Little Girls Wear Us Out At The National Gallery

Our afternoon plan was to visit the National Gallery--that enormous place housing the greatest holding of British art. Our lunch and the company, however, we so good, that we had precious little time left, so we breezed through centuries of art in about an hour. You haven't really experienced art, however, until you've been with the Cooper girls. For every picture, they are sure there is a story, and they want to know what it is. They literally wear their parents out, physically and mentally with their demands for information. One finds oneself in a theological quagmire explaining things like the presence of angels in passion painting, the slaughter of the innocents and various scenes--often gruesome--from the entire Old Testament. And that doesn't take into account historical paintings, the dynastic connections of various Europeans monarchs, the meaning of certain landscapes and the story behind allegories and myths, all of which must have an explanation. Don't try to fudge, either. They're smart enough to spot a fake. We managed about six rooms before, thankfully, the museum closed.

The English Celebrate St. Patrick's--Kind of, Sort of

Today there is a big celebration of St. Patrick's Day going on in Trafalgar Square. We got a brief glimpse of it as we exitted the National Gallery, which overlooks the square. Green and orange, hats, clothes and flags, Celtic music, Celtic dancing, beer, beer, beer, and trash, trash, trash are my overwhelming first impressions. The English have a weird relationship with this holiday. In truth, we haven't quite worked it out. On the one hand, any excuse for a party is welcomed, and there were plenty of people celebrating downtown. But there is, nonetheless, a hesitancy when you ask people about St. Patrick's Day. At best, they are apt to vaguely reply, "Well, it's important to the Irish." Inherent in that statement is a suggestion that the holiday is not only important to the English, they're about half convinced that something about it is downright offensive. Thus, you have the headline of today's Sunday Express Newspaper focusing not on the historical linkages between these these two island nations seperated by a sea but rather on the fact that security is being increased around the Princes William and Harry out of fear that they may be targets for IRA extremists. Given that neither Laura's nor Scott's heritage is Irish, we're really not sure how to celebrate on Tuesday. We'll probably have to settle for (Danish) beer in a green bottle and (American) Pringles in a green can and call it good.

A Good Day For Business

Despite the gorgeous spring weather, there comes a point when you have to put aside pleasure for business. Today was that day. The business at hand consisted of running errands, doing homework and for Cecily, a long overdue midday nap. Despite our lack of any significant progress on the cultural front, the day was not a total waste: Olivia finished the last of her three month's of homework assignments, guaranteeing she will get a spring break with the rest of her class at the end of the month. And Daddy and Cecily watched part of the Six Nation's Rugby Tournament (Ireland v. Scotland), which Cecily found very interesting. That's not surprising since Cecily is the one most likely to play rugby of any of our girls.

Apsley and Two Arches

Apsley House; The Wellington Arch; A replica of the head of the charioteer atop the Wellington arch gives an idea of the scale; the Marble Arch in the background was commissioned as the entrance to Buckingham Palace but had to be moved because the grandest carriages wouldn't fit.

We spent the day with the Duke of Wellington--the one who beat Napoleon as well as his descendant, the current 8th duke. Our destination was one of London's most prestigious addresses, Apsley House, which was built by the general known as the Iron Duke who was the toast of Europe and the prime minister of England 200 years ago. The house today is half residence for the current ducal family and half public museum. It is notable both for its Wellington memorabilia as well as for its fantastic art collection, much of which was once part of the royal Spanish art collection until Napoleon's brother stole it. Wellington recaputured it and offered to return it to the Spanish king, but he was so grateful to get his throne back that he gave the amazing collection to the general that saved his kingdom. After touring the mansion, we took a look at the massive Wellington Arch outside, with its enormous bronzes on the top and then we strolled up Hyde Park to examine its companion, Marble Arch, located at the opposite end of the park. Along the way, we discussed important English things like the game of cricket (Why would anyone play a game that sometimes last multiple days and results in no score, we wondered?) and the importance of "being seen" in the past in a daily horse or carriage ride through Hyde Park. It was a delightful way to spend a spring afternoon.

