The Globe - lessons in English History via Shakespeare

Richard III and Henry V at the Globe

I remember in high school when one of my English teachers said that London had recreated Shakespeare's Globe. I don't remember if I was skeptical about a 'fake' globe and whether it would feel all a bit too much like pretending to do things 'how Shakespeare intended'. Tony certainly was when I announced to him that we would be going along to not one, but two Shakespeare plays at the Globe before the summer was over.

An empty Globe

It turns out that whilst the Globe is open for tours all year round, it only has a theatre season during the summer. Having now been to see a play outside at the end of September in London I can see why. The Globe's only modern convenience inside the theatre itself are lights - just enough to allow them to do evening performances until daylight savings ends - not stage lights, no spotlights and no special effects. There is no roof, you are exposed to the wind, the rain - and even the passing aircraft . It is glorious but requires a certain amount of luck, and warm clothing.


Once you walk through the doors, push past people,  find your seats (if you're amongst the posh crowd), or get a good vantage point from the floor, you are transported back 400 years. The theatre with its wooden posts supporting the upper seating levels, the bare benches (cushions are £1 each to hire on the way in), the marbled pillars and painted backdrops are excellently done. It is a remarkably small space (whilst seating and standing hundreds), which allows for the actors voices to travel to the highest reaches (even over a buzzing helicopter).

Handsome Henry V

We went first to see Henry V - my favourite history Shakespeare - at the end of August. It was still hot - and we went without jackets. We had splashed out on the posh seats (at about £35 each plus cushions) and were sitting on the lower level - about level with the stage. When we bought the tickets they warned that the view was obstructed (this is really common as the supporting posts go all the way around and are really solid - probably a good thing). I sat behind the pillar as I know the play well and wanted Tony to see everything that was going on. I did spend much of the play chasing the actors around the stage by leaning this way and that to see around the pole - but it didn't matter. As soon as the Hearing the opening lines of the Chorus implore you to forget your hard seats and the confines of the 'wooden O', you really are transported to the fields of France imagining the thousands of soldiers, the horses, the castle walls and the shouts of battle.

Somehow I don't think i'll ever quite be able to enjoy the way Shakespeare is done in modern times in quite the same way. Growing up on Bell Shakespeare I always enjoyed the modern twist he'd add, modern dress, amazing sets, music etc. The 'real deal' at the Globe however highlights how perfect these plays are as they were written - timeless in both their story-line, and their audience appeal - without the need for costume, music or set to translate for a modern audience. In particular the jokes and audience throws were so much more obvious - the way in which Shakespeare plays to the crowd and engages them in the action. Tony spent the whole time wanting to cry out 'he's behind you'!

In Henry V the crowd was the army King Henry appeals to through his St Crispian's Day speech. We were the soldiers expected to rush forth in full battle cry in response to 'once more into the breach dear friends, once more!'. I have never before felt such an urge to rush onto the stage and be part of the action.

Pistol and the Welshman - eating the leek

In Richard III, in once scene where the guards were debating whether or not it was right to kill the Duke of Clarence as ordered by Richard of Gloucester. Mid debate one knelt and asked the closest member of the audience 'what do you think?' At once the audience thought 'I'm glad he didn't ask me' while also laughing at the engagement with the audience on this moral dilemma.

Roger Lloyd Peck as Buckingham

We unknowingly booked tickets to the closing night of Henry V - which meant that the actors were in full flight. The Welsh jokes were flowing in particular - more text populated with 'Look You's' than I remembered from Shakespeare's text - but the actors were evidently enjoying themselves.

We were also really impressed with the quality of the actors. Roger Lloyd Peck (who I knew first as the eccentric father from Cold Comfort Farm) played an outstanding Buckingham. I recognized 'Sir Pitt' from the BBC's Vanity Fair - playing Pistol. The other actors - whilst I didn't recognize them - were superb.

Richard III and Anne (a male actor playing a woman)

Richard III was Tony's favourite. Captivating from the first moment we walked through the doors - finding our standing 'seats' part way through the introduction with a drink in each hand - we were immediately held by Richard. Not a hunchback - but a deformed cripple as Shakespeare implied, we was excellent. The audience loved and hated him at the same time. Once he was asked (by his own design) to be king, the audience was invited to cry 'God Save King Richard, the one and rightful king' - which we did dutifully.

