Bard Day

Bah! Much to my grumpiness, I was 14 min into writing this post when the computer I was on decided that it had had enough and went foetal. hmphk. So, I reprise:

When last I left you I was halfway through decribing the British Museum... Africa was a definite highlight, as was roaming about the Museum saying 'Africa is downstairs, Islam is over in that corner, Asia is through there and England is upstairs' - a kind of hyper-abbreviated world travel experience. Most people would tire of the amusement provided by this, I, however, am not most people, and it made me giggle the whole time I was there. You must be sad you didn't get to go with me!

Unfortunately the bog body display was shut, which, having to sit through the video at school in year 8, I felt I was entitled to actually see, seeing as I still have a dim recollection of what his last meal was... Anyway, we flitted through Asia, and then to the shop! An excellent museum shop! Lots of books, but lots of fun museum crap that is the junk food of the Educational Experience. Then to lunch, and shopping in Covent Garden - mmm so many shoes!

After that, a brief collapse, then, in sterling decision, to the Diana memorial! There were a few glitches of map reading at this point, largely surrounding the size of Hyde Park, and also some of the fine print. So we walked past the Diana memorial fountain, in the belief that it was just the 'memorial fountain' not the 'Memorial', and not feeling like pausing for reflection beside the trickling waters, in consideration of our bladders. We powered on through the park, ending up somewhere quite different to where I thought we were, and able to fully appreciate the size of the Park, which is, technically speaking, feckin' huge. Then, on to what we thought was 'The Memorial' which turned out to be the 'Princess Diana Memorial Playground' - not quite what we had expected. But very elaborate, very fun, and very closed after 6pm. Make sure you go in daylight, if you are seven years old, and in search of diversion in London. We did get to see the elven oak however. Although it is behind bars, which is sad. No wonder the little elves didn't move very much.

Then it was Thai time, then bed time, then up the next morning to move hotels, (well, hostels, I've downgraded :( ). Then to the V&A! Again! And I still haven't seen all of it. The highlights this time were the William Morris exhibition, the Great Exhibition of 1851 exhibition (ghost of essay past), and sharing with someone the amusement at the faux David's wardrobe.

After that, we collapsed again. I saw My friend from Norway off to meet her flight, then headed off to my new abode in Bayswater. Not feeling like hanging around in the delights of a youth hostel, I decided to collapse at the cinema, and staying near Kensington Palace (which has to be one of the most boring looking excuses for a 'palace' ever: if you are going to be a princess you should at least have turrets! Surely.) I decided it was only appropriate that I should see 'Queen' - Helen Mirren is brilliant as the Queen, I thought that the characters of Charles and Philip were a caricature more than a characterisation, and then I realised that Charles and Philip pretty much are charicatures of themselves in real life, so it was entirely fitting. The same went for Tony Blair too. I was amused by a few of the asides in the film - at one point Tony is striding out of a room and 'Gordon' calls - Tony keeps striding and shouts over his shoulder to tell him just to 'hang on' - don't know if you've seen quite as much press over the tumult regarding the leadership of the government in England, but v. amusing.

Tuesday was Tate Library again, Judas and Thomas v. excited to be sitting down. Library was good, tracked down some exhibition catalogues. Tate library has worst photocopying restrictions in the entire world, and don't let you take photos. Grrr. Anyway, I then rewarded J&T for being good feet, by buying them new shoes, they now have the air cushioned comfort provided by our old friend Dr Marten. Shoes that don't leak!

The next morning I demanded that J&T respond to my kindness by going to see the British art exhibition at the Hayward Gallery - this had lots of stuff from the period that I am interested in, but was largely oblivious to the stuff that I am interested in - but v. good for the larger context. And for the opportunity to see two bmw engines dipped in copper sulphate until they were covered in electric blue crystals - excellent! V. Warhol. And they were having a catalogue sale!

Then, to the Globe! Most excellent, went and saw the 'Comedy of Errors', went for the £5 standing ticket, so had the experience of the original cheap-ticket audience of standing right in front of the stage, under the open sky, surrounded by the thatched tiered seating. Was an excellent performance, they played the farcical elements to the hilt and added some histrionics, v. funny. Enjoyed it so much that my idiocy took hold and I bought a ticket for the evening show of 'Antony and Cleopatra'. Killed some time between them by visiting the Tate next door (mmmm Rothko) and then back for more standing in awe of the Bard. Cleopatra was performed very well, and Caesar also excellent- and especially the moment when during a spot of vigorous drunken dancing Agrippa lost his character and shouted 'OH MY GOD' because he almost clouted the front row of the audience with Caesar.

