July 18 Brum, brum ,brum

As part of the planning for trip Frances decided to consult the tourist board sites for this renowned city.  One of them burbled about filling her computer with cookies “to give her the best experience” so she passed on that (as soon as she had finished chundering).   Next stop was the Council site.  She put in “Public art” and got one listing – of something that burnt down in 2003.

One could say “What else do you expect from Birmingham?” and plan to spend the day in the hotel sleeping.  However, being of a curious mind I Googled “Birmingham UK public art” and got a very large amount of information.  There seem to be at least 20 works in the Centre of the city, including at least one by Anthony Gormley.  (There is apparently a fountain featuring a young lady, not as I first thought Queen Victoria, which is known as the "floozie in the jacuzzi".)  I don’t think we are going to have any trouble amusing ourselves!

We left KL in a nice new 777 just before midnight, but it was after midnight in Australia so I will count it as day 2.  We had Economy Comfort seats which cost extra but were well worth it as we had no-one in front and I was able to get a little sleep.  Frances did quite well.  The first four hours were a bit bumpy and involved at least one major kink in the flight path to go round a storm in the Bay of Bengal. 

At one point there was a call for ''a medical doctor to the rear of the plane” and after someone walked past from Business Class a crew member appeared with a rather large first aid kit.

We were both awake as dawn tried to catch up with us over the Ukraine, but daylight didn't really arrive until well West of Berlin.   When breakfast had been served one of the crew announced that “we are still in German airspace ...” which was an interesting way of saying we aren't in Holland yet.  When we did get to Holland it looked very damp and mist was rolling in from the sea. Not a great snap, but it was grey and misty.

As we landed we could see how neat and tidy all the farms were, with nice regular shaped fields: I wondered if they were tulip farms but Frances said the season was wrong.  During taxi Jackdaws established themselves as first European bird and thus Bird of the day.  Tulips were evident in the airport shop.

As were other things: this array of souvenirs quickly set up an unbreakable lead in the bad taste award (all categories). 

We basically sat around for nearly three hours waiting for our flight to Birmingham: since Schiphol offers a free internet service that wasn't too hard.  We then caught a bus out to our plane (an Embraer jet) which involved a drive that, had the sea not got in the way, would have just about got us to Clacton.  

The flight was pretty much up and down, taking 50 minutes.  We got a good view of some Dutch towns where the developments seemed to have been designed to make nice shapes when seen from 3km above!.

Two middle aged pommie "lads" were behind us talking incessantly about their work with mining companies in various dodgy parts of Africa.  It was quite interesting – for example “I wouldn't want to live in Birmingham City: its better in Africa.”, which wasn't said by the one who worked in Kigali - but rather intrusive.  When I got a look at them on leaving the flight I'd say they were both quite hard blokes: built like brick outhouses, skinhead haircuts and in one case a good crop of tatts.

Unlike Holland the fields were very undisciplined.  It was rare for there to be one straight side let alone 4 at right angles to each other.  

After landing we went to the terminal and my guess is that we were out of there in about 20 minutes.  It would have been quicker but the immigration guy was very chatty and I was in polite mode.  A very helpful lad in the information centre (a big comeback after the shambles of their website outlined above) pointed us to the hotel; explained how to get to the City Centre (train is the go); and provided maps!

Check in at the Hotel (Novotel) resulted in us upgrading our room to get in straight away.  Getting the review of the Hotel out of the way I rated it rather good: the staff were all helpful, it was very quiet and the food good.

We caught the shuttle train to Birmingham International Station from where British Midland took us into the City Centre (New Street).  Yet again the ticket seller was helpful and efficient – what has happened to the traditional English Jobsworth work ethic?  Unfortunately, the Nanny Society has survived Tony Blair - I read a book by Jeremy Clarkson later in the trip in which he refers to "His Tonyness" - so the train ride was accompanied by various and continual warnings to “mind the gap” “don't leave belongings unattended” “Read the security notices”. 

Our travels around Birmingham took us first past an arcade with an ornate ceiling 

and then to Victoria Square where many of the public artworks were to be found.  These included the “floozie in the jacuzzi”

and Anthony Gormley's Iron Man.  

