The House Husband

We had a funny episode at work today. Nick (at work) has just started life with a smartphone and has been struggling to come to grips with it. He’s not that keen on a touch screen, particularly for texting, so I suggested he try Swype. He loves it and had spent the week getting used to using it when it suddenly disappeared.

Sometimes it does this – I don’t know why. It’s not a major thing and is easily fixed. Of course that is always going to be dependent on the user knowing how to do it. Nick didn’t so I fixed it for him and showed him how in case it happens again.

While we were discussing the wonders of modern technology, Leona (Head of Something or Other in the Office Next Door) walked by on her way to the coffee and just said in passing that she’d never put petrol in a car and would be hard pressed to know where it went.

Further revelations were forthcoming after this outrageous admission. She has never changed a light bulb…EVER! I have no idea how old she is but she’s at least 30. That’s a long time to have not changed a lightbulb. She actually admitted she didn’t know HOW to change a lightbulb.

This makes her sound a bit dim but she’s not at all. She’s very good at her job and has a bubbly but intelligent personality. She is also well liked. She’s just not very good with ordinary, every day things like the replacement of light bulbs.

This was all before lunch and caused great hilarity in the basement. After lunch, Leona paid us another visit to tell us she had just done something really silly.

She was walking through the museum when her phone rang. It was her dad. They chatted for a bit as she walked along. Apparently they chat quite often. She was probably telling him that he had been remiss in not teaching her the basics of household survival.

As she walked and talked, she reached into her back pocket for something when a cold shiver ran through her body. We all know the feeling. You expect something to be there and it’s gone. A wallet, a £20 note, gold watch. It’s a horrible feeling.

Leona stopped in her tracks, patting herself down, starting to feel quite desperate. She told her father she’d call him back later, she’d lost something and had to go. He, naturally, asked her what she’d lost.

“My phone! It was in my back pocket but now it’s gone!”
“I think you’ll find, you’re talking to me on it.”

After we’d managed to calm down, having all exploded into uncontrollable laughter, this episode sparked the usual conversation about losing glasses when they’re on your head, something I do quite a lot.

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At lunchtime I popped into the V&A, deciding this week to visit the Chinese and Japanese galleries. While there, I discovered the work of Ah Xian, a Chinese artist born in 1960. His work (in the museum at any rate) features four porcelain busts. Given this one is called ‘Bust 34′ I have to guess there’s more than four!

Bust 34 by Ah Xian

I think they are all strangely beautiful but this one was my favourite.

Interestingly, Ah Xian moved from Beijing to Australia in 1989 after Tiananmen Square. He moved to Sydney in 1990 and I think he’s been there ever since. He spent eight years in Oz working as a house painter and five years trying to get political asylum. This display of his porcelain busts was supported by the Australian government via the Arts Council. I’m not sure if that means it was financially or emotionally supported.

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Now, I think it’s about time I admitted the truth. It’s come to my notice that it is a bit of a struggle going out on a Friday night these days. It may be an age thing but after getting up at 6am, slaving over a hot computer for six hours then going shopping for my wife, I felt pretty chilled and not ready for a night on the lash with Stevie B! Of course, that all changed when I saw him.

Last time we met up, Stevie couldn’t drink because he was driving and had work the next day (it was, after all, only his second week there), which was why we planned a Friday night. However, the non-drinking night had been so good that I’d decided not to drink as much as usual, pace myself a lot slower and just enjoy the company and chat. I have no idea whether Stevie decided the same thing but he matched my drinking pace and we both remained delightfully sober.

As usual, we chatted about everything and anything and all ports in between. And then the bombshell that wasn’t, given I have been waiting for it since they were married. Lara’s pregnant. He showed me the 12 scan of ‘Bubbie Beattie’ which I refused to go gooey over, telling him it looked quite weird with it’s teeth on the outside of it’s head. It’s too early to know the gender but Stevie wants a boy. Mainly because there is already an awful lot of girls born in his family and he wants to go some way to redress the balance.

Here he is begging Lara to bring his (forgotten) wallet down to the pub just after she’d dropped him off.

Please Babe!

I had a totally frustrating morning at the Science Museum. Nick asked me to amend a People record for a London printer who owned a very successful publishing house that specialised in lithographs (the Baynard Press). In fact, Baynard were considered the best in the early 20th century. The produced a lot of London Transport posters and are the highly prized now.