Anyway, my feet feel that the shoes were a bribe.

Am off to interview someone this afternoon.

further wanderings...

Since last we spoke I have continued my Foot Torture Tour '06 - Thursday saw me arise to move hotels. Fortuitously my interviewee offered to pick me up on Thursday morning, take me to my new hotel and drop my belongings off at my new abode and thence to an interview location - to this offer I said 'yes' - he suggested the members room at Tate Modern - to this I said 'yes' - and aside from being incredibly helpful with my travelling needs, he was also very interesting to speak to about my research and answered many questions for me. And then I got to take on Tate Modern! Hurrah! More paintings than you can poke a stick at... Including the Rothko room _swoon_ then I returned to the new hotel via St Paul's Cathedral and the Millenium Bridge (which I really like, I enjoy the way it appears to have been slung across the Thames)

Returned to the new hotel, thinking the thought: it would have been wise to pay more attention to where I was going when I was driven to the hotel that morning, so as to remember where it was for later solo discovery, fortunately my hunch was correct and I made it there for the agreed rendezvous with My Friend From Norway, who came to London for a few days to visit London and me. Very good to have someone to talk to at long last, meant that I have spent a lot less time in the past few days composing songs from my feet. We did name them however - my feet are now Judas and Thomas. Not sure what the travel insurance people will say when I explain that one of my feet has attempted to sell me to the authorities for thirty pieces of silver and subsequently, made an attempt on its own life when it became overcome with remorse.

Friday we headed back to the Tate Modern for the Kandinsky exhibition, which was excellently, exceptionally, utterly fantastic. Wassily isn't an artist who we see much of in Australia so this was such a great experience - the exhibition traced the development of abstraction in his work from his early impressionistesque work to his later abstract work - which I think would have made it pretty accessible for people that are kind of intimidated by what the point of abstract art is. And it narrated how Wassily arrived in Paris as a lawyer, soon realised that art was his true purpose in life and so converted immediately - so for some, you know, there might be a lesson in that _smirk_

After that we wandered the city, found some cocktails (blessed be the happy hour! It is truly the hour of happiness!), found Chinatown and found the tube back to our hotel.

Saturday was NerdMecca day: Oxford! We caught the train from London to Oxford and had a wander around the town of Spires, even clambering up the CrazySteep stairs inside the tower of the University Church of St Mary the Virgin to take in the view - if you ever need to make friends when you're in Oxford, climb up those stairs, they are so narrow that to pass anyone going in the opposite direction necessitates the kind of bodily contact that would be counted as marriage in some places. The view is beautiful, and photographically documented to the extent that you should be able to reconstruct the town from my records. We then went to the oldest coffee house in Europe, where I had tea. After that, to the Ashmolean Musuem - happy day! - the fruits of earlier nerds and their travels: I buy pencils and postcards, they "bought" sarcophagi and paintings. Half of it is currently being renovated to expand the exhibition space and so is shut down, which was kind of a relief, I had reached my limit.

Being a university town, we felt it our duty to demonstrate cultural sensitivity to the lifestyle of the inhabitants, and so we took ourselves to the pub, where Judas and Thomas felt better after a nice wheat beer. Train back to London, then Sunday was the big challenge: the British Museum. That place is massive! We compiled a shortlist of the things we felt we absolutely had to see and commenced the mission. The Rosetta Stone was a joy to behold, having read about it forever, and especially as you then got to behold the excessive array of souvenirs that the Museum have plastered the image of the RS all over - the mousemat was my personal favourite, although the backpack was also a bit of a winner - the stone was carved well enough to hang about for thousands of years and enable the decoding of hieroglyphs, you'd be lucky if that backpack lasted out the door of the museum. Anyway, onward through Egypt (my new favourite Egyptian deity: the one with the head of a lion and the body of a pregnant hippopotamus - wow did she luck out when the bodily forms of the deities were being attributed). The carvings were stunning, the simplicity of the forms of Egyptian carved granite statues is beautiful, and a great contrast with.... _drumroll_ the Elgin Marbles / Parthenon sculptures - the marble statues from the Parthenon in Athens brought home by Lord Elgin in a remarkably enterprising feat of domestic decoration - takes a keen mind to look at an ancient ruin and think 'yes, they will look just lovely stuck up on my pile of bricks in England' - and create an elegant diplomatic tiptoe between Greece and England centuries later. Ikea can't claim to do that can they?

