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I built it by myself. For once, I'm not joking. Our museum had its own "Outbreak" exhibition which opened last week, so no one else was available this past month. It also had to be pre fabbed off site, in our workshop in Lambeth, and then assembled in the Cabinet War Rooms at night, as no work can be done in the Trans Atlantic Lobby during the day.
It all went very well. It was a bit lonely. Radios and phones don't work down there, so they left me a laptop, and I listened to TripleJ all night. Working 6pm to 6am in London, it was nice to be in sync with their programming again for a change!
The place was crawling with press on Thursday, and we were on the BBC news and everything. It seems to have been very well received, and I was fortunate enough to attend the morning opening / film viewing with the ladies who used work in the War Rooms and who also appeared in the film; all well in their eighties and beyond. Saucy lot, they were!
But, now I can't tell people I work in Whitehall any more!
See you when the cross rolls over!
Instead, the Trans Atlantic Lobby is the room in which I am building the exhibition at the Cabinet War Rooms.
It doesn't open until the 27th, so I can't show you any pics yet, even thought it's finished.
It's all "Under Covers".
Although the Trans Atlantic Lobby is nowadays regarded and used as a corridor between the Churchill Museum and the War Rooms, it is quite a large room, and in its day, it housed one of the most sophisticated computers in the world; the SIGSALY. Comprised of 40 racks of equipment, weighing over 50 tonnes and using 30KW of electricity, Sigsaly simply scrambled Winston Churchill's phone calls around the world.
And you thought 90's mobile phones were big and heavy!
See you when the cross rolls over!
I've been working night shift, underground, at The Cabinet War Rooms, building an exhibition for the 70th anniversary of the Opening of said War Rooms, back in 1939. It's been a difficult but interesting job. It's a heritage building, so you can't drill a hole in anything unless the Queen says it's ok, basically.
The job aside, I have been finishing at all types of hours, generally between 2 am and 6 am, and let me tell you, you get a different view of London! Anyone who saw 28 Days later will remember the opening scene, of a totally empty London. It's almost like that at 6 am.
The Thames is a massive river, but with no boats moving; that's just weird.
Westminster Bridge normally has about a thousand people and a couple of hundred vehicles on it. At 6.10 am, it's deserted. Let me tell you, at this hour, Big Ben is LOUD!!!!!!
Some people call it the London Eyesore. I don't mind it. It was built as a temporary structure, and it's still a temporary structure. It's an amazing feat of engineering, and it's the only thing that makes money for British Airways.
Some nights, I haven't gone right through, and left between 1 and 2 am, like tonight.
It's funny, you can live in London for years and years; we've been here nearly three and a half, and you still find yourself saying "Hey Look! It's Big Ben!"
See you when the shift rolls over!
Here they are.
Henry Allingham, Harry Patch, and William Stone, who all died this year, during the season of our exhibition that salutes them right inside the front door.
Henry Allingham; until ten days ago the world's oldest man at 113, put down the secret to his longevity as "cigarettes, whiskey, and wild, wild women"!
See you when the cross rolls over!
Harry Patch died on Saturday. At 111, he was the last remaining World War 1 veteran living in Britain. Only a couple of days before, I had fixed the obituary of Henry Allingham to the entrance wall of our "In Memoriam" exhibition. He had been 113, and also the world's oldest man when he died only seven days before.
"In Memoriam" opened last October in time for Armistice Day, and the 90th anniversary of the end of the war. At that time, there were three veterans still alive, and their pictures proudly hang in the exhibition entrance. I have become associated with them, having worked on the original exhibition, their pictures and captions in the entrance, and now their obituaries. William Stone died in January, aged 108.
There is still one British veteran alive; a young Mr Claude Choules, 108, residing in Western Australia. A Canadian and an American are also still about!
THAMES BIG TIDE
A couple of times a year, the Thames breaks its banks at Putney, and evil people; like my friends who live there; invite other evil people to nice dining rooms in elevated pubs to see if any posh cars get flooded, or better still; float away.
None did this year, but it was a lovely day, and at least one Jag got its carpets wet.
See you when the Thames pours over!
I have to share this with you! Having recently purchased my first glasses, they have come up in conversation, and a friend was telling us about his first pair. He'd had very poor eyesight as a child, but his parents didn't realise until he was ten years old. Walking home from the optometrists, while wearing his new glasses for the first time, his mother wondered why he was looking straight up, and not watching where he was going.
He said "Mum, I never knew that birds have legs."
THE UK PARLIAMENTARY EXPENSES SCANDAL
For most of my time here, I have viewed UK politics as a pompous, outdated, dysfunctional class-driven novelty, but now that it's been three years, I'm having to admit that it affects me. I, like most UK taxpayers have been profoundly affected these past couple of months by the findings of leaked documents detailing MPs' Expenses claims.
MP's expenses claims information has always been secret, even from each other. This was so that MPs wouldn't try to claim the highest amount that they saw someone get away with last year, thereby triggering an ever upward spiral. Instead, they submitted their claims to the Expenses committee, and they were either allowed, or knocked back. The general public has always been highly suspicious of the system's lack of accountability, and in 2005, a journalist named Heather Brooke applied to have the claims of certain MPs released under Freedom of Information.
