electricity, inside of me

Saturday, and I’m starting to feel the crunch. I try to be responsible, you know, be on top of things. Eventually I need to break from the adventure and do some bidness. I need to make copies and print posters and call taxis for Edinburgh. So my morning was basically that. I sent the students off to the National for a backstage tour. We received the dismaying news that the District Line, the Circle Line, and the Jubilee line were closed all weekend. Ababawhat? Those are pretty much the main arteries for us. Only the Picadilly Line offered us tube transportation downtown. Thanks for being there when we needed you, Picadilly.

I made my way awkwardly to the National when I finished my aforementioned bidness, awkwardly because of the aforemention tube closures. But this gave me the opportunity to walk along the Thames. And though it was bottlenecked with the Saturday crowds it was still fun to stop at the book markets and watch the street performers under the London Eye. For a little while I watched this woman create some amazing chalk art.

We saw a matinee of Phedre at the National. It’s an odd play. It’s a French neo-classical writer telling an Ancient Greek story. So you can’t really classify it as French, but you can’t really classify it as Grecian. All that matters is that Helen Mirren was Phedre, and she wore a purple dress and she was a serious cougar. I thought she was fantastic. This is the kind of play where everyone makes really bad decisions and then everyone dies, but in this play characters are actually smashed by and killed by horrifying sea monsters. That’ll teach them!

After the show Levi and Jason and I stayed at the National to walk through a sound instillation called Winter. In the brochure Winter sounded really intriguing, and the pictures looked very cool. But it was pretty dumb. You put on headphones and this old lady tells a story about her crazy pianist husband. And then she dies (SPOILER) in a hospital and talks a lot about Christmas.

Our second show tonight was Billy Elliot. I would never have guessed that I would have liked Billy Elliot as much as I did. I have seen the movie, and the musical is pretty faithful to it. But they seemed to really capture the community and spirit of North England and I loved the dialects. I don’t know how they could find a boy actor who can sing, act, and dance like this kid could. Amazing. My friend told me that they actually have little Billy Elliot farms  - where they grown little Billy’s and teach them the songs and dances for the show. However it works, it is a thrilling piece of musical theatre. Elton John wrote the music, and nothing sounds like Lion King. Many of the students proclaimed this their favorite show, and I agree. Certainly it’s in my top five.

warwick, wax, and wonders

Day 2 of Stratford, and how I love waking up to the full English breakfast at the Victoria Spa. It’s ham, it’s eggs, it’s mushrooms, it’s tomatoes, it’s toast, it’s the only thing that gets me out of my comfortable attic bed. I see all the students stumbling down the stairs, hair messy, looking scowly, and by the time they have finished breakfast they are perky and looking much more animated. Such is the magic of the Victoria Spa.

We headed into town to do the Shakespeare run. I am happy to report that the Shakespeare Museum/Birthplace has undergone a high-tech revamp! You go through these magical doors and there are three rooms with HD video presentations about the life of Shakespeare. And you know it’s time to move to the next room because the bell rings and the next doors open. Certain objects in the room light up when they are being referred to in the video. It’s very Disney and I was very impressed. I know where my money is going. Ian McKellan and Juliet Stevenson narrate. Inside of the birthplace I see that tour guide that I always see, he of the distinctive head size, and he always assumes we are from BYU. But outside of the birthplace we saw more performances this year – last year it was a youngish couple doing Much Ado, but this year it was a middle-aged man doing the Seven Ages of Man from As You Like It. It was great!

We visited the town council, and we visited John and Susanna’s house – with my favorite garden in England. I had a scone with clotted cream while the students toured the house. Then they all came out, and several did cartwheels on the lawn. I found a dead bumblebee. Following this, we went to St. Trinity to see Shakespeare’s grave. I haven’t actually gone up to the grave the last few years because it costs 50p and I know what it looks like. But I went this year – it felt like time. No new impressions or anything, but I liked the way the stained glass reflected on the floor.

Hyrum and Jason and I ate some delicious food (OK, McDonalds) on a bridge over the river Avon, and then we hurried back to the coach, only to find that most of the other students were lost. But we found them. Well, everyone but Anna-Marie. But she turned up eventually as well. And then we headed to Warwick Castle.

Warwick Castle is a great time if you like wax figures, hand to hand combat, an old guy who catches rats and beats a drum, owls, and a rose garden that doesn’t really have roses in it. We had fun there. I like going around the Georgian rooms and pretending that the wax figures are plotting a murder. I found the hidden monkey pretty easily this year. It was by the lamp!

In the dungeon we spotted wax characters that looked like Joel Petrie and Richard Newman, but could not find the Mark Oram character we found last year. We also followed a big pack of Russians, and I couldn’t resist a shot of this lady:
This lady judged Ashley as inappropriately dressed for a Georgian party:

Much better, Ashley! And who's your date? Arthur Conan Doyle?