Leaving aside the politics, the marbles themselves are amazing, seeing them in-the-marble was fantastic, having looked at photos of them countless times, and the incredible detail of the carvings was such a contrast with the Egyptian sculptures next door.

Then it was off to the Easter Island statue - unfortunately the extent of the Easter Island display, at least in the parts of the museum that we covered - then downstairs to Africa. Africa was great, the display is a great balance between material collected a long time ago and contemporary pieces, some ceremonial pieces (ceramics etc) demonstrating the continuity with the older material, and some contemporary art. My favourite was the Tree of Life - constructed out of firearms that were collected in exchange for practical materials that would help people earn a living, and cut into small pieces, then welded by local artists into a giant sculpture.

My internet connection is failing me, so I'll have to leave you here for the minute...

Mastercard Commercial #2*

Travel to Victoria & Albert Museum Archives: free

Coffee £1.90

Lunch: £5

Discovering that in the 1940s there was a brand of canned tuna called 'Chicken of the Sea': Priceless



*with acknoledgements to Sarah

The Goat in Shoes

... is my favourite name for a pub thus far, amid some strong contenders.

You know what's cool? Brompton Oratory. It's cool because its a twelfth century church (the oldest Catholic church in London) that has been continually been used up to the present, and continually had decorations added, creating quite the melange of period styles, AND because Nick Cave wrote a song about it, called, wait for it, 'Brompton Oratory', and now I've been there! Geeky fandom joy! When I first saw it it took me a couple of days to place why I knew the name - no, not because of some art historical or just plain historical awareness on my part, but because I'm a Nick Cave tragic (or connoisseur, if you prefer, as I do).

Since I left you last I have visited Portobello Rd Markets, and Notting Hill in general, as I found the long way there - the ability to retain a mental image of the map you've just looked at is one that I'm growing increasingly desirous of - there were no sightings of Hugh Grant, as, sadly it seems that he choses not to inhabit his fictional characters until I visit them - strange, yet true - but the markets were cool, lots of clothes, antiques, (vintage jewellery.... urragagrrrrh... sorry, just choked on my drool, have cleaned myself up now. Wow is no one going to use this computer after me though). I think I also saw someone famous, don't know who, although he had lovely hair, but the people nearby were whispering to each other that they should go ask if they could take a photo. Possibly they just liked his hair too. Then I went and saw Little Miss Sunshine, don't know if that is on in Australia at the moment, but if/when it is, go see it, funniest movie I have seen in I cannot recall how long. And now that I've said that, there'll be NO chance of it being a let down.

On Sunday I went to Tate Britain, and, being an idiot, I thought I would walk there. I did have a lovely walk up the King's Rd and through an extended Pimlico tour (map memory lack again) but by the time I got there my feet had composed a new song for me, it goes to the tune of 'wind beneath my wings' but they call it 'have we ever told you how we loathe you / you are the burden on our soles' - I think they are going to try and get Bette to sing it and use the royalties to divorce themselves from me. Anyway, some excellent shopping on the King's Road, the best vintage clothing store I. Have. Ever. Seen. And had a shop that has green seude boots *sigh*.

Tate Britain redeemed me for missing the Turner exhibition when it was in Australia a decade or so ago, they have an excellent several-rooms dedicated to him so it gives a great sense of his development as an artist and how he became the best-dang painter of fog there ever has been. The rest of the galleries, aside from their temporary exhibition spaces, give a general overview of British art, with, in my completely balance view point, too much with the Pre-Raphelite Brotherhood, and not enough with the 1950s & 60s. In addition, because there are mostly only paintings displayed, it misses a lot. But it was excellent to finally see this, for example.

Then, in another instance of foot-cruelty and map-ineptitude I floundered my way, via the Thames, to Westminster Cathedral, which isn't particularly attractive (comparatively speaking) on the outside, but on the inside I really like it, as the ceiling is blackened, and very high up, you can't really see it, so it just sort of disappears into nothingness, from which a huge painted wooden crucifix emerges. The Cathedral turns out to be Catholic, which I had never absorbed before, but it does explain the Mystery of Why There Are Two Westminster Churches, beyond my assumed explanation of It is To Confuse Me.

After that I had dinner, and promptly set off in the wrong direction to catch the Tube back to Earl's Court. My feet are working on some harmonies for their song.

Today I had to interview someone over in Camden, so caught the Tube to Regent's Park, walked through there, even taking photos so the Gardening People can enjoy them, and afterwards walked back, taking photos of animals through the fence of the zoo. Didn't think I would take photos of emus while I was in England.