The problem is, there’s a lot of bits and pieces about them but nothing substantive or usable as far as proper research goes. Quite apart from this, the original record for the parent company includes Baynard rather than having them both as separate companies with a link explaining the connection. Cleaning that up was easy but finding out any information on either was like squeezing a camel out of a pineapple.

I went hither and thither, finding out a lot about various publishing houses around at the same time and about some guy called Griffits (I thought this was a typo but his name WAS Griffits and not Griffiths) who went from Vincent Brooks, Day & Son (a rival printing house) to Baynard, which, it seems, was a bit of a coup. I can only assume they paid him more money.

Actually, I found out a hell of a lot more information about Vincent Brooks, Day & Sons than about Baynard or the company that owned them (F Sanders Philips & Co). Even Companies House, usually such a reliable source of company information, had only unattainable archived material. Seriously, can Companies House be so desperate for memory that they have to take stuff off their system? Must be the only people who do.

Anyway, it was very frustrating…and all for a Guinness poster of a clock. I eventually gave up. As I said to Nick, I can waste an awful lot of time finding nothing or I can call a halt to it and find something that wants to be found. He agreed and I gave up at lunch time and popped over to the V&A.

I was wandering around the early Renaissance galleries and found this lovely piece of stained glass. It is said to depict Sarah and Tobias from the bible. Now if this isn’t a fairy tale I don’t what is! Apparently Sarah had already married seven men and they’d all died on the wedding night. When she married Tobias (WHY?) he thought it was all over for him but then, fortunately, the angel Raphael turned up and suggested to Tobias that he shouldn’t consummate the marriage for at least three nights thereby passing the fateful first night.

The stained glass shows them safely tucked up in bed with a dog at their feet. The dog symbolises chastity in religious paintings. The extinguished candle in the bottom left hand corner is symbolic of Tobias’ extinguished temptation. Apparently.

Sleeping happily

This is a story from the Old Testament but I think it sounds like an adults version of a Brothers Grimm tale. Was she enchanted by an evil witch with a love of the macabre? Or maybe Sarah visited a witch and asked for the power to attract men but, just as she left, the witch cackled as she announced to her pet crow that every man she married would die on their wedding night.

But Raphael was right and Sarah and Tobias lived happily every after. I think the witch was turned into a newt.

I also spotted (and quite liked) this wooden carving. It’s on an oak panel dating from around 1522 and is from France. The entire thing shows this poor chap and a guy in some sort of official garb who’s clearly not happy with him. It’s unknown what it’s about specifically but the guy in the picture has clearly been caught nicking stuff because as the official guy grabs him, a whole load of stuff falls out of his coat. Best guess by those that know these things was that it stood as a warning outside a building.

Ah, I didn't do nahfink! Honest guv. Thems golden plates is mine

I think he looks quite aggrieved.

Anyway, the afternoon was far better than the morning and I learned all about Cornelius Varley. he invented the graphite telescope which was a big hit in the early 1800s. Unfortunately all he wanted to do was paint but he just kept inventing these amazing optical devices. There was a LOT of stuff about him for me to dig out and disseminate.

At work today I researched a wide range of subjects. From Fry’s chocolate to cable television, from Billingsgate Fish Market to an artist presently living in New England. It’s always such a fun day, especially now I have the use of both hands again.

Someone I didn’t have to research but just found in passing was the marvellous author of the book, the title of which I have used to head this post. Mountaineering in Search of Health written in 1883.

It would be fair to say that Elizabeth Alice Frances Le Blond [nee Hawkins-Whitshed] was a bit of a game girl. By all accounts (well the one I read today anyway) she feared nowt but fear itself. And, while she loved nothing more than scaling the dizzying heights of every peak known to mankind, she did it in a skirt that barely reached her knees. Her mother was totally shocked. What a scandal. London society was in an uproar. Liz just brushed this aside, saying “I owe a supreme debt of gratitude to the mountains for knocking from me the shackles of conventionality.”

She was engaged to and then married an adventurer called Colonel Frederick Gustavus Burnaby when she was just 19. While it sounds like the marriage was bending to the precepts of society, I reckon it was a marriage made in heaven. They just went adventuring together. She travelled “…on the borders of consumption…” which eventually took it’s toll on her. Ignoring the toughness of spirit, she ended up in Switzerland, convalescing in a clinic.

Among her various achievements was the moment when she put her own boots on. She’d never done it before and, eventually, it led to her realising she could do without a maid. I’m thinking her maid was probably quite happy about that, not wanting to climb mountains behind her, carrying the tea things.

