1968 Pontiac Superior Ambulance

1959 Ford Edsel

Cadillac Model 452A Madame X Imperial Cabriolet

More hood ornaments.

The above-mentioned Cabriolet

1917 Haynes Light 12, rescued from a jungle in Java ‘where it lay hidden for 30 years in an overgrown, wooden warehouse’.

Hall of motorsport. My dad, who never drove, would have loved this section. He used to spend hours in front of the TV watching the cars going round and round.

1989 Reynard 893 Alfa Romeo Formula 3

1950 Healey Silverstone

Motor scooters (but few of them British).

Ambassador, made in Berkshire, UK, from 1960 to 1962

This Lambretta was the only exhibit in the whole museum we noticed without a label. So our curiosity went unsatisfied.

There was a section on The Morris Story

1938 Morris Eight Saloon

1935 Morris Minor Van

There was a large section called Memory Lane.

1974 Vanden Plas 1300

1959 Ford Popular 103E

The indispensable picnic set for those ‘Let’s go for a drive’ days, when we didn’t think, or indeed know, about the environment.

But I still hadn’t seen my favourite car, the MG Midget that I had owned in the mid-1970s. I had seen this car.

1930 MG Midget

And a 1947 MG.

1947 MG TC

But not my little pride and joy, in whatever colour.

Towards the end of our visit we found ourselves back in The Red Room, near a couple of Museum employees chatting to each other. I asked them about ‘my’ Midget. We were led to it, not far away. Mine had been white and a model just few years later than this one, but here it was, nearby in The Red Room, and overlooked earlier by me. I was invited to step over the rope barrier and examine it more closely.

1968 MG Midget

What fun it would be to be driving it again! They stopped making it in 1979.

Here’s a photo my dad took (and subsequently developed, enlarged and printed) on 11th June 1976, as he carefully noted on the back. I wonder what he would have made of it’s being out there in The Cloud 43 years later!

No wing mirrors!

A cup of tea and a cake, and it was time for Mary to be taken back the short distance to her train (in my Skoda Citigo, just awarded best city car of the year by ‘Which?’). What had been just something to do on a wet day had turned out to be a very enjoyable experience indeed.

Grantown-on-Spey 2

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Anagach Woods, bird cherry, bog cotton, Caledonian forest, Clan Chattan, Clan Grant, Clarsach, Cromdale brooch, Curling, Decimalisation, dipper, Grant Arms Hotel, Grantown-on-Spey, Grantown-on-Spey-Museum, grey wagtail, James Grant, James Grant of Grant, mallard, pied wagtail, Ramsay MacDonald, River Spey, Spotted flycatcher, Springwatch, Strathspey, Treecreeper, wild lupin

Friday 31st May. On offer this morning was a walk in the local woods, led by Simon, one of the experts on hand in the hotel. With three other residents, I availed myself of it. We started at the local golf course,

where we saw nothing of interest, though Simon did his best to convince us that this was a rare Scottish wild cat.

The Anagach Woods were established in 1766 by James Grant of Grant (more later), but they look very natural, and provide excellent habitat for local fauna.

Treecreeper

And flora.

Bog cotton/cottongrass

As we walked through the woods, for much of the time to the right was acidic boggy land with stunted trees that could be 200 years old.

To our left, classic Caledonian forest, (the BBC’s ‘Springwatch’ is currently coming from just a few miles away) allowing lots of light through to nourish berry-bearing plants, good food for native species.

I was frequently a little behind my companions, as I was the only one taking photos.

Particularly if they involved reflections

The lichen is called Old Man’s Beard

We emerged from forest into more open land, and I learned that this native tree was called bird cherry.

We reached the River Spey, and went on to a bridge. (Of which, annoyingly, I did not think to take a photo when we later went down to the path on the right hand side.)

You don’t often get the chance to see a mallard’s orange feet so clearly.

On the far side of the bridge I was able to see this bird, identified for me as a spotted flycatcher.

I said that I couldn’t see any spots, even when it obligingly turned round for me.

But spotted flycatcher it was, I was assured.

From the bridge I was also able to wonder at these wild lupins, through which we were to wander minutes later. We also saw a very newly fledged grey wagtail.