We exited both performances absolutely brimming with excitement and praise at what we had just witnessed - and next season we will make it to every show. 

I want to go to Brighton!

I Want to go to Brighton!

Brighton Beach

On about Tuesday last week Tony and I decided we wanted to go away for the weekend. We looked on the map, and after looking at some lovely escapes recommended by Sawdays over near Bristol, we decided we just wanted somewhere close. As it turned out - one of the  closest pieces of beach to London is Brighton. 

All I knew of Brighton was that it was the scene of Lydia's disgrace in Pride and Prejudice - and that 'a little sea bathing' would have set Mrs Bennett up forever.  Nevertheless we threw out 'togs' and beach towels into our duffel bags, slung them over our shoulders and jumped on the train with all the rest of London escaping to the beach for what was forecast to be a properly sunny weekend.

Brighton Pier

Brighton, no longer the place of Regency era parties, balls and promenades, is now a bustling English resort.  We booked into The Old Ship Hotel facing the waterfront and neatly between Brighton Pier and West Pier, in a room on the top floor overlooking the sea. The hotel was once obviously the scene of dances, with reception rooms still used today for weddings and the like. It had lovely folding doors opening the bar and restaurant onto the beachfront - letting in the sea breeze where we ensconced ourselves with cold beer to escape the heat.

We had spent our morning wandering the promenade, taking in the carnival sights on Brighton Pier (which is basically like sideshow alley from the Canberra Show - but over the water).Do not be fooled into thinking that any actual fishing or boats are associated with this Pier. I imagine if you were a teenager spending the summer in Brighton with your folks, it would be a great place to kill time - but for us we were more than satisfied with a quick walk the full length and back - cultural experience done.

Below the Promenade

One thing that has amazed us is the lengths the English went to to transform the beachfront for their purposes. Apart from the two huge piers - but built for leisure not work - a promenade the entire length of the heads was built - with wrought iron arches, and long gentle ramps to take you down to the sea.  Such effort to fore the sea to shape to people seems very at odds to us as Australians - even Bondi hasn't tamed the beachfront to this level. The promenades do however provide a useful roof for bars, clubs, restaurants and cafes that line up to serve the swarms of people promenading their way past.

Pebbles for Sand

Tony being forced to pose for a photo

Also very odd to us was the pebbly beach - quite painful to walk on rare foot - but conveniently means you come out without the usual covering of sand. We only bothered to go in up to our knees but spent a long time sitting on the pebbles watching other people play in the tame surf less water. With no waves, and therefore no rips, we realised why it is that English tourists get to Bondi and promptly have to be rescued by our lifeguards. They haven't grown up with an understanding and respect for the rules of the waves and the sea.

The only way to sit on this beach

After buying me a large sun hat (I left all mine in Australia) we also realised how little respect there is here for the sun. We re both covered in 50+ sunscreen, and me now also in my umbrella sized hat and still felt it was time to heat out of the sun after a few hours. However no one else seemed to ca re - most of them were lobster coloured with sunburn, and no one had a hat on - not even the children. Whilst no where near as ferocious as the Australian sun, the English sun on a summer day is certainly enough to make you burn.

Lunch time found us looking for a traditional fish and chips - of which here were lots - serving fresh fish heavily battered with great chips in cones of paper - vinegar not lemon. We took ours to the edge of the promenade to watch the beach whilst eating. Within a few bites however we were ducking for cover as the seagulls appeared from nowhere, stealing pieces of fish in their beaks and knocking into our shoulders ant almost taking my hat in their rush to get our food. We sought shelter in a nearby bus stop until they dispersed - much to he amusement of everyone walking past.

The oldest surviving
Victorian Bandstand - apparently

The pleasure gardens

After our scene from The Birds was over we hid from the sun in The Lanes - the oldest parts of the town which were one the old fishing village before sea bathing became a fad and brought the whole of London to visit every summer. I had hoped the Lanes might be full of vintage - and everyone had told me how wonderful they were.  Unfortunate they were all new shops - just in lovely narrow and old lane ways. I think I've been spoiled by Portobello rd - but I can't be bothered with chain stores regardless of how quaint their surroundings.