It's taken four years, thanks to several legal battles, back downs and cover ups, as several MPs at first tried to apply for exemption from FoI, then whole parties tried, and then in January this year, the Leader of the House of Commons, Harriet Harman tabled a motion which would make the entire House exempt from FoI. This caused an uproar, a backdown, and then an agreement that all the claims of all MPs would be released to the Public on July 1.
That wasn't good enough for the General Public. Due to the slow trickle of some MPs' claims already released between legal battles, everyone had managed to have a sniff of what was coming. Some MPs from all parties had made outrageous claims; things like houses they didn't live in, and salaries paid to family members who were full time students, gardening costs on country estates. It already amounted to a huge amount of money, and only a few had been exposed. How far was this going to go?...
In May, the information of all MPs expenses was leaked to the Daily Telegraph (apparently a billion receipts) and the paper has been trickling out the information every day since May 8. The British Public are now ready to riot in the streets. For once, all the awful red top papers aren't screaming and sensationalising. They don't have to. The information is sensational by itself, from claims for "mote cleaning" to rose pruning, nanny expenses to landscaping, house "flipping" to married MP couples (there are quite a few!) claiming their second home twice! At 22,000 a year each; year on year on year.
This massive, dirty episode is interesting on many levels. Firstly, it's unfortunately not a true scandal, because noone broke the law. They have been allowed by the Expenses Committee to continue doing this,for years. Secondly, it involves various members from ALL parties, so the public now hates ALL MPs. Five Sinn Fein members claimed half a million quid between them, for second homes in London, even though they never took up their seats in Parliament! This would be seen as allegiance to the Queen, you see!
Thirdly, and this is the big one, the MPs have been divided in their response, and their attitudes towards their critics. Some have apologised and repaid the money. Some never made any claims at all! One poor female MP had never felt comfortable with the system of the second homes allowance, and gave hers up. She sleeps two nights a week on a camp bed in her office, and her expenses claim for last year was 38 quid! THAT'S MY KIND OF POLITICIAN!
Others, though; many in fact; have been absolutely indignant and arrogant. The Speaker of the House, Michael Martin, first wanted the police brought in to find and prosecute the source of the leak. Then he rebuked all the Members who have been calling for reform all along. He is now the ex Speaker; the first to be "pushed" in over 300 years. Another MP now famously said that it was all about jealousy; that he lived in an 800,000 quid house, and "they" (voters) didn't. Heads are rolling every day. MPs are falling on their swords, or retiring for "unrelated reasons". Some are even coming out of it squeaky clean, but the public has really lost faith now.
The most contentious issue has been the "Second Homes Allowance". MPs outside London can claim for a house or flat in London. They buy it or rent it and claim the expenses back, and many are genuine. However, many "flip" their second home, and name it as their first. Then they claim all the expenses on the house they already own. The Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith, stays with her sister when in London, and claims it as her first home, and then makes all her claims for her real house in Redditch. Some have sold their "second" home and not paid capital gains tax on the profit. Some have claimed for the same home twice, by being married. Others have "flipped", finding tiny cheap flats in London, and then claimed full expenses for mortgages on their real homes that have been long since paid off!!!!!
It is all so frighteningly huge in scale, that even the newspapers that normally put football on both the front and back pages, now do front page politics! And people are reading it!
I'm all for a big clean up. I hope the BNP doesn't win any power out of it, though....
AUSSIES, AND THE BBQ
Two widely held stereotypes here in the UK suit me very well. "Aussies are all mad, and they barbecue ALL THE TIME!!"
I do barbecue all the time. I was telling an old friend the other night, how my unexpected love of cooking started with barbecues at BigM's Bar & Grill. I had to get good at it, because we kept having big parties, and twenty people would show up, and it was always BYO, so I didn't decide on the menu. They all came in, gave me their stuff, and said how they wanted it cooked....
Wind forward to 2009, and I am doing another barbecue on a schoolnight in London, musing over what I'd said to my friend, and it occurred to me that doing a big barbecue is a bit like being a senior teacher at a school disco.
Stay with me on this.... A whole pile of people; effectively "parents" drop off their little ones; all different; and they will be none too pleased if they are not in the right condition when they are picked up.
You know your barbecue like your school; the hot spots, the cool places, the dark areas, and you monitor them all. You have your vegetables, for example. You try to move them around and get them to mingle, and slowly warm up. You know they are slow, and won't cause trouble, unless they are Vegetarian, and then you have to let them have their own spot.
Some are just chicken. You know they won't cause trouble either, but might need looking after. There are the ones that sizzle as soon as they arrive, and these need a keen eye on them! Same with the saucy ones. Don't let them come into contact with any hot sausages, for example. (had to throw that in)
The ones that start to smoke are a problem, because the last thing you want to do is keep them out on the fringes, so it's really hard to include them, without causing more harm. Some are just too fat, but you know there is no way you are allowed to mention it, and generally, there is a flare up at one or two points in the evening, and you have to move the culprits to a cooler area for a while, like where the hip hop kids hang out.
There's a lot at steak! I should be doing "Thought for the Day" on BBC Radio 4, shouldn't I? It normally has a religious bent to it, but I could always end each episode with something like;
See you when the cross rolls over!
"I still think what?" asked Scotty nervously.
Emmo, whose spelling had now been changed to avoid confusion, made himself look busy with the mountain of discs he was carrying. Little Red seemed to notice a blemish on one of her boots, and started polishing it. Wendy looked across at Adnwer, who was trying to stare down the HAL Computer, and losing. Eventually, he said
"Oh Dear"
and turned away to face the group; mainly Scotty.......
