Reading – paralyzedbynotcaring

Travel Apps, Part I

Traveling without reliable internet access made for quite an adventure—if you can afford keeping your phone plan with data as you travel, do it. I wish I would have just spent the money and then had access to all my pins and bookmarks and ideas as I was on the go. That being said, even without the internet, certain phone apps were extremely helpful and I recommend you download all of them before you travel.

Google maps

With Google maps, you can download the map of a city while you have wifi and then access that map any time. You probably already have this app downloaded, so this one is sort of a no brainer. I used Google maps in every city with very little, if any, difficulty. Sometimes the app could even track my location on the map WITHOUT WIFI. This was of course mind blowing for me and so convenient I almost felt comfortable. Almost.

Compass
There is an app called “Compass” and it is just that—a digital arrow pointing north. I used this all the time to orient myself before I set off. I very much want to know in what direction my accommodations are in relation to a large landmark if possible, and this free app never failed, with or without wifi.

Yelp
Again, you probably already use Yelp on your phone. Now, without wifi Yelp can be pretty useless, but if you have time before you are out and about, you can plan your snack stops based on the map function on Yelp’s bookmarks page. Bookmark the places you want to visit—Yelp has basically everything—and then view your bookmarks in map form rather than list form. Note the addresses and you can plug them in to Google maps while you’re out for specific directions. Bam, done. The only city that did not have Yelp was Riga, Latvia, but that’s okay because there was

TripAdvisor
TripAdvisor is like Yelp’s older brother who’s been working on his PhD for over a decade and knows a metric ton of stuff if you just know what to ask. TripAdvisor was a great complement to Yelp and many times had more specific reviews, particularly for hotels. You can filter the reviews by key word (mine were always “wifi,” “noise,” “safe,” and “clean,” if you don’t know how I roll already) and also read the responses from the hotel staff. TripAdvisor has great lists of things to do in each city. After the first page or two of obvious choices—Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral, Louvre—you get a lot of info on the different types of tours available. This was useful to me when I was trying to figure out how to get to Stonehenge from London. Had I not used TripAdvisor, I probably would have just taken a bus from the tourist office and saw only the henge. As it turns out, I found a tour that included Avebury, which was just as special as Stonehenge and sort of on the way. TripAdvisor requires wifi though, so do your searching at night when you’re in your

Airbnb
The Airbnb website and app can be convoluted, so spend some time learning the filters and pages before you’re on the road. The app helped with communicating with my hosts, though a lack of wifi can interfere with that. Overall, using the app was far easier than the website for quick emails to my hosts—and I found myself doing that at least once per stop. Note: with only one exception, my Airbnb accommodations had MUCH BETTER wifi then hotels. The trade off is you can leave the hotel room a total disaster, but you better clean up and wipe down everything before you leave an Airbnb.

Overdrive, Audible, Kindle
Overdrive is a audiobook app (like Audible) that connects to your existing library card (unlike Audible). Once you download Overdrive and sign in with your library card information, you can access the library’s catalogue of audiobooks (and ebooks, if you are an alien and can read whole novels on a screen) for free. Both Overdrive and Audible require wifi to search and download new material, but once you download a book, you don’t have to have wifi to listen to it. Audible is a monthly subscription service for audiobooks—for a fee you can download one book per month. If you want more, you can buy individual books in addition to your monthly allotment. I cancelled Audible for the duration of my travels, so I didn’t pay the monthly fee but could still access the books I had already paid for. I had several to choose from, and, with Overdrive, was able to listen to many books as I rode the rails or waited for buses. I listened to music as well, but the majority of the time I listened to audiobooks. I have the Kindle app and occasionally read through the chapter of Rick Steve’s Europe Through the Back Door relevant to my next destination, but I don’t like reading ebooks and could do this in short doses only. Also, Rick Steves is annoying.

