It’s Music Day! Completely unplanned, but not surprising at all. (And it’s going to be a long one!)
I started my Sunday like most of my Sundays — at church!
I stopped at a great café on Clink Street and had a chat with the friendly barista, and then headed over to the cathedral a bit early so I could hear the (live) bell ringing.
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Full boys2men choir and a terrific organ, and some rather modern music. I was pleased to hear that rather than a blasty voluntary/prelude, James the organist played a quiet meditation that led into the service. (I do the same. For sure, it’s entirely possible that I absorbed this idea without noticing it, rather than coming up with it by myself.) At any rate, I like it. A bit more modern and sensible than trumpets blasting while people are trying to get in the frame of mind for a church service.
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After taking in the service, I proceeded to be their ideal customer in the cathedral gift shop.
There was a ceremony on London Bridge after the service today, so the place was lousy with bishops. Bishops here, bishops there, bishops everywhere. I forget what they were blessing, but the head of the Watermen‘s Guild was there wearing a big red cape with fur and shiny things on it.
I got back to the hotel about 1:30 and rested a bit, then headed back out at 3pm to visit and play Henry, the little pipe organ at London Bridge Station. (We’re old friends.) Henry is inside, but also kind of outside. So please forgive the clinks and clanks in my performance — it was probably about 40°F, my hands were freezing, Henry was feeling the cold (way out of tune), and I was wearing winter clonky shoes playing the pedals. I was shocked when I looked over at the phone and realized I’d been playing for 25 minutes! Here’s just a minute of it. Apologies to the folks who have heard me play this JC Bach thing 1000 times before.
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Finished the day around 4:30 at my favorite burger place (for the third time), directly across from the hotel.
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The burger joint, featuring a pink grapefruit spritz, and my collar.
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When I was feeling so poorly that first day and a half, I’d completely forgotten about jet lag. I’m used to feeling poorly if I’ve done much of anything at all, so it didn’t strike me as particularly odd. So I get a half-credit back. We’ll attribute 50% of it to jet lag. =)
That said, by the end of the second day, I was really feeling pretty good. Today, I feel great and have done quite a bit. I’d go so far as to say I haven’t felt this well in months, if not a few years. Of course, I’m in an ideal situation. I can rest as much as I like, go to bed at 8 o’clock, and sleep for 12 hours. All this on top of being in an atmosphere I love and having no responsibilities whatsoever.
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Here’s a picture of the super corny/gory The Clink Prison Museum. (“Free ‘behind bars’ photo with every admission!”) As I said, I’m not going in. But it makes for a decent photo.
I’m feeling much better, so I decided that I’d take the short walk down to spend some time at the Cathedral and environs.
Being less than a five minute walk from “home” seemed attractive with the temp around 32°F. I wore corduroy pants, a long sleeve thermal shirt, two giant scarves, a jacket, my heated shoes, and once I got outside, I went back up into the hotel to get my headband! Icy too — there was a little bit of slipping and sliding on those cobblestones.
There’s a ton of history in this five minute walk, so I fear this is going to read like a textbook. Fortunately/unfortunately I know a lot about the history of this area. My ancestors owned land here and had an interest in Shakespeare’s Globe. So, if this post reads like a textbook, I hope it’s an interesting one.
Out the front door, and through the Clink Street Tunnel! It’s called Clink Street because the local lock-up was here. There’s a corny/gory “museum” on the site now. I’ve been there before, but I couldn’t bring myself to go another time. And this is where we get the slang term “the clink.” This was the local jail belonging to the Bishop of Winchester. More on him later.
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The “museum” is underground, right in the center at the end of the tunnel. Those four lights on the sign are right above the entrance.
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Just past The Clink, you’ll find remains of the Bishop’s Palace. All we’re really seeing here are the remains of the Great Hall, where said Bishop would have his big bishopy feasts and such. “Look how rich and Bishopy I am!” The rest of the remains were yanked down. Thanks, Victorians.
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The Great Hall, Winchester Palace
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At this point in history, the Bishop was the ruler of this area, which was called The Liberty of the Clink. A “liberty” was an area outside the jurisdiction of the City of London, and therefore, it did not have to abide by the same laws.
