Heading Home - 6 July 2010

Hi all.  A quick note here. I'm an entire month behind on the blog, I know. My last few days in London, back around the 23rd of June, were rather busy, shipping stuff home so I wouldn't have to carry it around in France. When I got to France I was in the opposite position as in England. I was staying with friends, and had very little time to myself, other than tourist activities. Both families in France have busy lives and children and just finding time to get together was challenging, and by the time we had dinner and talked and things, I was usually too tired to think about writing a blog entry. Also, my electrical adapters for France didn't work, so I was dependent on using others'. I managed to check mail once in a while, but that was about it.

I'll finish up the blog entries at home. I visited Bristol and Wales, then had a great time in Paris, St. Offenge, and the surrounding areas, so there's more good stuff coming.


Thanx to all of you who are interested in my travels, travails, and triumphs. It's great to have an audience when you're writing.


Stay tuned!

Class With Claire Martin - 6 June 2010

Today we had a seminar with Claire Martin. Because the Centre for Psychological Astrology is changing its format to a more interactive, Platonic institution, Claire decides that after a bit of introduction, this will be a workshop style seminar.  She encouraged us to participate, ask questions, make comments, etc. Perfect style for me.

Before Class Starts, Israel and Marguerite Chat

We began by talking about why we use Astrology and why we don’t just use Psychology when talking to clients.  We all had different, but very similar reasons for taking up Astrology. Mine is because the model that Psychology alone (and here I’m talking primarily Jungian/archetypal Psychology) didn’t seem to be a comprehensive enough model of the world, or of peoples’ psyches. Neither is traditional Western Astrology. But the fusion of them both seems to work for me.  Many people in the class agreed. Another main reason given was that Astrology provides a meta-language to speak about the human psyche.

We spoke a lot about the role of the Astrologer in society, and with our clients. Claire is of the opinion that we are oracles only. We are not here to fix the clients’ problems, nor protect them from their futures, etc. We are here only to communicate, to bring information to light.

We spoke about channeling the planets, bringing messages in from above.  In Astrology, Mercury is the messenger god, so we talked quite a bit about Mercury. We discussed the many facets of Mercury’s personality—messenger, trickster, detail collector, etc.

We also spoke a lot about how we are all products of our own times, cultures, and beliefs, and we must be aware of our prejudices, ways of looking at the world and points of view.

After we talked about these topics, we all computed a chart by hand. Now this scared me. I’m not good with numbers. Charts are based on the positions of the planets within a 360º circle, which is divided into twelve signs of 30º each. And then there’s the part about having to draw straight lines, which, for some reason, I’ve never been able to do by hand. Not even with a ruler. So dividing the circle into 4 quadrants is also going to be difficult for me. But, I left my computer sitting  unused, and did my best to draw the chart by hand. I was a bit behind everyone else, but I managed.

Just drawing the circle was an invocation of the sacred space of spirit. The lines dividing the circle are the cross of matter, symbolizing the incarnation on Earth of the divine spark we all carry. As hard as it was for me to do this by hand, and to keep up with everyone else's knowledge and abilities, I still appreciated this reminder of what the chart actually is. It’s true that pulling it up on the computer saves so much time and energy, but it does also get in the way of remembering the deeper meaning of the chart itself. I’m glad for this reminder.

At this point I began to falter. Most astrologers I know have no trouble with numbers, and they can draw straight lines. They can also remember the placements of planets in charts. Most of them seem to have photographic memories of nearly every chart they’ve ever seen. I have none of these talents. I could not be an astrologer without my computer. I cannot even remember the planetary placements in my own chart, much less in Winston Churchill’s or Mother Theresa’s. It could be that I don’t have as much experience as most of my classmates, but they not only remember individual charts, they also recognize patterns of charts they’ve seen. One student tells us of all the Mercury in Virgo charts she’s known. Another can see patterns in people who have planets in the 8^th house squaring the Moon. I can’t do any of this stuff. I feel completely inadequate and wonder how it is that I think I’m an astrologer. Maybe I’m just a counselor of sorts, one who uses a little bit of astrological knowledge to help with bringing issues to light. There’s not a lot of point in dwelling on them right now, but many doubts are assailing me. It’s humbling, to say the least.