Pinterest
If you already like Pinterest, you are going to love it when you travel. I made Wanderlust board and throw all sorts of ideas on it before I left. Pinterest is great for finding travel bloggers who have very specific suggestions (“9 Free Things to Do in Dublin!”), including where to get gooey chocolate cookies in Amsterdam (Van Staple Koekmakerij, if you’re interested). Using Pinterest in conjunction with Yelp, TripAdvisor, and Google maps helped me figure out my day plan based on what food I want to eat—err and the famous places I might want to take pictures of. The bloggers of the internet can be hard to filter, but Pinterest helps. If you don’t already love Pinterest, it can be a hard app to learn on the go if it’s not your jam. Stick with Yelp and TripAdvisor.

Facebook Messenger
fullsizerender Keeping in contact with people is dicey on the road. Most of my contacts have Facebook and by extension Facebook Messenger, so this was a natural choice. With the exception of Lil Bro, who is too low key for Facebook and preferred to use Viber, I checked in with everyone using FB messenger. It’s easy and probably most people you’re going to send 3AM humble brags to already have it.

That’s it for apps that help you find things to do and then tell people about them. Next time I’ll list some logistically important apps I wish I would have known about sooner!

The British Library, the V&A Museum, and a Goodbye

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.

Stonehenge

No visit to this adorable little island would be complete without a trip to Stonehenge. I signed up for a minibus tour for a day trip to Salisbury Cathedral, Stonehenge, and Avebury.

I was very excited to have a comfy seat on the bus.

Even though the pickup time was before 730AM.

It was about two hours to the Salisbury Cathedral, which has not only the highest spire in the UK (3rd highest in Europe), but also the oldest copy of the Magna Carta.

For scale, those white flags in the lower right-hand side are about eight feet tall. This cathedral is massive, and the spire can be seen for miles. The cathedral has all the arches and molding you would expect.

Salisbury itself is a small town dominated by this impressive building. Grade school boys were jogging laps around it as I was taking pictures.

The cathedral has an ante room dedicated to the display of the Magna Carta. There are several copies of the Magna Carta around, but this copy is labeled as the oldest, if not the original. This document was the first of its kind in that it limited the power of the king and held even him accountable to the law. It was signed by King John (Richard the Lionhearts’s brother) while Robin Hood was off somewhere creating his own set of rules. The document itself was large and written in such a neat hand that it looked fake. Oh, and it was in Latin.

Then we went to Stonehenge. A freeway runs very close next to it–so weird to see this ancient circle of stones from 60mph.

Apparently the freeway used to be much closer to the circle! Hard to imagine that being the case. The circle is roped off so the tourists can’t get very close. You can walk all the way around it, though.

One of the stones was leaning so much that it had to be cemented in place. Other than that, the stones are left to their own devices, safe from the selfie sticks and screaming children.

The wind carried the ripe smell of the next door sheep farm. Life goes on as the cars pass on the freeway and the sheep pull up the grass. Stonehenge was exactly like the pictures I’ve seen but completely different than I expected. I don’t know how to explain it.

Our last stop was Avebury, a small town encircled by monoliths you can actually touch. (Note: it’s pronounced Ave (rhymes with knave) – Bree (like the cheese), not “Ave-bur-y” like it’s spelled).

There was a group of worshipers between two particularly large stones. They held hands in a circle and listened to drums. Nearby, a lady leaned her whole body against a stone for a long hug. I had my lunch leaning up against an unused rock. The fields here are open to the public. You just have to figure out how the gate unlocks.

There are two types of rocks at Stonehenge; one type is the type you see here at Avebury, which leads people to believe that this is where those rocks came from, but the other kind came from really far away. Part of the mystery is how those huge, extremely heavy rocks were transported before Amazon two-day shipping.

This day trip was especially fun because a) all the other passengers were old people b) the bus held only 16 people so it wasn’t overwhelming and c) I got to see one of the seven wonders of the world. I recommend a day trip like this, including Avebury, if you plan on visiting Stonehenge.

