Dublin's Statues

The Dublin locals are prone to giving their statues humorous, rhyming sobriquet. These are my three favourites.


Molly Malone - "The Tart with the Cart" aka "The Trollop with the Scallops"


Two Women - "The Hags with the Bags"


Anna Livia, The Spirit of the Liffey - "The Floozy in the Jacuzzi"

See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Statues_in_Dublin for more.

Street Life (Clerihews and Limericks)

Walking across Waterloo bridge this morning I was enumerating to myself those buildings that I could identify. Chief amongst them being, of course, St Paul's Cathedral where Mary and I got married.

Into my head popped a piece of trivia I inherited from my father, also an architect: a Clerihew about the architect of that fine building:

Sir Christopher Wren
Said "I am going to dine with some men.
"If anybody calls,
Say I am designing St Paul's."

The unbalanced and unpolished poetic meter and line length parody the limerick, which in turn reminded me of:

There was a young man of Japan
Whose verses never would scan.
When they said, "But the thing
Doesn't go with a swing,
He replied, "No, but I try to get as many words into the last line as I possibly can!" [1]

Street Life (2 BE or NOT 2B)

That is the question. Shall we take the Bentley or the Aston Martin?



Sunday we went for a walk, the six of us plus two children, to walk off Saturday's DP (more on that later). Our route took us along the Thames path as far as Putney bridge then back along the north side to Battersea bridge. On the way we passed this pair of cars parked outside a "des res" in Chelsea.

One may envy his wealth but you have to grant that the man has a sense of humour.

Street Life (Art Is My Hustle)

Seen outside the London Graphic Centre in Shelton Street, Covent Garden.


Graffiti: Art Is My Hustle

I saw this and thought it was a colourful piece of street art but a quick Google reveals that it may actually be a cunning piece of advertising (via http://artismyhustle.com/) for T.Magic World.

What I cannot work out is whether this is, as it appears, an young innovative artist or some mega-corporation sneaky viral marketing thingy. Whatever they seem like colourful designer T-shirts so I thought I'd give him a link.

Street Life (Battersea Bridge Signs)

My cycle route takes me past Battersea Bridge which is adorned with two notices, one official, the other not.


Apparently the orginal brass version got stolen so many times this wooden replacement had to be installed.


A bit of ironic, self-referential, post-modern graffiti.

Street Life (New Kids on the Block)

Quite literally. Walking over Waterloo this statue appeared one day.

It was not for a couple of days that I noticed several more atop various office blocks and buildings of the South Bank Centre.

Then a couple of days later I spotted several more on rooftops on the North end of the bridge.

Turns out there are 31 of these statues according to the BBC. They are by Antony Gormley who did the Angel of the North and this work is entitled "Event Horizon". It tickled me.

Street Life (Counting Cars)

We live on the edge of an area of Wandsworth known as "The Tonsleys" (Street, Road, Place, Hill and some other streets). A half kilometer square of modest three bed-roomed Victorian terraced houses bounded by Fairfield Street, East Hill, Trinity Road and Swandon Way.

On Saturday we went to the Guinness Cup final at Twickenham with Bob and Lynn and afterwards went for a curry at The Chutney in Alma Road. In the short five minutes it took us to walk the 400m to the restaurant we counted 6 Porsche, 2 BMW Z4, 2 Mercedes SLK/CLK and a Maserati.

Mary's Mum once asked if we were not worried about having to park our 6-year old BMW 3 series on-street to which Mary replied "no" because there were lots of nicer cars for thieves to steal.

Street Life (Driver Does Not)

More corporate whimsy. This time on the side of a delivery truck for Wild Bean Cafe seen recently on my walk to work over Blackfriars Bridge:

DRIVER DOES NOT
HAVE ACCESS TO
MUFFINS

Street Life (Non Verbal Communication)

I love how much can be conveyed with just the raise of an eyebrow or the lift of a finger.

On the North side of Waterloo Bridge there is a cycle path that crosses the pavement much to the startlement of many an unsuspecting pedestrian. As a cyclist I know it's there and cast a quick glance over my right shoulder. A cyclist is approaching so I pause mid-stride. We make eye contact, he give the slightest of nods ("thank you"), I echo back a nod ("you're welcome"), he whizzes by and on I go. Courtesies exchanged to complement the morning sunshine.

Street Life (Blackfriars bridge)

When I worked in the Drury Lane office my walk to Waterloo Station would take me over Waterloo Bridge with its fine views (see below). Now I mostly work in an office by City Thameslink some twenty minutes walk eastwards and a have a new walk and a new bridge to cross: Blackfriars.

The view isn't so pretty: I lose the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben and half the London Eye but I do get a better view of the Oxo Tower and St Pauls. On the other hand I do get a stroll down memory lane.

If I choose the Stamford Street route it takes me past the old Sainsburys' Head Office where I worked in '78/79. New to the big city with a 33% pay rise (from 3k to 4k) and the bright lights to dazzle my eyes. Meeting the "Birmingham Crowd" and all those social nights out. Ah, the memories!

If I choose the Thameside Path I go past Doggetts Coat and Badge (public house) and Sea Container House once home to BIS Applied Systems a later employer '81/86. You will not be surprised, given their proximity that DC&B was our local when we were in the office.

Previous Waterloo Bridge Posts:
London So Good They Named It Once
Leaning Tower Of London
Street Life (Salty Dog)
Street Life (Pedestrian Chicken)
Metre Out Of Order

Street Life (Graffiti)

Mary and I took a stroll down to the river for a Thames-side walk and came across this graffiti.


Not Banksy but someone, presumeably "Focus", very much in that black and white, stencilled style.