Looks like Sara's date may be a little awkward:
There was a sad moment at the Princess Tower when Melissa, Ashley, and Sara were turned away for being too old to come inside. Melissa was given the cold shoulder when she tried to join the Duck-Duck-Goose ring. And the travails continued further when Ashley and I both bought mint chocolate ice cream, but were given quite different scoop sizes:

But we enjoyed the aviary, even if they messed up all the eagles. And we sat by the river and fed some ducks, who eventually came up and bit our fingers. And we watched the Trebuchet shoot the flaming ball – because if you don’t watch the Trebuchet it’s like going to the Stadium of Fire and leaving before the fireworks. Incidentally, they have added a new part in the trebuchet act where a guy throws up and gets a bucket of water poured on him. Throughout this, a giant white swan prowled through the crowd, scaring people and hissing for food.

We made it back safely to London, and though most of the group was tired from the trip, Jason and I headed to the National Theatre for the BFI Friday Films. You sit on the roof of the National and they project these classic films on the side of the building. The screen is probably 50 feet tall. It’s fun. We wanted to go because tonight they were showing Momma Don’t Allow, a film about dangerous teens in 1956 going to the Wood Green Jazz Club. But before the film we got to see Mathew Robins’ Flyboy and the Haunted Horse. This is a “shadow opera” performed in front of and projected onto the giant screen while Robins and his band plays. Here are some clips:

We find out first that Fly-boy works occasionally at a butcher shop:


We find out that the butcher shop is haunted by the ghost of a horse:


We find out that the horse's wife is not a ghost, she's a seal. Then this beautiful memory:


When it came time for Momma Don’t Allow, the sound didn’t work. So it was a big silent black and white jazz film. But we didn’t care. It was a nice night up on the roof, and most of the audience just stayed and chatted. I think we all agreed it was worth it to see a ghost horse dancing with a seal.

for the rain it raineth

Time for Stratford! We call it the Stratford trip, though we are mostly elsewhere. But Stratford, and more specifically Shakespeare, seems to be the theme of it. I always look forward to it, and it's always a nice break from the city. I love the city, but I forget what's it like to not constantly hear jet planes overhead and people coughing through the plays. Yesterday the announcer at the tube station was telling people that, with the heat and the crowds, it was "advisable" to bring bottled water to avoid passing out. I guess that's been happening. You cram so many people into the tube cars, and the heat goes up, and the arm pits come out, and people drop like flies.

So it's a great feeling to jump onto a nice, air-conditioned coach (all to ourselves) and head to the country. First stop, of course, is Oxford. My students seem to respond more positively to Oxford than I do. It must be some kind of Harry Potter thing. I love Oxford, and I think it's charming, but it seems to spin some kind of magical spell on them. They wander around taking pictures and declaring their love and all but filling out college applications. So I'm happy they are happy. I was not happy with the downpour we got, though. Luckily we made it through the grand tour without what the good folks of Utah call "moisture," but once we all split for lunch it came down hard. The city was soaked and we all ducked into whatever shops we could find. I ate a pasty and waited it out. Then I bought another sweater because mine was soaked. Thanks, Topshop! I eventually met up with the students at the Eagle & Child pub, the famous meeting place of Tolkein and Lewis, and we all crowded around a table, shivering and drinking hot chocolate.



The rain stopped and the bus started back up and we headed to Mary Arden's farm. Though it was a little damp up there, the farm was in full swing. The falconer this year was a woman and I'm glad to see that there is equality in Warwickshire. She did a nice job and I got this cool shot of the falcon ripping apart a white mouse.


Then several students, including the ill-advised Levi, squeezed into the bamboo house.



Then we went into the forest of Arden, and found these objects hanging mysteriously from the trees.




We stopped next at Anne Hathaway's house, which I always love. They have some exciting new additions to this site, if you think exciting can also mean cheesy. For example, do we need Titania's Bower? You go inside this shed and it's all blackened out with dark sheets. And there's fairy lights strung up along the roof, and there's Barbie Fantasia music playing, and it smells like potpourri, and there's what appears to be a dead body dressed up like a fairy queen laying on the floor. It's really weird. Another exciting addition that didn't turn out to be exciting was the New Woods Walk, which goes on an on and on. We amused ourselves by coming up with alternative lyrics to Poker Face and, at one point, running to make the New Woods Walk end sooner. Eventually we made it out alive. I am happy to report, however, that Anne Hathaway's house, the reason for going in the first place, is still a fantastic place to visit.