"I, um... I 'Groundhogged' you."
(Groundhogging is a naughty trick, using a reverse time loop. By slipping Scotty into a separate time zone, and letting him experience that date in advance of everyone else, Adnwer had been able to make Scotty think that every day had been the same for a year and a half, and they hadn't gone anywhere, or done anything. To be fair to Adnwer, it was naughty but completely safe. In reality, what Scotty thought was a year and a half was only a couple of hours.)
Wendy tried to lighten things up.
"You do look a bit like Bill Murray when he's got a beard."
"Groundhogged, eh?" said Scotty.
Adnwer tried to save face. "I only did it because he beat me at Chess!.... and insulted Radiohead." He couldn't see the HAL computer screen, which was saying;
----------------------PREPARE TO MEET YOUR MAKER-----------------------------------
(HAL wasn't religious. He just assumed that everyone else was manufactured too.)
"I must say" said Wendy, becoming nervous "you seem awfully calm, Scotty."
"That's because I guessed what had happened" replied Scotty, smiling smugly.
"Oh, Come Off It!!!!" said Little Red, losing feigned interest in her boots "There is no way you could figure that out! Your memory is effectively wiped!"
Scotty reached over to the coffee table and picked up a CD.
"TripleJ's Hottest 100; 2009."
"Well, chronologically, that's correct!" said Emmo "A year and a half after Christmas 2007 is 2009!"
Without reading, Scotty said "Disc One, Track 17; Little Red, with a song called Coca Cola. How could that happen if the ship had been stationary for eighteen months and the Matter Transference Beam had been out of action with Emmo up the Starboard Solar Tower?"
"Busted" said Wendy, humbly.
"Oh Dear".... and for the first time, it wasn't Adnwer, but Little Red.
"Oh Dear" said the expression's rightful owner, as he saw the HAL Computer's screen.
"There's more too" said Scotty. Adnwer's got something else to tell you."
"Only a small matter!" giggled Adnwer, in that disturbing, high pitched way "I beat HAL at Chess again, and he cut off the oxygen supply to the ship.".........
No one said anything. Everyone looked around, at empty spaces in the Crew Lounge, and eventualy to eachother's faces.......
"Hear that?" Scotty cocked an ear to a sound no one else could hear "That's the compensators on Units Two and Four, trying to kick in. They've been doing it all morning... Not good."
"Chess really brings out the worst, doesn't it?" said Emmo, removing the cigar from his mouth, as his WW2 helmet strap buckle 'tinked'.
Scotty looked at Adnwer. "So, we haven't really run out of Beam cans?"
"Oh, Jesus!" said Wendy.
"No" admitted Adnwer "There's a whole pallet in the ship's hold. The Beam cartons are smaller, so I put them all inside empty Coopers Pale Ale cartons."
"Cool!" said Scotty. "Plug in the fridge, Emmo! It's no longer a cupboard!" and he wandered off in the direction of the ship's hold.
"So that's it?" shouted Wendy.
"Well if we're all going to die, we may as well get smashed, Wendy. Want a Fluffy Duck?"
"Oh, ok" she sighed; not really knowing what else to say.
"Me too?"
"You're tricking him, right Adnwer?" said Little Red "He assumes that you tricked him with the Groundhog, and you're now tricking him with the Oxygen?"
"Um, no...." said Adnwer. "Look".
They all came over and read the HAL Computer screen......
----------------IF YOU ALL GO TO SEPARATE AREAS OF THE SHIP, IT WILL BE SLOWER----------------
"Shit"........
"I hate Stanley Kubrick".....
"I was getting new Rossis next week"......
"Why are all our WARP manouvres named after 80s movies?" 'tink'
"OH SHUT UP!!!!!!"
Scotty came back with two Pale Ales, two Fluffy Ducks, and a carton of Jim Beam cans, and an eighteen inch shifting spanner. Wendy assumed this was to hit them all over the head with, as a selfess humane gesture.
"Here you go! Cheers everyone!".......
TEN MINUTES LATER....
"Um, Scotty....." ventured Little Red.....
"BRAARRPPPP!!!!! Yep?" came the reply, as he was on his seventh can.
"Well, if we are all going to die, could you be a bit less cheerful?"
"Sorry!" said Scotty "I'll try to put my serious face on! (then) Oh dear, do you hear that? That's Unit 3 trying to kick in its compensators. Not good."
"This is like that scene in 'Almost Famous'" said Emmo "when the plane is going to crash, you know what I mean?"
"Can't you fly us out of here, to a place where we can get oxygen, Emmo?" pleaded Little Red.
"No" said Emmo " The ship goes through a big procedure when we fire up the Drive, and with falling Oxygen, she won't do it, for safety."
"But we aren't safe!" said Wendy.
"The Beam cans are!" said Scotty, slapping his tummy, then "FSSST!"
Emmo turned to Adnwer. "Can we beam anyone out to get help?"
"No. It's the same with with the Matter Transference Beam. First thing that has to happen is the Oxygen level in the pod."
"This was not a Boating Accident!" replied Emmo.
"Sorry?" said everyone...
"Oh".... "what about 'The Truth!!!! You can't handle the Truth!!!!'"
