The Culture Vultures Strike Again - January 2020
Last November when we had our last Cultural Trip in London, BiL and I had talked about the next trip. Yesterday was IT. We'd decided to hit South Kensington and finally take in the newly displayed Blue Whale skeleton (and other things) at the Natural History Museum and a couple of selected exhibitions at the V&A. (Pictures do exist. Go Google. This is a text blog!)
Thursday was to be the day, BiL had various meetings Tuesday. I'd pre-booked tickets to Clapham Junction the previous week. £21 advance return, then £10 on the Oyster Card; as opposed to £40 single all the way to South Kensington. I'm practising for May onwards, when we'll be living on H's pension payouts.
Arrived Clapham Junction only slightly late (ie: 'on time' by current railway 'standards') found way to agreed meeting point. Met BiL, headed for bus stop. Bus arrived. 345 to South Kensington. Double decker. Red.
"Can we go upstairs, sit in front and 'drive' the bus, ple-ease?" Asked my inner six-year-old excitedly. BiL has a dodgy ankle so we have to be careful. I have a dodgy right knee, but 'driving' a double decker . . ! And a bright red one!
"Oh, very well." BiL agreed. So we sat up there and I 'drove' the bus all the way to outside the Natural History Museum, inwardly bouncing in my seat! Meanwhile knitting on the latest sock project, thus maintaining the 'proper' 63-year-old façade.
Inner six-year-old thus satisfied, I managed to contain my disappointment that Bluey, the whale skeleton, was hung so high up that I'd have had to have had seriously unwieldily long drumsticks to be able to try out its ribcage as a xylophone.
Besides which, the 'free' ends of the ribs were supported by a long bar joining them all. Blue whales lack sternums (or that one did anyhow.) I see why getting 'beached' can be such a problem for them. Either way, the support bars either side would have stopped the ribs vibrating properly so 'xylophone' action was have been impossible, even if I'd had suitable drumsticks.
Thus BiL was spared great embarrassment and I didn't get into Trouble.
In one of the 'bays' around the main hall we came across a Blue Marlin in a large tank. We looked at each other.
"Damien Hirst!" Of course, BiL had spoken with people who regularly shift artworks around London. They spoke bitterly of Hirst's infamous Shark. All that stinky preservative, and, as one of the put it, "Sharks are sharp in places!"
Sharks are indeed sharp, and not merely their multiple rows of teeth. The original 'sandpaper' was made of sharkskin, 'shagreen'. Hence, possibly, 'chagrain', from 'shagreen' - describing the red, roughened appearance resulting when you accidentally 'sanded' your own skin. Also the accompanying red in your cheeks!
Consult map, find lift, Mineral gallery. Wow there are some beautiful minerals 'out there'. In Chemistry lessons we were taught that Fluoride compounds are soluble, generally. Turns out there's a whole couple of cases full of different fluoride minerals. All beautiful, decorative, and insoluble. Who knew? Ok, Dear Geologist Reader, you did.
And from even further 'way out there', a huge iron meteorite. A lump the size of a pig*, the original source of workable iron. No wonder Smiths were such 'magical' people. Not only could they create amazing swords, knives, ploughshares and other highly useful and desireable metal things. They first did it from rocks which fell from the heavens!
Of course a lot later on, smelting was discovered, and iron was made from iron ore. But still, swords, ploughshares, etc from stones? Who'd have thought it? As anyone who's watched a smith working metal will tell you, it's just amazing. Alchemy! Wizardry! Magic!
On into the Vault - where they had the odd semi-precious and precious stone or two. Uncut, cut, as part of historical artefacts. Fascinating.
And on round that gallery, looking at Bluey in the central hall space, to the Treasure Vault where they had such things as:- a large Neanderthal hand axe. A real Feat of Craftmanship, that axe. And I mean Large. About 8"(20cm) wide x 12" (30cm) long. I have a 9" span, I'd have needed to use both hands to use that stone as an axe. So would BiL, he decided.
