Gonna Lay Down My Sword And Shield

The United States has Veterans Day. Britain has Remembrance Day. Unlike the U.S. holiday, Remembrance Day is not a government holiday--everybody goes to work if it's a weekday. But it's in your face nonetheless in the form of plastic poppies growing like weeds on lapels and collars, purchased for the price of a chugger contribution to the Royal British Legion.

While watching football over the weekend, I noticed that no less than 100 percent of the studio commentators for one match were wearing plastic poppies. As an experiment, I just turned on BBC News 24 this moment, and both of the on-screen anchors were wearing plastic poppies. If you walk down a given city street this time of year, you will notice that at least half of the people you see are wearing the poppies. (The always clever Time Out London, in its "Lies To Tell Tourists" column a couple of years ago, urged Londoners to tell tourists that any person wearing a plastic poppy had actually killed a German in combat.)

But I won't.

I have the greatest respect for veterans and their sacrifices. I do like to know that people who come back from war with physical, psychological or emotional wounds are taken care of. I will give money to the cause. And I'm aware of the cultural significance of the Flandrian poppy in reference to the horror of World War I. But I won't wear the poppy. I guess I resent the overtones of it--the suggestion that if I don't wear the poppy I'm somehow disrespectful of veterans. And to me, the poppy remains a symbol of war, rather than the peace we should hope for. Give me a Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament peace symbol any day.

We're Number 18! We're Number 18!

Turns out our postcode is the 18th most-burgled in the UK.

Top that, Croydon!

The Chrysalis Cracks. A Londoner Emerges.

My palate is far too relaxed and my diphthongs too chewy to ever speak British English. I choke at the thought of pledging allegiance to a royal. When "God Save The Queen" plays, I hear "My Country 'Tis Of Thee." But I can feel like a Londoner nonetheless--because I can now navigate Soho's twisty passages and narrow streets without a copy of London A-Z.

The more astute of you may note, based on taglines from recent posts, that I could easily use the map function my iPhone. Yes, I could, which makes it easy to leave the A-Z behind. But twice this past weekend I found my way around Soho quite easily without ever having to check a map.

This is a major accomplishment for me.

A Letter From Steve Guttenberg

Hello Friends,

Here I am trying on my pantomime costume, whilst making the most of the LA sunshine, before I pack my bags and head for Bromley this Christmas. I'm over the moon about making my UK pantomime debut as Baron Hard-up in the magical Cindarella.

Working with rogues during my Police Academy days should, I hope, be a fine workout for my battles with the Ugly Sisters; but I'm sure I can count on your help to boo them off! The song and dance routines will be awesome--something I'm really going to enjoy after taking part on America's top-rated show Dancing With The Stars. I am also delighted to announce that the Absolutely Fabulous Helen Lederer will be joining me as Fairy Godmother to add a sprinkling of comedy magic to the fun.

It's going to be a truly wonderful Chrismas for me in the UK, so make sure you join me for the biggest and funniest traditional pantomime around and book your ticket today.

See you soon!

Steve

Because you want to: Who holds back the elec-tric car? Who made Steve Guttenberg a star?

(Hat tip to Annie Mole, whose Twitter feed alerted me to this show.)

D'oh!

Squatters overpower Army base? Well, not really:

AN army of squatters encamped on a military housing estate has escaped eviction after an embarrassing legal blunder by the Ministry of Defence (MoD).

The mistake means residents in nearby upmarket homes could be subjected to weeks of noise, late-night parties, and disruption to their daily lives.

The squatters moved in last week to the barracks in William Gardens, Putney, after some 300 of them were kicked out of a previous squat in Balham, south London.

Officials attempted to evict them out by obtaining a court order yesterday but a blunder meant they went to the wrong court, letting the squatters off the hook.

MoD lawyers brought the case before a judge at West London County Court in Hammersmith. But the judge immediately threw it out, saying they should have gone to Wandsworth County Court in Putney, less than a mile from the occupied flats.

It could take now take weeks for the case against the 50 or so remaining squatters to be heard again.

And now ...

"Hey, Smitty, how's come you dowan't come around no mowah? Ever'body was dere: Big Petey, Little Petey, Regular Petey, Joey Bagadonuts, Jimmy the Woman, Irregular Petey, Muscles Marinara ..."

Well, the truth is threefold. One, I'm lazy. Two, I've been getting ready for a rather important event coming up, the preparation for which has consumed more of my time than I care to say. Three, I was watching a lot of Olympics.