"He he he!" said Scotty.
"But that wasn't funny!" said Wendy "he couldn't even get his movie quotes right, because he is running out of air!!!!"
"He He! It is funny!" said Scotty, opening his 'FSSST' ninth can.
"WHAT IS?!!!!!" replied everyone.
"Revenge" said Scotty, standing up. "He he! What is the one system on this ship that allows manual override of the HAL Computer?"
No one knew.
"Aircon. Airconditioning. All other systems; Engines, Defence, Navigation, Lighting, Matter Transference Beam, Solar Towers, are all shut down by HAL, but Life Support is the most important, and that is run via Airconditioning."
"So what do you have to do?" asked Wendy.
"BRRAARRRPPPP!!!! Esentially, press a switch."
"Will you do it then?!!!!!" asked everyone.
"Only if you promise to be nice from now on."
"YES!!!!!" said everyone except Little Red, who eventually stooped to "ok then".
"OK. Won't even be necessary, to tell you the truth." said Scotty, picking up the 18 inch shifting spanner. "Unbeknown to Adnwer, this isn't the first time... There are hundreds of cameras all over the ship, attached to HAL. This weighs about ten kilograms" said Scotty, holding it in his right fist and slapping it into his left palm. "Watch this" and he wandered around the Crew Lounge, looking into all the cameras.
Things clicked and things whirred. Air vents started blowing, and noises like your cordless phone coming on after a power failure permeated throughout the enormous ship, while the enormous man with the enormous spanner walked about menacingly, with nine cans of Jim Beam inside.
"Watch what happens when I go near the main Servers!" taunted Scotty, wandering off.
------------------SORRY-------------DIDN'T REALLY MEAN THE DEEP SPACE THING-----------------
said HAL.
"Oh Dear" said Adnwer.
"Wow!" said Emmo. "So, Adnwer beats HAL at Chess, and HAL knows Scotty beats Adnwer at Chess, so HAL is more frightened than Hitler was in 1945!"
No one said anything for quite some time. Frankly, no one knew a response to that weird stuff.
Eventually, Little Red broke the silence.
"Scotty doesn't play fair."
I've never needed glasses. I was one of those lucky kids. Dad always had them, and Mum didn't need them until her late forties. I inherited her eyes. They are even the same colour; Hazel. I turn 46 this month, and I have noticed problems in the past year. I now own my first pair of glasses. They are very mild, and for reading only, but they are glasses.
I have a problem with glasses... I have several problems with glasses. I'm not "Glassist" Many of my friends wear glasses! I just don't like things attached to my body or my face that aren't clothes. I don't wear jewelry. I hate hard hats, and goggles, and gloves, so any job that has required these has always been accepted grudgingly. Most of all, I'm a carpenter. Sawdust is a part of the job, and doesn't go well with glasses. Worse still, what does a carpenter wear full time behind the ear?
EXACTLY!!!!!
Bloody glasses.......
When I was a little kid, I had this theory about old people. They would wake up one day with grey hair, and then go and see the doctor. The doctor would say "Oh dear, Grey hair!" and would reach under the desk to a cardboard box filled with Old People Kits. You would be supplied with a hearing aid, a set of false teeth, a pair of glasses, and a walking stick, and the keys to a white 1973 Toyota Crown....
See you when the cross rolls over!
Well, it's been a couple of weeks....
During my time here in the UK, whenever anyone has said "I have house in the south of France", I have tended to innocently dismiss them as tossers. I say "innocently" because I have only discovered what they meant in the past six months, having visited the south of France.
Now, I realise that what most people are saying equates to nothing more than Aussies saying "I have a shack on the river" or "a shack on Yorke Peninsula" in that it simply means a cheap place they are fond of, where they relax and the weather is better. Until now, I had imagined the French coast, and it's horrible expensive over developed resorts.
I am chastened a little. I have lived in an ancient farm house for ten days and it's gorgeous. These houses have become surplus stock after a century of industrialised farming, and France is a large country with a small population, so these houses have become the equivalent of our "shacks" in Australia.
Nice shacks, though!
This one also has a 13th century chapel.
and Roman ruins
My little slice of heaven.
See you when the real world rolls over!
The gadget won't allow pics just now, and that's a shame because I'm living in an ancient farmhouse in the south of France for a couple of weeks. Life is so hard!
It's high on a hill, looking out over the village of Aups. Aups is so old that Julius Caeser once visited. His mobile and keys are still on the shelf by the back door. (I sneakily checked his texts, and there's one saying "It wasn't me, maaaate! Love Brutus xxx)
The old house is off the grid. It's solar and wind powered, and the water comes from an ancient well. It has two pot belly stoves, a backup generator, and the hot water and stove run on bottled gas. My day is all about when I can run the fridge, pump up water pressure, get firewood in, and run lights, and I absolutely love it. When there is a breeze at night, I can watch DVDs, knowing there is enough power, and when there isn't, I know I have a couple of hours of lights before candles and hurricane lamps take over and I love that too. First thing in the morning, I switch on the fridge, to take advantage of the sun, and then I switch it off about 4 and it's cold through the night.
Daytime temps are about 22 and night time falls to about 15, and you can feel that summer is on the way. In London, it's still pushing to make 15 during the day.
My French is still the weakest of all my language attempts thus far, but I can order food, shop at the supermarket, and apologise to parents for running over their children while driving on the wrong side of the road.