We put the planets in the chart by hand, one by one.  We talk about what we know of the “client,” and decide which planets to put in as we go. It’s a very interesting exercise. The whole time Claire asks us for input, and we work on building the chart together. I thoroughly appreciate her style, and the seminar itself. I participate, as is my wont, but I feel somewhat subdued by my lack of abilities. I learned the basics of Astrology fairly quickly. It’s a language, and I’m good at learning languages. But the working with the details—with the numbers and the planetary placements, with remembering what’s where and which chart has which aspects, putting together patterns from all the data I’ve seen, etc, etc—this I have not mastered. And I doubt I ever will.

This was a wonderful class but has left me somewhat shaken. Still, afterwards a number of us head to a pub. There we talk Astrology and other things. I appreciate the social energy, as I did with the class. I’ve been alone all week and it’s good to be having conversations and hanging with people I know. Here are some pix of my classmates:

Some of Us at the Pub on Baker Street Near the Tube Station

This has been an excellent, but draining day. After an hour or so at the pub, I head home. I try not to obsess over my doubts and fears of inadequacy, but instead focus on the fact that I am at a point in my training/career that has some benefit to my clients. If it’s not as much as those of my classmates, all I can do is have faith that my clients’ paths and mine cross/have crossed for a reason, and that they need(ed) someone of my level. All I can do is continue my training and hope to get better. I do very much hope to be able to return each term somehow, even if it’s just for a month’s worth of classes.

Hyde Park Again - 5 June, 2010

There’s a very famous antiques/flea market in London called the Portabello Road market. It only happens on Saturdays, so this is my chance. Thankfully, despite my love of antique furniture, I don’t have the means to buy or ship home anything on offer there, so it’s a safe place for me to spend the afternoon. I’m also interested to see if maybe I recognize the neighborhood from when I was there in 2005. It was only for a couple of days, and I was really sick, but maybe I will. So let’s see. Get off the Tube at Notting Hill Gate, and just around the corner is Portabello Road.

So my plan is to go to Portabello Road, hang out for a couple of hours, get some lunch, and then head to nearby Hyde Park with a book. I pack a towel, a paperback, and a bottle of water in my pack, and I’m ready to go. Notting Hill Gate, here I come.

Except that when we’re on the train, an announcement comes on saying Notting Hill Gate station is closed, and we’ll all have to get off at Queensway, the station before it. We do all get off at Queensway, where there’s no escalator and only one lift is working. This means a long wait in a low-ceilinged tunnel, packed into a crowded, 4-abreast kind of queue. It’s hot. It’s not fun. Finally it’s my turn in the lift (which holds about 20 people at once), and I’m upstairs in the station. But where am I? I don’t know Queensway. I ask a station attendant which bus to catch to Notting Hill Gate, but she says, as usual, that it’s only a 5-minute walk.

I, and about 50 other people, walk out of the station and mill around, wondering where we should go and what we should do. I turn the corner and see a large street with buses, and a sign pointing to Notting Hill gate. I cross the road to be on the correct side for the bus, and wait. And wait. And wait. Okay, this is getting ridiculous. It’s a Saturday, one of the most famous Tube stations is closed, and now there are no buses. By now I’m pretty hungry, too. The only restaurants on the major street are cafés near the corner. I think about stopping in at one, but then as I’m crossing the street to get to them, construction workers who’ve just shown up start to jackhammer the street. Dust and noise fill the area, and the poor people already sitting at outside tables are shocked. They stare, and it’s obvious they expect that their quiet outrage will have some kind of effect. It doesn’t. It does change my mind, however.

Forget Portabello Road. I’m hungry, I’m annoyed, and I want to get out of this cheesy neighborhood and just go into the park and get as far away from traffic and noise as I can. I’ll just get a take-out lunch somewhere. So I walk around the corner and find a tiny sandwich place. At least they have a bathroom. So, at last, I have a sandwich and a Coke in a bag, I’ve still got my book and towel to sit on, so I’m headed into the park.