Now, if you follow the Olympics, you know that London gets the next summer games in 2012. The handover of the games was marked by celebrations throughout London and the sonic boom of the Red Arrows (the British Thunderbirds) screeching directly over our flat. I noticed two cultural trends emerging from the overseas Olympic experience.

First, I get the impression that with the conclusion of the Beijing Games it has become all the more immediate to the London 2012 organizers how big their job is. Obvious trampling on human rights aside, Beijing put on a nearly flawless fortnight. In their defeatist post-Empire way, the British already are despairing that they'll never be able to duplicate it, a theme I started hearing from the moment the Beijing opening ceremony ended. If the organizers share that belief, they won't be able to duplicate Beijing. I think they're up to the job, however.

Second, I learned a bit about British sporting fans from the unexpected medal haul the GB team earned. In victory, British fans can be much like Boston Red Sox fans: insufferability squared. Yeah, I know Americans are the arrogant Yankees fans of world sports. But the British are simply annoying--yes, you're annoying, with your sneering over topping Australia in the medal table, with the way you picked a fight about how the medals are tallied. (PS: Times of London, the IOC doesn't issue a medal tally. It takes the view that the Olympics is a competition between athletes. PPS: I was planning on cheering for England in the next Ashes series, but when you picked a fight over the medal tally and started mocking Australia, I changed my mind.) I expect to have to put up with a month or so of this, I guess--but then the World Cup qualifiers will begin soon, and with luck we'll be back to the same old British sports fans. I could use the peace.

Besides, we all know who the real winner is: Arise, Jamaica! Your tally means you won medals on a weighted basis at a rate of 11.5 per billion dollars gross domestic product.

The London Bus Boycott

I'm having a customer service battle with both our horrible bank and Transport for London, which runs the Underground and the buses. To sum up, there has been a botched transaction of an automated payment that neither one wants to take responsibility for, despite hours on the phone and a few shouting matches with snarky, lazy customer service types. For this, neither one deserves my limited funds.

I think I've resolved that it will be more than worth it to sever our ties with the bank, but denying TFL my money will be a little bit more of a challenge. For obvious reasons, there's no real market alternatives, except for minicabs, black cabs, and overground rail. I'm already off the overpriced, overhyped bullies of the street they call the black cabs, which leaves minicabs and overground rail. But I have resolved to avoid using TFL services whenever possible, because they've made me angry. Today, I have to get up to our old neighborhood, and I've decided to ride my bike, despite the on-off rain. Rail would be an option if I wanted to walk some distance, but I think I'll just stick to the old pushbike.

We'll see how this goes.

Famous For Britain

We now bring you part 2 of our continuing series:


This ad confused Mrs. W and me for awhile, although I figured it out at long last. The big bloke with the 'stache is a famous British athlete who actually might be known in other parts of the world. Can you name him?

How Much London Costs

The human resources consultants Mercer have released an annual list (at least I think it's annual) of the most expensive cities to live in worldwide. London fell one place to number three, after Moscow and Tokyo. Washington, D.C., tumbled a long way, to 107 from 85. One city whose ranking I don't quite understand is Houston, still up at 98 (but down from 83). I'm familiar with the relative real estate prices in those two metro areas (Washington vs. Houston) and I find it hard to believe, unless somehow the cost of gasoline has made it much more costly to live in Houston these days. I'm left here scratching my head.

London By The Numbers

The divine Diamond Geezer spent the month of June doing London by the numbers: a number for each day of the month. It's like getting lost in the stacks of a library.

Queen's Garden Party: Tastes

People seem to be most curious about the menu. Not to disappoint anyone, but I actually didn't consume any of the tea -- it seemed too hot for Twinings, even with lots of milk in it. So I opted for iced coffee -- which was just the right side of sweet -- and lemon barley water. (Someone asked me how the champagne was, but no alcohol was served.)

I sampled one of each sandwich; don't worry, they were almost literally the size of a finger, with no crusts. I hadn't had a crustless lunch since that phase I went through at age 7. Cucumber and mint was nice but not enough mint for my taste. Gammon ham with mustard was the best, and then there was egg mayonnaise and cress. I think it's a law that all teas must serve egg mayonnaise and cress sandwiches. They are certainly in every sandwich shop in town, and while I enjoyed eating that one, it certainly wasn't a unique selection. But you're not really going for unique I suppose -- you're going for tradition!

And last but not least, the cakes: a rich chocolate and toffee with the crown on top (in chocolate, natch); a strawberry custard concoction; a similar one with raspberries; a type of cheescake; and an almond pastry filled with cream. I didn't sample all of these, just the first two and the last one. Finally, smiling servants walked through the throng with silver trays of Loseley ice cream. The choices were strawberries and cream or Madagascar vanilla. The vanilla was great -- the perfect way to end the day.

