Monthly Archives: May 2025

On “London, Liverpool and Stratford…”

*   *   *   *

“Yours truly,” with a view of Shakespeare’s Church after a Sunday service back on May 11.

*   *   *   *

May 28, 2025 – Incidentally, that title could be sung to the tune “Hartford, Hereford and Hampton.” (From My Fair Lady,* with the English Her-e-ford in three syllables, and yes, “showing my age;” 74 in July.) But all that serves as segue to the fact that I just flew back from London, “and, boy, are my arms tired.” But seriously, it’s been over three weeks since my last post.

That’s because on May 7 I flew over to London, for two weeks “dress rehearsal.” That is, to get a feel for flying back next August and hiking the 130 miles of the Pilgrims’ Way, Winchester to Canterbury. (Plus do some additional sightseeing I won’t be able to do in August, like taking that “ferry ‘cross the Mersey” in Liverpool or visiting Stratford-on-Avon.) So after the last three apocalyptic posts, it’s time to get on with some fun in life. Like going over to visit London, Liverpool and Stratford, then getting to write up a scintillating travelogue about it. (A term “supposedly a blend of travel +‎ monologue,” something I didn’t realize before writing up this post.)

Starting off, the May 7 red-eye flight to London was scheduled to leave Atlanta at 9:50 p.m., but didn’t actually take off until 45 minutes or an hour later. And this time the Delta movie options didn’t include either “My Fair Lady” or “Rocky Horror Picture Show.” (I like them both for the great music.) So I watched a bunch of “Everybody Loves Raymond” reruns.

At Heathrow airport the trip through security was amazingly smooth, possibly because of the ETIAS clearance I got months ago. Then came a ride on the Elizabeth Line (the London Tube) to the ABC Hyde Park Hotel, 121 Sussex Gardens. One of the first things I noticed was a lot of “look right” signs, painted on the pavement at London intersections. We in America are used to looking left first (mostly because we drive on the correct side of the road). But Britain is different, and I almost got my “self” run over twice before I caught on; once by a huge bus and once by a speeding bicycle which showed no sign of slowing down for unaware American touristas.

Once we settled in, my travel companion and I walked the half-mile to Kensington Gardens, with its Italian Garden, along with the Serpentine (“recreational lake”), and the 1912 statue of Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie. (Bringing up the song, “I Won’t Grow Up,” which you might say applies to a 74-year-old man who keeps flying overseas to hike 130 to 150 miles just to burn off beer calories.*) Meanwhile, for those interested in such things, for a quick lunch we split a fish-and-chips order at Sussex Fish Bar, London – Paddington, about four minutes southwest. Then later on we dined at the Mughal’s Indian Restaurant, London – Paddington, also close by our digs.

Next, as noted in the last post, after the day off in London – to recuperate from jet lag – the trip would go on to Liverpool and Stratford-on-Avon, then back to London. We got eight-day Britrail passes, so once we used that up – with the trips to Liverpool and Stratford, plus day trips out of London – we’d stay in London and travel around the city on the Tube, or by bus, using our (Visitor) Oyster cards. (Which came in very handy.) But here I run into a problem.

In Liverpool and Stratford we ran up against reservation problems. Those problems were pithily described in an English expression I remembered vaguely from long ago, but it “hit the nail on the head.” That happened in Stratford, so I’ll take that episode out of order. In the next post I’ll describe the Liverpool visit, then revisit Stratford, then go on to the rest of the story.

*   *   *   *

We have a friend in Stratford, Jane, which is why we stopped off there. (That and the Shakespeare stuff.) She went with us to where we had a reservation, an apartment in a small gated complex right across the street from Church of the Holy Trinity, Stratford-on-Avon. (Which would have been very convenient for getting to the 10:00 service next morning.) We went through the gate, looked around for someone to check us in, but no one could be found. There followed long attempts at phone calls and texts, all to no avail, very frustrating. Time passed by, we knocked on doors, but got no answer until one young gent finally answered. He had no clue but did his best to contact someone, anyone, to get maybe a code to enter into a lock-box into whatever room where we were supposed to stay? Until finally Jane said, “What a cock-up!”