Now I don’t think I’ve been to this part of Hyde Park, and it is a very large place, so I decide to look at the giant map and figure out how to get over to the water. The Serpentine, as it’s called, is sort of near the center of the park, as I recall, and there are parts of it that are rather far from the big roads. You can still hear traffic, but it sounds far away. And that’s what I want, especially with the jack hammering and construction work going on behind me.

The map is confusing, though. At first I can’t figure out why. I know, I’m the most directionally challenged person alive, but I’m staring at a huge map painted on a wooden sign, so I should be able to figure out at least where I am and where, in general, I want to head. There’s a man standing next to me. He’s of East Indian descent, bald, with a backpack on as well. He also seems confused. We begin to chat, and it dawns on me that the map is backwards. It’s right in front of the gate through which I entered the park, but instead of showing the gate behind us, it’s set up as if you’re facing the gate. Which is totally dumb. The same map is not painted on the other side of the sign (I checked).  So this map is facing the wrong way. I’m glad I wasn’t the only one totally confused by this.  The man and I chat for a bit, and then decide that we’ll walk together to the Serpentine, which we think we may know the way to, or at least the general direction in which to head.

As we walk and talk, I begin to sense that something is very different about this man. For one thing, he tells me he’s 45 years old, but I would’ve thought him much younger. He has an innocence, or something, about him that makes him seem young. Not innocence, exactly. It’s more like a lack of knowledge about very common things. As if he’s from a very foreign and backward place or something. But he says he lives in London. He speaks almost like a child. He’s not unintelligent, it’s not that. But he says things like “I said to myself ‘It’s such a nice day outside, I’ll go walk in the park’”. If it had come from an elderly lady it wouldn’t have seemed strange, but from him it seemed odd.  We stop to ask some folks if they know where the Serpentine is, and one of the young women has an iPhone with a working GPS. (Mine, remember, is unusable to me as it will cost me a lot. Sigh.) After talking to them, the man says he’s heard about these phones, but doesn’t know much about them. I tell him how the GPS works, how the apps you can get for the phone use the location service to show you not only where you are, but where things are around you, etc. Again, it wasn’t his lack of knowing about iPhones so much as the way he said described his ignorance.

We decide to sit together and chat some more. He’s quite sweet, in a very young way. Gradually it comes out that he used to be a bus driver, and then a driving instructor in London. He’s no longer working as is a “COBber,” a word he’s quite proud of coining. This means Comfortable On Benefits. His flat is paid for, he gets a bit of a stipend, and basically, if he lives on the cheap, he doesn’t have to worry about working. I’m wondering if he has some mental handicap, given the way he talks and expresses himself. But that doesn’t quite seem right, either.

He tells me he has no TV, and no computer, just a small radio. He also tells me that he stays in almost all the time, even on nice days. Just can’t seem to motivate himself to do much of anything. Today is a big day for him, because he managed to get himself up and out the door, with the grand plan of walking through the park to a substance abuse recovery meeting. He seems to think that he’ll make it to the meeting on time (at 2:00pm) even though it’s going on 1:30pm. I share my sandwich with him (it was dreadful—white bread and they put both the mayo and mustard on both sides of the watery ham, with nothing on the other side).

Then we walk through the park, take some photos. Here’s one of a statue of a heron:

Heron Statue in Hyde Park

We pass by a fenced lawn, which I presume is for young children and their parents.

People Sunning and Relaxing in Hyde Park

My companion says, in his child-like way, that he’s not sure that theory is correct, given that there are people in there that definitely do not have children. He seems to think that if this was a playground area, then people without children would not be allowed in. This strikes me as very strange, but I concede that I don’t actually know. He considers it quite the mystery.

We pass a lovely garden area, and he very kindly agrees to take photos of me by the flowers. These iris pix are for my mother, as she loves irises and these are in top form:

Irises in Hyde Park

Me with Irises

There are also lovely clematis plants. I’ve tried to grow these flowers many times in the Bay Area, but I don’t think I’ve ever lived where there’s enough sunshine for them. In Hyde Park they were flourishing and beautiful.