Metre out of order

So said the scrap of cardboard on Waterloo Bridge. Presumably written by a motorist about a parking meter to deflect the wrath of a traffic warden. Unless of course they really were complaining about some poetic dysfunction. "Officer this verse just won't scan. Its iambic pentameter is all bent out of shape."

England swings like a pendulum do

Three times this last week Horse Guards Road has been closed for various events related to QE2's birthday and the ceremony of Beating The Retreat so I have been forced to cycle down the Mall, past "Buck House" and through Victoria.

Along the Mall there were not one, not two but three pairs of 'Bobbies on bicycles, two by two'*. Make no mistake these are not your rose-tinted bobbies but pedal-powered traffic cops. They have words with cyclists who run red lights and, I presume, can pursue pickpockets through crowds where a car chase would be, to say the least, inadvisable.

See http://www.cityoflondon.police.uk/news/2002/aug-12-02.html
and
"Flashing Blue Bike"

* England Swings by Roger Miller

I'm up on the eleventh floor

And I'm watching the cruisers below *

Well actually the first floor (US: second floor) but you get my drift.

Had a short notice get together with siblings and nephew Mike in Old Compton Street last night to see Jane&Pete's new pad in darkest Soho. As I crossed Dean Street I passed a couple going the other way. I heard the girl say something to her companion in a dark brown voice and had a Crocodile Dundee moment, "Strewth, that Sheila's a fella!".

The flat is one room with K&B but that's all they need for a crash-pad in the heart of the city. I will be able to meet Jane for lunch when she is up in town as it is only five minutes walk from work. Jane is very excited about this as her first job, *mumble* years ago, was just around the corner so this is a chance to revisit the haunts of her youth.

* Queen Bitch by David Bowie

May Morning in Oxford

Yesterday we set the alarm for 5:15am, threw ourselves into our clothes, stumbled rushed out into the streets of Oxford and headed for Magdalene Bridge. There thousands of celebrants had gathered to greet the dawn. Some looking the worse for wear in their DJ's (US:Tuxedo) and posh frocks having been up all night at a May Ball, some entering into the festive spirit.



At six o'clock, as the chimes of clock tower faded, the choristers sang in Latin to greet the start of Spring. Then a blessing on the crowd, another burst of singing and the crowd disperse. In our case to a cafe on "The High" for a glass of champagne and 'Full English'.

The blessing may have been Christian but the roots of the occasion are pagan. There were Morris Men with clogs on their feet and "bells on their toes" dancing traditional dances.



One troupe was accompanied by Jack 'o the Green, looking more like a Christmas tree than anything else, a primitive symbol of fertility.

[BTW this dancing / Jack is happening under the bridge of my alma mater, Hertford college]



There was street entertainment such as this energetic percussion band. After all this we went back to bed for an hour then checked out the hotel and caught the train to London in time for lunch.

Chinese Fire Drill

Yesterday John and I took a stroll down to Gerrard Street in London's China Town to meet Andrea and their two children for lunch. As John and I approached Cambridge Circus I remarked that it was at that very set of red traffic lights I had seen two lads jump out, run round and round the car, then jump back in (at random) when the lights turned green.

"That", said John, "is what Americans call a 'Chinese Fire Drill'. You should ask Andrea". So, over the set lunch I did. Andrea revealed that not only was it a well known American custom but that she herself had indulged. Unfortunately she did not check first and, as she got round the back of the car, spotted the patrol car immediately behind: oops! Fined for improper pedestrian use of the highway - well I guess she was on foot at the time.

For more see:
The Mavens' Word of the Day
Chinese fire drill - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Don't worry Andrea, your secret is safe with me <grin>

Street Life (Buskers)

Our buskers are getting more multi-cultural. Monday night I was serenaded past the IMAX by a didgeridoo and through the underpass by Scottish bagpipes. What next I wonder?

Street Life (Workman's Wit)

They are digging a hole in the pavement in Catherine Street, across the road from the Theatre Royal. It is surrounded by plastic barricades to which some crack-bottomed Oscar Wilde has attached a piece of paper bearing the legend:

WISHING WELL
WORK IN PROGRESS
PLEASE GIVE GENEROUSLY

Street Life (Pedestrian Chicken)

There is an ebb and flow in the tide of commuters over Waterloo bridge. Such is the fluid dynamics of crowds that a pattern emerges with north-south one side of the pavement and south-north the other.

Every now and again you get some contrarian who clings limpit-like to the parapet side forcing oncomers to swerve. Whether they do it through ignorance or malice I do not know. Whether they are oblivious to others or indifferent I neither know nor care.

This behaviour offends the over-compliant adapted child in me. So with malicious delight I out-limpit them, striding straight at them till they crack and are pried away from the bridge's edge. But then as my friend John said, I become the very thing I dislike. Oh, well!

Note:
I do not do this to tourists; I want them to enjoy their visit to this fine city.

Street Life (Salty Dog)

Any commuter in a big city will see the same homeless vagrants on a regular basis. My 20 minute walk from Waterloo to Drury Lane has at least three:

The guy who walks south over Waterloo bridge at the same time every day. He carries a briefcase but does not look like an office worker. He also carries a golfing umbrella, a rucksack and an unkempt beard. Yet there he is every day at the same time trudging the same route. Where is he going, what does he do, is he really a tramp?

Then there is the Big Issue seller at the south-west corner of the bridge. Also with a beard but more neatly trimmed. Always in the same spot. Seems very polite and reserved kind of chap. Occasionally chatting to his regulars. Always there come rain or shine.

Then a relative newcomer, with guitar, busking in the underpass sitting cross-legged under the third stanza of Eurydice (see "Orpheus on the Underground"). Last week he was playing something excellent (can't remember what) that prompted me to drop some loose change into his cap. Yesterday I could have sworn he was playing Salty Dog by Mississippi John Hurt. A fine song but an odd choice for a busker.