I am reading Stars Above by Marissa Meyer and The Night Manager by le Carré.

The Abbey

So Westminster Abbey is still around. It is FULL of dead people AND alive people–honestly it’s a bit much. One or the other.

Here is a view from the outside.

And some from out and around the huge building.

And a prayer for all you sinners–

Down the outdoor hallway so common in this big old churches you can find Britain’s oldest door.

I’m not sure if the door still works, but the lock does. Along this same breezeway were yet more dead and alive people, one of whom I recognized:

Fairly beautiful I think. Newton was also inside. He had his own statue and almost his own alcove, which is a lot of property within the Abbey, where dead people seem to be situated every which way, with the exception of some royals.

Poet’s corner was of course overwhelming, withe tombstones or tributes to the likes of Chaucer and Shakespeare and Dryden and Longfellow and all the Bronte women. I got a bit suspicious though when I saw Jane Austen’s name as I know from my recent field trip to her house that she was buried not in Westminster but in Winchester Cathedral. Upon closer inspection I discovered that Shakespeare’s mortal remains aren’t at the Abbey, either, but up at Stratford-upon-Avon, which I guess is fair. It made me wonder who else signed the attendance card but didn’t stay for the party. It doesn’t really matter–seeing the lineup on the floor polished by tourists’ flipflops is already strange and striking enough. On the way out, next to the exit, is a bust of FDR. Keep heading out the door and you’ll find his buddy, Churchill.

The tour guide said that there is a myth circulating that pigeons don’t dare sit up on that round head. I couldn’t prove it wrong, and I’m not sure I want to.

Down the street is a monument in the middle of the road for the glorious dead.

For as patriotic America seems to be, we have, at least in California, comparatively few such monuments.

The weekend plan is to make my way up to Stratford-upon-Avon. We’ll see how it goes.

I’m reading A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman and The Night Manager, which keeps getting longer the more I read.

Whiskey and writing

Today I walked over the river Liffey to visit the Old Jameson Distillery.

That’s me there blocking the view of the river. The main whiskey production happens in Cork now, but the Jameson site in Dublin still sells the good stuff. I picked up some samples.

While walking around the northern part of Dublin, I found a mail box. It’s the closest thing to a leprechaun that I’ve seen so far.

The Dublin Writer’s Museum was only a walk away, and if you can believe it, not terribly crowded!

No pictures were allowed inside, but I was able to view many first editions, personal letters (written in old-timey cursive that I honestly cannot decipher), and a few artifacts like playbills and typewriters. The bust of Shaw was my favorite because he was such a hairy bastard.

The expected writers were extolled: Swift, Shaw, Beckett, Stoker, Joyce, Wilde, and Heaney, but I also took down notes on some books for my To Read list. These included Knocknagow by Charles Kickham, Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Robert Maturin, Some Experience of an Irish RM by Somerville, and At Swim Two Birds by Flann O’Brien.

While walking about I came across two more literary points (pints?) of interest.

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This is a small inlay on the sidewalk on Grafton Street.

This is a life sized sculpture of the larger-than-life Oscar Wilde.

It looks like his head turned towards me in that second picture. Could he be any cooler.

Yesterday I went to the Guinness factory and then on the literary pub crawl so basically today was a repeat of booze then books because this is Ireland and that’s how it goes.

Tomorrow night I fly back to London.

Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is not as easy as it looks, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me

That’s right Princess Bride fans, though I suffered a night of nearly no sleep, today I visited the Cliffs of Moher, aka Cliffs of Insanity. And they were indeed insane, though a nearby cow could not be bothered.

Moooove along the path for this crazy view.

Look out across the ocean while you’re at it. If you travel out to sea, the next stop is Boston.

Before this sight greeted me, though, I had quite a bus ride from Dublin.