In 1885, doing the crazy commando thing, Fred tried to rescue General Charles Gordon at Khartoum but was killed in the attempt. This didn’t phase Liz in the least. The next year she married a professor of engineering called Dr John Frederic Main. I really have no idea why because there was a strange marriage settlement where lots of her lands went to him and after their marriage, he became an investment banker and moved to Denver, Colorado, dying in 1892.

No-one could say our Liz wasn’t blessed with perseverance. In 1900 she married for a third time. Francis Bernard Aubrey Le Blond the son of a merchant.

Apparently she never spent a lot of time with any of her husbands, seeing as she spent a lot of time up mountains in Switzerland or skiing down them or engaging in some winter sport, like ice skating. In fact, she became the first woman to pass the men’s skating test effectively abolishing the separate tests in St Moritz at the time. She was one of the first to make bicycle tours of the Alps and raced cars up hills in competitions.

The magazines of the time loved her. She was the sort of celebrity the mags really go for. Unconventional, fiercely independent, defiant, twice widowed, able to tie her own boots. As a result, she was one of the best-known woman mountain climbers of her time. You see, she wasn’t the only one. There were others. Liz even went climbing a mountain without a male, choosing, instead, to go with Lady Evelyn McDonnell.

She did an awful lot more stuff, including plenty of voluntary work during WWI but I reckon that’s enough for this post. I may come back to the wonderful Liz.

What an amazing woman

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At lunchtime I popped out to the V&A and found a St Sebastien I didn’t know was there! I didn’t think it possible.

St Sebastien without his arrows

He’s a fine looking fellow, if you ask me. Mind you he was a officer in the Roman army so you’d think he’d be fit.

I also spotted this stained glass window of the Devil tempting Jesus with what looks like a basket of emu eggs. It annoys me that all the baddies are brightly coloured while Jesus tends to wear nothing but various shades of beige. What does that say about creation? Surely if Jesus believed in God then he believed that God created all the colourful things in the world. How come he didn’t go in for the fluorescent colours so readily available to the Devil, for instance. I’ve never understood the desire not to glorify God by wearing bright colours. Why don’t nuns wear yellow? Why can’t a vicar wear a harlequin jacket?

'Hey, Mister, you like egg?' 'No thank you, my good man, they are too bright. Unless you have something a bit more beige.'

It’s all about as crazy as a one-legged tap dancer with hiccoughs.

Yesterday I had a somewhat full to the brim day. Actually, if you could fill something beyond the brim, that’s pretty much what yesterday was like. An above the brim day.

In short, I three coat varnished the window sill in the stairwell, I put up the new hurdle fence to replace the one that I removed Wednesday, I had a Talking Newspaper and I spent some quality time with some limescale.

In the end, I didn’t eat dinner until 10pm and when it was time to go to bed, blogging was the last thing on mind…actually that’s not entirely true. I remember starting to think that I just wanted to go to sleep but didn’t actually get as far as ‘wanted’.

Today, however, it was back to work for a lovely rest. If you call research a rest. Like I do.

Anyway, for some reason, I had a lot of geologists today. I managed six object records and they included six geologists for me to find out about.

First there was Adam Sedgwick, the so-called father of geological education. An amazing man who managed to combine a belief in an Intelligent Creator and the understanding of rocks and strata. He, basically, was responsible for the Devonian and Cambrian periods…well, not for the periods themselves but, rather for the proposition that they existed. He took a very young Charles Darwin out for a few days rock chopping once, back in the early 19th century only to damn him to hell after The Origin of Species was published. OK, that’s a bit strong but he was very displeased with how wayward Mr Darwin had become in his advancing years.

Following Sedgwick (and don’t worry, I’m only going to give three of them and not all six!) was Henry de la Beche, an all round nice guy who everyone loved. He clearly wasn’t your typical argumentative type of geologist and, in fact, was a bit of a rough housing soldier type until the wars ran out and he had to try something else. Fortunately, his mum lived at Lyme Regis so he went back home to live. Here he met Mary Anning, the fossil woman from Lyme Regis and they became great chums. His views were somewhat at odds with Sedgwick when it came to the Cambrian and Devonian periods but, rather than get into an argument, Henry drew funny little cartoons.