Once down there, along the bank we watched a fledged pied wagtail being fed. Its parent was too quick for me.

Further along was a dipper, again it was thought, newly fledged, not least because it was showing a marked reluctance to dip.

And then there were two, sibling fledglings. Believe it or not.

As we started to walk back, completing a loop, it started to spit. I was able to notice and admire these patriotic finials.

By the time we were back at the hotel, via the Post Office in my case, it was pouring.

And still was in the afternoon, so instead of pursuing my rural intentions, I did that standby of wet afternoons, the local museum.

Which was small and perfectly formed. I learned that the Clan Grant had been around for a few centuries when Sir James Grant of Grant, he of the Anagach Woods, and known as ‘the good Sir James’, decided, in the mid-eighteenth century, to create a town on the River Spey. It didn’t become quite the boom town he had hoped, because it was too distant from anywhere, but it throve nevertheless, especially once it had become such a sought after place for holidays and leisure a hundred years later.

I learned about the superclan (that’s my word) Chattan, and its motto ‘Touch not the cat bot [without] a glove’, meaning that they were fierce fighters. This was a confederation of clans and large families with origins at least as far back as the fourteenth century. The wild cats engraved on this large 1600s brooch, the Cromdale brooch, suggest it may have a connection to the Clan Chattan.

Sir James’s plan of Grantown-on-Spey, showing the Anagach Woods, and The Square, in fact a thin oblong, where the Grant Arms Hotel is located.

The former town clock mechanism

Alone in the museum, for 15 minutes I got quite emotional as I took up the invitation, below, to try the clàrsach, which was perfectly in tune, picking out tunes and even singing with it. (In the evening, I spent some time researching the cost of and how to play the instrument, I had been so moved by the experience, but have reluctantly come to the conclusion that I am unlikely to be any more successful with this instrument than I have been with any requiring the co-ordination of more than two fingers!)

Tearing myself away – I felt I could have stayed there for hours – I perused the rest of the museum, which featured various professions and achievements of the town’s residents, including the inventor of the flush toilet. (No pictures!)

Endorsement of he hotel by Prime Minster Ramsay MacDonald in 1934, from its wording apparently solicited.

I was fascinated by these next two images when I came to see them on screen. The light was flickering a little on the display of the curling stone, but my eyes did not see the complete darkness the camera did as it took the photos on burst.

Finally, the 1970s are clearly history to some, though I can remember the day we converted to decimal coins as if it were yesterday. Ironically, I was working in H M Treasury in Whitehall at the time. The lady on the sandwich kiosk was having a terrible time with the new coinage, and the queue was very long indeed!

Moving freely in Europe and in London

Tags

Brexit, Covent Garden, Last of the Summer Wine, London Transport Museum, Ode to Joy, Olive Simpson, Parliament, Regent III, Routemaster, Sarah Connolly, Simon Wallfisch, Trolley bus, women poster artist

Less than a month after the last time, I was in London again two days ago. The purpose this time was to join (mainly professional) singers and instrumentalists to sing and play – over and over again – the European Union anthem, the Ode to Joy by Beethoven, outside Parliament, to protest the need for musicians to have freedom of movement within the EU.  On my way to a meet up point in Smith Square, I went past the media village that has been camped there for weeks.  This is only part of it, and it has recently been fenced off to the public, which now means that protesters can not easily be seen behind presenters.  We were going to do our best and loudest.

Difficult to estimate our numbers, but I reckon we were some 200 or so. Here’s a part of us.

In the middle is Simon Wallfisch, singing lustily in his fine baritone, and at the same time playing his cello, its case on his back.

Surrounded by professionals. (Photo Helen, Olive’s sister)

I’m behind the singer, Dame Sarah Connolly, the originator of this protest. (Photo Chris Mercer)

With my singer friend, Olive Simpson, thanks to whom I knew about this event. She has just brought out a book, ‘Molly’s Musings’.  Wit and whimsy. (Photo Helen, Olive’s sister)

Father Christmas has his opinion.