The theaters (considered dicey in the Elizabethan era), the animal-baiting arenas, and the brothels were located here. The bishops were totally in on it. They licensed the brothels and were often landlord of their premesis. (I’m not kidding.)
The Clink existed to lock up unruly customers or disagreeable licensees. The Queen & Council’s attitude was, “We’re going to have brothels anyway. Might as well keep them all in one place over there on the other side of the river; along with Shakespeare, Burbage, and the rest of those reprobates.” (BTW — Queen Elizabeth I actually loved theatre!) More about all this on Globe day.
You’ll pass the replica of Sir Francis Drake’s The Golden Hinde on your left. Choose your own admission price and go on board to look around, but it’s shockingly small. Not much to see. How they fit a crew plus that stolen Spanish treasure on this thing, I have no idea. I believe the replica has sailed around the world and stuff, just like the original. It was a lot easier to take a photo of it before that thing was being built behind it.
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The Golden Hinde and the Blue Bloke.
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Take a super quick right and a super quick left, and you’re on Winchester Walk, facing Southwark Cathedral, formerly the Church of St Mary Overie (overie meaning “over the river”). My ancestors’ parish, once upon a time.
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Winchester Walk
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Today ended up being one of those days in the life of a church when a thing is going on, and they had all the gates locked. The signs said there was a door open … somewhere. I walked around the entire thing up and down the hill and icy steps twice before I saw somebody on the other side of a window and finally figured it out. It was through the gift shop, which was odd, because I tried that door the first time around and it was locked at 10am (and the people on the other side of the door just stared at me).
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The cathedral from the churchyard
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And now, a bunch of cathedral photos. I’ll explain in each caption.
I’m going to the service at the cathedral tomorrow morning at 11, and we’ll see if I feel like doing much else afterwards, especially if I end up being there a while. Of course, I have absolutely no problem sneaking a video so you can hear the organ during a hymn or prelude. LOL
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Artsy sun-through-the-window photo.
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The altar, note the nativity.
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The Shakespeare Memorial. I’m assuming he’s pictured here lounging on the ground (weird) over by The Globe, pondering a new plot or something. Since you can see the cathedral over his shoulder.
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If you’re not familiar, there are dead people under the floor. Very common. You walk on them and the chairs and are sitting on top of them. (Cathedrals almost never-ever have pews. I’ve never seen one with pews, anyway.)
Their grave markers are the paving stones. Now. They are under their somewhere, probably near-ish the stone; in the crypt. Or they could’ve been moved a few feet this way or that to fit more people. (Also very common.) Shakespeare’s brother Edmund (also an actor) is under there. I’d seen his marker before — I think it’s in the choir. I didn’t go looking because all it says is “Edmund Shakespeare.” Will paid for it, of course. Parting thought — If you were allowed and you knew how to get down into the crypt, there are indeed a bunch of centuries-old dead people down there in disintegrating coffins.
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Or if you’re really important, you can have a big, fancy, canopied tomb. Sometimes they’re in the box, sometimes not. This is Bishop Lancelot Andrewes, who I like to call “Bishop of Everything.” Queen Elizabeth I must’ve loved him (or owed him several favors) — she just kept appointing and appointing him higher and higher.
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A photo sitting in the choir. There’s a whole lot of church behind me as well. Gives you an idea of the scale.
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I was going to play the pipe organ at London Bridge Station today (I was right there), but my hands were just way too cold even with gloves on, and it’s only sort of indoors. (Hard to explain.)
We’ll see what tomorrow brings!
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(That’s actually my window … right above the moon.)
I’m here, and settled in my comfortable hotel room.
I arrived yesterday late morning. Me being me, I dozed most of the day and then didn’t get up until 11 this morning.
I’m still not feeling much like doing-a-thing, so mostly all I’ve done is have a hamburger at a favorite place around the corner. Posts this week are going to be mostly pictures. Very likely of overly-specific things that I’ll briefly explain.
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Seven hours on a plane.
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Buckingham Palace from a cab … seen it, done it, don’t need to do it again.