West Pier

Probably my favourite part was the ruins of the West Pier. About 200m down the beach from the carnival of the Brighton Pier, stands an iron shell of a very large pier. It was built in 1880s and a ballroom and concert hall was added in the early 1900s. It must have been an amazing venue - right out over the water- with grand Victorian architecture and music floating out into the night over the sea. The pier sadly closed in 1975 when the corporation that owned it went bankrupt. It slowly fell into disrepair, although you could go on guided tours of it until large storms damaged it during the 90s, and the walkway was removed for safety reasons. In 2002 it suffered 2 huge fires that completely gutted the structure.  Fire crews couldn't put the blaze out ash they had no way of reaching it.  There has been talk of restoring it to its former glory however the cost would seem prohibitive. Until someone finds the money it is now only a blackened reminder of a more elegant past for a city that has hopes of somehow finding its way back there one day. 

Paris in the summer

Paris in the summer

The wonders of airbnb

Passage Verdeau

The passage behind the passage

We have discovered airbnb - how people travelled Europe on a budget without it is beyond me. Through the wonders of this site we found Delphine and her lovely flat, hidden away in the passages of Montmartre. In the 19th century the Parisians built a network of beautiful glass ceiling'd passages for shoppers - to keep them dry and off the busy, dirty muddy streets. Behind these passages, apartments were built - only accessible through the passages, with no direct street frontage. The passages are locked at night, so only residents with the code or key can access these gems and wander in the semi dark to their private retreats in the centre of Paris.

Delphine's flat was in behind Passage Verdeau, one of the smaller passages in the network, through a locked door, down another passage, up 3 flights of stairs. Not recommended for those who have heavy luggage or can't manage stairs - but for us sprightly young things, it was a secluded wonder, with full length windows opening to give us a view over the tops of the passages and a glimpse of a hidden part of Paris missed by most tourists.

I had been a little nervous about renting a flat from a website (those who know about our disastrous experience upon arrival in the UK will understand why), particularly in a country where I didn't speak the language very well, and hadn't ever been as an adult. As a result I had chosen to rent a flat that we would have all to ourselves. Airbnb offers entire flats, rooms in houses, shared rooms - you name it - however sharing a flat with a stranger was not what we had in mind for our four day romantic escape. However I shouldn't have been worried - I had messaged with Delphine our host several times before our arrival, and she seemed lovely. Upon arrival (she even came out to find us in the rain when we couldn't find the passage), she gave us a tour of the flat, provided cake and tea, and had even given us a list of the local cafes and restaurants that she liked to frequent, and an outline of her favourite walk through the passages with turn by turn instructions.

The flat was a wonderful base for our 4 day adventure - we were hardly there as we tried to pack in as much of Paris as possible - however when we came home exhausted at the end of each day it was wonderful to feel you were in the real Paris, in a Parisian's flat (beautifully and tastefully decorated) and not in a hotel for tourists. 

Versailles

The front gates of Versailles - and the line...

Our first day in Paris however was spent as real tourists, wandering around the gilt halls of the Sun King's Palace - Versailles. When mum and dad brought us here in 1998 I remember much of the palace was under restoration - however it was early Spring and I have no recollection of crowds. Visiting again 14 years later and in the height of the summer tourist season was quite a different experience. Much of the restoration is completed, and the palace has built special entrance halls to deal with the huge numbers of tourists that trek out of Paris central to wander the ornate halls.

Lines of old Kings

Once we were through the line to get in - which wound itself around much of the front courtyard of the Palace like a long impatient snake - we joined another long line of people walking dutifully past an exhibition of the history of Versailles. Here I pause to have a quick tourist rant. Why do people take photographs of paintings? and even more irksome - why would you video a video, or indeed video the entirety of your visit to a place - capturing every window, painting, statue you walked past. When do you think you will sit and watch the entire tour of Versailles captured on poor quality hand shaky video? Or worse - which poor relative are you going to force to watch it? I guarantee the internet will have a copy of every painting in there, and even a virtual tour if you so desire. Stop watching your screen - and actually be in the moment.

Rant aside - taking photographs is in itself enjoyable - capturing just the right angle, composing an interesting image that leads the eye through the frame, or working with tricky lighting to capture rich colours and texture. I captured some photos of the parts I enjoyed the most. Long corridors lined with statues of past kings, courtiers, scholars, rich tapestry and furnishings.

