We Loved St. Barts

We loved the church of St. Barthomew The Great. Laura commented as we left, "It's a good thing we didn't go here on the first Sunday or we would never have seen anything else." St. Bartholomew boasts the oldest medieval interior of any church in London. It was founded in 1123 as a much larger building. The current church is the remnant that survived demolition in Henry VIII's dissolution of the monasteries in 1543. It also survived the puritans, and miraculously, it escaped being bombed in World War II. So when you walk in, through the narrow little Tudor-era gate, you know and feel that you are somewhere very, very old. The service itself is "high church"--probably more so than anything we've seen since coming to London. The choir chants, the incense censor is liberally used, the vestments are rich and candlesticks are aplenty. There is even an Angelus (Hail Mary ritual) at the end of the service. Notwithstanding all these trappings, the sermon given by the rector was wry, funny, contemporary and thought-provoking. St. Barts is not on the beaten track for tourists, and we nearly missed it, but it is definitely not to be missed, and if you can can make it for a service, so much the better.

Renewing Acquaintances With Old Friends

After attending St. Bartholomew's we made our way back to the tube station where we met a friend of Scott's and his lovely fiance and their newborn. This young couple are both bankers in a town which is decidedly anti-banker at the moment, but they are as delightful a couple as you could want to meet--if somewhat tired as new parents tend to be. We enjoyed catching up, it having been 12 years since our young friend borrowed a room at Scott 's when he visited our northwest town with the youth group Up With People. We also enjoyed discussing the state of the world as viewed from two sides of The Pond and learning of their plans to be married in May. The girls, especially Olivia and Cecily, loved playing with the 2-month-old and all three positively preened at the chance to show off their newly green-painted nail polish (in time for St. Patrick's day) and their Sunday dresses. The newborn's Mum was a font of information about the British view of the world and made us laugh at her incredulity upon finding out that Americans actually go shopping on Saturday nights--something unheard of here where the shops close early on weekend nights. We wish them both well on their upcoming nuptials, and we hope to see them on the West Coast again soon.

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.