But my all time favourite has to be Lyon Playfair. An amazingly amazing guy. Did everything that happened to happen along. A great name and a truly great guy. He eventually settled into chemistry and larked about with how gas related to geology and that sort of high falutin’ stuff. But the best thing was that he was made Postmaster General in 1873 because, as the biography I read states, he invented the postcard in 1870.

Now, I was going to leave it at that because it’s just really cool that a chemist should take a bit of time out of his busy schedule and Bunsen burners just to invent a small piece of cardboard with a picture on one side but, since getting home, I have discovered that the postcard was invented in Austria in 1869 by Dr. Emanuel Herrmann or by Theodore Hook in 1840 as a form of a joke at the expense of the postal workers or by a bunch of Medieval nuns locked away in some dark monastery somewhere. (Don’t you just LOVE the Internet with its infinite versions of history?)

Now the information I use at the Science Museum is generally pretty good but I think, what the bio meant was that Playfair INTRODUCED the idea of postcards, possibly after seeing the Austrian ones a year before. but that just doesn’t sound as funny.

Which reminds me…at the Talking Newspaper yesterday I read a piece about the strange things people take to the council’s Recycling Centre. One of the items listed was a two ton truck full of stamps. I guess some people just don’t know when to stop collecting.

Anyway, enough about geology (and stamps…and postcards)! At lunchtime I popped over to the V&A and went for a wander around my favourite part, the Medieval Renaissance gallery.

The Medieval Renaissance gallery, the V&A

It’s so light with such wonderful figures in it. Even the really awful things, like the martyrdom of St Margaret, are exquisite and excite such emotion. And here is Margaret, looking absolutely serene in the perfect belief that she’ll live on for eternity just because she refused to say she wasn’t a Christian. Crazy and misguided maybe but still, it’s a beautiful piece of art.

St Margaret being martyred

I was also quite taken by a couple of angels. Rather than being made from stone or wood or clay these two chaps were first cast in terracotta and then covered in tin. This might sound quite odd but they have an amazing glow which makes you wander back for a second (and third) look to make sure they are still there and haven’t been tricking you all along.

A lovely tin angel, waits by my grave

I had a lovely wander and went back via the Indian statues. I love the ancient stories and gods. Like Ganesh who was a bit of a party boy but who accidentally had his head cut off. Luckily, the guy who had the sword apologised and said he’d give him the head of the first animal that went by. Sadly it was an elephant and now he has a big trunk and floppy ears but…and I don’t say this lightly…at least it wasn’t a fly.

But I didn’t want to talk about Ganesh (though he’s such a Bacchanalian, I can’t help but love him) because today I found out about Durga. She is pretty amazing. She is actually the female energy of the god Shiva and has eight arms. In each of these arms, she holds a weapon so she can cut down the evil forces that beset the world. I’m not sure how a bit of female energy can have arms but then I don’t understand how the Holy Ghost works either. I just gloss over those things.

Now I’m a bit of Wonder Woman fan but I reckon Durga could easily take her down. But don’t take my word for it. Here she is, killing Mahishasura just as he transforms out of his buffalo disguise. (This stuff is just brilliant.)

Druga the destroyer of evil and baddies in general

I reckon our new house just might need a little Durga of its own.

I had a couple of People records to complete first thing this morning. For one I was waiting for an email but the other I just completely missed last week. It’s beyond me how I did that. As I explained to Nick, I was so engrossed in researching the potash mines that the artist, Len Tabner was simply forgotten.

I had a lovely informative email in my inbox from a chap who used to be the vice chairman of the Ellenroad Spinning Mill Trust, giving me some terrific details. These two records took me about half an hour and then I was back to updating the Prime catalogue of records; slowly working my way through the 900+ pages of old pre-MIMSY records.

I can’t remember how long ago I last looked at this massive document but it took me a little while to actually understand it. And then I realised that my days of quick, easy researching had ended. The PRIME records are sparse; the MIMSY imported versions even worse. Still, it’s better than updating thousands of nipple shield records.

The highlight of the day was discovering the joys of submarines. The Science Museum holds a load of blueprints dating back to the 1800s of submarines. They are drawings for the ones designed by the Swedish submarine king Thorvald Nordenfelt.

Apparently, the first mention of something that could be a submarine dates back to 1580. Milliam Bourne, a pub landlord spoke about a boat that could work underwater. It all sounds like a bloke standing at the bar spouting forth to his mates about the possibility of underwater boating. I do that sort of thing all the time when I’m drunk. I don’t see they’d have been any different in the 16th century.