Then, to revenge myself upon my feet for getting Wind beneath My Wings stuck in my head, I decided to walk to the Royal Academy of Art, which I did, via New Bow Street (I think) which had the most £££ label shops I have ever seen on one street before. I feel that my temt shirt stood up beside Prada et al. hem. Anyway, what took me to the Royal Academy was the Modigliani exhibition, which was excellent! I drooled so much I got dehydrated. Metaphorically. I hadn't seen more than one Modigliani piece at a time before, so it completely shifted my appreciation of him to see how his work changed over time, and in response to the different people he painted.

Other obsevations:
More people own dogs in England than I would have expected, had I formed an expectation about this.
It is really hard to buy a sandwich in England that does not involve mayonnaise. Who knew an entire country could all agree on one condiment?
It's difficult to buy almost anything from a shop that isn't part of a chain.
I have clean clothes! I found a laundromat, joy of all joys! Although I now have clean near skinny leg jeans, after the enthusiastic reception they received from the industrial dryer.
The weather is still good!

Mastercard commercial*

Around the world air ticket: $3500
Accommodation in London: $40ish per night
Looking at a display case in the Natural History Museum that contained an animatronic dinosaur, and overhearing an American tourist ask 'Is it real?': Priceless

*with acknowledgements to Sarah

The muffin man?!

When I left you last, I was off to walk to the National Gallery: it was 9.30 am. I arrived at the National Gallery at 2.30 pm. There is much danger to trying to walk anywhere without stopping, as any way you look there is tourist joy aplenty - Harrods! Fortuitously did not notice the signs saying no photos allowed:


Seriously, this is the kitschest memorial I have ever seen, its beautiful, so appropriately ghastly.
There is a Krispy Kreme in Harrods too, also distinctly wrong. I do give credit to the Harrods staff though, considering that they have flocks of people constantly gawking & roaming throughout the store, they are very polite. It is a very odd place, so many small rooms that connect to one another but give you no sense of where you are in relation to the outside world. I then went and found some coffee, which is almost ok, but someone really needs to get that concept of the long black out there more: that's two shots of coffee + hot water, not one shot, that just tastes like diluted nothingness. I wandered on through Green Park and St James Park - more squirrels! - found myself on The Mall, and amused, because it isn't in fact, a mall (as in a paved, non-car area - I at least knew that it wasn't a giant shopping centre. Which is another thing I like about London, the strips of shops, rather than air-conditioned barns of sensory death). Found the institute of Contemporary Art, also in changeover, and again the site of interesting exhibitions 50 years ago. Wandered up Regent Street, affectionately discovered Pall Mall, which was nice as it has always been one of my favourite properties to own when forced into playing Monopoly. Up to Picadilly Circus (aptly named), along to Leicester Square, then finally down to Trafalgar Square and the Gallery. Which also had various rooms shut off for changeover, but still enough open for some serious art nerd bliss. Pontormo was a particular standout, the colours were so much more than I had always given him credit for. Rubens lived up to very high expectations, and although the linked image does not capture the colours in the original at all, I'm sure you'll agree with me that that is one of the finest backs in art history.
Unfortunately some of the late nineteenth-century collection is currently being moved so I'll have to back when they rehouse some of the key works by Van Gogh and Cezanne and continue drooling and gurning.

When I tore myself away I decided to head home via Bayswater, so caught a bus in that direction and inteded a gentle stroll the rest of the way. Unfortunately, that rain I had been so happy not to have seen came, and I caught the wrong bus, so I ended up having quite the soggy trudge. Turns out my shoes leak.

The next day I decided it was time that I did something, I had a vague memory of, oh that's right, study, so headed off to the Victoria and Albert Museum for some library time. I do like a nineteenth-century built library, they impart a gravitas which your modern library doesn't have. Some work was achieved, in between dashes around to gawp, - elegantly gawp, but gawp none the less - at the collections there. I found some useful things in their collection, which is nice, having come from the other hemisphere. After library time it was Musical Time - I found a website which does some good deals on lastminute theatre deals, so I had dinner and went to see The Producers. Or rather, look down upon the producers, at the Theatre Royal, in Drury Lane, Covent Garden - which achieved numerous life goals, but two notable ones I will mention here:
1. Every time I considered the address I could replay Shrek in my mind: "The muffin man? The muffin man!? Who lives down Drury Lane?"
2. I saw a show in Covent Garden, so not only have I seen a show in Covent Garden, but whenever the conversation about the Producers comes up I can be all like "Well when I saw the London production..."
Anyway, after passing through the nosebleeds, lack of oxygen, and with the assistance of Nepalese attendants, I found my seat, and was able to make a long study of the hats of The Producers... v. good!
Got home quite late, so have taken it a bit easier today, back to the V&A to get a better look at the collections, and they thoughtfully have a couple of exhibitions pertaining to the 1960s on at the moment, one on fashion, and one on graphics, which is fantastic for me as it includes a lot of the pieces I've been speaking about.
One of my favourite areas in the V&A though is the plaster casts of great works of sculpture, and highly entertainingly, in a display case on the back of the plinth that the enormous David stands on, is the plaster leaf that they used to cover Dave's bits when female royalty came to visit:

The V&A has a truly dangerous gift shop. The kind of place you could just upend into a shipping container and send on home. Actually whole areas of London are like that. Dangerous.

Leaving the V&A I went and had a look at the Natural History museum, more because I thought it would be Good for Me rather than out of any particular desire to, but I got to see lots of dino bones and a stuffed dodo, so it was worthwhile. Another excellent gift shop, with every form of dino merchandise known to small boy.

After that I wandered up to Kensington High Street in search of wifi, so I could share all this with you, dear reader. Aren't you glad?

tally ho chaps

I arrived in London on Monday, found my hotel in Earls Court (why break with tradition ... although so far I haven't seen a single other of my countryfolk) and a new definition of the word 'dinge'. No wonder the English never used to bathe, if this is what their showers are like.

So many people have told me how much they dislike London (about 15 different people I think), that I wasn't sure what to expect, but so far I really like it. The big difference to my mental image of it is that it is a lot shorter than I thought - not really a surprise when I think of it, but I automatically assume 'big city = skyscrapers' and much of London is under ten storeys which gives it a more open feel than I thought it would have. The weather has also been really nice, I think it was 29 degrees when I arrived and both days since have been in the same vicinity. It has only rained at night so I've thus far missed that pleasure - though I'm sure it will come. There are so many different 'hoods to explore it is very exciting choosing what to do next. When I arrived I wandered around Earls Court and Kensington, was pretty exhausted so collapsed in Hyde Park for awhile, contemplating how badly English 'baristas' need to to spend a season in Sydney, and you know what's nice? Sun! Sun that you can sit outside in without sunscreen - or hats, umbrellas, special vests, products from the Cancer Council in general - and not be fried to a crisp. Might only happen for a short time of the year, but it is rather nice. Yesterday I set out for the National Gallery, and got diverted en route (well when am I not diverted? nay, diverting! ) by a successful attempt to contact friends from home who have been living in Germany and were visiting London, Klaus and Jude, so found myself on the tube to Liverpool St to meet up with them before they went to the airport. Was great to see them and their gorgeous son Ollie - who's grown! So much! And now speaks German!
After that I realised I was in the vicinity of markets! Unfortunately the Old Spitalfields markets are being renovated so there was only a small amount of it open, but they had some nice stuff. Then I went to the Petticoat Lane markets, where there is rack upon rack upon rack of cheap clothing, so plugged a couple of holes in my wardrobe, and as long as I don't do any currency conversions, it was all very cheap. I then headed over the Whitechapel Gallery, but much to my disappointment they are in change-over at the moment, so nothing was open. It was good to see the building at least, as an exhibition they had in 1961 is something that I have been reading about. I managed not to tell the staff that. So exhibition desire thwarted, I headed back onto the tube and got out at Westminster, and had a nice session of slack-jawed tourism. Coming out of the station into harsh sunlight it was quite disorientating, and as I slowly pieced together where I was and what I was seeing The parliament! An enormous bicycle wheel! An enormous clock! OH! THAT's why they call it BIG Ben! Westminster Abbey! The Thames! I joined the throng of people, cameras in hand, and I could see why I had been warned about it being a prime spot for pickpockets, there are that many people wandering around, faces tilted skyward, babbling random historical facts. Evensong started soon at Westminster Abbey, so the church was closed to any more disco-flash sessions, but I decided to go along to the service. The Book of Common Prayer really does sound better when it is spoken in an English accent. And the singing helps. The choir perform beautifully, and there is a sense of awe to be participating in something that had been taking place for such a long time in that building.
After that I wandered through St James Park, squirrels I saw squirrels! and sat and read the paper for awhile, then continued through the park, past the Palace, into Knightsbridge, and wandered back to Earls Court, via dinner, and with feet that felt like slabs of squoosh.
Now I'm going to try and make it to the National Gallery again...