Apparently we were covered in German TV news bulletins, Reuters also took a story, and we could be seen on Sky News.  I watched the BBC 1 o’clock news on catch up when I got home, and certainly we could be seen and heard, very faintly, if you knew to look and listen for us.  (The banner ‘Musicians depend on freedom of movement’ was far too far away to be read though.)

But I didn’t go straight home. There were several hours before my coach back to Somerset was due to leave.  So I walked along the Embankment, and up Savoy Street to Covent Garden, and the London Transport Museum. This is housed in the old Covent Garden flower market. It would be more accurately, but cumbersomely, named the Transport in London Museum, not least because it starts in 1800.

I tried very hard not to take photos, especially as I didn’t have my camera with me, and my tablet, on which I had taken the earlier photos, was in the Museum’s cloakroom. But I didn’t succeed. I had my tiny phone on me and took lots of pictures. Fortunately the quality of the results was such that my selection here was easy to make!

A replica.  The originals will not have stayed this shiny for long, and maybe never were, given the quality of today’s paints!

Wonderful ironwork

Inside this Metropolitan Railway carriage was just like the mainline carriages I remember from childhood. Indeed the whole visit was an exercise in nostalgia.

I remember these ticket machines!

But my memory does not go quite as far back as this bus and tram! The former was used in the First World War for troops.

I do remember the trolley man putting the pole back on the catenary though.

There was a temporary exhibition of works by women poster artists.  Women were welcome to put forward their art from the outset.  I could have spent a very long time indeed in this part of the Museum, so was delighted to find that there was one copy left of the accompanying book when I asked at the end. 

Fans of ‘Last of the Summer Wine’ will understand that I was delighted to find there had been an artist called Dora Batty.

People get nostalgic about the Routemaster (left) , but I get nostalgic about the model of London double-decker red bus before that, the Regent III (centre). We used to catch the 120 as the first stage of a trip to my grandmother’s in Staines.

A final look at the lovely ironwork, before meeting Mary in the café for a cuppa, family catch-up, and lots and lots of political talk, (as by now the  Commons Brexit Withdrawal Vote had been withdrawn.)

I would hope to return to this museum in the future. I could easily have spent the double the time I did there.

A London miscellany

Tags

ATP finals, Cenotaph, Fashioned from Nature, Lorenzo Lotto, NAtional Gallery, Nervous States, Regent's Park, SS Mendi, The Guardian, Willaim Davies

After visiting the Fashioned from Nature exhibition, I made my way to Westminster and walked up Whitehall, stopping at the Cenotaph which had been the scene just four days previously of the remembrance service, 100 years to the day after the ending of the First World War.

My father served in the RAF during WW2

I was particularly moved by the text of this African wreath: 

“Be quiet and calm, my countrymen, for what is taking place is exactly what you came to do. You are going to die….. but that is what you came to do…. Brothers, we are drilling the death drill. I, a Xhosa, say you are my brothers.  Swazis, Pondos, Basutos, we die like brothers. We are the sons of Africa. Raise your war cries, brothers, for though they made us leave our assegais in the kraal, our voices are left with or bodies.” Reverend Isaac Wauchope Dyobha – Address to the doomed men of the SANLO, aboard the SS Mendi, sunk on its way to France 21 February 2017.  

In fact she sunk in thick fog, struck by a Royal Mail ship.

Continuing up Whitehall, I was pleased to see that this gathering of Brexit supporters standing opposite the Cabinet Office, where (yet another) crucial Cabinet meeting was about to takes place, was nothing like as numerous as 700,000.

I was aiming for Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery 

where I met Mary for lunch.  Afterwards we went to the Lorenzo Lotto (c1480 – 1556) – no, I hadn’t heard of him – portraits exhibition there.  

I had been pleased that the Fashioned from Nature exhibition had not restricted photography, (it was my failure to ensure there was a memory card in my camera that had) but was reprimanded after I had taken a few at this one, so I shall content myself with sharing just these pictures I took during an introductory video.

This really gave me a desire to visit the north Italian countryside…

In the evening I went to a very interesting talk at the offices of The Guardian, where one of the newspaper’s editors interviewed William Davies, Reader in Political Economy at Goldsmith’s College, University of London. He had just published a book, Nervous States – how feeling took over the world. 