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It was already scheduled to be a 3.5 hour drive (one way), made longer by the dogged efforts of a young man to secure a promise of drinks from me (doomed to fail). Made longer still by the fact that the bus left four of the passengers at the midway pit stop (Barack Obama Plaza of all places) and the guide didn’t realize it until 40 minutes later. We had to double back. This extra time was used by my seat mate to innumerate his qualities and re-articulate his case, press against me, and deliver the “I can tell you have a beautiful heart” line that must be on page one of the International Book of What to Say to American Women When the Situation Goes a Bit South brochure for all the times I’ve heard it on this trip. He watched me start to eat a sandwich and it was uncomfortable even for the tomato. I had to stash the food away and starve. He said he could read my palm and I had to lie and say that stuff isn’t real because I knew if he took my hand I would have to stab myself in the nostrils. He said he had no money but money isn’t everything. I am not sure how he intended on buying drinks but did not point out this logistical flaw because clearly he couldn’t understand simple no thankses, no matter how many times or how many differing inflections they were delivered. If they hadn’t already been dubbed the Cliffs of Insanity, they would have been after that bus to crazy town.

No means no, people.

There is a tower overlooking one of the cliff edges. I didn’t go in but a lot of kids were running around like it was a big deal. I did consider hiding in there but didn’t want to be trapped yet again by this force-dater.

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Another tourist and I got to talking and she said that about eight people per year slip over the edge because they took a misstep while posing for a selfie.

This picture could have been a KILLER. Crazy town danger zone, today was. My determined seat mate continued his monologue on the return ride until I put in ear buds, pulled up my hood, and crossed my arms over my chest. He promptly fell asleep with his arms and legs all akimbo in my space. Convenient. Let’s just say my disembarkation from this bus was swift and spirited.

Tomorrow: hiding from the world.

Walking around looking around: Dubin

Last night the parties and pubs were lively until late, but in the morning, Dublin was blissfully quiet and I had a long rest in. When I was up and about, I discovered that pushing the shower knob to the “off” position did not render the expected result. I had to call the front desk for assistance. Everything after that was pretty smooth sailing.

I walked to the tourism office, which has a statue of Molly Malone outside.

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I remember singing an Irish ballad about Patrick O’Leary and Molly Malone, but I don’t know if it’s related to this stacked and stunning statue. At the tourism office I purchased a ticket for a day trip to the Cliffs of Moher (tomorrow–tune in then for the excruciating details). After that I was at liberty and walked around Trinity College. Here is Burke standing guard at the gate.

He can probably kill us with his brain.

The campus is beautiful as expected, with perfect green grass and grey stone work. Inside a courtyard is this stunner. No particular reason that I could see. Just because, you know, Europe.

The main draw for me was the section of the college’s library that houses the Book of Kells, which is a somewhat ancient Christian text (9th century). Of course no photos were allowed, but picture a beautifully illustrated Latin calligraphy of the New Testament. The book was oversized, with wide margins and relatively large type. I don’t know any Latin (my school cancelled the Latin classes the year before I enrolled; such is my luck), so I could get only an aesthetic sense of it, and that was enough.

Also in the library is the long room, which is a two-story masterpiece of accumulated literature.

Each alcove had its own bust and staircase, one of which was spiral.

I mean really now Ireland is just showing off.

Let’s look at some of the heads.

Shakespeare, of course.

Bill and Ted’s main man, So-crates.

And Cicero, who, if my memory serves, got so mad that Cleopatra didn’t follow through on a promised book loan that he slandered her for years until he died.

This man was serious about books.

The St. Patrick’s Cathedral, like many places of interest in Dublin, was close at hand.

It’s even more impressive on the inside, with the expected stained glass, but also many memorials, such as this one from the Great War.

There is also a bust of Jonathan Swift, of Gulliver’s Travels and “A Modest Proposal” fame. Swift was active in this church and gave many sermons. The bust was donated by a Mr. Faulkner (relation to William unknown).

I sort of imagined him as a long, lanky man with eyes a bit too large and fingers a bit too long, but maybe that’s Ichabod Crane I’m thinking of.

