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The Underground
Apr. 29th, 2008 10:20 am.. is bigger than ever. Yesterday I walked all over Epping Forest from Loughton station (way out in the wilds of Essex) which was staggeringly lovely. [Yes, there will be pix. I have 100 already, loaded from camera onto laptop. Hey, how good is this and it's all free! Yay for the democratization of technology!] and followed up with a stroll through Hampstead Heath. Think Princes Park but bigger, wilder, more hilly and with lakes bedizened with ducks, swans and moorhens. And elm trees, thanks to Oz. Yep, when all Europe's elm trees died of Dutch Elm Disease, who they gonna call? They regrew all their forests from seeds from the elm trees of Oz.
And, with my £7 all-day zones 1-6 ticket, I went to several termini including weird places like Epping and Upminster and Gospel Oak. Finished the day with a dinner from Fortnum & Mason (salmon, salad, baguettes and Turkish rahat loukoum) and pondered how much England's food has improved over my 5 trips here. Today we go to the Temple church to pay our respects to William Marshal the best knight in the world: William the true-blue British hero (hey, he's really French but what of it? St George was Greek, or possibly African).
'Marshal, you tried to kill me!' quoth Richard Lionheart at his coronation. 'If I had tried to kill you, sire, I would have succeeded. So I just killed your horse.' The unsaid bit was: Yeah, I was covering the retreat of your father, against whom you were in rebellion. And I serve the royal house of Anjou, have done so faithfully all my life, but he gets my allegiance before you do.
The possibly one and only good deed of Richard's entire hyperthyroid career: he then said Hmmm, well, my father promised you the earldom of Pembroke, so here it is. The real tragedy of the family was the young King Henry, whom Marshal was always getting out of scrapes. At one point the young king is refused permission to leave an inn because he hasn't paid his bill. Young Henry rants and raves but the inn-keeper is adamant. No cash, no departure. Marshal turns up, asks what's happening? Oh I see, OK you'll get your money. Well, your sire, you're free to go. So my word isn't good, but the word of a landless knight IS good enough for you? But sire, of course! William Marshal's word is good everywhere!
And when the French invaded in 1217, the place is going to rack and ruin after John's disastrous reign, the new king's just a boy, who ya gonna call? Aged 75, William fought off the French, and eventually died aged 80-something, singing troubadour songs with his daughters.
What a guy!
And, with my £7 all-day zones 1-6 ticket, I went to several termini including weird places like Epping and Upminster and Gospel Oak. Finished the day with a dinner from Fortnum & Mason (salmon, salad, baguettes and Turkish rahat loukoum) and pondered how much England's food has improved over my 5 trips here. Today we go to the Temple church to pay our respects to William Marshal the best knight in the world: William the true-blue British hero (hey, he's really French but what of it? St George was Greek, or possibly African).
'Marshal, you tried to kill me!' quoth Richard Lionheart at his coronation. 'If I had tried to kill you, sire, I would have succeeded. So I just killed your horse.' The unsaid bit was: Yeah, I was covering the retreat of your father, against whom you were in rebellion. And I serve the royal house of Anjou, have done so faithfully all my life, but he gets my allegiance before you do.
The possibly one and only good deed of Richard's entire hyperthyroid career: he then said Hmmm, well, my father promised you the earldom of Pembroke, so here it is. The real tragedy of the family was the young King Henry, whom Marshal was always getting out of scrapes. At one point the young king is refused permission to leave an inn because he hasn't paid his bill. Young Henry rants and raves but the inn-keeper is adamant. No cash, no departure. Marshal turns up, asks what's happening? Oh I see, OK you'll get your money. Well, your sire, you're free to go. So my word isn't good, but the word of a landless knight IS good enough for you? But sire, of course! William Marshal's word is good everywhere!
And when the French invaded in 1217, the place is going to rack and ruin after John's disastrous reign, the new king's just a boy, who ya gonna call? Aged 75, William fought off the French, and eventually died aged 80-something, singing troubadour songs with his daughters.
What a guy!