Clematis in Hyde Park

There are also charming areas with fountains, climbing roses, and benches on which to sit and enjoy the beauty of Nature.

Fountains Near the Queen’s Garden in Hyde Park

We end up walking all the way through the park to a Tube stop. I’ve given up on my idea of sitting and reading in the park as the sky has darkened considerably and rain is threatening, and my new acquaintance needs to get to his meeting. We part ways, having enjoyed spending the time together.

On the way home I think about the people I’ve met while wandering around the city. There was Algis, the lonely Lithuanian young man. There was the man from Birmingham and his autistic son in line at the London Eye. And now there was this man, whose name I don’t remember. I guess because I’m out and about while most locals are working, the people I meet are the ones who are also tourists, or who are not working for one reason or another. It’s hard to get to know “normal” locals, especially with the convention about not making eye contact or starting conversations with strangers.  This line of thought keeps me busy all the way home.

I have perfect timing, too, because just as I make it up the stairs and into the flat, it starts to rain. And it rains more heavily than the usual drizzle, too, so I’m doubly glad to be back home. My day turned out completely different than I’d planned, but it was fine, and interesting in its own right. I’m glad to be in a position to not care that much if plans go awry. I still have time to enjoy London, although I know I won’t make it to Portabello Road.  But I don’t care so much. Gotta leave something for when I return. Which I hope will be soon. I’d really like to continue my studies here. Since I’m not sure now how that can come about, I decide not to worry about it. Instead, I make dinner and read my book. Ahhhhhh. How nice.

Borough Market - 4 June 2010

It’s Friday, so I want to go see the Borough Market. This is in all the guidebooks as a great farmers’ market and shopping area, and it’s only open Fri-Sun. So today is my day. The weather is clear, actually hot.

[Okay, a brief aside about the weather here. It’s crazy. That’s the only word for it. Or unpredictable. Or extremely varied. When I first got here, it was 52º and raining. Got cold at night. That lasted off and on for the first two weeks. Since then Spring has been attempting to come on. Some days have been warmer, and we did have that one hot weekend where it was in the high 80s (that was when I was in Manchester, which of course was the hottest city in the entire country that weekend). Mostly it’s in the low 70s. If the Sun breaks through and it’s clear, it might get into the mid-70s. If the clouds are thick and low, it’ll be closer to mid-60s. It can go back and forth many times within the space of a day, with drizzle an almost constant threat.  When it changes, there’s a stiff breeze, and some days we even have fairly intense wind. So it’s pretty hard to figure out what to wear. If you dress for the chill and rain, you’ll get hot when the Sun comes out. If you dress for the heat, it’s bound to turn chilly and drizzly on you. I try to layer, at least with tops, and there are days when I’ve got more tied ‘round my waist than I’m actually wearing.  End aside.]

One of the tube lines I mean to take is closed, so I have to do some quick re-routing. Usually I check online to see if the lines I want are “experiencing delays,” but of course today I didn’t. Now if only I could use the app on my phone that alerts me to problems, I would’ve known all about this closure, but because of AT&T’s greediness, I’m not really able to use all those cool apps. So I’m at some station I never meant to go to, and figuring out a new route. It’s not too hard really, and I don’t actually have an agenda, other than to get to the market sometime today, so I’m not too bothered by it all.

I get to the correct station, stop at a cash machine, and then head down the road, following the hordes of other people that are headed that way. (I do hope I don’t end up in a football stadium…) There is a lot of construction going on, and the streets are a maze of confusing little alleyways and unlabeled “paths,” but I just keep following people and figure I’ll ask someone how to get to the Tube when I’m on my way back.

Suddenly we’re there. There are hundreds and hundreds, if not a thousand people milling about. There are market stalls lining the streets and pathways, there are special buildings that have more permanent stalls, and there are pubs, dairies, cheese shops, bakeries, alehouses, cafés, and restaurants. It’s hu-uge.

Borough Market is the oldest market in all of London. There are documents dating back to the Middle Ages showing fishmongers, butchers, livestock traders and flower sellers here. It’s very close to the theatres where Shakespeare, Marlowe and their contemporaries acted.