William Davies is on the right

His explanations around the rise of populism and fake news in politics were extremely interesting. 

The next two days were spent at the O2 watching the tennis, so I was not looking for too much activity in the hours remaining on Saturday.  Mary and I went for a gentle walk in Regent’s Park.

Then we joined four of her tennis club friends for a coffee in the club’s café in the Park.

My London visit was completed by watching, with Mary, the first of the ATP tennis semi-finals on television.  Then it was time for me to make my way to Hammersmith for my long-distance bus home.  Somehow I managed to stay awake all the way, catching up on downloaded radio programmes through headphones. That had been quite some four days!

The Mid-Somerset Show, 2018

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dog show, dry stone walling, Mid-Somerset Show, Somerset Rural Life Museum, wicker

It would not normally have occurred to me to visit the Mid-Somerset Show, but as a volunteer at the Somerset Rural Life Museum, I had been invited to help on their stand for a couple of hours.  So I arrived some 50 minutes early to take ‘a quick mooch around’ beforehand.  Ha! Quick? – it was vast!

As I arrived, there seemed to be an awful lot of dogs around.  I soon understood why.I moved on after a few minutes. The Somerset willow/wicker industry is still thriving, (and indeed we display a wicker coffin in the museum).  There was dry stone walling, and timbercraft. I particularly liked the bench which could be moved around like a wheelbarrow. (A wheelbench? Or a benchbarrow?)

I had seen that there was to be a cider pressing at 10.30, so I made my way to the marquee where it was to take place.  I saw no pressing, perhaps because judging was still taking place, but was delighted to discover the Rural Life Museum’s stall nearby, as I could now stop worrying that I would never find it.

There were things to entertain children, and  dozens, if not hundreds, of stalls selling things to consume, to wear, and to play with, and offering services, commercial, voluntary and public, (no photos of any of these).  There were horses, and ponies, sheep, young (and older) shepherds dispensing advice, sheep judgings, sheep products, small goats (and large), alpacas, pigs, and a judge getting down to things.  Cattle big and small,

This animal was so huge, I thought it to be a bull, but another photo has shown me that it is a cow

I had wandered about the huge showground so much that I was a little concerned that I’d never find the cider and Somerset heritage marquee again. I was just about on time. One of the children’s activities we offered was stick weaving, which I had never heard of. Custom was slow to begin with, but it picked up, and it was useful that there were two of us to chat with both children and grown-ups.  A few had visited the Museum before it  closed in 2014 for refurbishment, and some had already visited after it had reopened last year.  Some children had already visited in the last few months with their schools, and were keen, and primary school teachers took an interest, as did grandparents.

I had intended to leave the showground when my two-hour stint was up, but I was conscious that there was a lot more to see, and also I hoped to find a leather belt to buy from a craft stall (which I did in due course).  As I emerged from the heritage tent it was very sunny and warm – not forecast – and teeming with people.  I saw more horses, bees and bee products, bantams,

It’s true there was something of a breeze, but I suspect this beastie had its feathers permanently ruffled.

golden goose eggs (?) and other kinds, and Egg Sheeran.  Just when I thought there couldn’t be any more kinds of animals (and was pleased not to have seen cats in cages) I came across a few rabbits. Human exhibits changed every hour. This is the Barnacle Buoys, who often sing in support of the RNLI. (Apologies for the words clipped at the beginning and end.  The latter is ‘ago’, and is sung one tone up followed by one tone down – for those concerned.)

The essence of a country show is its produce and homecraft competitions.

Upcycled denim competition

Fewer people made it to the far end of the marquee

More child’s play. Well away from the main dog classes was a ring where some kind of obedience test was happening.  I didn’t stay long enough to understand what it was all about, but this apparently obedient dog is here being persuaded by the ring master – in vain and for the third time – to retrieve a ball and take it back to its owner.  

Its owner is in the blue shorts

Beginning to get hungry, and not keen on any of the fast food on offer, I made my way back to the car park at 2 pm.

The dog classes were continuing.

Some dogs were more co-operative …

… than others.

All had been amazingly well-behaved.