At that I couldn’t help but laugh, despite the frustration, and my wondering “where, oh where will I lay my weary head tonight?” In such situations I always opt for a beer at a local bar, which usually includes the WiFi necessary to solve today’s travel problems. So, on Jane’s recommendation we hiked up what became Waterside Lane to The Dirty Duck, a “historic pub with two names and a royal connection.” Meanwhile, Booking.com tried to find an alternate place to lay our weary heads later that night. But unfortunately the “Duck” was packed…

Looking back it’s all kind of fuzzy, but there was an English gent sitting at a table on the streetside patio, with three empty chairs. Somehow I ended up in line with him, waiting patiently, while the ladies kept watch at the patio table. I found out his name was Chris, and asked him what he was drinking. He said an Abbot Ale – which I’d never tried, or heard of – so I ordered two, one for each of us. From there, hopefully, things would start to sort themselves out.

Meanwhile, we had expensive reservations at the Royal Shakespeare Theater. (With still no idea of where to find a bed for the night.) In due course we left “the Duck” and Chris, then got to the theater and were able to check our bags and my pack. Then we sat through a unique version of “Much Ado About Nothing.” (See the Notes for a review link.) All the time, watching and listening, I kept wondering, “Where, oh where am I going to lay my weary head tonight?”

The updated play was a unique blend of Shakespeare’s original Elizabethan dialog, combined with a “football club” setting. “We open at the final of the Euro League, as Messina FC takes the cup. Shakespeare’s lines are interspersed with football chants; ‘vaping’, ‘signed’ and ‘manager’ replace the Bard’s original words.” (The updated play frames the story “within sports to explore toxic masculinity,” and later gets into “slut-shaming, revenge porn and deepfakes, using the setting to their advantage to really explore these themes through a modern lens.”)

And all the while, trying to process all that hubbub while sitting in the way-up-high balcony I kept wondering, “Where, oh where am I going to lay my weary head tonight?”

But the play and the hubbub finally ended, and after that we got our checked bags and my pack, then trundled off into the late-night unknown. “Booking” said they’d found us a place, “but who the heck knew?” Which makes this a good place to end this post, with the Faithful Reader all on tenterhooks. (“Very nervous or excited [and] keen to know what it going to happen.”

I’ll describe what happened in the next post, along with my fulfilling a life-long dream in Liverpool. (Or at least a dream I’ve had since 1964, when I was 13.) That and yet another “cock-up,” this one involving our Liverpool hotel reservation. And I’ll do that even though my writing may “go all over the place!” You know, like Leviticus, Isaiah and Tristram Shandy?

As its title suggests, the book is ostensibly Tristram‘s narration of his life story. But it is one of the central jokes of the novel that he cannot explain anything simply, that he must make explanatory diversions to add context and colour to his tale…

On that note it seems that I too cannot explain anything simply – like tell a travel story – but feel compelled to add in “explanatory diversions to add context and color.” Which is another way of saying that I get a lot of grief because my writing ostensibly “goes all over the place.” But to me that’s the fun of both travel and writing about your travels. In my writing I explain those off-on-a-tangents as rabbit trails. To me they’re the fun part of blogging, as for example the rabbit trail that led me to Robert Burns and his expression, “cock up your beaver.” (A derivative of the “cock-up” expression, and relax, neither term means what many people think.*)

As John Steinbeck once said, you don’t take a trip, a trip takes you. So maybe the same thing applies when you start writing about your travels. You know (or should know) that the cock-ups are going to happen, so it’s better to just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride. And maybe learn something new? Or experience something never expected? In the meantime, the next post will continue the story with an account of coming into Lime Street Station in Liverpool, though perhaps not as “majestically” as Brian Epstein, as described by Paul McCartney. Stay tuned…

*   *   *   *

undefined
Liverpool’s Lime Street station – where Brian Epstein “brought back a contract…”

*   *   *   *

The upper image is courtesy of my traveling companion. See also Church of the Holy Trinity, Stratford-upon-Avon – Wikipedia. On this trip we visited three other churches – Winchester Cathedral, Canterbury Cathedral, and St Paul’s Cathedral in London.

Re: “Hurricanes hardly?” People of a certain age will recognize the allusion to 1964’s My Fair Lady. It struck me that “London, Liverpool and Stratford” has the same rhythm as “Hartford, Hereford and Hampton,” where Eliza used three syllables for “Hereford.” (In the song The Rain in Spain, “a turning point in the plotline of the musical. Professor Higgins and Colonel Pickering have been drilling Eliza Doolittle incessantly with speech exercises, trying to break her Cockney accent speech pattern.” Wikipedia.) See two live versions at Hartford, Hereford, Hampshire… – YouTube.