The King's public bedchamber

The bedchambers of the King and Queen were closed when I was last at Versailles - however they have now been loving restored to their original overpoweringly opulent state. Can you imagine sleeping in a room this busy - not just busy with colour, gilt and pattern, but also with people? The King's bedchamber was a public court space where the King held audience - and in the evenings, the court gathered to put the monarch to bed and tuck him in.

The sights of Paris by Velib and boat

I think I can confidently say we discovered every possible thing that could go wrong with using the public bicycle system in Paris (lovingly named 'Velib' - part 'velo' part 'liberte') - except for falling off or getting run over. After working out how to use the machine to get ourselves day passes, then working out how to actually release the bicycles from their stands, the first two I got were broken - one suffering from a broken chain guard that got caught in the wheels, the other from a missing pedal. Once we found two that had all of their parts in working order we took off rather hesitantly down the street. 

Tony on Velib with phone

It was a fantastic way to see the city. Rather than travelling by metro and missing all the interesting details in between, you rode past them, could stop, take photos, and if you were especially keen, put the bicycles in a stand, go in, enjoy, come out, get new bicycles and be on your way. They cost next to nothing - $1.30 for the day pass plus about $1 per 30 minutes after the first 30 minutes (which was free).  Best of all - unlike driving a car around, if the traffic got a bit much or there was a scary intersection, we simply got off and walked the bikes across the pedestrian crossing or down the footpath. 

Annie at the Arc

We rode all the way from our apartment in Montmatre, past Opera, Madeline, down to the Obelisk, up the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triumph. We happened to choose Bastille Day for our cycling adventure - so we encountered many roads closed for the military marches and lots of crowds  - but it did mean that the Arc was looking amazing with a giant French flag hanging in its centre.  We tried to go up - however it was going to cost 10 Euro each, and there was a long line so we gave it up in favour of cycling on in the general direction of the Eiffel Tower. After gazing up at the Tower we cycled merrily homewards, along the river and up winding side streets tired but successful. 

We were so pleased with ourselves and conquering the Velib that we decided we would ride up to the Sacre Coeur to get dinner and watch the fireworks.  We discovered that from our apartment to the Sacre Coeur is one big hill - and the 3 speed Velib weren't ideal for the task. We did make it - huffing and puffing to the steps of the magnificent church - only to discover there was no where to put the bicycles away. After a long 'discussion' we finally rode much of the distance back down the hill, returned the bikes, and walked all the way back up. Lesson learnt - work out where the nearest velib station is before setting out.

The next day we decided to take the ultimate tourist tour - the boat trip down the Seine. For next to no money we had a sunset cruise past all of the main sights. Our favourite comment by our tour guide was as we passed the Obelisk - it was described as Paris's oldest monument. We wanted to point out that the only reason it was old was that it had been somewhere else for thousands of years - and Napoleon had stolen it only a matter of a couple of hundred years ago.

The river afforded a pretty amazing view of many of the beautiful buildings in Paris - but my favourite were the Grand Palace and the Petit Palace - the French exhibition buildings build around the same time as the Eiffel Tower. At sunset the true magnificence of their glass and steel structure was outlined against the sky.

The Exhibition Palaces. 

The things people do for religion 

Our tour of Paris had turned into a bit of a 'tour of things from the outside' - the lines for everything were huge and we had left it too late in the day on our second last day to get inside Notre Dame. We did enjoy the outside however and the grand flying buttresses. Tony's favourite was the statute of the first bishop of the church that stood on the site of Notre Dame - he was martyred by the romans who cut off his head. So when Notre Dame was built, they portrayed this bishop along with all the others by the front doors - holding his severed head in his hands...

Holding his head in his hands

The absolute highlight of the trip was on the last morning - we finally waited in line long enough to see the inside of the Saint Chapelle cathedral. On the Ille de la Cite - at the other end from Notre Dame is a much smaller - but more glorious - church. Built to house the 'Passion Relics' - bones and other relics of Jesus including his crown of thorns apparently, the Capetian King Louis IX spent more buying the relics than on building the church. As you can see from the pictures below - the relics must have cost a fortune because no expense was spared on the church.

The lower chapel - for the commoners

Much of the church was under much needed restoration, however it didn't detract from the overwhelming beauty of this church. Walking into the lower level chapel first, the simplicity of the gothic lines, the bold red and blue paint work with the pattern picked out in gold was stunning. The commoners who were permitted to worship here must have felt the presence of God - with the blue and gold ceilings dotted with painted stars and the gravity defying arches.