I also read about the submarine that the Greek navy purchased in order to use against the Turks. They weren’t happy about that (the Turks) so they bought the next model up from the one the Greeks bought. The thing is, the Greeks never used theirs and the Turkish submarine had a test run of the torpedoes which ended up with the submarine upending and sinking to bottom. Chalk that one up to capitalism. I rather like the idea that the two opposing navies bought their submarines from the same company. I should mention that this happened in 1886.

As I read copious reams of submarine related material, the sky decided to chuck prodigious amounts of rain onto the basement skylight. I’m happy to report that it works an awful lot better than the old one. Actually, the old one leaked and the new one doesn’t and that’s more than an improvement if you ask me.

Coincidentally, the time was also approaching lunch and Ailsa wished me well as I ventured forth. I was tempted to stay in the museum but, as I was climbing the stairs to street level, the sun came out and the rain stopped. I decided to visit the V&A.

My first stop was the Indian statues. I wanted to find out what the story was regarding Krishna and the magic wishing tree as I mentioned it in last Friday’s post.

Krishna and the magic wishing tree

The story is quite mad. Apparently Krishna and Satyabhama were on some sacred mission to return some stolen earrings when Satyabhama spotted this amazing tree (the parijata) that grew in heaven and belonged to Indra. Satyabhama asked Krishna to nick it, the idea being to replant it at their place in Dwarka. Naturally, Indra wasn’t happy and so he and Krishna started to mix it up a bit. Krishna won but Satyabhama told him to leave the tree, that she was only trying to upset Indra’s wife Sachi. I mean, what the hell is that about?

To be completely honest, I reckon it looks like Adam and Eve and the tree of knowledge.

I then spotted a wonderful display of Japanese netsuke. We love these tiny bone sculptures. They are so impossibly intricate and yet so small.

Kintoki & Yamauba

This one represents Kintoki and his foster mother Yamauba. Kintoki was a super child, raised in the mountains and many believed he was raised by a mountain ogress (they sort of hang around and eat human beings) which is who (or what) Yamauba is.

Agh, rats!

And this one is amusingly titled Thwarted Ratcatcher. Clearly he’s not very good.

I could have stood looking at them for ages but the other visitors to the museum were getting a bit impatient behind me so I continued on to the silver gallery where I walked passed Karen’s little office, saddened that she wasn’t there, before turning round and going back to work. And more submarines. And Barbara’s crisps.

I had a number of texts from Mirinda who has been suffering with an upset tummy all day. Wishing to escape the crunching noises, I went up the stairwell to ring her. This is where everyone goes to make personal calls, which is seriously weird because it’s just a giant echo chamber.

Anyway, I suggested to Mirinda that she should have a teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda in a glass of water. She thought I was joking. She bought some goopy stuff instead, which contained…bicarbonate of soda. She may stay in the flat tonight if she doesn’t improve. Apart from how she feels, it might be wise given the weather.

An interesting note…I just read the post for 26 August last year and it rained then as well.

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How do people read and listen to music at the same time? It’s not a trick I’ve mastered but I see people on the train doing it all the time. Perhaps they’re listening to classical music. I’ll probably never find out. For my part, I end up being transported by the music and completely forget I’m reading. Usually after reading the same page about eight times. Then I turn the music off or close the book.

We finally finished Twin Peaks tonight. Mirinda wasn’t too happy with the ending. I quite liked it but then I love Jacobean tragedy.

Meanwhile, at the Science Museum…the PCF records are complete! I finished the amendments Nick left for me on the acrylics, and completed the three mixed media and single tempura record. That’s the complete list of 288 objects. It’s been a long haul but (apart from anything Nick finds wrong next week) it’s great to have completed it. Now it’s back to the PRIME list.

This is where I started. It’s a print out of the old database (900+ pages long) and is used as the basis for updating the artworks on MIMSY. As I said to Nick, this will be a lot easier having completed the PCF records since I now know an awful lot more about the system, the structure and art in general.

Speaking of art, I popped over to the V&A again at lunchtime, cruising through the European Art 1500-1800 galleries on level 1. At least that’s where I think I was. You go in one door then wander around, lost in time and space for so long, eventually emerging nowhere near where you started that it’s next to impossible to discern an overarching subject heading.

Not that I’m complaining! I love the way the V&A meanders. You’re never sure where you are or surprises await you around each column or through the next arch.