Shafted part b: no point getting shafted without images

Cornish coast

Penzance, sans Depp
Part of the Levant mine site, tower used to burn by-product of mining to produce arsenic - which is the black substance around the rim of the tower. Children were sent inside to scrape the pure arsenic off the inside, with rags over their faces as an OHS consideration.
Remains of an eighteenth century building, the tiles were part of the hallway of the mine's counting house, which was dismantled as payment for the miners when the mine went out of business, still owing the miners their pay.

Getting shafted

Going on an excursion to a mine was something I had thought I probably would not do between the ages of, ooh, 11 and 65, but nonetheless I found myself on the Levant mine bus trip... from the university to the Levant mine the drive took about an hour, and was worth it on its own as it gave us a chance to see the Cornish scenery - endless mine shafts, hedges, farms, stone walls, villages aplenty, rolling hills.
The conference organiser provided us with commentary, and a short history of Cornwall, along the way - along with torturous asides: the pub on the left is one of the few in England that brews its own beer on the premises, the thirteenth century church on the right is one of the only ones to survive the Reformation with its original wall paintings intact - and the bus would keep on driving right past, as we had a mine to get to...
The Levant mine was operational from Roman times until the 1980s, and is unique for its mine shaft which goes straight down, and then out underneath the sea bed - unfortunately earlier miners did not realise that the sea floor sloped down 100 metres off the coast or so, so that created a few problems for them at one stage. The mine is now maintained by National Trust volunteers who run the tours, and were nigh on devastated that we were only there for an hour, as apparently one can't fully appreciate the mine in all its glory in under two and a half hours. To be honest an hour took me to my limit of clambering about on a hillside in gale force winds and up and down narrow staircases examining mine openings and machinery. In years past miners began work at the age of nine, and were lucky if they lived to forty. It took at least two hours from the top of the mine to the face, which was when they started to be paid - those of you that have to commute a fair way to work might be at least heartened that it doesn't require you to climb 150 ladders en route. Some miners used to stay down in the mine for several days at a time to avoid having to climb in and out and walk home. Pit ponies were taken into the mine by tying their legs together and lowering them into the mine upside down, and they would stay in the mine for the rest of their working life - when they were taken out of the mine and put out to pasture they would be blind.
After our bracing lesson in mining history we were taken to a local pub for a cornish cream tea *note: VERY different to the vastly inferior devonshire tea - or so we were told* I have to say cornish scones are a thing to behold. When we got back on the bus it was discovered that one of our party was missing, and after frightening visions of the first Australian casualty to Cornish mining, it was discovered, via the local fish and chip shop, that someone matching their description had caught the bus to Penzance. So we decided to take the coachload and go in pursuit, and see if we could meet him in Penzance. At which point I deduced the following:
Penzance = Pirates
Pirates = Johnny Depp
Therefore: I am going to see Johnny Depp!
He didn't seem to be around however. Or maybe he was just feeling shy.
Our intrepid traveller had not arrived either, so after enquiries of bus drivers, we returned to the campus, where thankfully, he was awaiting us, having managed to beat us back to the site.
The conference dinner was the night before, another display of how the university catering, while being lovely people, have not encountered advances in catering since about 1975 (one of the lunches featured, brace yourself, cottage cheese and pineapple), they have however discovered the wines of Chile, and for that I thank them. I ended up on a table with the university provost, and much to the delight of me and another delegate, we got to grill him and his wife about the Queen's recent visit - I'm not much of a royalist, but it was bizarrely fascinating hearing all the details about protocol and the experience of the Royal Couple.
This morning I presented my paper, which I think went well, was a relief to get it done!
The conference is over, all bar the drinking, which is my cue to bid you farewell for the moment - I'll be heading to London tomorrow, and probably won't be writing quite so much when I don't have internet in my room... but hey you never know.

Your 'Wall Correspondent

'tis a strange thing to come halfway around the world to sit in generic conference rooms with your countryfolk, discussing your country, and then to emerge outdoors and be reminded 'I'm in England'. But I do feel that I have been engaged in an intensive Cornwall studies program: the Cornish migration to Australia, Cornish primary industries, Cornish economics, Cornish mining etc and so on, are all things that I've learnt about in the past few days.

And now you get to as well!

With regard to my previous remark that the university seemed unprepared for my arrival, and the supplies of coffee seem barely humane, let a lone adequate, there has been some explanation for this state - this campus has only been open for two years, and this is the first international conference held here. For this latter reason in particular we've had a very warm welcome - both from staff around the campus, as well as the Provost, and even from the local MP.

