A Scene from Hampton Court Palace

Some days, I just feel so exposed, don't you?

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.

Madrid Photos

A Flickr photoset is here, for those who want more detail.

We've Failed You For The Last Time

We went a long time without posting, which is bad. Bad, naughty bloggers. Truth be told, last week was a busy week for me as I had some extra (paying) work to do. So it's money in the pocket, which is never a bad thing. But because I really have nothing to say, though, maybe I should ask somebody else, like maybe Heywood Banks, to entertain you:


Sing along: "Oleo Lord!"

Welsh You Were Here

Howdy. The Werbenmanjensens are in Holyhead, Wales, where we've spent the last couple of days. The Rough Guide to Wales describes it as "downbeat," which is true in its own way, but there is a bit of natural beauty out here. We've been to near the top of Holy Mountain to see a couple of dazzling views (we'd give you photos, but we're using internet cafe terminals right now so publishing photos is out of the question). The path up was a good deal easier than those Scottish mountains, and we had bright and clear conditions. We're hopping the ferry to Dublin today, although our fast ferry has been canceled because of rough weather out on the Irish Sea. We're now on the "cruise ferry" leaving at 2-ish. I'm happy to report that we have American-made Dramamine so we don't have a repeat of another rough ferry ride.

Welcome To Liechtenstein

The Werbenmanjensens are just back from a journey to Switzerland, with a side trip into Liechtenstein:

Where the prince of the principality lives, or so we think.


Pretty church.


The pedestrian walk in the Vaduz city center.


This elevator makes you decide which floor you're going to before you board.


*Yawn* Just another castle-like building.

Longish Diary Of The Year's Shortest Day

We saw this twice yesterday, have yet to see it for the first time today

To celebrate the 2007 winter solstice, Mrs. Werbenmanjensen and I rose at roughly the same time to make ready to fly nearly halfway around the world: Ten time zones behind, so to speak, landing us in Hawaii sometime late last night local time. Our polar route took us through our first sunset around 1:30 or 2 p.m., only to greet us with a second sunrise a few hours later, somewhere over Canada. Even though we were in the dark, over the North Pole, with an outside air temperature of around -70 something Farhenheit, our British Airways 747 managed to keep the cabin at sweat-wearing-cotton-T-shirt temperatures. Then the hell of LAX, waiting forever for our bags, getting searched by Customs because we wandered the wrong direction, going out of the secure airport environment only to have to re-enter it (really, does that make any sense?) in another terminal, watching the Keystone Kops of the TSA handle luggage in a single X-ray machine, and finally being unable to sit together for our leg to Hawaii because BA and American Airlines can't manage to communicate. We watched our flight chase the second sunset across the Pacific. Warm breezes on Kauai blow the palm fronds into a single green arrowhead atop all the trees, calming my travel-addled and fatigued nerves. We called the taxi dispatcher, who wondered why we didn't want to wait for the shuttle to our hotel. It was an easy $15 for him, a mere seven-fifty in the Queen's sweet sweet sterling, which can't even get you from one side of the Square Mile to the other in a Black Cab.

As I type these words, my computer's clock tells me it's 4:30 p.m. in London, where the sun set 40 minutes ago. Outside our balcony, I can hear the white noise of the Pacific's surf, cheering for a Hawaiian sunrise. It's going to be a good week.

Stonehenge Tunnel Scrapped

The transportation department has decided that noise pollution at the site is less of a priority than wildlife habitats:

Fears for the future of rare wildlife surrounding Stonehenge were eased yesterday after the Government ruled out a £540m tunnel under the ancient monument as well as alternative plans to build a new road on the site.

There were fears that abandoning the 2.1km tunnel on grounds of cost would lead to a bypass being built across the Wiltshire plains to ease congestion. Among the birds said to have been at risk from such a move was the rare stone curlew.

Announcing it was dropping the Stonehenge project, the Department for Transport said yesterday that "significant environmental constraints" meant there were no acceptable alternatives to the tunnel, which was recommended by public inquiry in 2004.

My 2p: It's really a bit noisy at the site, and with lots of pedestrians in the area who want to gawk through the fence rather than pay the admission fee, there is a significant public safety concern. I hope they come up with some solution.

Random Thoughts At 22 Months

1. The island of Jersey is a peculiar of the crown. I always thought "peculiar" was a term reserved for town weirdos or mints.

2. I never see stop signs in Britain.

Cutty Sark Update

Most of the media have had coverage of the progress of the Cutty Sark restoration post-fire, which I gather means the foundation held a media tour. The BBC report is here.

Knock Knock

Today was the State opening of Parliament, an annual event wrapped in nearly as much tradition and ceremony as the selection of a Pope or a Freemason beer bash. The headline of this post refers to the day's duty of the Black Rod, a House of Lords officer equivalent to the Sergeant-at-Arms of the House or Senate, who must summon the Commoners by knocking at the door of their chamber and, ceremonially, have it slammed in his face to ceremonially signal the Commoners' actual independence of the hoi-polloi in Lords. That's only a bit of the ceremony. Wikipedia:

First, the cellars of the Palace of Westminster are searched in order to prevent a modern-day Gunpowder Plot. The Plot of 1605 involved a failed attempt by English Catholics to blow up the Houses of Parliament and kill the Protestant King James I and aristocracy. Since that year, the cellars have been searched, but for the sake of form only.