I wander around, drinking in all the sights and sounds and smells. It’s amazing. Certainly the largest farmers’ market I’ve ever seen. There are entire buildings for vegetables and produce, others for meats. And still others for fish. But it’s not completely organized.  There are stalls devoted to very fine and expensive ham right next to ones that sell freshly made bread or sweets. You can imagine me, then, wandering around, trying to remember where I saw the interesting looking fish, or attempting to work my way back around to the pastries.

The meats were really interesting. There were many butches, some who just did poultry, others who did beef, lamb and rabbit as well.

Poultry, Lamb and Pork Butcher

Here’s a stall selling rabbits. I’m somewhat shocked to see that they’ve left the heads and the eyes on the carcasses. Doesn’t make me keen to cook rabbit, but it’s too hot to stand at the stove anyway.

Closeup of Rabbits at the Borough Market

There’s even an exotic stall that sells ostrich. Ostrich meat, in burgers and in parts like legs, etc. They have ostrich eggs and even dusters made from ostrich feathers.

Ostrich Stall at Borough Market

Ostrich Feather Dusters and Eggs

There are entire sections of prepared foods. Everything from sausages on buns, to tortilla wraps to Indian curries. Tucked away in a different section, though, is a stall that has giant woks full of different food. One has Thai seafood curry, one has Caribbean stew, and one has Malaysian Chicken Curry.

Thai Seafood Curry in Giant Wok

Malaysian Chicken Curry in Giant Wok

I spot a stand selling British meat pies.  I have to say, I’ve become quite fond of them. What with the chilly weather and gray days, and the fact that I’m usually starving when I get home from touristing or an all day class, I find the pies a quick and convenient meal. They come in all flavors, my favorites being the ones with pork or lamb.

Meat Pie Stall in Borough Market

Notice the sign at the bottom of this photo? Some of the pies are made from wild boar or game (pheasants, wood pigeon, ducks, etc.)

Meat Pies with Game

Here’s a shot of bright, beautiful flowers at one end of the market.

Flowers at the Famers’ Market

And here are spice stalls and interesting fruit at a produce stand.

Spice Stall

Fruit at a Produce Stand

I find a bit of a break in the crowd and take a photo of people milling about.

People Milling About at the Borough Market

Many people who got prepared food to eat walked over to an adjacent church to sit in the yard and eat in the Sun or shade. It reminds me quite a bit of eating at the Thai Temple in Berkeley on Sundays. But this church is very much older than anything in California, and probably anything in most of the US.

Eating Lunch in the Churchyard

It’s too hot for me to eat. I buy pies and look for local honey. Unfortunately, the woman who usually sells British honey isn’t here today, so I make do with some lavender honey from Provence in France. Life is so hard, don’t ya know.

The next stop is the fish areas, to see if I want to bring any home for dinner. I see some beautiful scallops:

Scallops on the Half Shell

I’ve never seen orange parts of scallops before, but they all have them here.  They’re tempting, but it’s too hot a day, and the trip back home is too long for me to risk buying them.  I do end up buying some rather expensive smoked eel, just for the heck of it. There are other fish there that look pretty intimidating, even dead.

Fish at the Borough Market

The last part I visit is a hall of sweets. There are delicacies of all kinds, including bakeries with cakes, cheesecakes and brownies.

Cakes on Offer in the Sweets Area

One stand has these huge wooden bowls filled with candy truffles. There are all kinds of flavors, from the normal chocolate ganache to tobacco (?!).

Truffle Bowls

One place had the largest meringues I’ve ever seen.

Huge Meringues Pile Up in the Sweets Area

I’m very good though, and don’t buy any sweets at all. On the way out I stop at a produce stand and load up on vegetables. I think I’ve got enough to last me for a few days, and I’m really glad I got to experience this marvelous market.

I have to ask directions numerous times to find my way back to the Tube station, and it’s totally packed. We’re squeezed in like Tokyo subway riders, and it’s fairly hot out there. I make it home and decide to eat the smoked eel. It’s okay, but definitely not worth the price. I won’t be buying that again.

