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.
It’s the old story I suppose — feeling a little better but acting like you feel a lot better.
I noticed today that pretty much every time I was home this week, I was sleeping. Like, all the time. So I reviewed my week.
Sunday is a five hour day, and much of that is playing the organ, hyper-focusing, teaching some parts, handling social anxiety when in a group. Blah blah.
Monday, I didn’t have anything going on officially, but I had errands to run and a bunch of music stuff to do at home. I wrote an arrangement for one tune and started on another.
Tuesday was a palliative care doc appointment and a run to the store on one side of town, and then a run to a store way on the other side of town. Then, 90 minutes of teaching and some house cleanup stuff.
Wednesday was a nutritionist appointment, and a bit of teaching. In between, I did some leaf blowing and dug up and replanted the three plants in the front yard. (Unknowingly, I originally planted them in a very buggy spot. The bugs were eating them.)
Today is Thursday, and of course, I woke up exhausted. I had a prescription to pick up, and a few things to grab at the store, so I forced myself out and did all that so I’d have the rest of the day with no commitments. Ugh. I was getting to the point where I was unknowingly dragging my feet and tripping every once in a while.
Real Life of course, does not go away. Adding to the usual tasks, there’s medical stuff that has to go on in between times, my food to be monitored and cooked, and pills to remember to take on a schedule. Not a huge deal, but another set of things to think about that all take time. Never mind liaising with Jonathan and getting basic household stuff taken care of. At least I moved the plants. 🪴
Yep. It takes a bit of time and effort to keep me standing, alive, friendly, and looking like I can accomplish something. And now, of course, as I’m reading this weekly roundup, I’m thinking, “What’s wrong with you?!” Simmer down!”
I had to pick up a prescription (it’s nearly my hobby at this point), so I grabbed a cup of my favorite coffee and grabbed some ice cream for a sequestering treat . (Recommendation – Oreo brand Cookies & Cream.)
I can’t believe it’s 2 o’clock already, however, now we rest for two days! If an asteroid hits the planet or the Hudson River breaks its banks, Tell Jonathan. He’ll wake me up. 😴
I am at eight weeks post-surgery, and I’m now permitted to do a little bit more.
1. I played my first church service last Sunday (and had a great time catching up with friends), and 2. I taught an hour’s worth of piano lessons yesterday. A nice, slow start.
3. I got very lucky this morning.
I’m groggy in the mornings, even without major painkillers. So, I’m very careful. I wear slippers with some tread into the bathroom, I make sure I always have a hand on a pole or a niche while I’m in the shower. I step in and out very carefully, holding on. But today?
Today, a blowing fan got me.
Fall is close, and temperatures have been dropping into the 50s at night. It’s been cold in the morning. I got out of the shower today and realized the blowing fan was pointed directly at me. Freezing, I took a few steps away — off the rug, and onto the hex tile some of you probably remember I layed a few years ago.
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Of course, I ended up on the tile floor. I was flat on my back, which happens to house my recently-operated-on tailbone. I don’t know how I managed to land completely flat, but whatever Deity arranged it, thank you. If I had landed on my butt, this would have been a very, very different story. I’m fine, albeit a few steps backwards in the pain department.
I’m sure you expect our loving dogs ran in to see what the commotion was all about. Eli barks if he hears a footstep; nevermind 180 lbs. of adult human hitting the floor. Nope. Not a creature was stirring. Thanks, dogs.
Higgins and Eli
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Historically, when I’ve slipped and landed flat on my back (winter ice, usually), I’ve started to laugh. I mean really laugh. For some reason, I’ve always done it. I laughed today, staring up at the exhaust fan. Which is filthy.
However, I now have a strong health reason to order a re-do of the bathroom with vinyl plank. (Wink.) See how that works?
Sit Still Phill 