Re: “Arms tired.” The link is to What’s the source of the phrase “and, boy, are my arms tired,” indicating it’s the punch line of an old joke, variously attributed to Henny Youngman or Bob Hope. Definitely a “rabbit trail” – for more, use the search engine above right – that led me to Did anybody ever really laugh at these? – Cafe Society.

Also on the Pilgrim’s Way see Pilgrims’ Way Stages: Winchester to Canterbury | One Step…

The link travelogue – Wiktionary, the free dictionary adds that it describes “someone’s travels, given in the form of narrative, public lecture, slide show or motion picture.”

On “not growing up.” I myself did have that 50 or 60-year interim – before my “second childhood?” – but the less said about that the better. Another note, before that interim I didn’t have beer.

Re: The Serpentine. “Although it is common to refer to the entire body of water as the Serpentine, the name refers in the strict sense only to the eastern half of the lake. Serpentine Bridge, which marks the boundary between Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, also marks the Serpentine’s western boundary; the long and narrow western half of the lake is known as the Long Water.” Wikipedia. I walked down below Serpentine Bridge, unaware that I’d crossed from Kensington Park into Hyde Park.

The site Cock-up – Meaning & Origin Of The Phrase said the phrase “isn’t commonly used in the USA, where it is generally assumed to have a vulgar meaning.” But no, “‘Cock up’ sounds rude, but it isn’t:”

What they might make of Robert Burns’ poem, which took the name of the old Scottish rhyme ‘Cock up your beaver‘, is best left to the imagination. What Burns was actually referring to was adorning a beaver fur hat by putting a cock’s feather into it.

None of which I knew before writing this post, one big reason I love blogging.

On that note see The Dirty Duck, Stratford-upon-Avon – Wikipedia: “It has existed as a pub since 1738 and has been known as The Black Swan since 1776… However, the pub is more commonly known as The Dirty Duck. It is unclear where this name originates.”

See a full review at Review: Much Ado About Nothing (Royal Shakespeare Theatre, The RSC).

On my writing shortcomings, and for future personal reference, see Rabbit hole Meaning & Origin | Slang by Dictionary.com, Definition of ‘go off on a tangent’ – Collins Online Dictionary, Unity and Coherence in Essays | Writing Center, and Unity & Coherence – ENGLISH 087: Academic Advanced Writing. (The last two show that at least I’m trying.)

Re: Steinbeck on trips. The actual quote is “people don’t take trips. Trips take people.” John Steinbeck – Travel Quote of the Week – Authentic Traveling.

The upper image is courtesy of Liverpool Lime Street railway station – Wikipedia. The caption: “LIME STREET STATION LIVERPOOL JULY 2013.” I used the image to lead off the post, A mid-May “Recon,” then on to Canterbury! The reference to Brian Epstein riding “majestically” into Lime Street Station – with a record contract, finally – is from England, the 1960s, and the Triumph of the Beatles | Plus, a series of lectures by Professor Michael Shelden. As I recall, Shelden described McCartney mentioning the incident during a “cock-up” during the filming of a fairly recent television interview.

*   *   *   *

Are we “living through an apocalypse?”

*   *   *   *

undefined
1498‘s “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” by Albrecht Dürer. (Was he on to something?)

*   *   *   *

May 5, 2025 – Next Wednesday I’ll fly to London. After a day recovering from jet lag I’ll visit Liverpool and Stratford-on-Avon, then come back to London for some sightseeing. (And hope I don’t get bored?) Meaning this will be my last post until I get home near the end of May.

Part of this trip is an Escape From Reality, an escape from the ongoing polarized politics we’re going through in America. For example, in October 2024 a source noted – starting ten years earlier – that nearly half of those polled said “people in the opposing political party weren’t simply wrong but evil.” And now we have a president who also thinks those who disagree with him aren’t just wrong, but evil. (And has the power – for now – to do something about it.)

But are we living in a true apocalypse? As often helps, “first define your terms.”

An apocalypse can be an event of “destruction or damage on an awesome or catastrophic scale.” Or the “complete final destruction of the world, as described in the biblical book of Revelation.” But technically it’s a literary genre started in Judaism where “a supernatural being reveals cosmic mysteries or the future to a human intermediary.” (The Judaic term means disclosure or “revelation.”) Then too, “apocalyptic eschatology is the application of the apocalyptic world-view to the end of the world, when God will bring judgment to the world and save his followers.” Which might be a relief, “but I have too many blog-posts to write and beers to enjoy!”

