Trip to the Imperial War Museum

It's a pretty fair call to say that during most months of the year we have an aussie (or canadian) stop through our place for a day or two. So I'm getting better and better at being a London Tour Guide (albeit one with pretty shoddy facts). And over time I have managed to cross off a fair number of the London 'to do' list thanks to these people. The walk along southbank from my place to Westminster is one I OWN and full of Heather-Facts (Tower Bridge, London Dungeons, Borough Market [Bridget Jones Diary, Lock Stock, Jamie Oliver], Vinopolis, Southwark Cathedral, Shakespeare's Globe, Tate Modern [with Members Room], St Pauls, Oxo Tower, Blackfriars Bridge [Woody Allen spot], British Film Institute, Waterloo Bridge and Booksellers Market [the BEST bridge to cross for views] and the Eye). And if I was going to suggest my top 5 London to do list it would read:

1. Tate Modern

2. The Eye

3. West End shows (preceeded by dinner at Chinatown)

4. Camden Markets (followed by beers at Camden Lock)

5. The Imperial War Museum

In a city full of museums and galleries which exhibit the best that any city in the world could offer you, it is somewhat odd that I incude this last one, seeing as the Imperial War Museum would barely rate a blip on your average tourist's radar. And this has primarily to do with the fact it is located out near Elephant and Castle station - aka The Hood. It is but a 10 minute walk from our home, but for some reason we had never visited it. Until about a month ago. And we spent about 3 hours there and only managed to trawl through about a third of what was on offer. And even then, it was not done very dilligently. I dragged Dave nad Fred off there a month or so ago beuase I wanted to see the exhibitions of London 'At War', and more specifically of the London Blitz. And wouldn't you know it, but that we didn't even get near those exhibitions. After spending a while looking a the tanks, the planes, the missiles, the subs and firetrucks of the main entrance hall, we went throught the 'Children at War' exhibition and then into the Holocaust exhibition. Which was... well.... pretty horriffic. Whilst Dave and Fred scooted ahead, glazing over the majority of it, I read it all and took it all in. And by the time Hitler invaded Poland (ie. the start of WWII) my heart exploded and I could handle no more. I sleepwalked my way through the rest of the exhibition, periphally taking in the photos, the quotes, an amazing model of Auschwitz, and found Dave and Fred at the end and we decided we had had enough. So really, there is so much to do in this museum still, but for my money (not that i paid for any as it was all free, it was incredible. (And absolutely devoid of the tourist crowds you would expect on a weekend). Below are a few of the photos.

(apologies for crap blogging of late. I've lost my steam. Big 9/10 month update coming soon)

There are quite a few photos of a Spitfire, the type of plane which Dave recalls him and Andy building models of in his youth, and got Dave uncharacteristically excited.

A Trade Off

If you do nothing else for me this year, watch An Inconvenient Truth

Its been out long enough that hopefully most of us have. But I watched it again tonight, and it electrified the hairs on the back of my neck.

There are many problems and issues in this world that demand our attention, but there is none greater than the survival of our planet. It is so important.

Watch it. Be inspired. Make the changes you can. Vote for the future of our planet.



''Future generations may well have occasion to ask themselves, "What were our parents thinking? Why didn't they wake up when they had a chance?" We have to hear that question from them.. now.''

Overheard:

Last Friday whilst listening to the 5AA (bless them) broadcast online (the only source I have over here in the UK) of the Crows v Collingwood

'Surely....

...Shirley...

SURRRRRELY....

SHIRRRRRRLEY...

SURELY!!! ...... SHIRLEEEYYYYYYYYY!!!

Shirley SINKS a goal for the Crowies. Thats THREE in a row after the three quater time. IN A ROW. PUT THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT YOU BLACK AND WHITE LOSERS!!!

Gotta Love the 5AA.

Today at the Borough Market with Mr. Jamie Oliver.

(Fred not impressed with the line-up)

*Jamie furoiusly signing cookbooks for Heather*

H: Ehhh..... (voice breaks) Hi


J.O. : Hello Love. Oh look at the little one!!