The conference is being held at the University of Exeter's Cornwall campus, which is part of the Tremough campus of the Combined Cornwall University (or something like that... ). The campus is shared by the university and a range of other higher education bodies in Cornwall. Until this opened there was no university in Cornwall, the only English county not to have one. Because of the collapse of fishing and mining in Cornwall the economy was one of the poorest in Europe. An application was made to the EU to help fund the university, as a project to stem the flow of 19-31 year olds out of Cornwall. In the past two years there has been a net increase of this age group, after twenty years of the reverse. I was very surprised that the EU granted funding to individual counties, not whole countries. Apparently there has not been universal rejoicing from the English government, but as the funding was granted solely for this purpose there was nothing they could do, and so had to accept. The university is now in its second stage of building, having already opened a large block of teaching and resources as well as the student residences.

Tremough is the original name of the estate, and the 17th century house has been adapted into offices for some of the universities faculties. The main building is fairly odd looking, once the comparision with a giant nougat has been made there is no going back. It incorporates stone from the original stables on the site, which were too structurally unsound to keep. The top of the building is covered with plants and grasses, so an from an aerial view the impact of the buildings on the landscape is minimized (http://www.uec.ac.uk/virtualtour/broadband/3.htm). A lot of recycled or renewable material has been used in the buildings, as well as materials and design that seems to be trying to maintain a sympathy with traditional cornish architecture (motto: We Love Slate! Almost as much as We Love Granite!).

Houses, Penryn, Cornwall

Student residences, Tremough

Translated from Cornish, Tremough means pig farm.

The First Photo

Down by the Mudfront, Penryn, Cornwall

The first photo I've taken on my little venture, and already it isn't the last.

orright luv?