Then we read the label. "May have been used as a status symbol" Plus ça change. Males are males. Human or Neanderthal. "My axe is bigger than your axe!" Wonder what the female Neanderthals thought. Were they also impressed? Or did they roll their eyes, where the males couldn't see them doing it of course?
Also in the Treasure Vault? THE Arechaeopteryx fossil, both halves. And a Dodo skeleton. Another species driven to extinction by men's thoughtless greed and exploitation. Only we did it one species at a time back in them days. Not whole ecosystemsworth.
On emerging, we faced a case containing the mortal remains of Guy the gorilla. Once famous inmate of London Zoo. BiL remembers him. Alive, I mean. Then a quick sweep round some of the fossil gallery, trying to avoid whole classes of excited Primary School children on Educational Outings, and on across Exhibition Road.
To the Victoria and Albert Museum, where BiL is a Member. We made the most of his membership privileges.
First by ascending to the Members' Restaurant for a spot of lunch. Beetroot cured salmon, with rocket and beetroot salad, and coffee. Which by then we sorely needed.
For that matter, various joints needed the weight taken off for a decent period too. Wallking we can do, albeit slowly in my case. Standing around admiring various wonderous exhibits and exhibitions, even if I lean heavily on the display cases, takes its toll.
Then back down to the ground floor and the Mary Quant exhibition. We're gradually getting accustomed to discovering that parts of our past are considered Museum-worthy. Mary Quant, icon of the 60s, definitely is.
I was too young for mini-skirts. They reached their height while I was still at primary school. Though the exhibition covered Quants start as a fashion designer in the 1950's, right through to the 1970's and maxi-dresses. That did involve me. I still wear long skirts. Wore them all the time at University.
And after that to Wonderful Things - being a collection of items from the V&A chosen by photographer Tim Walker, and the photographs etc inspired by them.
That, too, was interesting. It's always interesting to try to follow the Creative Process, even if you occasionally find yourself wondering quite why they bothered! No, seriously, it was good.
Definitely, Dear Reader, find a Member of the V&A and go as their guest. That way you'll both get into both exhibitions for FREE**, as well as being able to dine in the Members' Restaurant.
By the time we'd done most of Wonderful Things they were starting to shepherd visitors out, mentioning such things as 'Closing Time' etc. So we went and found a usefully wide ledge to sit on and discuss what we'd seen and our impressions while waiting for staff to come round and drive us out (and bar the doors behind us!)
And on to Pret (a Manger), stopping to purchase this week's Big Issue and chat with the Vendor while we assembled sufficient currency. He had a card reader, but even in Central London the wifi Connectivity isn't helped by rain! Shame we didn't get his name. Nice guy. If you ever get the opportunity, Dear Reader, buy a Big Issue magazine. The seller is running their own business, as they say 'A hand up, not a hand-out', and it's blinking good journalism for £2.50.
Tea in Pret - salad, cookie and peppermint tea for me, pastry and tea decaff for BiL - drinks in the reusable mugs we'd carefully brought with us. And further chat about the day, recycling, reusing, the complications in the whole thing, environmental costs of ceramic/metal/bamboo/single-use-plastic cups, BiL's voluntary work on an urban 'wild site' and what was (50 years ago) a railway, now becoming a public art space and nature walkway.
Then out, onto number 49 bus back to Clapham Junction station and onto the train home for me. It was a slow train. 'Every bush and lamp post', or every possible stop. Fortunately the pursuing fast train stopped at Haslemere, then went on ahead, with me on it. BiL and I got home about the same time. 70 miles as opposed to 14Km (as the crow flies. Ok, say 16Km, all of about 10-11 miles) in 1 hour 45 min. Go figure, Dear Reader.
It was a good day. Interesting. Good company. The current sock project is 1/4 done. Didn't get off to sleep easily, but that's because it was gone Bedtime by the time I got in. Ah well. I had a lay in this morning.