We could turn to Wikipedia on Durer’s Four Horsemen woodcut, shown above. One note: “During the 1490s, there was a wide belief spread throughout Europe, popularized by Christian eschatological ideas, that the world was going to end by the year 1500.” And that when the first edition of Four Horsemen was published in 1498, “this doomsday ideology was at its peak.” And these days there’s been a lot of doomsday ideology in this country as well.

As to whether Dürer was on to something when he did the woodcut, apparently he was. As bad as things were in 1498, the “stuff” didn’t really hit the fan until the European wars of religion, 19 years later in 1517. That’s when Martin Luther published his Ninety-five Theses, which “took only two months to spread throughout Europe with the help of the printing press.” (Back then “the press” was an all-new technology.) There followed a series of wars in the 16th, 17th and early 18th centuries, between Roman Catholics and Protestants. (Those who thought “the Roman church” had become too corrupt.) Which brings up Kenneth Clark and his book, Civilization.

Clark said whatever the long-term effects of Protestantism, “the immediate results were very bad.” Northern Europe was “full of bully boys” – seen in the image below – “who rampaged about the country and took any excuse to beat people up.” They appeared frequently in sixteenth-century German art, “very pleased with themselves and apparently much admired. All the elements of destruction were let loose.” (Sound familiar?) Which raises the question:

What could an intelligent, open-minded man do in mid-sixteenth century Europe? Keep quiet, work in solitude, outwardly conform, inwardly remain free. The wars of religion evoked a figure new to European civili[z]ation… the intellectual recluse.

And – Clark added – no one personified this recluse-figure more than Michel de Montaigne. “Only one thing engaged his mind – to tell the truth.” His concept of truth involved “always looking at the other side of every question,” however shocking that other side might be. But he had no illusions. “In trying to make themselves angels … men transform themselves into beasts.”

[Montaigne] is known for popularizing the essay as a literary genre. His work is noted for its merging of casual anecdotes and autobiography with intellectual insight. Montaigne had a direct influence on numerous Western writers; his massive volume Essais contains some of the most influential essays ever written.

An update: These days I’d say Montaigne would be doing blog posts, but he’s not here. Therefore it may fall to someone else to popularize the Blog itself as a literary genre. (Maybe by merging “casual anecdotes and autobiography with intellectual insight?”) I myself like the recluse part, defined as “a person who lives in voluntary seclusion and solitude.”

Also the parts about keeping quiet and outwardly conforming but inwardly remaining free, mostly as a way of not getting caught in the crossfire, as Montaigne was able to do. As mentioned in the Notes, his was a moderating force, respected by Catholics and Protestants alike. Kind of like Johnny Cash? Cash’s music in the 1960s “was popular with the counterculture as well as with traditional country fans. His albums and his prison reform activism rejected the law-and-order policies of conservative politicians who sought to enlist country music in their cause.” (Also, “self-defined liberals and conservatives claim[ed] him in equal measure.”)

But we’re digressing here. One topic I brought up was whether we’re currently living through a true apocalypse. Another question, “If we are, how can we live through it, while maintaining our sanity and standing up for the right?” On the first question, I’d say no. American history – like all history – moves in cycles, meaning at some time in the foreseeable future there will be a change from the current state of chaos. For one thing there’s the 22d Amendment, plus our inherent tendency to Build Up Only to Tear Down. Another answer I like is thinking long-term:

Long-term thinking involves considering the future consequences of our actions and making decisions that will benefit us in the long run. It requires patience, strategic planning, and a willingness to delay gratification. On the other hand, short-term thinking focuses on immediate results and instant gratification, often leading to impulsive decisions that may not be in our best interest in the long term. While short-term thinking can provide quick fixes and temporary satisfaction, long-term thinking is essential for achieving sustainable success and fulfillment in the future.

In other words, it helps to think about what it will be like in February 2029 when the current administration changes. (A topic I hope to explore in my next post.) But reviewing all this current chaos led me back an earlier meditation, from 2020, on what I called “the new plague.”

Being alive always was and will always remain an emergency; it is truly an inescapable “underlying condition…” This is what Camus meant when he talked about the “absurdity” of life. Recognizing this absurdity should lead us not to despair but to a tragicomic redemption, a softening of the heart, a turning away from judgment and moralizing to joy and gratitude.