Pin Up Boy Or Emperor?

Napoleon commissioned this statue from the famous sculptor Canova but had second thoughts about appearing in the nude after he saw it. It was crated and stored in the Louvre. After Wellington defeated Napoleon, he acquired it and installed it in the atrium of his grand house. It may seem like an effort at humiliating one's vanquished foe but it was actually a compliment.

Taking Part In British Culture

Our educational requirements out of the way for the day, we decided to treat ourselves to a McDonald's lunch and shopping on Oxford Street. Cultural purists will be appalled that we still occasionally sneak out to McD's here in the U.K. After all, how does that further the cultural experience. In truth, we aren't exactly lonely at McD's. The Brits like it every bit as much as the Americans, so its hardly an American institution. Secondly, the ability of our tastebuds to endure a foreign cuisine only stretches so far. Eventually, even we need a taste of home. Once we were done with our Happy Meals and Big Macs, we headed up Oxford Street to a more culturally appropriate experience: shopping at Primark, a landmark London retailer (though open for less than 2 years) for the price-conscious shoppers. I would estimate that there were no fewer than 2000 shoppers in the store this particular Friday afternoon. The picture above was taken on another day but it gives you the idea of what it's like. Literally, the janitor was sweeping discarded hangars into a pile. A good half the shoppers spoke some other language than English, which is not at all unusual in any major retail store here. I would guess that a good 40 registers were checking people out. We picked up a few bits and pieces for the wardrobe, but mostly we marvelled at the emphasis placed in this city on remaining current with fashion, the low prices which make that possible and the fact that despite the severity of the current economic downtown, people haven't lost their appetite for consumption--they've just relocated to places like Primark.

British Go Mad For Michael Jackson

Explain, please, to these Americans the appeal of a certifiably weird, 50-year-old pop star with a questionable past who hasn't put out a popular album since 2001. I'm talking about Michael Jackson, who today sold out a "final" series of 50 concerts--more than 1 million tickets--in London in less than 5 hours. The enormous O2 Arena says that thanks to the sales, it can now weather the recession for at least two more years. Fans who have been lining up since Wednesday to get a place in line to assure themselves of tickets are beside themselves. And all of this is in spite of the fact that when MJ came to London a couple of weeks ago (see picture at left) to announce his return to the stage, he kept his loyal fans and the press waiting for some 5 hours before he showed up to make a 4-minute, incoherent appearance. There appear to be no limits to the ability of some people to fall under the spell of a celebrity--even one like Jackson who despite his undeniable talent early in his career has become somewhat of a standing joke for any wanna-be stand up comic. I don't think we are alone in marvelling at the oddity of it all. The London papers seem to be taking a similiarly incredulous view of the situation. On the good side, the amazing ticket sales more than guarantee that Jackson should be able to wipe out his $50 million worth of debts.

Olivia's Journal: How To Be A Good Queen

I wached a movie called Yong Victoria which inspired me to write about being a good queen.

#1. Don't have a husband unless you want one.

#2. Only get a husband you like!

#3. Get ladys that are Conservatives and Labour.

#4. Always do whats good for the country.

#5. Be nice to the people that work for you.

#6. Don't spend lots of money.

#7. Don't tax people for alot of money.

#8. Don't get in a fight with Parlement.

#9. Take care of poor people.

#10. Die for your country.

These are some of the tips about how to be a good queen. I will be good.