The Art Gallery ...

... was also there and yet again was notable for a lack of Jobsworths.  All staff were helpful - and not just to us: I saw a security guard find a chair for a guy who was sketching Using A PENCIL!!!- and photography was welcome everywhere except a special exhibition and the Staffordshire Hoard. So here are a couple of samples 

 

As well as these traditional works there were some modernish stuff (although this by "Rock Drill" by Jacob Epstein comes from 1915 so emphasises the 'ish'.

and this collection reflects the industrial nature of the Midlands

The ban in the Hoard may be to promote book sales or possibly to reflect its shared ownership (with another gallery).  This was an astonishing collection of gold jewellery and artefacts found in a ploughed field in 2009 by a guy using a metal detector.  I think he ended up scoring £3m for it!  Well done that boy!  It seems they are still working on it (eg one item was found last year embedded in a lump of clay) but have not been able to decide why it was deposited.

Great graffiti on the Public Library

... and I liked this building, and its contrast with the glass brick beside it,  enough to photograph it.

 Next stop, was St Phillips Anglican Cathedral which was brilliant.  It was surrounded by lawns that were covered with Brummies eating their lunch in the sunshine.  (Very reminiscent of Bryant Park in New York.)  Inside was very well decorated 

and there weren't too many signs begging for money.  I took a photo of a set of Memorial plaques

 although I probably won't submit them to the Register of NSW War Memorials).   That being said, my interest having been stirred by NSW Memorials I did find looking for memorials added a fair bit of interest to the trip.  The design of them varied greatly and some of them told interesting stories so I have created a special post - or possibly 2 - in this blog to hold information that didn't fir with the overall narrative. 

We weaved our way past this wicker statue

to the Catholic Cathedral which was designed by Pugin, the father of the Gothic Revival in the mid-19^th Century.  Unfortunately 'Security' meant you couldn't take snaps.  I asked a lady why not and she said  “I don't know;  It was the Dean's idea so ask him if you can find him.” Obviously the Dean has attracted all the jobsworthiness of Staffordshire and I convivially wish him the best of luck. See also a Pugin-related comment under Shrewsbury some days below.

We briefly visited a Waitrose (as Stephen Fry has commented, kept clear of scum by the activities of Sainsbury's) to get something to eat for tea and some bottled goods.  Back to the hotel to try to stay awake.  I failed and was asleep by 3pm Brum time (1am Carwoola time) in which state I remained until about 3am Brum time the next morning.

I was surprised to find that there was very little of what I regard as the traditional Brum accent to be heard and no-one said 'each' anywhere in my presence.  Possibly this was because most of the folk we spoke with were of NESB.

Bird of the Day: Jackdaw at Schipol (first European bird of the trip).  A Peewit seen as we took off gave it a run as it was the only one seen all trip while Jackdaws were in flcoks of 50 aroundTugford, but first in, best dressed.

Building of the day: Birmingham Art Gallery

Garden of the Day: No contenders

Bad taste of the Day: Ceramic clogs in Schiphol

View of the Day: Nothing really startling but I have grown rather alarmingly fond of the mixed shapes and colours of fields in English farmland.

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July 19 Delights of the A34

Pick up car at airport.  Head for Coventry and cathedral.  Head off towards Selsey.  South of Newbury call in at Sandham Memorial Chapel.  Organise ourselves at Selsey.

After reading a book on Frances iPad for an hour I went back to sleep about 4am.  I woke again about 4:45 and decided that as it was daylight and I had had about 12 hours sleep I might as well go for a run.  What happened was more like a stagger than a run but I picked up and put them down broadly in a circuit of the National Exhibition Centre.  A few additional birds, and an amazing number of rabbits, were seen here.

By the time I had  a shower we were ready for the buffet breakfast which took in enough calories to last us for most of our trip.  A wonderful meal.  Then off to Europcar to get some wheels.  As we walked in we were amused at the sight of this hire car driver - possibly he'd call himself a chauffeur - changing a wheel, wearing rubber gloves to keep his hands clean.

