Grantown-on-Spey 2

Tags

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

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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

Tags

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

Tags

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

Tags

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!

Toulouse and Tarn 7

Tags

Albi, Albi Cathedral, Palais de la Berbie, Toulouse, Toulouse-Lautrec, Toulouse-Lautrec museum

Tuesday, Albi and Toulouse-Lautrec.  When I planned this trip I had no thoughts of spending any time in built-up areas, other than Toulouse.  I had already visited Albi in 1990, including the Toulouse-Lautrec museum, and I really had wanted to just relax in the countryside for the rest of my trip.  But clearly that was not on today.  The weather for forecast for Tuesday was the same as the day before, though thankfully a few degrees warmer and with less wind. My options were limited.  Spend all day tasting wine in the Gaillac area – bearing in mind that I was driving myself around, and travelling home by plane! – or a further visit to Albi.  Or stay at my lodging feeling cold and sorry for myself.

So Albi it was. In 1990 we had had no problems in parking, as best I recalled.  28 years later it was impossible.  I drove round and round the main city centre car park, and found nothing.  I drove round and round the streets nearby.  Nothing.  In due course, I found, some way away, a meter space, and at least it was for four hours, not one.  To get back to the centre of town fortunately I was able to see and make for the 78-metre/356 foot bell-tower of the immense cathedral. (I had only the sketchiest of maps, of just the very centre of the town.)

Next was the search for the tourist office, to buy a joint ticket for entry to part of the cathedral and the Toulouse-Lautrec museum.  Nothing signposted.  In due course I found a building on the cathedral square with an old panel saying ‘Syndicat d’Initiative‘, the old name for a tourist office, but the door was firmly shut with a notice saying the tourist office was now on the opposite side of the square.  I followed a young man who had read the same notice and was heading 180° away to where we had been facing. Nothing.  He asked a passer-by, and I listened in.

The tourist office was in fact only 90° from the old one, slightly round a corner – and hidden by a large white van. The very helpful young woman inside was patient as I prevaricated. To cut a long story short, time was running out on my meter, the museum would not open until 2 pm, and I just couldn’t work out what to do.  Having in due course bought the ticket, I went to have a much needed coffee (all these wanderings had been under drizzle), and decided to visit the Cathedral, have a bite of lunch, go to feed the meter, and then come back to do T-L.

The cathedral claims to be the biggest brick building in the world.  Perhaps it was my mood, certainly not helped by the dull weather, but I felt decidedly grumpy and unimpressed as I entered the cathedral, even if it was dedicated to St Cecilia, the modern-day patron saint of musicians.  I knew that the ticket I had bought would get me in to the ‘Grand Choeur‘, but the high altar seemed to be to my left as I walked in, whereas the layout of the building would lead me think it should be to the right.  No-one was checking my ticket either, which was puzzling.  Anyway, I did like this modern altar and lectern.  And I was impressed by the rood-screen behind me, of which this is just a segment.  Once I had the audioguide all became clear.  The west-facing worship is the result of the desire to save the very intricate and huge rood-screen, carved from a limestone which hardens over time. At the time when Catholic worship changed to include the congregation, not just the monks and priests, most rood-screens were destroyed. Here, however, they decided to turn worship round, and have the congregation facing west – most unusual. What I had seen already was not the Grand Choeur. My ticket was to get me into that – facing East – and the treasury, and supply the audioguide.  I visited the treasury first. This window on the way up the steep spiral staircase to get to it is a reminder that churches were fortified in those turbulent days of the bastides. Then I moved into the Great Choir itself, which was very ornate, a great contrast with the outside of the basilica.  On emerging from the cathedral into the wet again, I went back to the previous café for a bowl of soup, though on seeing the menu I had a very nice salad instead.  Clever clogs then thought she would try another, seemingly more pleasant, route back to the car to feed the meter.  And couldn’t find the car. Found herself outside the metered area, so knew she had gone too far.  Felt very frustrated, not yet despairing, but really didn’t want to go all the way back to the centre and out again.  Then….. I remembered that I had my satnav with me, and that I had registered on it where the car was parked!  Only three minutes’ walk away but I would never have known.

Having fed the meter, I headed back to the centre and the Toulouse-Lautrec museum. This was established by T-L’s mother, after her son’s early death, in the Palais de la Berbie, formerly the bishop’s palace.  It is a splendid building in its own right. Another audio-guide took me round.  I did much enjoy this visit, and here’s just a small selection of pictures I saw.

Alphonse de Toulouse-Lautrec [father] en fauconnier, 1882 

La Comtesse Adèle de Toulouse-Lautrec [mother], 1882

Vieille femme assise sur un banc à Céleyran, 1882

Aristide Bruant, 1892

Views from the windows. The river is the Tarn.

Le Divan Japonais, 1893

La Troupe de Melle Eglantine, 1896

Yvette Guilbert, 1895 (ceramic)

1894. (photographe is ‘photographer’)

1896. The Simpson Chain was short-lived, and its only claim to fame these days seems to be that Toulouse-Lautrec designed a poster for it.

La Vache enragée, 1896

There was the chance to see more of the Palais de la Berbie after seeing the T-L exhibits, but I was pretty tired by now, and only had a quick look around.

I couldn’t resist taking a photo of a photo of this famous poster, though it’s not by T-L

These two also are photos of photos inside the palace

This one particularly gives an idea of the immensity of the cathedral.  The huge palace is dwarfed by it.

I was on the first or second floor when I took this photo.

By the time I made my way back to my car (by the tedious sensible route this time!) it was rush hour, and raining solidly once more by now.  But I could look forward to another excellent meal, courtesy of my host.