Detail of a woman doll which sat opposite a man doll - sort of Tudor Ken & Barbie

The galleries I wandered through today were all quite dark. Apart from protecting some of the objects, this quite nicely replicates the interiors of the times – I have no idea whether this is intentional or not. There’s even a full size Jacobean room which is full of dark, oppressive timber.

A baby mourns the dead (1680-1720)

There’s some very interesting clothing from the English Civil War including a suit of half armour which was used in tournaments. Unlike jousting, these later tournaments only required that the top half of the combatants were shielded. I quite liked the inclusion of a rest for the soldier’s lance which appears to be welded onto the breastplate.

King's Head - not the pub

The V&A collection is amazingly diverse. In order to get to the first floor I had to go through a couple of Asian galleries and the difference in historic human representation between the east and the west is extraordinary.

And the opposite is true as well. Something that surprised me was a religious icon purporting to be Krishna & some woman at the magic wishing tree receiving some sort of gift from the gods but to my western eyes, it looked exactly like Adam & Eve.

Coming home, the train was very slow (I don’t know why) and the woman standing behind my seat didn’t stop sighing all the way to Surbiton. She told the guard she’d given up her seat and then not been able to get another. The guard was a lot more polite than I would have been. The thing is, there’d be lots of seats at the front of the train but the Surbiton people apparently need to be down the back. I guess it’s where the exit is located. Still, if you choose to stand on a crowded train, you really can’t complain.

In comparison to yesterday, it was very warm today. By the time I walked in the door, the sweat was streaming down my face. As I mounted the stairs, Mirinda stood outside the bedroom putting on a fleece. Go figure.

Everyone was on holiday in documentation this week. Everyone except Barbara, that is. And me. So it was just the two of us. Actually, it was just me until she arrived for work.

This isn’t the first time it’s just been the two of us. The other volunteers are told to ‘take a holiday’ but Nick generally lets me work. Of course there was the time that the skylight was being replaced but during that, the office didn’t really exist so it was completely understandable.

Of course, I had the option of not working but I was really keen on finishing the PCF records – sad, I know. Last week I’d made a start on the acrylics and there was still multi media waiting in the wings.

And I’m delighted to say I managed to finish the mammoth task that was the PCF acrylics. All seven records.

Actually, they’re not really finished. I couldn’t find any information on the co-author of a book, the cover artwork for which, we have in the collection. I found her mate (he now works at MIT and has a nicely written bio on their website) but she took some searching. Eventually I tracked her down though. To next door at UCL! I could have gone and chatted to her. Instead, knowing this would be just a bit weird, I emailed her asking for a brief biography for our records. I hadn’t heard back before I left for the day.

Another person I emailed was Julia Midgley, an artist who was commissioned to create a piece called ‘Shroud’. It’s hard to say what it looks like because there was no image on the database and the description was more about the reasons for the commission than the content.

Anyway, I hunted around for her and eventually found her website. When you come across personal websites, you have to be a bit careful, after all, it would be very easy for anyone to create a fake. However, this was definitely her.

She had a short bio which convinced me but not enough to build her record so, again, I emailed her, asking if she’d mind filling me in. I had a lovely email back, just before I left, saying she was on holiday in North Wales painting horses and would happily send me some info next week.

I really like her horse drawings. She has a few on her website here.

My interesting fact for this week was about the Lockheed Aircraft Company. They made the Lockheed planes (obviously) and merged into the Lockheed Martin company as they are today.

The company was started by a couple of brothers who went by the name of Loughead. The company changed to Lockheed because they were sick of telling people how to pronounce it! I found a poster on the Internet that even had that on it. Under the ads for planes are the words “Loughead, pronounced ‘Lock HEED’”. I guess people used to call it LOFF HEAD.

Lockheed was an incredibly successful company. Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart both flew in their planes and they designed the black, stealth bombers that evade radar. I think their success was partly due to the fact that didn’t mind diversifying whenever they needed. After all they were the ones who designed the heat tiles for the space shuttles, ballistic missiles and the Hubble telescope. Actually the telescope was built by NASA but they used Lockheed’s facilities and staff.

And just to illustrate the diversity with which I have to deal with, I also had to research the comic strip Dan Dare. The Science Museum has two brilliant murals by Frank Hampson (the creator of Dan Dare) which needed researching.