We stayed again this year at the Victoria Spa lodge. We stayed there last year, and it was good to see Dreen and Paul again. Dreen has had a hip replacement, and may have another. So she was on crutches. But she was still a fireball. I stayed again in the loft which has officially become the boys dorm. Later that night we saw a spider the size of a 50 cent piece. It was the largest in-house spider of all time. I don't mention this as a condemnation of the Victoria Spa, it's just interesting and terrifying. The rest of our stay was very comfortable and I had a great night's sleep once the boys finally shut up. OK, once I finally shut up.

Our show this evening was Julius Caesar at the RSC. I was excited to see it because it was directed by Lucy Bailey who gave us the bloodiest, funniest Titus Andronicus ever at the Globe, and then the poop and vulture showpiece Timon of Athens last year. You never know what hijinks you'll get from a Lucy Bailey show! But I'm sorry to report that Julius Caesar was pretty dull, despite her use of multimedia effects and some interesting staging. You just can't substitute creativity for lack of actor connection. If I don't care, I get bored. It wasn't awful, I think I just wanted something really kooky, or really offensive, or really anything. This was just pretty boring.

And we usually like to go ghost hunting at St. Trinity after the show, but the rain had started up again so I shuffled all the students off in taxis. Our taxi driver, incidentally, had the most frightening teeth you can imagine. I know the British are not well known for their dental habits, but this was out of control. He turned on the lights in the cab and turned around to talk to us and it was like a horror film! We screamed in terror. Not really, but we paid and got out of there. It was far scarier than anything Lucy Bailey came up with. We felt safe only when we were dry, tucked into bed, and free of that ginormous spider.

literary giants

If yesterday was busy, today was possibly busier. But you’re only young once. Or you’re old but depend on controlled substances. Ha, ha! I’m kidding. I don’t...drink…caffeine….ha….ha….

Anyway, it was a great day to go to Buckingham Palace for the changing of the guard. Well, great in terms of weather. If you want the ideal day to do this you should go on a day when the weather is bad, or threatening to be bad, because then you’ll get a good view. On sunny days you need to get there at least 90 minutes early. We did not. But we got a good view of most of the action. A lot of marching. Some tall furry hats. At one point, a brass rendition of the Star Trek Next Generation theme song. Some horse riding. A lot of tourists. But it’s worth it to walk through St. James’ park!

And then? The Globe. I intentionally schedule our Globe tours during matinee performances so we can’t actually go inside the Globe. We’ve been in there for two shows already, and everything the students need to know about the theatre itself I cover in class. But when there is a show going they take you on the Rose tour instead, and I think it’s far more interesting. The Rose tour takes in the original site of Shakespeare’s Globe, and then a visit to the remains of the old Rose theatre, a theatre which probably premiered Romeo & Juliet, many of the history plays, and Titus Andronicus. And probably many more than that. I’ve visited the Rose a handful of times now, but I always get a little shock of excitement every time I’m in there. It’s nothing but old foundation stones, but it feels important.

We were on a time crunch today, since we were seeing two shows. So we booked it after the tour to Drury Lane to see Oliver. Oliver is the pricey new feather in the cap of producer Cameron Macintosh, who also produced Les Mis, Phantom, Cats, and Mary Poppins. There was a very popular UK TV reality show where several actresses vied to play Nancy in this production. It has proven to be a very popular show over here – and the theatre was packed. You can definitely feel a difference in the type of people going to a matinee of Oliver. It’s not the Arcadia crowd, that’s for sure. But it felt a little more like the vox populii, and I liked that. Not much snobbery. And the show is possibly the flashiest show I have ever seen. I wish I could show you the way this set worked. I’ve never seen anything like it – it’s astonishing. The acting was fine, it’s pretty roadshow, and that’s what I was prepared for. But the design of this show captures Dickens' London far better than any show I have ever seen. It’s a joyous and entertaining production. If you are in London, and you want a night of flashy London entertainment, you should forgo Phantom and Les Mis – productions that have run themselves into the ground – and catch this one instead. You can see a clip of the show here.

Tonight everyone was on their own. I like free nights – I know everyone is happy doing what they like, even if it’s just staying home and catching up on emails. As for me? A London walk. If I ever get a free night and I’m not burning to see another play, I do one of these. Tonight’s walk was The Literary London Pub walk. Yeah, I know how nerdy that sounds. But it appealed to me. Our tour guide was Brian, and you can here what he sounds like here. Brian led us all around Bloomsbury, which is a famous area for London writers like Charles Dickens, T.S. Eliot, E.M. Forster, Virginia Woolf, Anthony Trollope, Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath. It's great, because your guide takes you to all these spots and then tells you these ridiculously entertaining stories about these people. Here are some of the things I learned:

St. George's church in Bloomsbury has been called Satanic and absurd. It has this strange pyramid for a steeple, with a lion and a unicorn fighting on it. Look close and you can see them:


This church also figured into the background of Hogarth's famous Gin Lane:


Nicodemus Dumps was "a bachelor, six feet high and fifty years old: cross, cadaverous, odd, and ill-natured. He was never happy but when he was miserable; and always miserable when he had the best reason to be happy."