 

Toulouse and Tarn 4

Tags

Canal de Brienne, Canal du Midi, EDF Bazacle, Garonne, Gregory the Great, hydroelectric, Japanses garden, La Ville Rose, le Capitole, St-Sernin, Toulouse

Sunday, final hours in Toulouse. Although there was a chill in the air, there was some blue sky this morning, and no showers came to spoil my wanderings until the very end.  I decided to make again for the romanesque St-Sernin basilica, seen just from the outside on Friday. I chanced to arrive just as a service had ended. Indeed the organ was still playing, and I just stood and listened for a while. It is total coincidence that the music swelled as I zoomed the video below onto the high altar.

This huge basilica pleased me much more than the cathedral had the day before, and its architectural style reminded me of my visually favourite churches in Poitiers, which I left seven years ago.  (I kept being reminded of things that morning.) 

This bust of Pope Gregory the Great, 540 -604AD , reminded me of my ‘A’ level history studies.

I walked on

Toulouse is not known as ‘La Ville Rose’ for nothing.

to another public park, the Jardins Compans-Caffarelli. This contained an award-winning Japanese garden.

A fun rope climbing frame, in the main park

I found myself thinking of Old Faithful now.

A recent memorial to African slavery

From here, having picked up a filled baguette for my lunch, I walked

The short Canal de Brienne, linking the Garonne with the Canal du Midi

to the banks of the big river once more, to visit the Espace EDF Bazacle,  the still functioning hydroelectric plant. This was built in 1888 to provide electricity for Toulouse’s public lighting, to the fear of many, and the resentment of the gas company which had fulfilled that function hitherto. Bazacle had been a mill since the middle ages, associated through time with such products as cereals, paper, and latterly tobacco.

 

I now understood why, when I had stood on the banks of the Garonne on Friday, there had been such a noise coming from downstream.

A picture in the exhibition (in reverse it would appear) showing a lesser flow of water than today’s

It is the calm water nearby which produces the electricity, flowing through turbines under the construction to the right

The Bazacle plant depends on the swift flow of water. This kind of turbine is appropriate to great falls of water in mountain areas.

A flower solar electricity installation, the petals of which open to catch the sun

Part of the works

There was a pleasant terrace here, so I took the opportunity of eating my baguette in the open air.

Fish ladder

Interesting oval lock on the linking Canal de Brienne, at its junction with the Garonne (behind)

Shortly after I set off, passing the above lock, for my hotel, it started drizzling and then raining again, so I didn’t linger, except at the place du Capitole for a final coffee. Having collected my luggage, I set off to find the shuttle bus for the Airport, not for a flight, but to pick up a hire car.

Toulouse and Tarn 3

Tags

Earthquake, evolution, Muséum de Toulouse, plate tectonics, seismograph, Toulouse, Toulouse Museum

Muséum de Toulouse. (I can only speculate as to why they don’t they use the French word musée.) I had no idea what kind of museum this was going to be; it was just a means of staying dry as far as I was concerned. But I was delighted to find that it was of geology and natural history, and of the interaction of the two, which was perfectly to my taste.  There was a sort of pre-entrance with an exhibition about the chemical elements which I found bizarre, possibly trendy, and I hoped that this was not a bad omen.  It was not:  I found rest of the museum excellent.

It was fun to see, at the real entrance, three cartoon  of animals, all of which I had seen in the wild in very recent years:  brown/grizzly bear, wolf, and lynx.  The first exhibits were of mineral specimens.  Eat your heart out, crystal shops of Glastonbury – my reflection gives an idea of the size of these. The rest were of a more reasonable size.  (I took many, many photos throughout the museum, and could have taken many more.  In this post are just a small selection of those I did take.)

Next it was earthquakes. These little models indicate the destruction occurring in earthquakes on various  degrees of the Richter scale. You could stand on a metal plate which shook you as you watched a video, presumably taken on a web-cam, of the effects on an earthquake in a real home.  The gentleman reading his paper at the outset left the house after a longer period than I would have put up with. Perhaps he was accustomed to minor earthquakes, and thought there was nothing to worry about.  His exit when it did come was very hasty!

This is a beautiful old Chinese (or was it Japanese?) seismograph.  Each of the dragons has a ball in its mouth.  The first one to fall into a frog’s mouth during an earthquake indicates its direction.

Then came plate tectonics.  I could sit and watch the dance of the plates over the last 600 million years for ever.  I find it infinitely fascinating. And this video takes the dance forward, to show how the Mediterranean will close up in due course.

Living creatures next, classification and characteristics.  I loved these skeletons.

A bear attacking a deer I think

A huge area was given over to the exhibition of creatures by their classes, and explanations.  There was a risk that this could have been a rather old-fashioned display, rows of animals pinned up behind windows, but it was so well presented that it worked.  I confess that I failed to notice the blue lines indicating relationships in this exhibit, until I saw the photo.

Marsupials

When I got to the apes, I said to myself, tongue in cheek, ‘Wot, no human?’.  But there were several images on the screen at the end of the window, this one comparing homo sapiens with a gorilla. Upstairs, the next room linked together the geology of the inanimate with the evolution of the animate, geological period by geological period, with illustrations of how the tectonic plates were located at any particular time.  I was beginning to flag by now, especially as I had not yet had any lunch, so did not give this the time I would have liked. Here are just a few of the maps of how the earth’s plates were at the given time, and even fewer of the fossil exhibits. The museum would need several visits to do it justice.

 

I don’t have a great interest in fossils, though I do appreciate their ability to date a given rock, but I loved this petrified slice of tree trunk. I just whizzed through the last room, illustrating how living creatures function. If ever I have to spend another wet day in Toulouse, I know where I shall head!