Some life lessons? Back in 2020 I’d hoped the Coronavirus pestilence might lead to a change in national life, and especially our national political life. (As in a general and sweeping “softening of the heart.”) And that these changes might include a “turning away from judgment and moralizing to joy and gratitude,” or even a realization that there are more things to admire in all people than to despise. That hasn’t happened yet, but consider this: It took Europeans 250 years or so to escape from their wars of religion, and we’re not anywhere near that. (Plus they didn’t have the 22d Amendment.) In the meantime I’ll indulge in my own escape from reality with two weeks in London, Liverpool and Stratford. (Where “hurricanes hardly happen?”)

There is one bit of good news: I don’t think I’ll see too many bully-boys over there, acting “very pleased with themselves and looking for any excuse to beat people up…”

*   *   *   *

*   *   *   *

The upper image is courtesy of Apocalypse (Dürer) – Wikipedia. The caption: “The fourth woodcut of the ‘Apocalypse’ series, ‘The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse’ (1498).

The full polarization link is to Political Polarization is Not Unique to the U.S., but its Causes Are.

The full escape link is to Quotes About Escaping From Reality To Inspire Your Mind. I especially like the one attributed to Lewis Carroll, “Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality.” And that escaping from reality can be “a form of self-care. It gives us the opportunity to take a break from the stress and demands of everyday life, allowing us to recharge and refocus.” Indeed.

Re: “Define your terms.” The quote is attributed to various people, including Aristotle and Voltaire.

See European wars of religion – Wikipedia.

Re: Montaigne. See Montaigne and the Art of the Personal Essay. And speaking of Montaigne – and his “unequalled detachment” – Kenneth Clark wrote that by 1571 he had retired from public life completely to the tower of the château – his so-called “citadel” – where he almost totally isolated himself from every social and family affair. (These days he may have flown to London for an escape from reality.) Wikipedia added that during “this time of the Wars of Religion in France, Montaigne, a Roman Catholic, acted as a moderating force, respected both by the Catholic King Henry III and the Protestant Henry of Navarre, who later converted to Catholicism.” (Something to shoot for?)

Re: Johnny Cash. See Johnny Cash & the Politics of Country Music, also The Politics of Empathy: On the Life and Music of Johnny Cash (“How could we explain such a wide range of political identification with Cash, with self-defined liberals and conservatives claiming him in equal measure”), and Citizen Cash : The Political Life and Times of Johnny Cash.

On long-term thinking, Long-Term Thinking vs. Short-Term Thinking. Or Google “think long term.”

See The Paradox of Leadership: Why We Build Up Only to Tear Down.

Blog posts. The link is to BLOG POST | English meaning – Cambridge Dictionary. I’ll be referring to it and especially What is a Blog Post? – The Perfect Structure – FirstSiteGuide, for future reference.

Another note: My March 2020 post, Meditations on “the new plague,” talked about how – even before Covid – “I was pretty much a hermit, living in a rambling four-bedroom house on an isolated acre of woodland. (It’s so isolated that I don’t have any curtains or Venetian blinds on any windows. Who the heck is going to look in?)“

Re: “Hurricanes hardly?” People of a certain age – like me; 74 in June – will recognize the allusion to 1964’s My Fair Lady. It struck me that “London, Liverpool and Stratford” has the same rhythm as “Hartford, Hereford and Hampton,” where Eliza used three syllables for “Hereford.” (In the song The Rain in Spain, “a turning point in the plotline of the musical. Professor Higgins and Colonel Pickering have been drilling Eliza Doolittle incessantly with speech exercises, trying to break her Cockney accent speech pattern.” Wikipedia.) See two live versions at Hartford, Hereford, Hampshire… – YouTube. (Thus endeth a Montaigne-like anecdote, to wit: a pleasant trip down memory lane.)

I got the lower image from Kenneth Clark’s book, Civilization (Civilisation; A Personal View), at page 160. (My photo, cut-and-pasted.) The quotes from Clark are at pages 160-163. A separate “Four Horsemen – Apocalypse” image is on page 162. Clark also wrote about the art of the time of these ongoing wars, which had come back into fashion “under the catch-penny title of Mannerism.” Such art abandoned all belief “in the decency and high destiny of man” achieved during the Renaissance. (Does that sound familiar?) As Clark added, “Play it for kicks: that is the mannerist motto, and like all forms of indecency, it’s irresistible.” See also Mannerism – National Gallery of Art, “sometimes defined as the ‘stylish style’ for its emphasis on self-conscious artifice over realistic depiction.”

*   *   *   *