Reluctantly Worth The Money

Laura has been vociferously opposed to paying f12 (about $17) per person to visit Westminster Abbey. It's not that one of the top tourist attractions in England isn't worth the money. It's the principle of the thing. Scott has tried to point out to Laura that she would pay that much money to see less interesting museums in London, but Laura has retorted that most of them are, in fact, FREE. Nonetheless, Scott knows my weak points and when he suggested that our principles shouldn't stand in the way of Olivia's education, I gave in. So it was that Laura and Olivia finally saw the Abbey today. The building is imposing and beautiful and full of history. Although I visited it once 10 years ago, I enjoyed it so much more now as I have spent the last 2 months studying British history. This time I was able to enjoy the irony of seeing Mary I buried in the same chapel with Elizabeth I (photo of their shared tomb at left.). I also enjoyed seeing the shrine to King Edward the Confessor, which is normally off limits due to its fragile condition. We happened to be in the right place at the right time and joined a priest and a couple of nuns in saying prayers at the chapel where it is contained. Otherwise, there is no way we would have seen this ancient and important monument, the housing of which is the reason Henry III built the church in the first place. The Abbey is, of course, renowned not just as the burial place of many English monarchs. It is also the site of royal coronations since William the Conqueror in 1066, and it contains the graves of some of Great Britain's most accomplished men and women. Sir Isaac Newton is buried here, as is Geoffrey Chaucer (originally earning burial at the Abbey because of his official positions with the king, but moving up to a fancy tomb 150 years later when he became known as a famous poet) George Friederic Handel, Charles Dickens, Edward Montagu (the first Earl of Sandwich, whose descendent is sometimes credited with inventing the sandwich because he was too lazy to leave the gaming table to eat) and Oliver Cromwell. Despite its beauty and imposing size, Westminster Abbey does not strike me as the most beautiful church in England (I think that honor goes to Lincoln Cathedral). Nor is it the most imposing (St. Paul's) or inspiring (to me, that is Temple Church though there are certainly other candidates). But nothing can top it when it comes to historical significance. I am willing to concede: it was well worth the f12.

Laura: The Secret To British Soccer: Keep It Simple

Last night was a wonderful cultural experience. We learned that while we might have a lot in common with our British cousins, we sure celebrate our sports differently. First off, we Americans expect a good dose of high tech with our sporting events, as evidenced by our jumbotrons and our numerous fancy scoreboards with an abundance of pictures and statistics. The British place no premium on technology during their games. The electronic displays began and ended with one very small scoreboard and a bizarre lighted advertising band that surrounded the field and flashed continuously through the entire game at the shoulder level of the players. I sincerely hope none of the players are epileptic! When a player was substituted, the only way you could know what was going on was to either either listen very closely to the mumbling announcer or else to glimpse the man on the sidelines briefly holding up a small board that resembles a Lite-Brite on which he shows the number of the player coming out and the number of the player replacing him. As Americans, we expect a sporting event to come with light shows, organ music, dancers, a half-time show and cheerleaders. Fulham had none of these. AS for the mascot, his repertoire consisted of jumping up and down while clapping and occasionally turning a crooked cartwheel that would embarrass a 10-year-old. You might be tempted to simply believe that the English are more dedicated to the sport and less to the entertainment, but that would be wrong. From what we could tell, the dedicated fans are far more interested in what the opposition's fans are doing than what their own team is accomplishing on the field. The group of seven devoted Fulham fans sitting in front of us missed several key plays because they were engaging in tit-for-tat shouting and fist-pumping with fans of the other team. (I missed the plays, too, because I was observing these young men, so I don't say this in a judgmental way.) Interestingly, the home team manages to keep the visiting team's fans segregated in one corner of the stadium. We learned this practice started in the 1970s to minimize violence among opposing fans. This brings me to one of the biggest surprises of this game -- security. I am sure that the security at American games is just as good as at this event. But it sure isn't as visible. And it is certainly not located in the same place. Security at this game, in the form of beefy gentlemen wearing brightly colored jackets, was concentrated behind the south goal -- the exact location of all the Blackburn Rover fans. While the security guards in the rest of the stadium were perhaps 20 feet apart, the gentlemen here were shoulder to shoulder. We asked someone about this and learned that it isn't unusual for visiting fans to try to reach the field or hometeam fans. We were very glad we were seated in the Fulham section as we cheered for the home team. While I enjoyed the game and was impressed with the athletic ability of these men who could run almost non-stop for 90 minutes, I'll keep my jumbotrons, light shows and mascots who could defeat the British Olympic gymnastics team on the floor exercises!