Life is good!
See you when the cross rolls over!
Here, it's the opposite. WOOHOO!!!!!! It's Daylight Saving! Sunset is at 7.30, and by July, will be 10pm. English summer evenings are fantastic, I have to say. You celebrate them more, too; especially after the nasty winter we've just had. So, noticing it's been a good five weeks since I last bored you, dear readers, I thought I'd better get back on, innit!
THE BOAT RACE
This weekend just gone, marked a few milestones. There was the aforementioned Daylight Saving, and the first Formula One race of the season. It was also the Boat Race on Sunday; generally seen as the first date on the London Calendar. It's weird, it's posh, it's a bit boring really, but it's frightfully British darling! so you go along. It also helps if you have friends who live in Putney and they insist on putting on a big boozy bbq every year!
I have to admit, uploading this pic, it is a very surreal event! Even if you click on it, you can hardly see what all the fuss is about, but between those two bigger function-hire boats, you can just see two rowing teams; one from Oxford, and one from Cambridge.
It's such a massive event, but you wouldn't know it from the pictures. This is taken from the Putney side, and you are looking across at Fulham. You can hardly see the boats, but you can see the numbers of spectators.
LUST FOR LIFE?
There is a series of really odd advertisements at the moment involving Iggy Pop. Car Insurance advertisements...... Some are on TV and some are on billboards and trains, and I'm bothered by them. It's not just the questionable connection between an underground rock legend and the corporate world.....
It's also frankly disturbing!
LIFE IMITATING ART
On BBC Radio this week, they were asking for clever ideas from listeners to cheer everyone up for April Fools Day during the Recession. News stories, fake headlines; that sort of thing. By all accounts, they got a deeply disappointing response, and I think that's because they were launching a self-defeating prophecy from the start. After all, in any other year, a story about a bank that lost billions, and was then propped up with taxpayers' money, giving its CEO a multi million pound payout WOULD STILL BE FUNNY!!!!!!
See you when the Revolution rolls over!
(Oh, Oxford won. Sorry about the suspense!)
I'm working nights at the moment. Usually, I work on new exhibitions, but they are winding down, and I probably won't build the next one, unfortunately. In the meantime, we are repairing, cleaning, upgrading and re painting all the old permanent exhibitions, so it can't be done while the public is in. Normally, we do this sort of thing in the mornings before 10, but with huge galleries like these, it's easier just to come in at night.
So I've started coming in at 2 or 3 in the afternoon, and working until 10 or 11. The place closes at 6pm, so I get a fair stretch done, and unlike mornings, I don't have to worry about drying times of paints.
People ask me next morning if I saw ghosts, and I didn't/haven't so I say "no". I don't know what they are so fascinated about. I work evenings, completely alone. That's all.
I don't know what they are talking about......
Of course, it would be an ideal place to meet ghosts; it was once Bedlam Hospital. Added to that are showcases full of objects and uniforms that used to belong to people; when they were alive. The night staff have always talked about the "grey lady", but others have told me that every old building in London has one........
No, there are no ghosts here.
None at all.
It is surreal; I admit that. The word has popped up regularly in my job at the Museum; perhaps never more so than one morning in 2007. We had closed the Faulklands War Exhibition, and it was eight oclock in the morning. I had a big round green thing on my trolley; an Argentinian sea mine; about 1.2 metres in diameter, with copper "spikes" sticking out of it. This weapon of mass destruction seemed at odds with the friendly blue trolley and the carpet it was being wheeled across. As I took it out through the gallery doors, this WMD seemed even more at odds with the choir assembled in our Atrium; not to mention the orchestra they were tuning up with at an hour so ungodly that the cafe staff hadn't yet made the first latte of the day. Yes; "surreal" and IWM do rather go together.
but there are no ghosts.......
There are noises. A big old building always has noises. Lighting and sound equipment ticks as it cools. The ground "rumbles" more audibly than during the day, as the underground trains on the Bakerloo Line pass nearby, and several voices whisper to me as I pass through the galleries. I greet them happilly and confidently, knowing there are no ghosts.
There is one strange thing, though...
Whenever I'm to work nights, my boss has to email several departments two days in advance. She tells Security, Control, the Operations Managers, and the electricians, so that they can bypass the timer switches on the lighting. Every night; and it's been seven or eight now in the past month; I hear footsteps and a voice saying "Oh! Are you working tonight! No wonder all the alarms are going off!" I explain that my boss has told all the relevant people, and he always says "What's your name again? What company are you from?" I tell him, and he disappears with a "thanks, I'll tell'em".
And he's never the same person that lets me out the front door when it's time to leave...
Hmmmm. I wonder.
See you when the shift rolls over!
On Monday February 2, the only places that were busy were the parks. Hopefully, you didn't need to catch a bus or a train to get there, though. There weren't any. Schools have been closed for two days, many supermarkets and post offices didn't open, and even some banks. Over in Europe, it's just another day. Once again, they are laughing at Britain.
Ok, I admit; it's pretty as all getout in Londers right now, but why snow stops a nation is beyong me. I walked to work. Then I walked home. Google 'Crystal Palace to Lambeth' and you'll see it's not quite next door. My only joy was hearing Boris the Mayor getting grilled by the BBC. My favourite was Margaret Carney saying "The buses didn't even stop for the Blitz. You let a bit of snow shut them down."