All in all, it was great fun to go to this huge, and long-lived farmer’s market that dates back from medieval days.

Riding the London Eye - 3 June 2010

Okay, I’m in London, so I guess I have to ride the London Eye. The last time I was near it, the weather was gray and low, but today is bright. I don’t want to deal with all of the crowds, though, so I wait until late in the afternoon to head over there.

It’s not really that far from my flat, just across the Westminster Bridge. I decide to try taking a bus as far as Westminster. It’s a lovely day, nearly hot, so waiting for the bus is no problem. I get off where some helpful lady tells me to, and then deal with the massive crowds by Westminster Abbey.  It’s quite frightening, really, at one point. I go to cross the street to the island in the middle of the giant intersection, but when I get to the island, there’s no room for me. There are too many people there already. I’m left standing in the street, in the traffic lane! Obviously, I lived to tell the tale, but it was intense.

You can imagine how long the line for tickets is. Long enough for me to get totally bored people watching, advertisement reading, and trying to identify unknown languages. It costs 17GBP to do the ride, which is equal to around $25. After I get the ticket, I’m herded with the rest of the folks into a small theatre to watch a very loud 3D movie about riding the London Eye. It’s not horrible, but I could do without it.

Next I go outside to wait in the line to get on the actual ride. This is another 40 minutes or so. While I’m waiting, I strike up a conversation with a man from Birmingham who has two sons there with him, a 6 year-old and a 12 year-old. We all start talking. The 12 year-old seems anxious, and mentions repeatedly that he didn’t know I was one of his father’s friends. The younger boy is as boisterous and energetic as any dude his age who’s about to go on a major tourist attraction.  The conversations are interesting, and pass the time for us all. The older son is quite worried about how fast the ride will be.  It moves extremely slowly; you can see that from where we are, but he still seems irrationally concerned. We all finally make our way onto the huge glass and steel pods.

Me as We First Get on the Ride

As you can see, we’re just above the River Thames when we first get onto the Eye.  Big Ben and Westminster Abbey are just down the street, so we can see them close up.

Big Ben and Westminster Abbey at the Beginning of the Ride

Just a few minutes later, we can see more of the city, with the Houses of Parliament and the War Offices (I think).

Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament

I should warn you that I don’t know the names of all the famous buildings and areas, and may get some of this wrong. There’s no official tour guide, but one man in our pod seemed to know quite a bit and was pointing things out to those of us who were interested.

Here’s a great picture of a bridge full of red, double-decker buses.

Bridge with Busses

In this photo, I’m pretty sure that big swath of green is Hyde Park. But it’s just a guess.

Possibly Hyde Park on the Upper Right

This one’s from near the very top, looking down on our side of the river.

From the Top

Looking down on Jubilee Gardens, where the London Eye is located.

Jubilee Gardens

Look at the incredible stone work they put on the top of this building. This was built before airplanes, helicopters, the London Eye, or even cranes, so the only people who could see it were those who opened the nearby windows and hung out of them. It’s amazing to me how much energy and work has gone into making these buildings so lovely.

Statuary on Top of a Building

It was really cool to be up there, seeing the city from on high. I enjoyed it. As I was walking back across the Westminster Bridge, I turned and took a photo of the London Eye, a modern marvel, situated next to the old County Hall, which is a gorgeous old building.

The London Eye Next to The County Hall

This is the essence of London—the old integrated with the new, history valued as much as progress. I really love that about this ancient city, which began before the Romans called it Londinium, and which will host the 2012 Olympics.

Marylebone - 1 June, 2010

Today I want to explore Marylebone. This is a neighborhood that borders Regents Park, where I take my classes. When I stopped in London for 3 days in 2005, I wandered through Marylebone and thought it charming and gorgeous. But back then I was sick with bronchitis, and I don’t remember much except for general impressions. So today is my chance to visit Marylebone.

Sherlock Holmes Museum

The Baker Street Tube station is where I alight for my classes, and just across the street from one of its doors is the Sherlock Holmes museum. It’s located at the actual address of 221 Baker Street. It was built in 1817, and according to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson lived there from 1881-1904. The city was able to purchase the building in 1936 I think, and it’s been recreated to look a typical Victorian residence, with details from the stories helping with the furnishings.