Queen Anne had 20 children, was 4'9, and weighed 280 lbs.


King George III suffered from "fustication" but may have also been accidentally poisoned by his own wife, who fed him sauerkraut and lemonade from pewter plates. We stopped at the Queen's pub, and my Coke Zero tasted like arsenic.


Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath married at this church. Later Sylvia committed suicide by placing her head in an oven. Hughes' second wife killed herself in the exact same way.


One of T.S. Eliots Cats ascends to heaven through the top of the Russel hotel, pictured here:


T.S. Eliot is an anagram for "toilets."


Eliot had a crazy wife. She would stand in front of the Faber & Faber building where he worked wearing a sandwich board which read "I am the wife of T.S. Eliot" on the front and "I have been abandoned" on the back.

Virginia Woolf described Eliot's wife as "a bag of ferrets."


Karl Marx write Das Kapital in the British Museum, and Gorbechev called the Museum "the birthplace of communism."

byron-esque

Back in London, ready to roll. Today was kind of a biggie. Two massive landmarks in one day, and we spent solid time in both, proving that it can be done. First off, we went to St. Paul's Cathedral. I took a break from St. Paul's last year, so I was ready for it this year. I can’t visit St. Paul’s without climbing the 530 steps to the top. To me, that is the cathedral.

We didn’t immediately climb to the top. We actually took time to enjoy the cathedral, but after Paris we had seen enough churches to last a short lifetime, so after a nice seat, look around, and listening to some piano music, we headed up. First stop was the Whispering Gallery, about 259 steps up, where an angry French woman told me to not stand on the benches. I was standing on the bench to see if it was true that you can whisper something into the wall and it would be heard all the way around the dome. I have tried this trick so many times and it has never worked, but hope springs eternal. I stood on the benches in hopes that my sound would carry better and that Jason would hear it across the dome. But it didn’t work, and that French lady yelled at me. Then she yelled a poor little girl who was taking pictures. And then she told a man that he probably wouldn't make it to the top, because he was "too old and fat." Who hired that lady?

The view from the top was beautiful. The day was windy, but no rain. We completely overstayed our welcome up there, but it’s fun to play “get in other tourists’ pictures” and "spot that person" (red coat lady?). I love looking over the edge and pinpointing landmarks. If you go to London and you can’t afford a trip on the London Eye, do this. It’s the poor man’s Eye.


We all met up on the steps of St. Paul's and sat and joked around for a bit. It was a nice break from the climbing and churching. We took pictures. Most of them were of ourselves, but I did get this picture of a classic Englishman:


Next up, Westminster Abbey! The inimitable Fedra Jones told us that everything you need to know about London can be found at the Tower and the Abbey. I wanted to make sure both of our bases were covered. Luckily, we were given a tour of the Abbey by Jeremy Irons! On headphones. Jeremy told us about all of the dead bodies and made everything sound important and creepy. At the end of the abbey we sat in the choir seats and listened to a boy’s choir. Despite incredibly difficult (and often dissonant) chords, they were perfectly in tune. I thought it was amazing. I also enjoyed, as always, Poet’s Corner. I copied down this inscription from Lord Byron’s site:


But there is that within me which shall tire
Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire.

On the way home Levi, Jason, and I stopped at the Zetland Arms – it’s our neighborhood pub. In three years of staying at Manson Place I have never been there. As it turns out, it’s a pub! Pubs are basically the same everywhere, but there is something comforting about them. I always try to convince my students that pubs aren’t bars – they are meeting places. People of all ages come to the pub and stay and talk and watch the news. Usually my students come around to the idea that it's OK to come inside about the time we leave for the US. Oh well. We had a nice meal there; mine was sausage and mash. While there, I got a picture of my second great English face of the day:


Lord Byron re-emerged at tonight’s show. We saw Arcadia, by Tom Stoppard. Jeremy Irons re-emerged as well, or at least his wife Samantha Bond did. She played the lead character. Arcadia is an incredibly difficult play. It merges a modern story with a Regency story, and it’s all about math and determinism and chaos theory and fire and rice in jam pudding. You have to really listen and focus on it. Mostly I did. But the theatre was very hot. I think you can see where this is going. I had a pretty good nap through most of the first half. But the second half was great, and I thought the ending was particularly poignant.


On the way home from the theatre we stopped down an alleyway and I got a picture of one last great English face.
Recognize it?