Just down the road is Christchurch Cathedral, which was closed for the day but had its courtyard open.

The view from the other side reveals some food stands.

Honestly I think they have the right idea. I’d be at church more if there were crepes.

On the other side of the cathedral is a beautiful memorial for those who died in the Armenian genocide.

Around the corner I found my demon.

He even LOOKS like he’s singing the Police’s “Every Breath You Take.”

Time for some shepherd’s pie, my friends. It is definitely time for shepherd’s pie.

I did see one more relic from the past–

That’s right, Tower Records, in the flesh. If Dublin wasn’t so torn up with preparation for the light rail, I would have crossed the street to peek inside this blast from the past. But as it is I’m not quite up to crossing against lights and jumping fences. Tower and I are two records spinning in different directions.

This evening’s entertainment included the stage play Once, based on the 2007 Oscar winning movie. If you haven’t seen the movie, consider watching it or just giving up on cinema all together.

Before the play and during intermission, the stage turned into a bar and audience members went on up to cure what ails them. They had no vodka (an upsetting trend in Dublin), but don’t worry. I made it work.

According to the sign, this is the only stage bar in Dublin.

The show itself worked really well on stage. It moved a little faster than the movie, but the songs were just as powerful and the main characters just as compelling.

Tomorrow I am taking a bus to the cliffs.

I am reading The Night Manager by le Carré and Winter by Marissa Meyer.

It is a truth universally acknowledged

that any blog post in possession of amateur photography must be in want of a patron.

Viv and I drove from London to Chawton to visit the house where Jane Austen spent the last years of her (too short) life. The brick house has been converted into a museum. From the road, it looks like this.

The rooms are compartmentalized (I guess the open floor plan wasn’t yet a trend), but the house is somewhat spacious.

Here is the plaque on the front of the house.

There was at least one other male visitor here, so Viv wasn’t completely surrounded by gushing females.

Much of the interior was in the “re-imagined” realm. Most of Jane’s possessions didn’t make it very far, which makes sense because she was never rich. In fact, according to her will, she had just over 800 pounds to her name when she died, all from book sales. She left most of it to her sister, Cassandra.

So in the spirit or re-imagination, here is the room where Jane and her mother, sister, and sister-in-law took their meals.

See that TINY desk in the upper right corner? THAT my friend is where Jane shook her money maker (pen)!

How in Darcy’s name did she manage with such a small space?! That table wouldn’t hold my drink order! The sign indicated that this was her actual desk. My excuses for not writing are now totally invalid. Can you imagine the piles of papers, the discarded drafts, the ink and pen wiper, all on this table? Let alone some tea. Incredible.

Upstairs is the bedroom Jane shared with Cassandra. How two people slept in a bed this size is yet another pre-Victorian mystery.

Here is a view from her bedroom window.

Many items that may have belonged to the Austen family were displayed, but evidence that they were directly related to Jane was scant. Two of her brothers were Navy men, so there were many paintings of ships and other naval things.

One of the few things that was for sure Jane’s is this shawl, which Jane made herself.

Because our girl had TALENT coming out of her fingers for sure. In the background there is a part of a quilt that Jane, Cassandra, and their mom worked on.

Outside the garden was stylized not as it would have been in Jane’s time (it would have been more functional with vegetables and herbs and such) but in sort of a meandering English garden on the borders, grass in the main space.

Here is the view of the house from the back garden.

Overall it was fun to consider the perspective from Jane’s bedroom, see her work space, and think about her daily life. The museum itself doesn’t have a standard or metric ton of things of Jane’s, but ultimately it didn’t matter. The day was beautiful and the pub across the way was open. Good day all around.