The upper chapel - for the king and the relics

Up a narrow stone staircase (the King used to enter from a link to the next-door palace that no longer exists), you come out into the main chapel. The light and colour really does take your breath away. Each of the windows tells the story of one of the books of the bible - with the story of Jesus and the resurrection in the middle over the alter - and somewhat obstructed by it. You read them like a book - moving from one image to the next from top to bottom - a simple and  beautiful solution to a population who couldn't read.

We retired to our apartment to pick up our bags, buy some cheese from the local fromagerie and jump back on the Eurostar to London. 

An Antarctic adventure in London - courtesy of the Natural History Museum

The Natural History Museum

The Museum

The NHM - true temple of nature

Tony stands patiently outside

Tony and I realised early on in our London life that if we weren't careful, we'd leave here to go home to Australia in a few years having seen lots of things outside of London - and nothing in it. Weekends were quickly being swallowed by domestic stuff and lazy breakfasts on our rooftop. So, after yet another Saturday morning cleaning and shopping, we dragged ourselves out of the house on a sunny Saturday morning and set out to start ticking off some London tourist destinations. We had already achieved the Tower of London when Kate and Cam were here, and St Paul's when our dear friend Liz came to visit recently (I feel we will accomplish quite a few courtesy of having guests) - but none on our own. 

We had heard that the Natural History Museum was showing an exhibition on Scott's expedition to the South Pole which we were keen to see - and the museum's permanent collection is free - so we thought it was worthwhile heading over for even just a few hours. 

Dog flanked by fish

Dog flanked by lizards

Pelican/pterodactyl - flanked by leaves

The NHM - built in the height of the Victorian era's fascination with science, is a 'true temple of nature' - designed from the ground up with flora and fauna in mind. Like gargoyles on a church, the pillars and drains of the NHM are decorated with beautifully carved animals - both as the prominent features, and as the flanking decoration. My favourites from the outside are below - Tony stood very patiently while I took lots of photos. In particular I love the dogs flanked by lizards and fish - and the one below where I can't work out if it is a modern day pelican or a relic of the dinosaur age.

Inside the tribute to the natural world continues with vaulted ceilings and panels - each bearing a different type of plant lovingly represented on the ceiling.  The gilt pears and apples were really too high up to really appreciate - or reach.

The Scott Exhibition

The Natural History Museum currently has an exhibition on the Scott Exhibition to the South Pole - the one where he made it to the Pole - but was not the first, and died on the return journey. Not the most uplifting subject for an exhibition - but certainly fascinating. 

Tony has just finished reading Kim Stanley Robinson's Antarctica aloud to me - which has been such a treat. Its not a small novel and it has taken us the best part of 6 months - picking away at it with sometimes weeks between chapters. KSR wrote the book for the most part as an excuse to write about the history of antarctic expeditions - and one of the main characters in the book leads tour expeditions that recreate the journeys of the explorers - some of them in their amazingly inadequate gear. The concept of doing this is probably more crazy than that of the explorers setting out the first time.

The Cape Evans Hut

So armed with our knowledge of Antarctica courtesy of KSR, we were excited to go and see the exhibit of the famous and fateful trip. The curator had decided to focus much of the exhibition not on the trekking across to the Pole - but on the lives the men lead whilst at the Pole. The artifacts - which included original provisions, gear, diaries, scientific specimens - was set up in a replica of the Cape Evans Hut that the team built on their arrival. In this hut, lined with boxes of provisions, the men slept in bunks side by side for years whilst planning and preparing for the trek to the Pole itself. 

Inside the Cape Evans Hut 

The hut itself still stands in Antarctica - with many of the original provisions and pieces of gear as the team left them. It has been preserved as a national heritage site - and it takes a long time for anything to rot in the Antarctic.

Walking around the exhibition - with lines on the floor marking out where the men's bunks were, where they ate, where Scott wrote his diaries, the most striking thing was the space dedicated in this tiny hut to science. There was a desk for biology another for geology etc. The team collected thousands of specimens that had to be examined on the spot or preserved for the long journey home to England. The also risked their lives on little side expeditions to collect specimens - in one journey called 'the worst journey in the world', the men nearly died in a storm on an expedition to collect penguin eggs. In another case, a group had been sent for the 'summer' to a separate camp to collect specimens and readings and were to return to the Cape Evans Hut for winter. They didn't make it back in time - and so wintered in a snow cave, warmed only by burning seal blubber - I'm assuming they ate the seals too. When they were finally rescued they were coated in black sludge from the burned seal blubber... I can't imagine how they didn't go mad.