Unfortunately, between the poor lighting and the jostling of tourists, my photos didn’t come out very well.

Sherlock’s Bedroom with Portraits of Famous Criminals

Dr. Watson’s Room

Salon Where They Received Clients

Table Set by Mrs. Watson

It doesn’t show in the photos, but these rooms are extremely small. The salon doesn’t look as if there’s really room for both Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson to be in together comfortably, much less to receive a restless, upset client.

The bathroom is up in the attic, which I thought interesting.

Bathroom in the Attic

There are mannequin replicas of characters from the stories. See if you can guess their names, or the stories from whence they came:

(Hint: That’s a snake wrapped around the head of the man next to the bell pull.)

Who is the Blindfolded Man and his Lovely Companion?

In addition to the mannequins, there are recreations of other things from the stories. One is of a story itself, supposedly in Dr. Watson’s hand.

Book with Handwritten Notes by Dr. Watson

There is also an entry from Who’s Who, giving information about Sherlock Holmes, including his parentage, interest in beekeeping, and the club to which he belongs.

Sherlock Holmes Entry in the Victorian Who’s Who

Finally, there is a bust of the great detective.

Sherlock Holmes Bust

All in all, this is a fun museum. The Sherlock Holmes Society has done a marvelous job of recreating the settings in the stories. The little details in the flat, such as newspapers dated 1889, printed advertisements from the police asking for information on a crime in the neighborhood, etc, are all well-researched and interesting. I love the Sherlock Holmes stories (he was an early hero of my life), but I am nowhere near the level of expertise as the folks who’ve put together this museum, or some of the people who were visiting at the same time as I. The conversations I heard, with incredibly geeky bits of trivia, were great fun.

Marylebone Neighborhood

I head up to the Marylebone High Street, with its gorgeous buildings, chic boutiques, and tons of restaurants, cafés, and bakeries.

 Marylebone High Street Buildings

Red Brick Buildings on Marylebone High Street

View Down the Marylebone High Street

This neighborhood has its own baby elephant statue, so here’s another one for my safari collection.

Marylebone Baby Elephant Statue (1170)

Walking down a side street I pass a huge, old, and stunningly beautiful church. It’s just one of the buildings in the neighborhood, people pass by it without a second glance. But to me it’s quite a sight, and the workmanship that brought it into being warrant a photo, even if it labels me a gawking tourist.

Church in Marylebone

Wallace Collection

There’s a private collection museum in Marylebone called the Wallace Collection. The building alone, which used to be a single-family house, is immense. There are three generations’ worth of collector’s items, with everything from statues, furniture, statuary, and jewelry. I can’t show them all to you, but here are some of my favorites.

Gorgeous Wood Table (Maybe French Design?)

Closeup of the Wood Table

Statue of the Abduction of Prosperina

Downstairs there are rooms full of suits of armor, shields and swords. I sit for a few minutes and listen to a lecture about armor. I learn that chain mail that is riveted together is stronger and more long lasting than that which is just pressed together, and that zinc coating is even stronger still. This is all happening in a family mansion that is filled with treasures of all kinds.

Even the columns of the building are ornate and gorgeous.

Detail of Wallace Collection Building Column

There are huge paintings in the collection, some of which have the largest and most intense frames I’ve ever seen. Here are a couple of photos from one of them. I could only capture a small bit of it.

Corner of an Immense Picture Frame

Decoration in the Middle of the Picture Frame’s Bottom

Each room has a different style, including the wallpaper and chandeliers. This is one of my favorites, with silk wallpaper and Marie Antoinette style.

Pale Blue Silk Wallpaper

Finally, here’s a photo of a green room with beautiful chairs.

Green Chair to Match the Room

This house, this estate, and all of the marvels within, are astonishing. I’m amazed that a single family could collect such an enormity of beauty. More amazing still, it’s free to enter and enjoy. People come by on their lunch hour, sit in the garden, go in to see a room or two, and come away with their souls enlivened from the beauty. As do I.