Days at the end

“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.” (So said my friend Joe McGrath, quoting Dr. Johnson, usually at least once a day for roughly twenty-five years or so. Actually, McGrath would change it from London to something else. Tired of cheeseburgers. Tired of Seinfeld reruns. Tired of rhinoplasty. But that is not why we are gathered here today.)

I have been to London many times, for one reason or another, starting as a kid with parents, going on as a parent with kid, for the DJ every now and then, and lately for the odd long weekend in the depths of winter (for me, a nice alternative to the Harvard tournament). So finally getting back to London this time, after mostly exploring the less frequented corners of the isle, was like old home week. I love London, which is just like New York in almost every imaginable way, and I love New York too, so there you are. There’s so much life in a big city; it’s a lot different from walking around the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic. There’s hustle, tussle, muscle, people of all shapes and sizes and colors (although all the women were still wearing black tights, except perhaps for the ones in burkas, who I can’t vouch for one way or the other), there’s noise and life but also peace and quiet in a large number of gardens and parks. Great food. Theater. (All right: theatre.) Art. Architecture.

What can I say?

As I reported on Facebook, our moment of highest culture was seeing the play “Priscilla Queen of the Desert.” This is a series of OMG moments piled one on the other, and it was great fun and I’m glad we went. Usually we see something bleak and British starring people you usually only see on Masterpiece Theatre. Here, the likelihood of any crossover with MT was highly unlikely. We also did the usual museums and whatnot, but we also took advantage of our seemingly endless BritRail pass to get outta town a couple of times. As a result, we had two great day trips.

First, we visited Brighton, site of the palace built by the Prince Regent, George IV. (Speaking of Joe McGrath, he also likes to point out that the play “The Madness of George III,” when it was made into a movie, was retitled “The Madness of King George,” so that people wouldn’t think it was the third movie in the series.) The chubby prince was something of a rake, and a wastrel, and this is one fabulous pile, let me tell you. It’s an Asian simulacrum opium dream of a place the insides of which make your jaw drop. When Victoria came along she sold the joint: it was just too small a place for a family. Jeesh. Brighton also has a wonderfully seedy amusement pier, and other wonderfully seedy amusements, which I just love.

We also visited Winchester, which has a remarkable cathedral, plus the other usual medieval odds and ends. You can see King Arthur’s Round Table, except that it isn’t really KA’s RT, but once something is 700 years old or so, it starts taking on a life of its own.

In London we also did other usual things like the National Gallery, the Leighton house, the War Museum, a garden museum, various walking tours, etc. Not unlike what one would do in NYC, except it takes longer to get there.

Which, aside from asides, pretty much sums it up. I’ll have more to say about particulars, but I wanted to cover the whole trip from start to finish, and then get back to normal, and then write up stuff as it occurs to me. I mean, at this moment we have Sailors in Omaha (home of one of the great American ocean ports), and there’s ongoing TVFTiana, and there’s new Disney Debate Adventure stuff to report on, etc., etc., etc.

Onward!