Queen's Garden Party: Smells

I stopped and smelled the Queen's roses:



She of course had a whole section of the grounds with various colors and types. My favorites were Polar Star and Pride of England. And when I was away from prying eyes, I snapped this one lazily nodding in the summer wind. It had the sweetest scent!

Queen's Garden Party: Sounds

Of course, the party doesn't really start until HM gets there. Her arrival is heralded by the playing of the national anthem, which sounds like this. (Although, I feel like I've been told there is no official national anthem -- anyone care to comment on that?)

Other tunes wafting gently through the breeze at Buckingham included swing classic Sing Sing Sing and an Elton John medley (Candle in the Wind was carefully excluded, as well as The Bitch is Back, but we did get to hear Can You Feel the Love Tonight and Crocodile Rock). Who says bands wearing big plumed hats aren't cool?

And then there are the comments I overheard. One of the Queen's good subjects was telling anyone who would listen that last year, HM had asked her whether she'd had tea yet, and was the tea "stewed." "I don't like stewed tea," HM allegedly told this lady. So should you ever have the Queen to tea, for the love of Earl Grey, don't stew it! Another lady commented on how lovely the Queen's outfit was (this was true IMHO) and how "sensible" her shoes were. Surely, my choice of low heels was ill-advised. "Her lawn will be nice and aerated," said another woman.

The best overheard bit, however, had to be the instructions people receive before they are presented to the Queen. (One does not meet HM; they are presented to her.) People are pre-selected for this honor, and while the rabble like me line her path hoping to get a glimpse, these folks get to speak directly with HM. An usher in a top hat interviews them beforehand to find out something interesting to tell the Queen, and gives them this advice: She is Your Majesty on first reference, and ma'am thereafter. Gents should nod upon being presented, while ladies should curtsy ("just a jiggle" the lady nearest me was told). When we asked a woman with a fabulous hat who these usher-like people were, she said, "Oh, they'll all be back to polishing the silver after this."

Queen's Garden Party: Sights

I had a once-in-a-lifetime experience yesterday: Through a lottery, I got a ticket to one of the Queen's three garden parties at Buckingham Palace.



Since there's so much to share, I'll do several posts, each focusing on a different sense. We'll begin with sights. We weren't allowed to take pictures, but that didn't stop some of the 8,000 guests (including yours truly). It was a gorgeous day, sunny, blue skies, about 75 degrees.



We were allowed to explore the gardens, which surrounded a pond complete with ducks.



Sadly, I don't have any photos of the Queen herself (as I was too afraid of having my iPhone confiscated). And while I didn't get to meet her, I was about 6 feet from her while she was talking to someone else. Got a nice view of her lovely pale blue flowered suit, matching hat with feathers, and her grandmotherly smile. Here's a list of other VIPs who was there.

That Worked Out Well, Didn't It?

Boris' Tube drinking ban ended up making things worse:

Thousands of people have marked the banning of alcohol on London transport with a party that ended with arrests, assaults and cancelled trains.
Drinkers, many in fancy dress, gathered on Tube trains and station concourses in a last celebration before the ban came into force at midnight.
But police said what should have been a fun event came to an "unfortunate" end.
Six Tube stations were closed, while police made 17 arrests. Six assaults were reported on Tube staff and police.
There were also numerous reports of damage to Tube trains, which led to suspended services.

Think George W. Bush and the Middle East, only with beer.


UPDATED: London/Diamond Geezer is right.

End Of Football Season, Until Next Month

Because Americans Amuck readers want to read, and not just look at purty pictures:

Tonight is the final of the UEFA Champions League, the tournament among the top teams of the various national football leagues in Europe, in Moscow. The first two years we lived here, an English team played in the final both times, only to be defeated (by a Spanish side in 2006 and an Italian side in 2007). I felt like I had some emotional connection to the 2006 game since our neighborhood team, Arsenal , was in it. This year, an English side is certain to win, since the final is between Chelsea, from southwest London, and Manchester United, from, um, Manchester. I don't feel any emotional investment in the game, although I will watch. A contest between those two teams is like watching Notre Dame vs. Michigan--they can't both lose, so I cheer for career-ending injuries.

Now with the final of the FA Cup over the weekend, the football season is over. Or wait, is it? In just a couple of weeks, Euro 2008 begins, the tournament among the national sides of Europe. It's sometimes called the best tournament in football, since it's a tournament among the greatest concentration of really good football-playing nations.

