The House Husband

There’s a lot of it about today. It is with some horror I realise that I am so acclimatised that this is nowhere near as bad as Sydney was when I lived there. Long nights lying atop the bedclothes, sweat constantly dripping from me. No, it’s not that bad here. However, it is still bad. Particularly on days like today when there’s the occasional cloud cover.

Being a Wednesday I journeyed into London for lunch with Mirinda. As I had some essential summer supplies with me, the plan was that I would go to the flat then walk to the office. Then, as I was about to leave the flat, my phone rang. The office had been plunged into the dark ages, the electricity having been somehow disconnected. We decided to meet at the flat and find somewhere nearby for lunch.

We ended up at Eat, not far from the flat, and then started walking up to Holborn. Gray’s Inn was lovely. An iron railing full of hollyhocks, all out and welcoming the summer sun, people sitting on the grass of what once may have been a jousting ground, a big marquee, advertising al fresco lunches (the Marquee in the Parkee, as I called it). It all looks so lovely and inviting in the summer.

Almost at Holborn, Mirinda decided she was feeling a bit ill so we walked back to the flat, where she would work for the rest of the day. Ideal, I said, mentioning the fact that the pool was just down the stairs and there may be a nice breeze on the roof terrace.

She’s off to the Barbican tonight to see a dance thing with Sarah from work, so I suggested she take it easy. The flat is very hot, though the fan I bought her yesterday should alleviate that a bit.

Being at the flat meant I could catch a bus back to Waterloo – always preferable to the Tube in summer – and I was soon on a train, putting gently through the Surrey countryside, the sun at bay behind the chill of the air conditioning that I just knew I’d regret once I arrived at Farnham.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬
I spent the late afternoon pottering around the garden. I planted some pretty yellow flowers called Lady’s Slippers, I think and cut back another one which bled white gunk all over me. Naturally I watered everything.

As I watered, Carmen lay on the patio, watching intently. She isn’t that bothered by the hose while Day-z is intrigued and will often stick her nose into plants as I’m watering them.

Anyway, I was happily watering the beds near the back door when suddenly a sizeable frog jumped out of the bed and landed about four inches from Carmen’s nose. They both stared at each other for a bit, the frog blinking, Carmen’s head on one side, until Carmen put her paw out to see if it was real.

The frog jumped away from her, towards the bigger bed and Carmen was up and chasing, her tail wagging like an outboard motor on full throttle. She chased it up to the fence before I could grab her. Naturally, Day-z wanted to know what was going on so she joined in the frog chase as well.

I’m pretty sure it managed to escape though I did have to keep telling Carmen off for trampling the cosmos we planted last weekend!

Had my first results today. I managed a 68% in DITA (Digital Information Technologies and Architectures) which I’m pleased with. One down, three to go.

A while ago I blogged about the church ruins at the Barbican (Snow at the window) and I have managed to track down its history. It is St Alphage, London Wall.

Alphage (Alphege, Elphege) was the archbishop of Canterbury from 1005. In 1012, he refused to pay the Danegeld (the Viking ‘tax’) so the Danes had a big party, became very, very drunk, grabbed the bones of a handy oxen and beat him to death, finishing him off with an axe. Just goes to show. You really have only two certainties: death and taxes. Brave and stupid, Alphage proved it, clearly. Anyway, he was buried in St Paul’s and quickly became a national hero. In one of those typically Christian procedures, his body was dug up in 1105 to discover he wasn’t rotten. So he was made a saint. Naturally. But enough of him.

The original church was built a short time after he was killed and, because everyone loved him to the point of celebrity, it was clear it would be dedicated to him. Today a few bits of the first church remain scattered in, what could loosely be described as, a garden. At least they might be bits from the first church. I mean who really knows. They’re just stones, after all. Anyway, the church backed onto London Wall, the medieval city boundary.

This first church was dangerously close to collapse in the 16th century. During this time, the church was demanding payment for paintings and a sort of witch hunt for Anabaptists. It managed to just survive the Great Fire (1666) but by 1777, a lot of it needed rebuilding. This happened, leaving only the tower. Lots of repairs were ongoing up until 1924 when the parish was united with another and the church was not longer required.

When the parishes were united, a lot of St Alphage’s was transported to the new parish church (St Mary Aldermanbury) and, basically, just the tower remained. It managed to survive the German bombing raids in WW2, although most of the area around it was completely destroyed. Now, all that remains to tell the story, are the lower sections of three walls of the tower. A gap has been left in the Barbican and a little fence has been built around it.

Sadly, there is no information board and only a bit of searching will find any mention of it. I found most of the story in Gordon Huelin’s Vanished Churches of the City of London, a thrilling read for all the family…

I was lucky enough to be walking the poodles in the park as the sun came up this morning. Ok, that’s at 7:50 this time of year but it looked fantastic. Streaky red light breaking through dark snow clouds. And very cold. The first clouds we’ve seen for days. All year, in fact. The forecast is for heavy snow tonight.

I had an unscheduled trip into London today due to the fact that Mirinda forgot her mobile phone yesterday. She was working from the flat so we decided to have lunch together. I popped into Woking on the way for some new jeans and shoes. Given the way I shop, this took about half an hour, all up. And included a coffee at Starbucks. It’s odd having to remember my order – they just know what I have in Farnham.

On the train from Woking to Waterloo, groups of people with suitcases were joyously watching out the window as the London Eye appeared in the distance. They were all so excited, I realised it is important not to get to blasè about how lovely the capitol can look. You should enjoy it through another’s eyes on occasion, just to remember. It brings a childish joy so often missed.

The city looked lovely from my empty bus though crowded and the 20 minute trip seemed to take forever. Particularly around St Paul’s with the hordes of photo snapping tourists lining the footpaths and straying onto the road. I arrived at the flat dead on the scheduled time, courtesy of London transport.

We had lunch in the Fox and Anchor, a lovely pub not far from the flat. I recommend the Adnam’s they served for a croaky throat. It was rather thick and porter-ish with a lovely syrupy consistency. I could almost speak again. I can also vouch for the Cumberland sausage and mash, which was delicious. In fact, sitting here many hours later, I am still full of them and in no need of any further food.

After lunch we had a lovely walk around the Barbican. Mirinda has to work at the Business School once a week and it’s much nicer roaming the overhead walkways than going along the streets. It’s a maze of them! It’s quite an amazing place. Sort of like a little city inside a bigger one. A matreshka city!

We checked out the remains of the medieval city wall and the Roman one. We looked at the ruins of a church and wandered some more. The Barbican houses around 4,000 people! It has green spaces, fountains, shops, a theatre complex, the Museum of London…it’s incredible. It was built over 40 acres of land which was flattened during WWII. The Queen opened it in 1982.

Having found our way around the place (to a certain extent) we wandered back to the flat where I bid my wife goodbye and set off for home. I quite fancied this photo out of the bus window on the way back to Waterloo.

From inside a moving London bus - route 4

All day there has been dire warnings of a heavy snowfall throughout the south east sometime this evening and so I was eager to avoid it before getting home. And I was. Very lucky. At 6pm it started. I was sitting in the study working on an essay and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something out of the window (it was dark outside) and then something else. They were snowflakes. By 7:30 we had over 2″ of snow in our back garden. The poodles loved it. It eased off a bit so we popped outside so they could frolic in it…as they do! It is now 8.30 and it is falling again. I know a lot of people hate it and are bemoaning the traffic conditions but I think it’s fantastic.