I was so pleased that the SRLM had appealed to its volunteers for help, and intend to go again another year.

Two days in London – Saturday

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Broad Walk, Gnomus, Heathrow Airport, Kew Gardens, leucospermum conocarpodendon, Pagoda, Palm House, Pyrenean Pine, Richmaond Lawn Tennis Club, Royal Botanic Gardens, Temperate House

Kew Gardens. This time Mary and I went together to Kew Gardens, known more formally as the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew.  We arrived fairly early, after an obligatory coffee near the station, and decided to make straight for the Temperate House, recently reopened after refurbishment, before the crowds arrived. 

En route, a sideways look at the Pagoda. How parched the grass is.

It happened to be the first day of Gnomus’s residence there. He is ‘a font of knowledge, and caretaker of the earth’, hanging around the Temperate House to share with children special stories about the plants there, until the end of the summer holidays.

As Mary pointed out, the poor chap at the back is having difficulty making the movements of Gnomus’s feet look realistic!

 

One corner inside. Views from the balcony.

Outwards

and inwards

From the balcony I also admired elements of the ironwork.

And ornamentation outside.

And I focussed on plants from above.

The story behind the leucospermum conocarpodendon below is interesting. In 2005, a Dutch researcher found 40 small packets of seeds in a leather notebook in the National Archives.  The notebook belonged to a Dutch merchant whose ship was captured by the British navy in 1803.  Kew’s Millenium Seedbank propagated this plant from one of those seeds.  We moved on to the Great Pagoda, also recently refurbished.  When it was built in 1762, it had dragons on every corner of its roof, but they only lasted until 1784.  Thanks to donors, the original designs have been used to recreate the dragons, the lower ones carved from wood, the higher ones digitally printed. While Mary stayed down and worked on a crossword, I climbed to the top, 253 quite shallow steps. Access was by a broad central spiral staircase. I counted the steps between each floor, 33 to begin with, reducing to 21, so I suppose this was to give the impression, with perspective, that the tower is higher than it really is.  Around the outside of the staircase is a broad landing in every floor, with considerate benches (that is a figure of speech!) on every second landing.  At the top, the windows are glazed, and you cannot get out on to the balconies.

Richmond Lawn Tennis Club from the second floor. They’re only playing on the hard courts.

The Japanese Garden from the top

Central London skyline

There was a small exhibition on the ground floor. This automaton represents a royal visit to the Pagoda during construction

On our way to lunch:

The central section of The Temperate House gleamed in the sun

A different chap at the back has worked out what the handles on Gnomus’s calves are for.

The Palm House, now by comparison revealed to be in need of a clean-up

After lunch we wandered down the Broad Walk.  Then around a parkland area.

I loved the bark on this deep-cleft Pyrenean Pine

We sat for a while, both working further on the crossword (my part really just marvelling at the solutions Mary found).

Like my small pond at home, the lake has far too much duckweed etc on it. A result of the extreme heat we have been having?

Aeroplane after aeroplane…

Close to a bench

Daddy swan seems much more concerned by the Egyptian goose than by us.

A speedy passage through the sweltering Palm House, and out the other side, back to the café to pick up something to drink. This we consumed sitting on a bench nearby, reflecting on the day, and counting the intervals between the planes which were going over our heads to land at Heathrow Airport (every 60 to 70 seconds, poor residents).  A lovely day, during which sunshine and cloud had appeared at totally convenient intervals for our comfort. We parted at Kew Gardens station, I for my Underground (which was largely over ground) for Paddington Station and the West Country, and Mary on her Overground (which was partly under ground) for North London.

Two days in London – Friday

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fourth plinth, Glenn Miller, Junius, London, Mail Rail, Monet, Mount Pleasant, Natioanl Gallery, National Museum of Iraq, Panther House, pavement entertainment, Penny Black, Postal Museum, Rowland Hill, Sainsbury Wing, Tommy Steele, Ulysses

I spent two days in London last week, and, quite apart from social time with my friend, Mary, I had three very different experiences.  The timing of my trip was determined by the fact that the ‘Monet and Architecture’ exhibition at the National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, was very soon coming to an end. Moreover, I was very glad that I had pre-booked my ticket as there would have been no chance of a walk-in ticket.