He spluttered his way through another interview; barely audible over the clown music, and then the Education Minister was quizzed about why all the schools were still shut. Both men; one from the right, and one from the left; had their skates on, so to speak. They appeared to be skating around the dreaded Fun Police's favourite words; HEALTH & SAFETY, but doing their very best not to say them.........
See you when the cross rolls over!
Under Waterloo Station, off Lower Marsh in Lambeth, is a little street which is basically a tunnel; a long brick arch. I think it's called Leigh St.
Squalid, isn't it?.... Well, no. It's actually pretty cool. This place is a community gallery. Graffiti is legal, and encouraged. Installations go in here all the time, and bands play, market stalls sell food, and kids muck about on skateboards while artists do their various things that artists do. I particularly liked one piece last year; where a battered old Nissan sports car was stood on end, and propped against the wall, making it look like a high speed tunnel accident.
Lower Marsh is pretty cool! Funky, alternative, subversive and studenty, and near where I work. I like it.
See you when the cross rolls over!
This is a poster on Platform 1 at Tulse Hill Station. I zoomed in from Platform 4, so it's a bit crap. I think you get the gist, though. It's a British Airways slogan at the moment and frankly, I don't think it will be one for much longer. You see, as far as I can tell, IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING!
Correct me if I'm wrong. Point out the blindingly obvious thing that I am missing, please. Is there something in the fact that it's a hotdog stand, and I'm supposed to recognise some American significance? As far as I can tell, they are saying that you can't experience the place while stuck in a bus, so why not just fly over it instead!
ON THE BUSES
London's new mayor Boris has always wanted to bring back Routemaster buses. They were phased out in 2005 because they were old, smokey, cold, dangerous, and not friendly to wheelchairs and pushchairs. He said he would come up with a new Routemaster if he got elected, and launched a competion.
Joint winners of the "new London bus competition" are the Aston Martin pictured above, and the Capoco Design Ltd version below.
pics courtesy BBC
They are concepts only; not prototypes, and Boris says they could be on the road by 2011, but I hear clown music every time he speaks. Neither will necessarily go into production, as they haven't even been designed yet, nor tendered. Given that London's existing bus fleet is now mostly brand new, and we are in a recession, I think this idea is dead already.
Being still at the wanky concept stage, both bus "designs" listed their amazing features respectively. The Aston Martin boasts solar panels in the roof and zero emissions, so clearly, we won't be seeing that one anytime soon. The Capoco at least proposes to have an engine, but I also noticed that one quirky little feature was "wireless communication between driver and conductor...
AND CONDUCTOR-uctor-uctor-uctor....
They may as well write "pulled by grain-fed organically reared free range draft horses" or "spoked wheels made from ethically sourced renewable timber species". "Raised ceilings invite the wearing of bonnets and top hats"!
See you when the bus rolls over!
"You're whistling Radiohead's "Karma Police".
"Am I?" Scotty looked shifty and picked up one of Little Red's "Cute Boots" magazines, put his feet up and made himself comfortable. "Good song, that.... (then singing quietly) This is what you'll get, if you me-e-e-ss with us..." as he leafed through a few pages "Ooh! Metallic is the new Black! Noice!"
"I thought you hated Radiohead" said Adnwer, not wanting to talk but trying to act natural.
"Nah! Never said that. Thom Yorke's pure genius, he is."
Adnwer found it hard to focus. The falling oxygen level wouldn't be noticeable for some time yet, but he was struggling with Scotty pretending to like Radiohead on one side, and HAL on the other leaving cryptic messages.
YOU WILL BE ABLE TO BREATHE MUCH LONGER IF YOU CAN MOVE SCOTTY TO-----------------------------
"His quarters?"... keyed in Adnwer ....
HE NEEDS TO BE TRANSFERRED TO--------------------------------------
"The Loading Bay?"... keyed Adnwer again...
DEEP SPACE-----------------------------------
"Oh dear" said Adnwer.
"Whossat?"
"Oh, nothing really.... you know." said Adnwer, while frantically typing "Isn't there another alternative?"
YES--------------------- YOU COULD GO INTO DEEP SPACE INSTEAD---------------------------------
OR,----------------------YOU COULD GO INTO DEEP SPACE AS WELL---------------------------------
"Oh........" Adnwer felt a deep sense of foreboding. Scotty put down Little Red's magazine...
"Ever feel like you're not really in control, Adnwer?"
"Hmm... What? Yes; or did I mean No! What?"
"Don't you get sick of waiting for your days to be written for you?"
"But I don't" said Adnwer, wanting to engage with his friend but being terrorised by a fiend "what do you mean?"
"Well, look at the date! A year ago to this day, you and I sat here playing your crazy card game, and talking about Emo being up the Starboard solar tower."
"Yes" said Adnwer, glancing at HAL's screen.
"Well at that point, he had been up there for five months" said Scotty "so that means he's now been up there for seventeen. Seventeen months and we haven't been able to go anywhere. I'm just wondering how long we have to wait for the author to write us out of this little corner because I'm sick of doing little maintenance jobs."
"Speaking of which, Big feller" said Little Red, clattering in. "there's condensation dripping from the A/C outlet in my quarters".
Scotty feigned mild interest. "Send a jobsheet through while I assemble a team...."