H: Yeah. He's finally stopped yelling. Not a fan of lines apparently.


J.O. He's Lovely. What is he - almost a year?


H: HAHAHAHA (Calm down Heather, Be Cool) Yeah. Almost. 9 Months (Brain starts emitting high-pitched buzzing noise)


J.O. Oh. He's Lovely. Is he your first one?


H: HAHAHAHAHAHA. Yes. (The buzzing increases)


J.O. Lovely. How is that going for you? Are you loving it? Lovely.


H: (Buzzing noise increases even more) HAHAHAHAHA. Ehhhhhhh. Yeah, I guess. I mean, Yes. Its lovely. HAHAHAHAHA.


J.O. Lovely. Tough isn't it, love? Getting much sleep?


H: HAHAHAHAHAHA ( Laugh borders on hysterical. Noise reaches fever pitch) Not last night!! HAHAHAHAHA (Heather later reflects that last night was actually without disturbance) HAHAHAHAHA


J.O. Well that's the way. Here you go (hands over books). Look after yourself and the little man!


H: HAHAHAHAHA. Thank You. HAHAHAHAHA. Thank You. HA! HA! I LOVE YOU! MARRY ME!!! HA! HA! HA! MARRRRRY MEEEEEEEEE!!!!





*Security drags Heather away*

Life's Big Decisions: Insight into a SAHM (Stay-At-Home-Mum)

Mgwah. Arghplffft. Nrwwwwor. Mmmmmrrrrgggghhhaaaaaahhhhh. KILL ME NOW!!

That's exactly how I feel about the last two books I have read. Graeme Swift's Last Orders and Michel Houellebecq's Atomised. White elephants on my coffee table, my eyes would begin to bleed each time I opened their pages. I grew to despise their colourful covers, to loathe their gold-embossed pretentious spines. They mocked me quietly with their questions like 'Only one page this week Heather?' or 'I won the 96 Booker Prize mmm-mmm'. After this last remark, I left Last Orders on the tube only to have the commuter behind scramble after me with it, it then smugly slotted back into my bag. Ta.

But - trooper that I am - I continued to claw my way through each of them, page-by-page, paragraph-by-paragraph even though my brain would emit shrill alarms thought the duration, making comprehension nigh-on impossible. And I finished them eventually, sliding them conclusively back into their spot on the bookshelf (ignoring Atomised’s musing that skim-reading hardly qualifies as proper reading). This is where they shall live out their days gathering dust, until a book cull is called for and then they will be first to walk the plank… What? What’s that Last Orders? Pass you on to more thoughtful readers? Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you? Hmmmm…. Well let me ask the Lord of the Bookshelf what she thinks…oh wait! I AM Lord of the Bookshelf, and I say the only place you might end up besides the bin is in my FIREPLACE! Mwa ha ha ha HAAAAA!!

Sorry. I do actually feel better for that.

I wonder why I persist with novels I am not enjoying. Who cares that a couple of critics and wannabe philosophers think it is good. I never feel any better having finished one of them, there is no great feeling of triumph or accomplishment, and it’s not expanding my tastes and interests whatsoever. All I get is a sense of relief and oh-my-god-lets-just-start-a-new-book-right-now-so-I-can-erase-that-ordeal-from-my-mind. To have ‘the knowledge’ perhaps? Well, on the chance that I am called to discuss them at some point in the future (estimated maximum occurrence: twice in my lifetime) – I doubt I’m going to have any recollection beyond the fact that I hated it (and defer to the point that other people would probably ‘get it’ more than me).

But such is the life of a book reader. You take the good with the bad. It’s slightly sad to say, but I never choose books on a whim and that the choice of the next book is almost always well thought-out and researched. And- if I say so myself - for the most part, I’m pretty inspired at making these decisions. So it’s pretty unfortunate luck that I should pick two clangers in a row. But perhaps it is good luck because as a result I have decided that from this day forth if I don’t like any novel by the half-way point, it’s getting put down. Life’s too short; there are too many books on my bookshelf.

What’s next? I’m going to Matthew Reilly. He’ll make it allllll better.