So, all in all, a lovely day in the basement. Actually, there was one bleak moment when Barbara told me she has decided to take voluntary redundancy amid the current reorganisation of which I was totally unaware. She was worried and relieved in about equal parts, she said. She’s not sure about her finish date but thinks it will probably be at the end of September. I almost told her about Nicktor but she’s not really the sort of person you can easily have a conversation with and I think it would have made her miserable. Nicktor can have that effect on people sometimes.

On a brighter note…I decided to pop over to the V&A for lunch, for a change. I wandered around the sculpture gallery, admiring the fantastic pieces they have. I was quite amazed by how many people they had visiting. Ok, not as many as the Science Museum (who broke all kind of records for attendance in July, going well beyond the 300,000 mark) but even so, I was surprised. Mind you, the level of visitor is somewhat higher with a noticeable lack of screaming, yelping, dribbling kids trying to trip you over at any opportunity.

A detail from the bust of Pope Clement XIV (1705-74)

This was made by the Irish sculptor, Christopher Hewetson in 1773 when he actually went to Rome and chiselled it. I reckon it’s amazing that someone can take a lump of rock and create something as beautiful as this.

Oliver Cromwell (1599-1658)

And here’s Oliver Cromwell as visualised by Joseph Wilton. He’s made Ollie look almost like a kindly old man. They (the people who know these things) say it was probably based on Cromwell’s actual death mask. Maybe that’s why he looks quite peaceful.

The main hall off the Exhibition Road entrance at the V&A

This is looking back along the sculptures towards the Exhibition Road entrance – which is opposite the Science Museum. I rather like the woman in the red top. She looks like she’s posing deliberately but I can assure you, she wasn’t.

Well I have to say, I’m very pleased THAT is over. Half term at the museums is horrendous. Apparently the museum had over 20,000 visitors on Monday and most of them were on the pavement outside. It wasn’t quite as bad for us today but the NHM next door had queues around all manner of corners. Here’s just a small section of the NHM queue.

Queue for the NHM, London

The queues on the footpath are bad enough but the constant stream through the underpass is extraordinary. No semblance of any kind of hurry, no sense of keeping to one side. And it’s not like I have a choice as the roads are all up!

I went for a wander at lunchtime and noticed that the poor V&A was not doing quite so well. Mind you, according to Nick (my boss) they are quite happy not to have thousands of screaming children racing around the exhibits. They have a point.

Speaking of the V&A…I noticed today that the building along Exhibition Road has some chunks missing. There’s also a sign which says the missing bits are a result of German bombs during the Blitz. I’m amazed they didn’t do more damage. Here’s just one little bit of it.

German bomb damage to the V&A

I overheard a child (about 7) asking his parents if he could be Frankenstein for Halloween. His mum wasn’t sure but his dad thought for a bit and then said:

“Yeah. I’ve got some bolts in the shed. I’ll just need to make sure my drill is charged.”

The child looked a bit shocked and then said he’d changed his mind.

There was only Barbara and me there today. That means it was very, very quiet. Until just after lunch. And then the crisps came out. Am I the ONLY person in the world that hates the sound of people eating crisps? I spent a good 10 minutes with my fingers in my ears. I was wishing I’d had the foresight to bring the iTouch with me today. Much rather listen to Wicked. Who am I kidding. I’d rather listen to some of Nicktor’s music! But these minor annoyances are nothing compared to my morning journey on the Tube.

There are two things I hate on the Tube. Smelly people and noisy headphones. This morning I was surrounded by both. Clearly I should have smeared some crushed garlic on my toast this morning as everyone else had. It reminded me of those mornings at Qantas, taking the lift to the 40th floor and holding my breath the whole way, while Carmella crunched away on his cloves.

And how come I never hear anyone listening to opera? It’s always some sort of thrash metal with its piercing, screeching, pipistrelle-like squeaks. Or pop? Or country and western? It’s always the same. Maybe it’s a thing. Like if you’re in a car it has to be gangsta rap.

The oddest thing is that my earplugs do not bleed sound like so many bats at sunset. They’re not special. They are just ordinary earplugs. Maybe it’s the music, trying to escape.

This gives me visions of the first bar of music hitting the ear and valiantly holding the bud up, out of the lug-hole so the next bars can fly through, looking for another, less blocked ear. The trouble is, the notes have to squeeze up so much, all the bass is washed out and they all become a shriek, screaming for release.