Before the monarch departs her residence, the Crown takes a member of the House of Commons to Buckingham Palace as a ceremonial hostage. This is to guarantee the safety of the Sovereign as she enters a possibly hostile Parliament. Today, with the convention that the majority of the government is drawn from the Commons, the symbolism becomes rather confused - the chosen hostage is usually the Vice-Chamberlain of the Household who, being a member of Her Majesty's Government, it can be assumed would not be hostile. The hostage is released upon the safe return of the Queen.

[snip]

The Sergeant-at-Arms picks up the ceremonial mace and, with the Speaker, leads the Members of the House of Commons as they walk, in pairs, towards the House of Lords. By custom, the members saunter, with much discussion and joking, rather than formally process. The Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition usually walk side by side, leading the two lines of MPs. The Commons then arrive at the Bar of the House of Lords (no person who is not a member of the Upper House may pass the Bar unbidden when it is in session; a similar rule applies to the Commons), where they bow to The Queen. They remain at the Bar for the speech.

At that point, the holder of the world's second-oldest monarchy, in a monotone, reads a pre-written speech outlining the goals of the elected government. But without the ceremony, it wouldn't be Britain.

Cutty Sark Update

Since one of our more avid readers is also an avid student of nautical history:

You may have read many places elsewhere of the fire that damaged the famous clipper ship, the Cutty Sark, which sits in Greenwich harbor in London. The ship was undergoing some conservation work at the time, so many parts of the ship that had been removed for that work were spared. The trust which restores and maintains the ship is raising money to repair the damage from the fire. It's easy to do, if you so wish, by clicking here.

Jersey As A Second Language

Overheard at the Grounds for Sculpture, a conversation about the piece pictured above, titled "Eye on the Ball."

"Dis one's cwalled 'Oye on the Bwahl.'"
"'Oye on the Bwahl' or 'Oye on the Bwowl?'"
"'Oye on the Bwahl!'"

La Sagrada Familia

Without even being finished, La Sagrada Familia (Holy Family in Catalan) is the signature building of Barcelona. I won't waste too much time describing its history, since Wikipedia does a better job, other than to say that its creator, the Catalan architect Antoni Gaudi, has works throughout Barcelona.




Are those bowls of fruit atop the spires? Yes they are. George Orwell wrote that the Anarchists showed bad taste during the Spanish Civil War by not blowing up La Sagrada Familia when they held Barcelona. But given that the work was barely a decade old at that point, perhaps Orwell couldn't appreciate what the building would become.

(Pretension alert) I only like to shoot with natural light.



Is that sky beyond? Yes it is. Did we say it was unfinished? Uh-huh. This is an inside shot, but as you can see, the covering from the elements is not quite finished. I also like this shot because it shows how Gaudi topped his columns in the basilica with four fingers to support the weight. Gaudi preferred biomorphic shapes, rather than the rigid lines of classical architecture, and the columns reflect his tastes.

Ironically, the building is undergoing a renovation at the same time as it's still being completed. But that's probably standard operating practice in cathedral building, where centuries can pass between laying of cornerstones and final completion. Or as Gaudi put it, "My client is not in a hurry."


The main front, where all visitors enter, depicts the passion of Christ. This side entrance pictured immediately above depicts the Nativity, with fanciful images of Christ in the manger, angels, magi and shepherds.

Five million people a year visit this unfinished cathedral.

London Open House Weekend

This weekend is London Open House Weekend, when thousands pre-book to get into the Gherkin, and hundreds of other buildings of significant architectural interest are also open. Our church, St. Joseph's, is open, although shoehorned in between masses.





Mrs. Werbenmanjensen and I volunteered this afternoon to be docents for visitors, which also allowed us to get some photos (including from the organ loft, where we would otherwise not be allowed to go).

Devon: The American Connection

The words on the above plaque are hard to make out, but it commemorates the departure from Plymouth, in Devon, of the religious refugees we've come to know as the Pilgrims, who landed in 1620 in the American colony we know as Plymouth. (Click on the photo to see a big version of it so you can read it better.) The plaque sits on a harbor wall above the steps ...



... that the Pilgrims are said to have descended before boarding the Mayflower. (Mrs. W got the best Pilgrim's-eye-view.)



The stone arch also commemorates the New England pilgrims and gives a viewing platform for the steps.



Happily for us, down the street is the Plymouth Gin distillery. Had it been there in 1620, I doubt the Pilgrims would have partaken.

Over in Torquay, some aging concrete ramps are also preserved for historical purposes. These were the "hards" that were used to load troops and supplies for the Normandy invasion in WWII. (You can read about it a bit at the Wikipedia entry linked above.) We didn't take any pictures of them because, well, they're just aging concrete ramps.