Lunched with the ladies at noon on Tuesday, who then deposited me at the airport for the flight to Sydney - on an aircraft that inspired the thought 'So this is what it feels like to be inside an insect.' Enjoyably named a 'de Haviland' - evoked images of the 1940s and phrases such as 'just going to pop in the de Haviland for a jaunt to Paris' - and the aircraft evoked the possibility that it may have been doing just that in the 1940s.
Flew out of Sydney at 5pm-ish, 7 hour trip to Singapore, apparently a time frame that requires two meals and numerous snacks. Tiny little softdrink cans - fun! Half an hour off the plane in Singapore, proof that airport terminals are basically identical - except that there are less semi-automatics draped over precision-groomed police officers in Aust and NZ. It was about 1.30 am according to my body clock, leading to an almost incident, but I fortunately quelled my desire to yell 'puppies!' and pet the sniffer dogs. Funny how the most ornamental looking dogs are the ones that have the best sense of smell. Or maybe just the precision-groomed officers wouldn't take anything less.
Back on the plane for another meal - it had been about 2 hours since we'd had a meal after all. Strange how noodles aren't food that can be prepared in advance and retain their appetising features. My new all-time favourite piece of technology is the seat-back entertainment console - have gotten myself up to date on films: Over the Hedge (don't bother, digital animation is not enough of a novelty anymore to justify having no plot. Apparently if it's digital you don't need an editor either.), Thank you for Smoking (enjoyed very much, see it), Jindabyne (v. good, although would have been a lot better on the big screen rather than the 5 inch screen), Friends with Money (a deeply bad film, I didn't make it to the end, one more minute of Jennifer Anniston and her cat's-bum-pout was going to make me attempt strangulation, and I don't think the guy in front of me would have appreciated it), RV (standard family-road-trip comedy, apparently Robin Williams is the new Chevy Chase, amusing moments). There was also a good range of tv and music on the system - arriving in London I was listening to George's polyserena which was launching me into a flashback of Sharehouses past and a strange desire to eat tuna pasta...
My knowledge of geography turns out to still be crap, flying somewhere at night I was peering out the window thinking 'so that's germany' only to consult with the flight path and discover, ah, now, that's Russia. Which really is large, everytime I look at a map I'm always surprised by it. Anyway, touched down at glorious Terminal 4 at Heathrow, which seems to be aiming for a 'East Germany circa 1975' feel to its décor. And succeeding. Had a happy moment of 'now which passport should I choose', - very international, continental even, don't you think? - went for the EU as the line was shorter, managed to get through Heathrow onto a train in about 30 min which was a whole lot better than what I was expecting. Got a train to Piccadilly, at about which time my exciting, high-pitched, and fortunately suppressed, squeals started: 'oooh Picadilly! a Tube station! They really do say 'mind the gap' a lot! a stall selling Paddington bear merchandise! a Bobby! wearing a hat! They actually wear those, not just on the Bill! Actually there seems to be about 75 Bobbies! A marks and spencer!' Had an hour to kill before my train left so wandered around a bit, briefly outside the station, again with more squeals: 'Huh, London, so you do exist, and this is you! Buses, red ones! Black cabs!' Since I arrived I have also been truly appreciating just how many english accents there are, and just how amusing so many of them sound.
Catching the train down to Cornwall ended up taking about 6 hours, which was rather entertaining having not slept for quite sometime, but probably the best way to avoid sleeping and creating the jet lag of death, and it kept me in the right frame of mind to continue my high pitched squealing (internal still): cows! black faced sheep! a duck pond! Oddly, it turns out that those plastic farm animal sets I played with as a child that had cows, sheep, ducks, geese, tufts of grass, stone walls, fences etc turn out not to be an idyllic recreation of farm life past but a highly accurate scientific representation of contemporary farming in the South West of England.
There's was also lots of Green! Very very Green! They weren't kidding about that. And when I told someone later they responded with a shocked But we're having a drought! Ah huh, the kind of drought that doesn't involve loss of Green.
Anyway, it turns out the conference venue is kind of like having a conference in say, suburban Hornsby, and not giving people any directions of how to get there. Anyway, I got a cab from the tiny train station I was directed to, and this led to another of my English discoveries. You know all those shows set somewhere in a small town in the UK or Ireland and feature our two fetching heroes, whose sexual tension motivates the plot, and are surrounded by an array of quirky personalities? Turns out they're documentaries, those poeple exist. My cab driver proved this to me by being exuberantly barking: mouth full of teeth going in festively different directions, driving like a lunatic while loudly abusing other drivers, asking me where I was from and sharing that 'Now of all the places, Australia is one that I've never wanted to go to.' Goood, thanks for sharing. Then we got distracted, because, as he explained, 'OF ALL THE FECKIN EEJIT THINGS TO DO I'VE MISSED THE TURN OFF, WHAT KIND OF FOOL DOES THAT, I KNEW THIS ROAD IS BLOCKED OFF NOW WE'LL HAVE TO DRIVE RIGHT THE WAY 'ROUND, JESUS WHAT A FOOL I AM' Anyway, he gave a discount, amusement, and a short tour of Penryn, so I had no problems. Perhaps if I hadn't been so sleep deprived I would have transcended amusement into some level of fear.
Something like 38 hours after the ladies lunched, I arrived at the university and found a level of disengagement that was quite surprising - there was no one really around other than the staff who gave me my room key, and meal ticket and vague directions - this is where your room is, show the ticket to the poeple at the servery for food' - ah, where's the servery? is there dinner tonight? No. Is there food anywhere nearby? No, you'll need to catch the bus to falmouth. But they did make me come out the back so they could demonstrate close up how the window latch works. Thank goodness. I found my room, which is nice, and had one my most favourite showers ever.
In a feat that was quite spectacular I managed to miss three successive buses into town, which turned out to be a blessing as I ran into someone looking equally lost, and wearing a shirt with wattle on it, which alerted me to her nationality and likely reason for looking lost in Cornwall - so I showed her where she needed to be and then we joined forces for the trip to Falmouth. An entertaining bus ride, as apparently my cab driver from earlier on at some stage taught this bus driver to drive. Nothing like tiny narrow cobble stone streets and a bus driver who apparently drives as though there is a voice in his head saying Be the wind! Fly! Let your spirit free!
Falmouth is a tiny town, and a source of more internal shrieking Cobblestones! Swans! Wooden boats! Old things! Old! Look how old they are! We shortly found ourselves inside an English pub, a real one, you know, where the beams aren't hollow and the builders must have been five feet tall: 'ach no, why would anyone need more than a six feet high ceiling, preposterous.' Dutifully I forewent the tempting prospect of Fosters on tap and somehow convinced myself to try a local ale (v. good), then we went for food, and apparently I'll order anything that has 'Cornwall' in the title, food was nice, over looking the harbour, a very nice redemption of what was looking like a dire evening otherwise.
I am slowly coming to terms with the Cornish accent and refraining from smirking everytime someone speaks.
Discovered where the servery was this morning, and the bad news I have found the only university in the entire world (from my core sample of Aust, NZ and Cornwall) where there is NO espresso, or indeed any non-instantaneous variety of coffee. It's going to be an interesting few days.

I am here.

Munch

Yeah! The Scream is home in time for me to visit it in Oslo!