While typing this I have have recalled the line in Lonnie Donegan's song "Putting on the Style" referring to  ".. driving like 'e's mad, wiv a pair of Yaller gloves, e's borrered from 'is dad."

The car turned out to be a petrol Polo manual without cruise control rather than the automatic diesel something with cruise control which I would have preferred).  Check out was easy and off we went towards Coventry.   Cutting to the chase for the car, it did the job.  It:

• could go at the speed limit (and more when needed on motorways)
• gave us about 45mpg; 
• carried all our kit; and 
• fitted into English country roads.

However it was incredibly noisy when pushed and certainly didn't have the grunt of Frances Jetta.  Also, in about 4 months of having automatic vehicles I have got out of the habit of shifting into top as soon as possible.

I'm not sure if we got into Coventry the easiest way and it was by now 8:15 so peak hour.  Also, as usual the Cathedral was on all the signposts until close to it.  After a few laps of the bus station we found somewhere to park and just as we were printing the ticket a local told us that the ticket machine in a nearby park was broken so parking was free.   Buggah.  Perhaps that is the tale behind this graffiti?

We then asked a passing lass how to get to the Cathedral and she didn't really know but then recalled the steps beside a pub which worked for us.  We went by the Priory Gardens which were pleasant

and then found our way to the Cathedral.  It was an omen that the Visitors Centre didn't open until 9:30 (and it was by now 8:45).  Going slightly forward, we found that the 'new' Cathedral didn't open until 10, which was a nuisance, at least until a skivvy for the Cathedral told us that the Bluecoats School had taken the place out for the morning for their end of year service.

BUGGAH!!! I then persuaded someone setting up the sound for the school to let take a photo but that didn't come out properly.  So we took some other snaps around the place noticing that quite a bit of old Coventry seemed to have survived the firestorm. 

This memorial is to fire fighters who didn't survive.

By dint of sticking our noses and my camera into various places I did get quite a few shots which hopefully give an idea of the Cathedral and its setting.

This is part of the remains of the old cathedral.

This sculpture was presented by a group from Dresden which was flattened by the Allies in retaliation for Coventry.

 Another Epstein, titled "Ecce Homo" .

 The huge etched glass window which allows folk inside the new cathedral to see the ruins of the old.

 An astonishing stained glass window with the sun coming though it.

 The altar hanging and the organ.

 Yet another Epstein, hanging on the outside of the Cathedral.  This one dpicts St Michael dealing with Satan.

We then hit the M40 and then A34 South, getting used (again) to the fact that many Poms – particularly those driving German performance cars - regard the 70 limit on motorways etc as a guideline.  As I sat on about 70mph (and I have no idea why the Poms have metricated liquid measures and weights but not linear measures)  my estimate was that a lot of cars that overtook me were doing close to, or above, 100mph.

Whatever, we poddled down to Newbury and 4 miles later took the turnoff to the Sandham Memorial Chapel.

This is now owned by the National Trust (NT) and is well described by them (photos are not allowed.).  A magnificent work by  Stanley Spencer commemorating the death of his sponsor's brother (and Spencer's friend) as a result of WW1.  The entire work took him 5 years and as some of the themes (eg horses being reincarnated) were offensive unto vicars (at that time, perhaps less so now) and had to be done after the chapel was consecrated. 

In true NT fashion the grass was not mown to encourage the butterflies.  There were certainly a lot of Six-spotted burnets around.

After viewing the Chapel we headed for the nearby Beacon Hill which we scaled to see the views across the Downs.

As we started we noticed a sign forbidding hang-gliders and on the top with a steady breeze could understand the appeal of the place for people who like that sort of thing.  We added a few bird species to the trip list and saw a model glider – apparently not banned. 

On, on down the road marvelling at how a caravan can screw up the traffic.  We found our way to Selsey, a little earlier than expected so went to look at La Manche (aka the English Channel) and then to buy some groceries (especially in bottles).  The first place we went to was appalling: all the wine was Australian and all brands we wouldn't cook with in Australia!  I then found an Off-license which provided (what has turned out to be) a very potable bottle of Argentinian Malbec.  Surprisingly the label didn't refer to the sinking of the General Belgrano, nor make any other reference to Las Malvinas.