Little Red was about to gently "cuff him one" when she was knocked off balance by Emo crashing into her back, carrying a massive stack of CDs.
"Where do you want these? FGHLLP" said Emo, his helmet buckle 'tink'ing as his cigar was rammed down his throat by Little Red's Elbow.
Adnwer hardly even looked up. "Oh, over there" he waved vaguely. "Where did you put the last lot?"
DEEP SPACE-----------------------------------
"PHNERRRRR" said Emo, recovering. "Er, in the Beam Can Fridge. There's heaps of room in there."
"Ear Tiger! Crikey Dina!" said Scotty when he saw the ship's pilot for the first time since he could hardly remember. "Wotchabinupto?"
"Aw, just hanging about, Big Feller! Just let me put these down somewhere."
"What are they?" asked Scotty, looking at the stack of discs.
"Oh, you know;" said Little Red settling on the sofa "seventeen months of Ship's Logs."
"Alright if yer fridge remains unplugged while we use it as a cupboard?" called out Emo.
"Yeah, may as well, Tiger. Tell me, how can a ship have logs when it hasn't gone anywhere for nearly a year and a half? Don't 'logs' require stuff to actually happen?"
"Come off it!" said Emo returning. "We haven't stopped!;-..." as Wendy burst through the door shouting "NOOOOOOOOO-O-O-o-ooooo.......! He still thinks;-............"
OH DEAR------------------------------------
I am quite a fan of Youtube, and I spend WAY too much time on there. I love discussing music and film with people all over the world, and arguing with Americans who think noone else makes music and film...
For those who might not know, like many forum sites, Youtube asks for verification every so often, whereby you type the crazily written word into the adjacent box, so that they know you are a real live person and not a genocidal cyborg or a feral cash machine or something like that. I noticed that the words provided; although nonsensical; are often hilarious, so I started to write them down.....
VASECTIN, SCRUTORAC, CANSFOAL, NARSSEST, STERSES, SYLPINCIZ, CONSCRAE, DIRCURENC, NESSEDRAS and FANGSOU would all make great Nordic Heavy Metal band names, but my favourites are;
3) SNESSUF
2) PHINGRE
1) SNADGE
Yes, my very favourite is SNADGE!
WHIMSICAL LONDON
I was rather annoyed one night last week when I lost an installment I was writing for BigM.com, while trying to upload a photo. I was out, you see, on a Sunday night, and whimsically writing to you all on the train, via the BB gadget in what was supposed to be real time, from leaving Anerley Station to arriving at London Bridge.
Like all pieces that become lost, it was going to be the best thing I ever wrote. I was certainly enjoying writing it, because the realtime aspect was really cool. Anerley to London Bridge only takes twenty minutes, and it was taking as long to write stuff as it did to see it and think it, from the welcoming glow of the lamps in the Anerley Arms to the always surreal sight of Tower Bridge above the terrace houses, and in between how I really have fallen for a city that I didn't want to come to, at first.
It was at London Bridge that I lost the masterpiece, while trying to add a pic I'd just taken of said Tower Bridge, realizing that hand held gadgets (although amazing) just don't have anywhere near the functionality of a proper computer, nor the backup capacity, and said Blackberry is lucky it didn't end up in the Thames. I'd been right in the middle of telling the tale that an Aussie friend once told me, that has turned out to be perfectly true.
He said that you get used to most things in London. The tiny ancient streets, and quirky public transport; the long commute times compared to Oz, the 16 hours of darkness in winter and the crap weather, all become things you don't think about after a while; they are just there. Then, he says, after years of living here, you'll cross the river in a cab one night near Westminster, and suddenly spin in your seat and point out the back window, shouting "Look! It's Big Ben!"
This tale was to have been punctuated with a picture of Tower Bridge; the floodlights catching its gilded tips on a clear night...
84 CHARING CROSS RD
...and that was the preamble to this. From London Bridge, I went to Charing Cross Station, and then walked up Charing Cross Rd, past Trafalgar Square, and St Martin in the Fields, and as I approached the bookshop district, I realised I'd never actually looked for the famous shop at number 84. Something at the back of my head said it was now a McDonald's or something.
The book was written in 1970 when Helene Hanff still hadn't yet visited the shop; Marks and Co. By the time she did, it had closed, and Frank Dole, her close correspndent for twenty years, had died. The 1986 film with Anne Bacroft and Anthony Hopkins had the tag line "A true story, based on a bestseller."
I looked at it now. Thankfully, it still stands in the company of many, many bookshops, and I was thrilled to see it isn't a McDonald's. It's a Pizza Hut. I walked on...
In a case of whimsical symmetry, the place I was going is soon being demolished. It's called the Astoria, on the left, 157 Charing Cross Rd and on Sunday December 14, 2008 I was there to see the Dandy Warhols. Noice!
Very NOICE!
SCENES FROM THE MUSEUM
Next day, it was back to work. Normal every day work. My usual lunch partner; Sally the Spak met me, and we had Cornish Pasty instead of the usual Pizza. She's fond of both. Unfortunately, the rare chance of a close shot, cut off her little "hands", which are hilarious when she's holding food.
I'm having a few days off for Christmas, but I'm working most days that everyone else at the Museum isn't. My Job Card currently says. "BigM... Repaint the Submarine".
You know... normal everyday work... innit!
See you when the cross rolls over!