The lost team covered in blubber

There was of course a large part of the exhibition dedicated to the trek to the Pole itself. The trek was a bit of a race - with the Norwegian explorer Amundsen setting off at the same time, using dogs to pull sleds, and Scott's team - who were pulling the sleds themselves. Amundsen planned to use the dogs not only to pull them along - but also to eat on the way. Scott's team - pulling their own supplies, had to be careful with weight, gear and food. They had done some preparation trips - setting up food depots along the proposed route to feed them on the way back.

The second team to the Pole. 

Amundsen's team were the first to the Pole - and made it back alive. They didn't have an easy time of it - and in fact Amundsen wrote a letter to Scott that he left at the Pole saying that he wasn't sure they would make it back alive. Scott's team - when they finally made it to the Pole around a month after Amundsen's team - found that they were second. They were crushed - and looks on their faces in the photo at the pole say it all. None of them made it back alive. Scott wrote a number of letters - and kept his diary to the last day. They were found by the team that came searching for them several months later. Many of them were on display in the exhibition - this final letter to the public being one of the most moving - mostly because even in the days before their death - they remained so forthrightly English.


Message to the Public

The causes of the disaster are not due to faulty organisation, but to misfortune in all risks which had to be undertaken.

1. The loss of pony transport in March 1911 obliged me to start later than I had intended, and obliged the limits of stuff transported to be narrowed.

2. The weather throughout the outward journey, and especially the long gale in 83° S., stopped us.

3. The soft snow in lower reaches of glacier again reduced pace.

We fought these untoward events with a will and conquered, but it cut into our provision reserve.

Every detail of our food supplies, clothing and depots made on the interior ice-sheet and over that long stretch of 700 miles to the Pole and back, worked out to perfection. The advance party would have returned to the glacier in fine form and with surplus of food, but for the astonishing failure of the man whom we had least expected to fail. Edgar Evans was thought the strongest man of the party.

The Beardmore Glacier is not difficult in fine weather, but on our return we did not get a single completely fine day; this with a sick companion enormously increased our anxieties.

As I have said elsewhere we got into frightfully rough ice and Edgar Evans received a concussion of the brain--he died a natural death, but left us a shaken party with the season unduly advanced.

But all the facts above enumerated were as nothing to the surprise which awaited us on the Barrier. I maintain that our arrangements for returning were quite adequate, and that no one in the world would have expected the temperatures and surfaces which we encountered at this time of the year. On the summit in lat. 85° 86° we had -20°, -30°. On the Barrier in lat. 82°, 10,000 feet lower, we had -30° in the day, -47° at night pretty regularly, with continuous head wind during our day marches. It is clear that these circumstances come on very suddenly, and our wreck is certainly due to this sudden advent of severe weather, which does not seem to have any satisfactory cause. I do not think human beings ever came through such a month as we have come through, and we should have got through in spite of the weather but for the sickening of a second companion, Captain Oates, and a shortage of fuel in our depots for which I cannot account, and finally, but for the storm which has fallen on us within 11 miles of the depot at which we hoped to secure our final supplies. Surely misfortune could scarcely have exceeded this last blow. We arrived within 11 miles of our old One Ton Camp with fuel for one last meal and food for two days. For four days we have been unable to leave the tent--the gale howling about us. We are weak, writing is difficult, but for my own sake I do not regret this journey, which has shown that Englishmen can endure hardships, help one another, and meet death with as great a fortitude as ever in the past. We took risks, we knew we took them; things have come out against us, and therefore we have no cause for complaint, but bow to the will of Providence, determined still to do our best to the last. But if we have been willing to give our lives to this enterprise, which is for the honour of our country, I appeal to our countrymen to see that those who depend on us are properly cared for.

Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman. These rough notes and our dead bodies must tell the tale, but surely, surely, a great rich country like ours will see that those who are dependent on us are properly provided for.

R. SCOTT.

All in all we left not exactly uplifted - but filled with a sense of wonder at what these men achieved - and a sense that they must have been more than a little crazy to attempt it in the first place. 