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The neighborhood, from the hotel window.
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Looking across The Thames down by the hotel entrance, about noon today. (That’s St. Paul’s Cathedral.)
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More neighborhood … I’m a few feet around the corner from the building with all the red trim. I’m sitting on the wall with my back to the river taking the photo.
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Inside Wagamama … everything here is built inside old Victorian train arches and warehouses. This was very much an industrial/railroad neighborhood.
I’ll be off to London in early January, my first trip since The Big Surgery.
I’ve done a lot of things to keep comfortable — TSA pre-check, easy airport transport, and my favorite tons-of-room airplane seat right inside the door.
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My favorite seat, for several years now!
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And … I chose a new neighborhood! Southwark/Bankside. Home of Shakespeare’s Globe, Southwark Cathedral, and Borough Market. All a two minute walk from my front door!
Honestly, I could spend all week in my own neighborhood and I’d be perfectly charmed, fed, and entertained. The area is completely pedestrianized.
In the below c. 1630 Nicolaes Visscher painting, my hotel is just to the left of the cathedral in the foreground.
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Old London Bridge with all the buildings on it!
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In the below photo, I’ll be at the end of The Anchor building, facing the Wagamama. The Globe is a one minute walk behind the photographer. The fenced area on the left is the pub’s outdoor seating on the river.
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The Shard, London’s tallest building, in the background.
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The immediate neighborhood is also home to Winchester Palace, once home of the Bishop. Just a few walls of the Great Hall remain, now transformed into a public garden.
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Winchester Palace
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The Clink (the Bishop’s gaol and originator of the modern slang term) is a few yards away and underground. These days, it’s an extremely corny, gory, mannequin-filled tourist attraction that I completely intend to visit again. The name of the cobbled lane is still Clink Street (which has an awesome tunnel).
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That’s my hotel, at the end of the Clink Street tunnel.
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I’ll save the amazing history and stories for when I’m actually there.
I can’t positively say whether I dislike all big city airports; but I can positively say that I absolutely loathe both JFK (New York City) and Heathrow (London).
We accrue a lot of JetBlue points, and that’s where they from and to, so it is what it is. As you’ve probably gathered, I’m planning my first post-recovery trip to London for January. I’ll still be recovering, but I’ll certainly be well enough to take a familiar trip — I know London backwards and forwards.
I signed-up for TSA PreCheck — No more absurd security lines. No more taking off your belt, shoes, and jacket. No more carry-on screening. Leave your iPad, laptop, and that quart-sized bag of liquids and gels in your tote. This solves a lot of my problems with JFK.
For Heathrow, I did my usual — adding a day at the end of the trip and checking into a hotel directly inside the airport the day before my flight home. No need to get up early, worry over time, stress, or get on a plane exhausted. Just walk out of the hotel door and I’m already there.
I’ll still have to get off the train from the airport at Liverpool Street Station, which is way down deep in the center of the earth near where the devil lives. 36 meters/120 feet, or about 12 stories underground. Platforms and hallways are incredibly long, and then you meet the most extreme escalator you’ve ever seen in your life.
Yes, that’s really the actual escalator I’m talking about.
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I like to be in a neighborhood, so I’m staying at a hotel in a buzzy pedestrianized area with an incredible location — Bankside, right on the River Thames, leaning against an ancient pub, across-ish from Shakespeare’s Globe.
The hotel entrance is at the end of the red-doors building, right across from Wagamama. On the left, that’s the terrace on the river.The Globe is right behind you.
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I’ll be doing my usual history thing. There are a few medieval churches on the list, the Docklands Museum, the effigies at Westminster Abbey, the renovation of the National Portrait Gallery, a few locations from BleakHouse that I’d like to see in person.
I have a contact that could get me in to play a historic pipe organ, but I haven’t decided yet. I’ll likely play the little pipe organ in the train station for sure. The Globe is doing Cymbeline while I’m there. Sadly, not a play I really want to see. I might go see the revival of Oliver though.
Shakespeare’s Globe
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Welp, I’ll finally be able to spend that £2 coin I brought back last year.
Sit Still Phill 