Y'all have a good day now!
*Pig iron? Sorry.
**Thus saving Significant amounts of money and justifying the price of your friend's annual membership fee.
Thursday was to be the day, BiL had various meetings Tuesday. I'd pre-booked tickets to Clapham Junction the previous week. £21 advance return, then £10 on the Oyster Card; as opposed to £40 single all the way to South Kensington. I'm practising for May onwards, when we'll be living on H's pension payouts.
Arrived Clapham Junction only slightly late (ie: 'on time' by current railway 'standards') found way to agreed meeting point. Met BiL, headed for bus stop. Bus arrived. 345 to South Kensington. Double decker. Red.
"Can we go upstairs, sit in front and 'drive' the bus, ple-ease?" Asked my inner six-year-old excitedly. BiL has a dodgy ankle so we have to be careful. I have a dodgy right knee, but 'driving' a double decker . . ! And a bright red one!
"Oh, very well." BiL agreed. So we sat up there and I 'drove' the bus all the way to outside the Natural History Museum, inwardly bouncing in my seat! Meanwhile knitting on the latest sock project, thus maintaining the 'proper' 63-year-old façade.
Inner six-year-old thus satisfied, I managed to contain my disappointment that Bluey, the whale skeleton, was hung so high up that I'd have had to have had seriously unwieldily long drumsticks to be able to try out its ribcage as a xylophone.
Besides which, the 'free' ends of the ribs were supported by a long bar joining them all. Blue whales lack sternums (or that one did anyhow.) I see why getting 'beached' can be such a problem for them. Either way, the support bars either side would have stopped the ribs vibrating properly so 'xylophone' action was have been impossible, even if I'd had suitable drumsticks.
Thus BiL was spared great embarrassment and I didn't get into Trouble.
In one of the 'bays' around the main hall we came across a Blue Marlin in a large tank. We looked at each other.
"Damien Hirst!" Of course, BiL had spoken with people who regularly shift artworks around London. They spoke bitterly of Hirst's infamous Shark. All that stinky preservative, and, as one of the put it, "Sharks are sharp in places!"
Sharks are indeed sharp, and not merely their multiple rows of teeth. The original 'sandpaper' was made of sharkskin, 'shagreen'. Hence, possibly, 'chagrain', from 'shagreen' - describing the red, roughened appearance resulting when you accidentally 'sanded' your own skin. Also the accompanying red in your cheeks!
Consult map, find lift, Mineral gallery. Wow there are some beautiful minerals 'out there'. In Chemistry lessons we were taught that Fluoride compounds are soluble, generally. Turns out there's a whole couple of cases full of different fluoride minerals. All beautiful, decorative, and insoluble. Who knew? Ok, Dear Geologist Reader, you did.
And from even further 'way out there', a huge iron meteorite. A lump the size of a pig*, the original source of workable iron. No wonder Smiths were such 'magical' people. Not only could they create amazing swords, knives, ploughshares and other highly useful and desireable metal things. They first did it from rocks which fell from the heavens!
Of course a lot later on, smelting was discovered, and iron was made from iron ore. But still, swords, ploughshares, etc from stones? Who'd have thought it? As anyone who's watched a smith working metal will tell you, it's just amazing. Alchemy! Wizardry! Magic!
On into the Vault - where they had the odd semi-precious and precious stone or two. Uncut, cut, as part of historical artefacts. Fascinating.
And on round that gallery, looking at Bluey in the central hall space, to the Treasure Vault where they had such things as:- a large Neanderthal hand axe. A real Feat of Craftmanship, that axe. And I mean Large. About 8"(20cm) wide x 12" (30cm) long. I have a 9" span, I'd have needed to use both hands to use that stone as an axe. So would BiL, he decided.