Now that I live in the UK, and am on my third Christmas, I know only too well that the "Christmas Number One" is a very real thing. It's been going for a very long time. Like Eurovision, it's wide eyed, camp, facile, and boring, and something called X Factor is now making it even more evil; even more invasive in the lives of the innocent.
Another pretty girl with a nice voice has been stamped out of a girl group mould, and has done quite well with a cover of Leonard Cohen's 'Halleluja' and the pooh has really hit the propeller. There's no doubt she can sing, but the question on the lips of every X Factor hater is "WHY THAT SONG!!!!!" She is clearly cut out for R&B, or Whitney Huston covers. Why murder a sacred song? (Do Snow Patrol, like Leona the other Simon Cowell robot is doing.)
The backlash has caused a viral campaign so powerful that it has managed to get the Jeff Buckley version not only back into the charts, but into the number two Christmas spot. It is the first time this has happened for over fifty years, and while this is a form of culture I never want to embrace, it does bring up some interesting questions about reality TV, "voting", music sales, and the influence of one show (or person) over radio and the music industry.
Leonard is still alive, so I'll say...
See you when Jeff Buckley rolls over!
One of the things I didn't realise when I started at the Museum, is how many mannequins are used in museums... You callin me fick? Yeah, I know. We have storage areas for mannequins, and this year, I have spent a lot of time improving and altering these areas. There is a very good reason for this.
MANNEQUINS ARE MESSY...
I know they have parties all the time. Every time I leave a few and come back, they are all over the floor. I'm sure if I switched off the lights and stayed in the room instead of leaving, I would see proof... but I'm scared.
MANNEQUINS ARE EVIL...
They are unbelievably difficult things to work with. They are life-size after all, and although not as heavy as the real thing, they are really awkward like the real thing. Moving them is hell.
MANNEQUINS DON'T LIKE MOVING...
When moving mannequins, it's instinctive to lift them by the arms, shoulders, or waist, but this is bad, and you will be punished. The arms are articulated, and suddenly you find yourself in a fight with something as big as you, but something you can't reason with. Like a drunken uncle.
The mannequins I move are all wrapped in plastic, so grabbing them anywhere will get you into more trouble than your headmaster could tell your mum about, but the worst bit is that they are all joined at the waist, and when you lift the torso (a word you only ever hear in grisly murders) the bum falls off with the legs, and if nothing else, makes a big noise you can't get away with. Not only that, it's embarrassingly difficult putting it back together. You find yourself holding your arm around the waist of a life-size figure; now top heavy due to its dramatic surgery; trying to corral a bum and two legs that only want to fall over, wrapped in plastic, and trying to relocate the spigot with a third arm you don't have...
THAT'S MANNEQUIN RUDE TALK
So you learn the "buttocks and groin" grab. You have to, because you need the bulges to get the purchase needed to lift the whole figure. The B&G means that you become very ungainly and you can't see anything because the figure you carry is as tall as you, so you tend to turn a lot and walk backwards, and then look over your shoulder, carrying a humanoid object that cooperates like a Weekend at Bernie's. It looks as clumsy as a school dance but way more dirty!
No matter how private or remote the store room is, nor how unsociable your working hours, someone always walks in when you are moving a mannequin using the buttocks&groin grab, and no matter what, you can't help uttering the words "Oh, I was just, er.."
None of this can prepare you for the scariest thing that mannequins do... You can work in a storeroom for hours after moving some mannequins, or a nice friendly Props/Costume Dept, and you will be distracted by the crinkle of plastic, and turn to see an arm move... This only happens when you are alone in the room. Your pooh turns to mannequin pooh, if you know what I mean. It is AWFUL!
I hate mannequins!
See you when the torso rolls over!
I was no stranger to building sites at the time. I had worked as a builder's labourer on weekends for my last two years at school, and it was painfully ironic that I had to take a cut in pay to be an apprentice carpenter, especially as I was used a builder's labourer for most of my apprenticeship...
Those first couple of weeks were hell. I'd finished Year 12 in November, and the first thing I did was go surfing with my best mates for about four or five days. They followed that up with about ten weeks of more sand, sun, and surfing before going to university. I went to work, and we had a heatwave, and I was working in trenches between two buildings in the full sun. I particularly remember laying out the orange plastic (Fortecon) that lies under concrete, slipping in what turned out to be my own sweat, and falling into a trench, wondering what I'd got myself into, and knowing my mates probably weren't even out of bed yet...
I didn't enjoy my apprenticeship, and went to university straight after, only to find that that I didn't actually dislike my job after all; just my employer. With encouragement and part time work from friends and colleagues, and occasional loans from my girlfriend, I became self employed through uni, and stayed so for twenty years. I was in my forties by the time I worked for other employers again, and here I still am.
Ironically, Carpentry hasn't just been a job, or a business. It actually got me heavily into theatre. I think my involvement would have stopped at two school plays, had carpentry not brought me back in, and taught me the technical side of what became my great passion. Carpentry took me to Mining, and working in the middle of the desert, both of which fascinated me. As if that wasn't surreal enough, I became a teacher through carpentry, and theatrical set building led me to exhibitions, which then took me to a Museum in London, which I love, and where I still work today.
Who'd have thought eh? From an ancient and humble trade, and a hot, dusty building site twenty eight years ago today.
See you when the cross rolls over!