Pro-wrestling - Mexican and Burlesque style.

Luche Britannia - Mexican wrestling with Burlesque interludes

This blog is a little out of sequence - partly because I hadn't started the blog when we first went to see Luche - and partly because the weekend we went for the second time was also the weekend of the trip to the Tower of London and Portobello Road - so there was already too much to write about for one post. Also - the Luche experience deserves a post all of its own. 

Luche Britannia is pro-wrestling - mexican style. All of my friends and family will think immediately - what on earth is Annie doing going to pre-wrestling - let alone loving it. 

The first time we went it was at the suggestion of Tony's mate Collo. Collo is one of those guys who always knows what 'the thing' of the moment is to do - and in May in East London - that thing was  - and still is - a night at Luche Britannia. 

We rocked up at 9.30 on a Friday night to an unmarked door down a lane way. On the inside - past a 1950s pin up look-alike girl on the door, we made our way into a large room filled with people and a boxing ring. The music playing was hits from the 50s and 60s, and the girls were all dressed accordingly - think red gingham kerchief with high waisted shorts and bangs. I wished I was dressed like them - so glam. 

The MC came out to rev up the crowd - bringing with him two gorgeous girls in blue and red lycra corsets - sexy as anything - but stylish at the same time.  The MC himself was my favourite part about the whole night - he called all of the fights - but mostly he was hilarious.

The fights - all stage crafted and choreographed - were involved really amazing acts of strength and acrobatics. The crowd chose favourites and cheered them on - for example the 'Piranha' fighter incited the call 'squish the fish' - we all joined in. Tony was particularly vocal.

The fights were in disbursed with burlesque strip performances to the delight of the boys and the genuine fascination of the girls. One of the burlesque acts involved a woman drinking wax from burning candles and pouring it over her (mostly) naked body. Confronting - but interesting.

The soundtrack and vibe to the whole night was excellent - so much so that I insisted Kate and Cam come along the next month for the next show. The whole thing is put on by a group who are learning how to be pro wrestlers - and some who are well and truly qualified - and who exhibit their latest choreography once a month to their friends, fellow students and the pubic who are happy to pay a small fee for the pleasure.

Portobello Road and theTower of London

Portobello Road

The next Beatles?

Portobello Road has been on my London 'must do' lists since I was small.  One of my favourite childhood movies - Bed knobs and Broomsticks - had a scene where the characters wandered Portobello Road and its 'riches of ages'. When we visited in 1998 we were only in London during the week (the Market is only open Saturdays) and so didn't get the opportunity to see it for ourselves. Thus, a childhood dream to wander the stalls and get lost in antiques had to wait until my late 20s.

Portobello Road

We had made our first visit on Tony's birthday in May - exploring all of the winding galleries that go in one shop and come out in another lane - or sometimes 2 shops down. We purchased some old advertisements to decorate our bare walls - and some luscious silk scarves (it was still really cold). We both enjoyed it - but had no money so felt we couldn't really engage in a serious way - window shopping is only interesting for so long.

Kate in the bustle of Portobello Road

With my sister Kate in town for a visit I decided we should do a girls trip to explore it again. The boys (Kate's husband Cam and Tony) were not interested in the slightest - and instead spent the morning in the closest pub showing the Rugby in Australia (some Wales v Australia game).

I think Portobello is one of those markets that never gets old, and in fact gets better the more you go. There is simply so much to see that you are overwhelmed by the time you're only 1/3 of the way down. I took in far more on the second visit.

On our way in we passed a group of handsome boys playing Beatles covers in amongst their own stuff - and drawing a crowd. Kate picked up an interesting gold and turquoise bracelet for ￡20 in the first shop we went into - whilst I made a mental note to come back to do my Christmas shopping there this year.

Stag buttons from the 1880s

You can find anything you are after in the long street of stalls. My favourites so far are a shop that sells Harris Tweed (we picked up a new cap for Dad), a shop that sells old prints and maps (we came out with a Cecile Alden print of a dog for Mum) and a shop that sells buttons. So many buttons. The vintage cape I wrote about in Columbia Road Flower Market lost a button the very afternoon I got it home. I was very sad - and knew I'd have to replace all 5 of the lovely gold buttons because I would never find one to match. When I stumbled upon the button shop I was overwhelmed by choice - so many vintage buttons that could go on my vintage cape! I was sorely tempted by ones with a little soldier on them (but at ￡10 each I felt losing a button would become a costly exercise - especially having to replace all 5 each time). My second favourite were ones with a Stag, holding a branch in his mouth. They are solid - and quite heavy - and according to the little man at the shop - made in 1880. I am looking forward to sewing them all onto my cape.