I’m always amazed that the people with these noisy earplugs are totally unaware of how annoying they are. Very odd. It’s not like it isn’t mentioned a lot. Stand up comics are always mentioning it.

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I’m having a rare Friday Nicktor Night tonight. He wanted a Nicktor Saturday (which is the same as a Nicktor Night except it lasts about 24 hours) but he had to swing a deal with Dawn, who had already claimed the Saturday slot. Not with me, I hastened to clarify. Ah, the joys and necessary dealings of the children encumbered marriage.

Lovely blue skies over snow white land and quite chilly.  Paths slippery!

Today we were due to journey into London (Mirinda being off work over Christmas) to meet Karen and Nigel to see the new wing at the V&A.  Last night, Mirinda started coughing and hacking and generally sounding ill which could have had something to do with the lack of buttons on her coat and getting covered in sleet and snow.  All that added up to me going into London and leaving my sad and sorry wife snuggled up in bed as I ventured forth into the freeze.

I had watched a feature on the new gallery on The Culture Show a few weeks ago and was really keen to see it.  When I mentioned it to Karen, she suggested we all meet and see it.  A sort of final day out I guess.  It is fantastic.  For someone like me who is into just about everything but particularly religious iconography, mythical sculpture and St Sebastien, it was pretty much close to heaven.  As we strolled through the rooms, I mentioned to Nigel that it was exactly like any of our tours of Europe – me and churches!

Karen, it seems, does not like religious iconography, finds it unpleasant to look at.  I told her it was because she didn’t know how to read them; didn’t know the stories behind the images.  I described a few of them to her but she remains unconvinced.  I, however, loved every minute.  Well, except for the carpets.  I really cannot get particularly excited about carpets.

The were two Saint Sebastiens though!  One glorious little statue in silver and gilt by Hans Holbien the Elder.  Here’s a picture of it.

San Sebastien

The fine detail is wonderful.  It only stands about 300mm high.  It is exquisite.  It was my favourite piece in the whole gallery.

In saying that, there were a couple of honourable mentions for best in gallery.  The first goes to the oddly named Bartmann Jugs.  I thought the name was a joke and had something to do with The Simpsons but no, these things came first.  They were vessels which depicted bearded men, looking quite serious.  The head was generally at the top, beneath the neck of the jug, and the body of the jug was the man’s body.  They were generally of quite generous proportions!  Clearly very well fed with the contents of the jug.  They seriously looked quite odd.  I’ll post them on the site later along with the other V&A photos I took.  I have and they’re here.

The other honourable mention and equally odd, was a carved tufa fireplace decoration.  It showed hunting scenes and had lots of animals and people doing all sorts of hunting things.  Nothing unusual there at all.  Until you looked really closely.  One of the men had the bottom of his trousers ripped off and was showing his pants which, on close inspection, appeared to be a pair of frilly French knickers!  I kid you not.  It was made between 1510 & 1530 in Padua, Italy.

We spent quite a long time in the gallery so it’s possibly a good thing Mirinda stayed in bed!  About half way through Karen popped off to see another exhibit while Nigel and I finished.  It was then off for lunch.

When I used to visit Karen at work and we’d go for lunch, we had taken to visiting a nice little French place, not far from the V&A.  It served vast quantities of salmon and scrambled eggs and the staff were always pleasant.  We decided this would do for lunch.  Imagine our surprise when we discovered it had changed into an Italian place with a window full of cakes.

According to the manager, it was originally the Italian place then changed to French and has now returned to what it should be.  They now have pizza.  I was once more in heaven.

Karen told us a funny story as we ate.  They, naturally, have been extremely busy packing up, cleaning, selling and generally dispersing their worldly goods to all manner of places, in preparation for their return to Australia.  One box of stuff was destined for a charity shop and was safely situated in a cupboard, waiting for it’s trip downstairs.  On Sunday, Karen and Nigel came over, bringing with them their last bits and pieces, wine for Christmas day and Christmas presents.  I didn’t put the presents under the tree as Carmen was a little too interested in them.  Apparently, there are no present for me in the bag.  They were taken to the charity shop by accident and distributed to the ends of Wimbledon.  Because Karen always buys me odd things from odd places around the world, she couldn’t possibly re-buy them.  They are likely to be quite rude so I’m a tad concerned about some frail old volunteer opening the box and getting a fright

It was sort of a sad day, really.  Though we’ll see them on Christmas day, I realised today how much I’m going to miss Karen.  Still, she’ll only ever be an email away!