We then found Gull cottage

and dumped off our kit.  To keep ourselves awake we went for a walk along the shingle.

adding several species of Gull to the bird list.  We could see how a 16 year old Pommie blonde might find the town “a hole” but we reckoned it was OK as a base for a holiday – just the visitors a tad declassé.  This group were in traditional style hiding from the wind behind a groyn while scoring some rays from the sun.

We had tea - I can't remember what -  watch Le Tour highlights, drink some Theakston's Old Peculier, and head for bed about 8:30 Selsey time.

Bird of the Day:  Black-headed Gull

Building of the day: Coventry Cathedral is the only real contender.  Saltham Memorial Chapel gets a "mouse that roared" award but it really was punching above its weight.

Garden of the Day: The front yard at Saltham.

Bad taste of the Day: The pink pom parade at Selsey

View of the Day: The Downs from Beacon Hill

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July 22 Possibly back to my roots

Pagham Harbour (birding), Chichester- cathedral, Goodwood, Kingsley Vale

You will be pleased to know the roots element of the title of this post refers to an American usage and not the Australian meaning.  The 'possibility' refers to the difficulty we are experiencing in finding out whether Goodwood is open for gawping on the week we are in the area.  I sent them a nice note explaining my links to the House, through Mum having been in service there in the 1920s or 30s but thus far they haven't replied to this missive.

For the first time I watched the TV news which was to use an appropriate Pommie term, naff.   It appears Ms Cambridge has not yet popped out the next in line so they are having to celebrate a Kenyan (raised in South Africa winning the Tour de France.  I wonder if, like Australia claiming Phar Lap and John Clarke,  the Poms would be claiming him as theirs if he was Wamaasai rather than a Mzungu?

At about 6am Ms Cambridge has snuck into hospital in early labour (perhaps not early New Labour).  Wait for the uproar.  At 5pm she still hasn't done the business but Sky News is interviewing Poms in the street who are apparently expressing opinions on the matter.

We decided to have a slow start to the day and Frances wandered off to the sea wall to draw fishing boats while I had a shower and wrote up yesterday.  When I joined her, after noting yet again the collection of plaster pigs – one being ridden by a gnome - in a front garden 

opposite the Lifeboat pub,

she excitedly pointed out some Turnstones busy on the shingle

where there were many stones to be turned,  Sometimes they took a breather on the groynes.

On the way back I noticed that the lifeboat shed doors were open so wandered out there.

Some vital supplies (in bottles and cans) were being installed – apparently left overs from a station BBQ on the weekend.  I chatted to the coxswain and found out many interesting things.  He and a mechanic were paid employees and they need three others to run the big boat and a further three for a Zodiac.  It is difficult to get the volunteers because most people work out of Selsey and many employers are so strapped for resources they can't – or won't - give people time off for such duty.  Night time rescues are OK because the commuters are back home.

They have boards up showing their tasks.  

It works out to about £750 per board to get it made, painted and the words written up.  They need another 10 boards , but the RNLI won't fund it.  There are definitions of when someone is 'brought in' or 'saved': it seems that to be a saving the boat really has to be sinking with no chance of anyone else doing the rescue.   My favourite of those listed is the 9 people and 1 dog brought in.

As we got to shore I noticed an artistic array of rope on a shed door

before there was more overhead noise in the air which turned out to be the Red Arrows out for a hoot.  This almost distracted me from sign of the day (if not the trip).

On leaving we first went to the Chapel of St Wilfred in Church Norton.  (The 'Norton part of the name simply means "North Town".)

Wilfrid seems to have arrived about 725 CE and been given land for a monastery.  We read on a sign about Selsey's history that he had taught the Saxon natives how to fish.  This is repeated in one of the windows in the Chapel,

but the idea seemed bizarre so I asked a lady visitor who was in there about it and she didn't.  She did ask her son, who coincidentally was an historian and he said it was true, at home in Saxony the Saxons were farmers and didn't know how to fish.