Pavement entertainment outside the Gallery

The ‘fourth plinth‘ in Trafalgar Square is currently occupied by ‘The Invisible Enemy should not Exist’.   It is built entirely of the packaging of Middle Eastern foodstuffs (some sources say date syrup cans) and Arabic newspapers, and is a commemoration of the artefacts stolen from the National Museum of Iraq, in Baghdad, in the aftermath of the American invasion of Iraq in 2003. It represents a determination to recover the more than 7000 objects still missing.

The Sainsbury Wing, temporarily showing the 77 Monet paintings

Looking back from the entrance

No photography inside the Monet exhibition itself was allowed, but I did manage to get these pictures at its entry and exit.  I thought a better title would have been ‘Monet and Landscape’. But perhaps they’ve done that already.My other visit that day was to the Postal Museum, including a short trip on its Mail Rail, the underground post transport system, which opened in 1927 and closed in 2003.  As there was no really convenient public transport between the two places, I decided to walk, and the 35 minutes estimated by online research turned out to be very accurate. I walked fast but made stops for a few photos and to check that I was on the right route.

More pavement entertainment in Trafalgar Square

I had a crush on Tommy Steele back in the   … ties, but I’m a little young to remember Glenn Miller.

Paris? No, London.

It was a noisy walk with much traffic and many people, but once I turned off Grays Inn Road into Mount Pleasant (the road), it was totally quiet.  I have tried to find out more about the Panther Building, and it seems that it is currently workshops and studios.  Planning permission exists for the redevelopment of part of it.

Two big surprises awaited me just before I got to the Postal Museum in Phoenix Place:  the beauty of the 1929 Mount Pleasant building, and that, while much shrunken, there is still considerable Post Office activity on the site – a great deal of redevelopment is going on there also.  I had a bite of lunch in the café at the Museum, then crossed back over the road to Mail Rail, where likewise I had a timed ticket. This rather blurry picture shows the size of the ‘wagons’, ideal for postal parcels, packets and letters, but only just large enough for tourists to sit in!

 

There were four stops on the 15 minute ride, at which there were projections on to the walls about Mail Rail’s history. 

It very much resembles the London (passenger) Underground of course – but it’s on a much smaller scale.

After the ride, the exit was through a small further exhibition about it. 

‘Ulysses’ banned – by mail as well!

‘…ever needed again…’

And at the end I watched a short film which I had not had time to see beforehand, from which the above is a still.

I then crossed back over the road to the award-winning Postal Museum, which opened in 2017.  It was very well presented, with plenty to keep both adults and children interested. Here are just a few of the dozens of photos I took there.  Firstly, why do we call it ‘the post’?

“It is not the cause of faction, or of party, or of an individual, but the common interest of every man in Britain.” Yes, well. (Junius was not, by the way, a Roman philosopher, but the nom de plume of an 18th century writer.)

Rowland Hill introduced the penny black, the very first postage stamp in the world. This exhibit was not lit, perhaps for fear of fading, so a decent photo was difficult to take.  I shudder to think how many millions of pounds this exhibit is worth, though apparently it’s a plate proof so doesn’t count as real stamps.

Post boxes have not always been red.  They started – in the Channel Islands in 1852 – painted green, but people in the countryside thought that dreary, so from 1874 they were painted red. I think that splendid mail coach was the best, but here are some other forms of postal transport.I rather fancied this tunic, but my attempt to try it on reflectively was foiled by the height of its plinth. Is nostalgia the same as feeling old? I felt both as I recognised the famous ‘Press button B’ telephone booth.Near the end there was the chance to sit and watch an hour’s-worth of short PR  films made by the Post Office’s Film Unit (founded 1933). The most famous of them all, ‘Night Train’ was just about to start as I passed, so I sat and watched it.

On leaving the Museum, I took a backward look to the splendid Mount Pleasant building. Then I wandered through quiet back streets to the bustle of King’s Cross, and took a bus back to Mary’s place.  We had a very nice meal at a French restaurant in Camden Town, though I could have wished that the moules marinières I ordered for my starter had arrived instead of the spicy moules provençales!