Today I traveled from Heathrow to Ireland and have just checked into my hotel. The taxi driver gave me a map he had stolen from the tour bus company and told me not to bother finding a tour bus (!!) because all the places worth going (he circled them in black pen) are easily walkable from my hotel. I didn’t argue and in fact appreciated his petty theft, but I was looking forward to sitting on a bus and looking passively at things. Now it seems like my conscience will require a more active touring plan. I have several things (some taxi-recommendations, some Pinterest lists) I want to do and see, but, nap first.

Trafalmagettinouttahere

Today on my way to get on a bus tour I accidentally found Keats’* old house:

Here is what the front door looks like.

London is riddled with these blue circular placards. You just have to keep your eyes open.

Once I was successfully on the bus, I viewed many of the stunning sights you’d expect here.

This is not one of them.

Why is that girl giving me the meat sweats stink eye? The world will never know. Along the bus path, we saw both Big Ben

and Little Ben (who lives at Victoria Station among the chaos of construction)

We passed by this stately lion protecting the London Eye in the background.

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The live commentary tour guide had loads of information about where famous writers drank (hint: at pubs) and how much it costs to see the state rooms at Buckingham Palace (I forgot). He also explained why the fence around the Queen’s garden has an excessive amount of razor wire: in the not to distance past, a man scaled the wall, broke into the palace, and found the Queen sleeping in her bed. She awakened and chatted with the man, eventually asking if he’d like a cigarette. She called for the footman, who brought security rather than cigarettes back to the Queen’s bedroom. It is said that Prince Charles later visited this intruder in jail to ask where the Queen’s bedroom is.

Stuff like that.

We passed St. Paul’s cathedral, where Mary Poppins sang “Feed the Birds.” Dare you not to have that in your head now.

We drove past loads of pubs, the first Irish pub in London, the smallest pub in London, the pub with the violent name–

I got off the bus at Trafalgar Square, home to more lion sculptures and all the tourists of all time.

That’s Nelson there at the top of the somewhat elongated pedestal. Not to be confused with Wellington, whose statue is at Waterloo. People here at TS ignored every posted rule and generally ran amok. I tried to take in all the fountains and statues and sculptures (though what is the difference between a statue and a sculpture? 5,000 pounds or so?), but the people were just too annoying. Back on the bus to Tower of London, which isn’t a tower so much as a medieval castle complex where indeed Henry VIII sent some wives he was unable to impregnate with male heirs. I had this vision of people having to climb up narrow spiral staircases to the top of a impossibly high and slender spire. But this is what the Tower of London looks like.

This is just a small frame of the whole complex, which, I can’t stress this enough, is gigantic. It’s on my list of things to explore before I go.

I am going to Ireland on Thursday for a long weekend. KB&Co have some things to do this weekend, but I will be back for more Britain.

*Poet. One of my favorites of his is “A Thing of Beauty”

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkn’d ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.

I am reading The Night Manager by John le Carré and Cress by Marissa Meyer.

The Scottish play

Today I stood in the standby line outside the Globe to try to get a ticket for Macbeth. I queued up at about 12:15 and got a ticket about 13:25. It was a yard/standing room only ticket.

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So I queued up again to wait to stand. Today was a day of standing.

That’s the queue inside the theater to get inside the theater.

Once inside, I was only two rows back from the stage and two blisters away from enjoying the play as God and Shakespeare intended.

It is an open air stage and even the wyrd sisters were not immune to being interrupted by the occasional aircraft.

Major notes include the wyrd sisters singing all their lines and Mac and Lady Mac having a child (not a speaking role). Duncan and Malcolm were as undynamic as usual, but the final scene

spoiler alert

was Malcolm turning to the throne, crown in hand, to see the tiny Macbeth child climb on to it.

Interesting.

After that was a wine bar and then more wine so that is all for now.

Carry on.

Category: Reading

The British Library, the V&A Museum, and a Goodbye

Stonehenge

The Abbey

Whiskey and writing

Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is not as easy as it looks, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me

Walking around looking around: Dubin

It is a truth universally acknowledged

Trafalmagettinouttahere

The Scottish play

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