The map and print shop is really quite amazing. It has maps (actual maps - not reproductions) of maps drawn in the 1400s - that don't have Australia on them at all, maps from the 1600s showing mangled versions of what the 'great southern land' must have looked like based on the glimpses of various explorers - and maps of early Australia - marked as 'new holland' and maps of early explorer's Australia - a large empty space only mapped up the rivers as far as the expeditions could make it. It feels like a journey back in time to flip through these maps - and I have a mind to collect a few to bring home.

Tower of London

The different phases of the Tower

I have just finished reading Bring up the Bodies - the sequel to Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall - both novels providing a fictional account of Thomas Cromwell, Master Secretary to Henry VIII during the Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boylen and Jane Seymour period. So many characters spent time in the Tower of London I was keen to go visit again with fresh eyes and perspective on this historical site.

Part of the defences - Lions

The Tower of London has had a varies life - from a lived in castle and  royal home to prison to storehouse - people and things were sent there to keep them safe, it was used for ceremonial purposes (Anne Boylen was housed there in the lead up to her coronation) and of course its most well known purpose as a gaol.

Once there was a moat - then they grew vegetables. 

What fascinated me was how the buildings had changed over the years to suit the current purpose. In its days as a stronghold it had all the defences expected of a medieval castle - complete with moat, siege weapons - and even lions used to guard the gates. I think my favourite facts of the whole day was how the moat's purpose changed.

The Tower of London moat vege garden

Other defences - Trebuchet

When it was a functional castle, the moat served as the standard defences - but also smelled really bad as all of the Tower's waste was simply emptied out over the walls and out the windows into the water below. At one stage there was a polar bear (given to the Tower as a gift to the Queen) kept chained to the wall - with enough length so that it could go for a swim in the moat (yuck). During WWII, and long after the moat had been drained, they used the lush grassy flat to grow vegetables!

Traitor's Gate

The Tower was only actually threatened directly by England's own citizens - it never faced foreign threats - so the defences were never really put to the test. The only ones to ever breach the walls were a rabble of peasants. Oh well - it all looked very impressive and certainly deterred people.

In fact it seems that the Tower really was only used against its own people - imprisoning them for 'treason', be that difference of religious beliefs, inconveniently refusing to stand aside as queen to allow your king husband to take a new wife, or simply falling out of favour. It was fascinating to walk the towers where notable 'guests' had been held - often for years at a time - seeing the graffiti they had left behind.

One of the most interesting parts was the 'Traitor's Gate'. This water gate opened onto the Thames, and was how prisoners were brought into the Tower. Anne Boleyn was brought into the Tower through this gate in a small boat. It conveniently avoided any protesters, peasants or other rabble intervening. 

Henry VIII's Armour - a young Henry

The White Tower - the central 'castle' in the Tower of London holds a fascinating collection of armour - tracing the history of the armour of the Kings of England - and their knights and soldiers. Armour was not just for battle - much of the armour we saw was for jousting or just made in celebration. The suit to the left is was made for Henry VIII just after his wedding to Katherine of Aragon. H&K are worked into the hem of the 'skirt'. Off his horse this armour must have been pretty impractical - the skirt stuck out some distance from the body (and was completely rigid). If used in battle, once unhorsed, you'd have small chance of keeping your feet. I guess that's not something you really need to worry about as a king - so your armour can be impractical - and beautiful. 

Craft Beers

We dragged our tired feet from the Tower in search of craft beers to celebrate Kate's husband Cam's 30th. We found what we were looking for at the Craft Beer Co - a small pub with 32 beers on tap. We worked our way (1/2 pint at time) from one end to the other. We have really been enjoying discovering all of the boutique ales and lagers available in the UK. Having so many to try in one place took the effort out of seeking them out - but didn't diminish the fun out of the tasting. Even with each of us sharing our halves, having a sip or two of each beer was enough for all of us to roll happily out of there, via dinner, to home.

6 of the 32 beers at the Craft Beer Co