Then we read the label. "May have been used as a status symbol" Plus ça change. Males are males. Human or Neanderthal. "My axe is bigger than your axe!" Wonder what the female Neanderthals thought. Were they also impressed? Or did they roll their eyes, where the males couldn't see them doing it of course?
Also in the Treasure Vault? THE Arechaeopteryx fossil, both halves. And a Dodo skeleton. Another species driven to extinction by men's thoughtless greed and exploitation. Only we did it one species at a time back in them days. Not whole ecosystemsworth.
On emerging, we faced a case containing the mortal remains of Guy the gorilla. Once famous inmate of London Zoo. BiL remembers him. Alive, I mean. Then a quick sweep round some of the fossil gallery, trying to avoid whole classes of excited Primary School children on Educational Outings, and on across Exhibition Road.
To the Victoria and Albert Museum, where BiL is a Member. We made the most of his membership privileges.
First by ascending to the Members' Restaurant for a spot of lunch. Beetroot cured salmon, with rocket and beetroot salad, and coffee. Which by then we sorely needed.
For that matter, various joints needed the weight taken off for a decent period too. Wallking we can do, albeit slowly in my case. Standing around admiring various wonderous exhibits and exhibitions, even if I lean heavily on the display cases, takes its toll.
Then back down to the ground floor and the Mary Quant exhibition. We're gradually getting accustomed to discovering that parts of our past are considered Museum-worthy. Mary Quant, icon of the 60s, definitely is.
I was too young for mini-skirts. They reached their height while I was still at primary school. Though the exhibition covered Quants start as a fashion designer in the 1950's, right through to the 1970's and maxi-dresses. That did involve me. I still wear long skirts. Wore them all the time at University.
And after that to Wonderful Things - being a collection of items from the V&A chosen by photographer Tim Walker, and the photographs etc inspired by them.
That, too, was interesting. It's always interesting to try to follow the Creative Process, even if you occasionally find yourself wondering quite why they bothered! No, seriously, it was good.
Definitely, Dear Reader, find a Member of the V&A and go as their guest. That way you'll both get into both exhibitions for FREE**, as well as being able to dine in the Members' Restaurant.
By the time we'd done most of Wonderful Things they were starting to shepherd visitors out, mentioning such things as 'Closing Time' etc. So we went and found a usefully wide ledge to sit on and discuss what we'd seen and our impressions while waiting for staff to come round and drive us out (and bar the doors behind us!)
And on to Pret (a Manger), stopping to purchase this week's Big Issue and chat with the Vendor while we assembled sufficient currency. He had a card reader, but even in Central London the wifi Connectivity isn't helped by rain! Shame we didn't get his name. Nice guy. If you ever get the opportunity, Dear Reader, buy a Big Issue magazine. The seller is running their own business, as they say 'A hand up, not a hand-out', and it's blinking good journalism for £2.50.
Tea in Pret - salad, cookie and peppermint tea for me, pastry and tea decaff for BiL - drinks in the reusable mugs we'd carefully brought with us. And further chat about the day, recycling, reusing, the complications in the whole thing, environmental costs of ceramic/metal/bamboo/single-use-plastic cups, BiL's voluntary work on an urban 'wild site' and what was (50 years ago) a railway, now becoming a public art space and nature walkway.
Then out, onto number 49 bus back to Clapham Junction station and onto the train home for me. It was a slow train. 'Every bush and lamp post', or every possible stop. Fortunately the pursuing fast train stopped at Haslemere, then went on ahead, with me on it. BiL and I got home about the same time. 70 miles as opposed to 14Km (as the crow flies. Ok, say 16Km, all of about 10-11 miles) in 1 hour 45 min. Go figure, Dear Reader.
It was a good day. Interesting. Good company. The current sock project is 1/4 done. Didn't get off to sleep easily, but that's because it was gone Bedtime by the time I got in. Ah well. I had a lay in this morning.
Y'all have a good day now!
*Pig iron? Sorry.
**Thus saving Significant amounts of money and justifying the price of your friend's annual membership fee.