England will not be in it this year, failing to qualify. As a result, it looks like a bad summer for the broadcasters that bet on England being in the tournament. Advertisers have been forced to take a different tack. You'll remember that Mars bars changed their names to Believe bars two years ago for the World Cup. This year Mars is giving away 100,000 footballs to bring back the "kick-about" (the linked article fails to mention Mars' 2006 campaign). To the extent that people are outside playing a game rather than inside watching it, that's probably a good thing. It does smack of desperation, however.

And then, the tournament's over in late June, and it's over for awhile right? Wrong. The Community Shield match to kick off the English season is Aug. 10. And it all starts again ....

Boris Lies

Well, we learn from Annie Mole that Boris' promise to bring back the Routemaster may not happen, which means we really will be stuck with those stupid, not-designed-for-narrow-London-streets bendy buses, which can't fit down the street, annoy taxi drivers because they can't fit in the designated bus stop areas, and by the way endanger pedestrians.

Of course, being a good right-winger, Boris would go back on a promise to do a good idea but would never back down on an authoritarian promise, which is the Tube drinking ban. Annie Mole reminds us of the final night parties on the Circle Line. Drink up: Happy hour is now enforced by law.

UPDATED: For more good anti-Boris vitriol, go visit London Geezer, who unfortunately doesn't make his permalinks obvious.

Hello, Boris, part deux.

Annie Mole was right. As she notes on her wonderful blog, Boris' first move as mayor will be to ban drinking on the Tube as a crime prevention tool. For those who haven't ridden on the Tube, it's not uncommon, particularly on the weekend and particularly on lines going to and from football matches, to see riders knocking back a lager on board the Tube. I've never done it, but it's nice to know you can.

I can think of a really good reason to ban drinking on the Tube, but crime isn't it. (Cleanliness is--but then we'd have to ban dogs too, and you'd better believe that would be a non-starter.) I've never witnessed a crime on the Tube, nor does it seem to be a frequently reported problem. So, what Boris has done is a conservative political stunt that would make Karl Rove sit up and notice--frighten voters about a non-existent problem and then identify a way to eliminate the non-existent problem by taking away a civil liberty. Bravo, Boris. It's gonna be a long four years.

Updated: Look! It's here already!

So long, Ken. Hello, Boris.

I don't know how much the news of this gets back home, and since many of our readers are Americans, I think it's probably OK to do a post on this:

We left London a Labour constituency a week ago and returned home yesterday to a city ruled by a Tory. One of the many victims in the local elections last week--Labour's worst shellacking in decades--was "Red" Ken Livingstone, the first-ever mayor of London's fifty-odd boroughs (not to be confused with the Lord Mayor of the City of London, which is ... a complicated distinction). As a non-voter, I didn't bother to pay too close of attention to the race. I think I can tell you more about the Clinton-Obama race than I can tell you about Ken v. Boris. I can tell you that in addition to believing in most of what he has done for the city, I admire Ken: He's a brave politician who doesn't parse words, and even if you disagree with him you can respect what he's done. I think London's congestion charge is a model for what every over-automobiled city needs to do to bring some sanity to how people move about. His deal with Hugo Chavez was a brilliant thumb in the eye of most First World leaders. He did compare one of his many interrogators, a Jewish reporter, to a concentration camp guard, and there was corruption, so I suppose there were plenty of reasons to hate Ken.

Most of my English friends are Labour-leaning, and so are fearful of what the new mayor will do. I'm not so much, even though I would have voted for Livingstone if I were allowed to vote. Boris Johnson is a bicycle rider himself, so he knows what it's like out there on the streets. He hates the bendy buses and will bring back board-at-the-back Routemasters, which I agree with, although the cost of putting two London transit staff on each bus may make it cost-prohibitive. Maybe at long last he'll sack Ian Blair, whose cover-up following the fatal shooting of an innocent man is one of the great unpunished crimes of our time.

My big fear with Johnson is that he'll do away with the congestion charge. His big support most likely came from the outer boroughs, and as such they probably feel unfairly burdened by the idea that they have to pay to drive their car into my neighborhood, no matter if the street and parking system isn't big enough to handle it, and never will be.

In truth, Ken's undoing was probably as much the fault of his party as himself. Labour has done much to alienate its core constituency, from their plans to get rid of the lowest tax bracket to their plans to allow police to jail terrorism suspects for up to 42 days before requiring that charges be filed. If your rank and file aren't excited about your program, you'll have problems in any election.

Signs Of The Obvious

Why yes, Flood Lane might be liable to flooding if it's right next to the Thames, which it is in this case. From the non-rugby collection of Twickenham images.