We added a few birds to the trip and caught a fleeting glance at a seal in Pagham Harbour.  A great little area which seems popular with the locals and will be revisited.

We then gave battle with Chichester.  Parking was both a pain and a ripoff.  A pain because it was not possible to tell where the cathedral was (and thus to know where to park) and a rip off because instead of telling you how much time you got as you pumped in coins you had to get to a thresh‑hold value to get the time you need.  I failed this so we were pushed for time and didn't give the Cathedral 

the attention it probably deserved. 

The Chagall window was brilliant 

as were various other art works.

Coming back the Market Cross was a good example of its type.

I also noted this mural - I don't think it can be classed as graffiti!

On, on to Goodwood where I spotted the motor racing track and airport.  We swung in to munch some baked goods acquired in the pedestrian area of Chichester.  I then went to ask if we could get to look at the Spitfires and was given directions to the aero club.  One appeared in the air above us and I got a fair snap.  After finding the tunnel to the Paddock walking through same – where else can you see a Ferrari, several Porches, a Bentley and a McLaren just sitting parked? - we found a Spitfire sitting on the ground. 

Cars were hammering round the track but we were able to wander over to the Pit Counter and just watch them hammer by: that is what I call motor sport.  I can't quite work out what brand of car this was: suggestions welcome!

I asked another punter (carrying as helmet so probably a little more involved than us) what was going on and he said it was track day, which wasn't really racing just “.... having fun and spending lots of money on fuel, tyres and brakes.”

On to Goodwood House 

where my Mum had been in service in the 1930s.  As noted in the preamble, I tried to use this to get some special treatment but failed miserably.  I did find out that there was a Clarke family associated with the Estate for many years which I assume would be some relatives on Mum's, who got her the job.  We took a tour of the State rooms of the House and I was able to establish that the Duke and Duchess Mum worked for were the Grandparents of the current Earl of March who runs the place.  The various titles come and go, but the family started off with a bastard son of Charles II being made the first Duke, and unlike many of the other Houses we have visited, the line has been maintained since then.

The current Earl has re-established some elements of Goodwood tradition, including use of the car race track with a huge historic event in September and Speed Week, which had been the week before (and the marquees etc at the House were still being dismantled.

On the way back to Gull Cottage we called in at the Coop where we had got great service on the weekend.  I assume they were all immigrants, because this afternoon things were back to the level of client service I expect to receive in the UK.  They have a nice little deli section and when we arrived there keen to buy some cheese, pork pie and olives.   There was no-one behind the counter and on asking a young person for help she said she'd have to get someone who was currently on the tills.  After a short while a 3F (fat foolish female) person appeared.  She advised that:

•  it would be difficult to give us cheese or pork pies as they weren't allowed to use the slicer.  On being asked, it emerged that;
• this was because they hadn't been trained to do so.  On being asked why there wasn't someone who had been trained;
• this was because the person doesn't work after 3pm so they cut a few bits to be sold after they leave.  If you want something else, tough.
• While we thought about this Frances asked for some olives (which didn't need cutting).  At this point 3F became the amazing disappeared woman.  When she returned after some few minutes it appeared that:
• she couldn't find the tubs in which to put the olives. 

The pelcian we were trying to communicate with didn't think once about 

• using a knife to cut the cheese (perhaps the institution in which she resides doesn't allow the inmates to use sharp things); nor
• putting the olives in a suitably sized plastic bag.

Nearly two weeks later Frances still shakes her head at this performance.    We never got any olives and took a 1kg chunk of cheese to save cutting it. Asking about the pork pie would probably have caused WWs III through IX so I didn't bother.  I may go back one morning – without Frances – to amuse myself in that matter. 

Beer this evening kicked off with the Hinton Ampner Ale I acquired from the Trust yesterday.  A very full flavoured golden ale.  This was followed by an Arundel Special Bitter which had adequate hops and very pleasing malt!  Probably beer of the trip thus far.

Bird of the Day: Turnstone

Building of the day: Chichester Cathedral

Garden of the Day: Gull Cottage

Bad taste of the Day: the plaster pigs in Albion st.

View of the Day: the marshland of Pagham Harbour

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