Yesterday I visited the British Library, which houses not only stories and stories of books, but also an exhibition of rare prints. Some of my favorites were sketchings by Da Vinci, first editions of Shakespeare’s epic poems, another copy of that darned Magna Carta, and really old maps, one of which I recognized as being of Amsterdam before I saw the label (first intellectual benefit of this trip confirmed!). There were plenty of other books as well–religious texts, scientific notebooks, musical notations, you name it. One thing about London that I really like is that exhibits like this are free to the public (donation box by the door).
This sculpture of William Shakespeare greets you upon entering the library. This pose is so contrived–I wonder if he didn’t flop down on his belly, quill all agog, and make furious notes on the floor by the fire.
One rarity I was able to take a picture of was outside the main exhibition room. this is a really old book in an oyster shell.
That’s a binding you don’t see every day.
In the center of the library this column of books spans the height of the building.
I’m not sure how these books are accessed unless it’s automated. Surrounding this center piece you can find individual work stations. The actual reading rooms are in wings on each corner of the library, but you need a reading pass to get in to those rooms. I didn’t investigate getting a reading pass because I didn’t want to talk to anyone and I was afraid there would be a test. Anyway, the library was certainly an interesting place to visit regardless.
There was a PUNK exhibit outside the main exhibit hall dedicated to mostly Sex Pistols paraphernalia. The explanatory sign sports some of my favorite graffiti to date.
Someone was a Slits fan (The Slits were an all-girl punk band, contemporaries of the Sex Pistols).
Today was my last full day in London/England/Europe.
I went to the Victoria and Albert Museum as part of my goodbye London tour. This museum has a little of everything and an especially good sculpture collection.
This guy seemed to be having a great time.
I found St. George, hard at work against the dragon as per usually.
And this sparkling example of mythological insanity.
If you’re like me, you blocked the story of how Apollo SKINNED Marsyas alive as a punishment for losing a musical contest.
Here is a portrait of Henry VIII, who couldn’t/wouldn’t keep a wife.
I need some strong weaponry to protect me from such a ladies man.
Don’t worry, the V&A has you covered.
I also found an alcove of old books that did NOT have a “no photos” sign–amazing.
I even found a weirdo Jesus.
In case you weren’t sure what was going down, that skull and crossbones should clear it up.
After the museum, I got off the metro at the London Bridge station and walked along the Thames. Today was a beautiful, sunny, warm day.
London has seemed the most like home with KB and all the mostly English speak. I feel strange leaving. Tomorrow by this time I will be on American soil once again. No more squinting at foreign coins, no more Googling tipping customs or bus ticket kiosk locations. No more jamming as much culture into my day as possible before curling up on a new bed and waiting to see if sleep will come. No more DEMON.
“Back to reality” people have said, but dealing with navigating new cities, new countries, new challenges has been more real than any normal day in Belmont. I don’t know how this will change my reality, if at all. I will have to wait and see.
Tomorrow I fly to North Carolina.
I am reading 11/22/63 by Stephen King.
paralyzedbynotcaring 